by Lisa Hobman
Mallory saw a mixture of emotions behind her aunt’s grey eyes. Perhaps it was she who was concerned about loneliness; after all Uncle Harold had died three years previously and that manor house was so big.
She hugged her Aunt. ‘Come through, Aunty, and I’ll make tea. I have little china mugs that I got from that antique place in Marsden. You’ll love them!’
At the end of the visit, after she had waved off her aunt, Mallory found an envelope on the mantle. She opened it and inside was a card.
Wishing my dear Mallory a wonderful new life of independence, love Sylvia, P.S. don’t you dare eschew the enclosed gift. It is meant for you to invest as you see fit in order to make your new adventure a little more facile, much love.
Mallory rolled her eyes at her aunt’s formal tone. Sure enough, inside the card was a cheque with far too many zeros at the end for Mallory to fully comprehend right then.
*
April 2015
Back to her current moving day and with more than a little trepidation, Mallory said goodbye to her best friends who had arrived to move into the happy little house of memories.
She handed the house keys over to Brad who stood with his bulky arm around Josie. And the shop keys to the new manager who stood there, huddled into Brad’s side with watery eyes.
Brad flicked the keys up in the air and caught them. ‘You drive carefully, Mal. It might be snowing a blizzard up there. You never know with Scotland.’
Mallory smiled and hugged him. ‘I will. Enjoy moving in. I’m so happy you guys are taking the house on.’
Josie rushed forward and threw herself at Mallory. ‘I’m going to miss you so bloody much, you cowbag. I can’t believe you’re actually buggering off and leaving me.’ She coughed to try and stifle a sob. ‘Anyway, you can’t get shot of us, we’ll be up as soon as you’re settled, okay? And if you need anything…’ There was no need to say any more.
Mallory wiped at her eyes and glanced over to her car where Ruby sat peering out of the window. ‘I’ll get Ruby strapped in and then I’ll leave you to it. Long journey ahead. Sam might drop by before he sets off so tell him to get a move on.’
Josie sniffed and wiped her damp eyes on her sleeve. ‘Yeah we will. Now sod off will you. I’ve got tons to do. It’s moving day you know!’ She stuck her tongue out and Mallory laughed, knowing full well she was using humour to mask her sadness.
*
The little yellow car was stacked to the hilt and the engine was somewhat protesting at the extra weight. Ruby sat on the passenger seat, strapped in her doggy harness staring out the window whilst Mallory listened and sang along, emphatically, to the compilation CD of life-affirming tracks and love songs that Sam had presented her with the day before. Tears streamed down her face as she sang along to their song ‘Chasing Cars’. She missed him already even though she knew she was going to see him in a few hours’ time.
Just over an hour into the six-and-a-half-hour journey, Mallory gazed out of the window as she passed the large hotel at Scotch Corner. She smiled fondly as she remembered the first time she had been to Scotland for a hiking holiday with her parents when she was nine. She had been so very excited because they had reached this place and she’d presumed that they had arrived. She was very disappointed when she discovered the truth. Scotch Corner was nowhere near Scotland! What a silly place, she had thought sulkily.
Continuing her journey north Mallory glanced at the dashboard clock. She was expecting to arrive at the cottage around four o’clock, which was a long while away so she decided to make a brief stop further on at Annandale water services for Ruby to do what dogs do and to stretch her own legs. Whilst she was there she grabbed some chocolate and a bottle of water, from the shop and then they travelled on.
Glasgow was bustling by the time they were approaching the Erskine Bridge. The cosmopolitan city was bursting with life. People shopping; people dashing around in business suits, carrying briefcases in one hand, take-out coffee in the other; obvious tourists with their bags of souvenirs, silly tartan hats and ‘bumbags’. What is it about tourists and bumbags? Mallory mused. She chuckled to herself as she spotted an elderly couple gesturing wildly and fighting with a large, crinkled map that had, apparently, acquired a mind of its own and was flapping, kite-like, as they tried to tame it.
Further down the road, Mallory and Ruby had another brief sojourn at the well-known Green Welly Stop. It was always part of the journey whenever she and Sam came to Scotland. She felt like she was truly on holiday when they pulled into the car park and she glanced up at the cartoon green wellington boot with its smiley face.
Twenty minutes or so further on and they were past the Bridge of Orchy with its stunning hotel and out into Rannoch Moor. What Mallory could see of Rannoch Moor’s fifty square miles of boggy moorland and rocky outcrops was utterly breathtaking in its vastness and natural beauty; its muted colour pallet framed by the Black Mount in its severe, snow-capped splendour, reaching towards Glen Coe in the distance. Mallory’s heart leapt.
Almost eight hours after leaving her old life behind, she had collected the keys from the solicitors and had finally pulled up outside Sealladh-mara Cottage. It felt good to be here, but she really wished that Sam and she had made the journey in tandem as originally planned.
The slower moving, heavily laden removals van was going to be another hour or more and so she decided to open the front door into their new haven. The door was stuck, so she had to push it hard, with her shoulder. Once inside she found that the cottage was just how she had remembered it from their visit a few months earlier. It was clean and dry with mainly whitewashed walls. A blank canvas, Mallory thought to herself. She let Ruby out into the back garden to explore and watched for a few minutes as the little dog ran around, picking up new smell after new smell; her little stubby tail wagging frantically.
Mallory busied herself unpacking the few essential items she had prepared for their arrival. She plugged in the kettle and took out the mismatched china mugs in readiness. She made herself a quick cup of tea and went to stand in the front garden to admire the view. Just up the road was the beautiful little stone bridge she had fond feelings for. She remembered her first visit here, when Sam had regaled her with his knowledge of the locale.
‘This is the Clachan Bridge but it’s known as the Bridge over the Atlantic,’ Sam had informed her as they stood huddled together at the midpoint of the pretty little arched stone structure, admiring the view and watching the sun dance upon the water.
‘What? It can’t be! A bridge can’t span an ocean!’ Mallory had been totally befuddled by the fact.
‘It can. And here, it does. The water down there is the firth that becomes the Atlantic Ocean. Over there is mainland Scotland and here, where we are, is the Isle of Seil. Clachan Bridge was built way back in 1792 by an engineer called Robert Mylne. You know Blackfriars Bridge in London? Yeah? He built that too.’
She had been very impressed with how much research he had done prior to their holiday and she smiled as she remembered his enthusiasm and eagerness to share with her what he had learned.
As she sat there reminiscing, cup in hand, she mused about how strange things had turned out. A couple of years ago they stood atop the bridge admiring their surroundings and soon, hopefully very soon, when their furniture and Sam arrived, they would be living a literal stone’s throw from that very spot.
Later, after the furniture had arrived and she had unpacked as much as could manage without Sam’s help, Mallory decided to go for an early evening wander, so she clipped Ruby’s lead onto her collar and the pair strolled away from the cottage to the main road. She paused for a moment on the bridge to remember that conversation once again and then walked a little further. She came to the pub on her right. It was a whitewashed building with a welcoming orange glow emanating from the windows. She took a breath and decided to go in to say hello. The warmth of the roaring fire was a welcome change from the early evening temperature outside, where it had become coo
ler as the sun had begun to descend.
With Ruby tucked firmly under her arm, she strolled over to the bar. A couple sitting in the corner were chatting quietly and eating a rather delicious-looking meal. Mallory began to salivate as her senses were bombarded with both savoury and sweet aromas. No, I’ll wait for Sam, she chastised herself.
An elderly gent sat at the bar drinking a pint of beer and reading a newspaper. Mallory smiled kindly and he returned her smile with a nod.
Eventually the bartender came through from a back room, drying a glass with a tea towel and holding it up to the light to inspect it before sliding it back onto a shelf above his head. He was a tall man; broad and muscular with fairly long, shaggy hair which was almost black except for a slight smattering of grey. He had a goatee beard which also showed signs of age but this was contradicted by his youthful face. He was ruggedly handsome and tanned. Mallory felt quite taken aback by how appealing this man was to look at. I’m only looking; she smiled to herself but then shook her head to rid her mind of such thoughts as the man looked up, hesitated and then came over.
He leaned on the bar in front of her and stared right through her with dark brown eyes that almost matched the colour of his hair in the dim lighting of the pub.
‘What can I get you?’ he almost growled, in a strong, Scottish accent.
She felt a little as though perhaps her being here was an inconvenience to him, somehow.
‘Erm… can I just have a diet cola please?’ she whispered, feeling like the request was almost definitely unreasonable judging by this man’s sour demeanour. Who was she to order a beverage in a public house for heaven’s sake?
He didn’t answer. Turning away from her, he walked over and picked up a glass. She noticed his sculpted forearms as he placed the glass under the tap and drew down the dark brown, fizzing liquid, keeping the glass slightly tilted.
He was wearing a fitted grey V-neck T-shirt and black jeans. Around his neck was a tight black cord necklace with a stone pendant which sat close to his throat. The pendant appeared to have some kind of image carved into it but she couldn’t quite make it out. Peeking out from under his sleeve was the jagged edge of a tattoo which looked rather like barbed wire.
He brought the drink over to her and plonked it on the mat in front of her, spilling some of the contents as he did so. What was his problem?
‘One eighty,’ he stated.
She handed over an English five pound note which seemed to disgruntle him further as he examined it and then glanced at her with a question in his eyes. He handed her the change and went back to polishing glasses. She sat there perched at the bar whilst Ruby lay patiently at her feet dozing off.
‘I-erm-that is we… are new here,’ she offered. ‘We’ve bought one of the cottages just by the water.’
The bartender glanced over at her and raised his eyebrows but before continuing with his task.
She fidgeted with the glass and against her own better judgement she continued; she always talked too much, especially when she was nervous. ‘Yeah, me and my fiancé have moved up here from Yorkshire. We might become regulars in here, living so close.’ She forced a small laugh.
‘Lucky us,’ the bartender snorted and turned his back to her. ‘Next drink’ll be on the house then, eh?’
In spite of his words, his dismissive nature made her feel quite unwelcome and the stress of the day caught up to her. Tears stung at her eyes and she missed Sam so much she almost walked out. After all, she was just trying to be polite and make small talk. She hoped that this wasn’t the shape of things to come. Deciding that she’d rather be back at the cottage to wait for Sam, she emptied her glass and rose to leave.
The elderly man from the other end of the bar stood to leave too and walked over to her. ‘Don’t mind Gregory, he’s a grumpy old fart some of the time but he’s a heart o’ gold, honestly. I think he’s hormonal.’ He winked and Mallory smiled. ‘Aye, he’s had a rough few years, poor man. Doesn’t excuse his aloofness but it does go some way to explain it.’
Mallory was grateful to the man for trying to put her at ease. ‘And I always thought that bartenders were supposed to have people skills,’ she sniggered.
‘Aye, well, I think he was at the back o’ the queue when they were given out,’ the old man whispered with a chuckle. ‘I’m Ron, by the way. I live up in the opposite direction from you.’
‘I’m Mallory and my fiancée is Sam. He’s on his way and should be here soon. It was nice to meet you Ron.’ She shook his hand.
Ron bent to fuss Ruby and she welcomed the attention. ‘And who is this little ball of fluff?’
‘This is Ruby. She’s very friendly, as you can see.’
‘Aye she’s a wee sweetie.’ He stood again. ‘Well, Mallory, I hope you and Sam will be very happy here. And don’t you worry, we’re not all like him,’ he said behind his hand, gesturing towards the bartender.
‘Thank goodness.’ Mallory smiled and made her way outside and back down to the cottage.
*
By nine o’clock the contents of several more boxes had found their way to their new rightful places and Mallory had discovered that mobile signal was dependent on network provider. Much to her chagrin she had also discovered that her particular network was rubbish. Sam was still AWOL and her failed attempts to contact him had left her with no choice but to go back over to see Mr McHappy at the pub to beseech him for the use of his landline. It’d be just bloody typical that Sam will have broken down in a ‘no signal’ area and will be sitting at the side of the road waiting for roadside rescue, Mallory chuntered to herself, immediately feeling bad when she realised that if he was sitting waiting he could very well be soaked, as the rain was now bouncing down outside.
Ruby was snuggled up asleep on the rug in front of the fire that Mallory had built about an hour before and was clearly not prepared to go anywhere. Mallory grabbed her waterproof coat, pulled on her very fetching bright green wellington boots that Josie had bought her as a joke and opened the front door. The rain was coming down in torrents. She pulled up her hood and scrunched it around her face, holding it tightly closed under her chin, and she trudged to the pub in the dark.
When she got to the pub door she rubbed her hands down her face to rid her features of the excess water she had managed to amass on the short walk. The pub was alive with chatter and she could see the man from earlier, Gregory, standing behind the bar with a towel slung over his shoulder. She made her way over to him and he turned to her. His face broke into a wide grin and he appeared to be stifling laughter. Great, so now he was mocking her?
She leaned forward, scowling at him and hissed in a loud whisper, ‘Excuse me. I don’t know what you’re finding so funny. I’m soaked to the skin and bloody freezing, which is in no way amusing to me.’
‘It’s just that… erm… never mind.’ He continued to grin. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ He was handsome when he smiled and Mallory hated that she noticed.
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she snapped, immediately regretting it. ‘That is, no thank you… Sam… my fiancé should be here by now but… he’s not and I had no choice other than to come over here, seeing as I can’t get a mobile signal and my landline isn’t connected yet. If it’s not too much trouble can I use your public telephone, please? Assuming you have one. Then I won’t be bothering you again,’ she bumbled in a rush as the bartender scrunched his face, hanging on her every word.
As if coming out of a trance he frowned and switched his gaze to anywhere but her and without making further eye contact he made steps towards her. ‘Public phone isn’t working. You’ll have to come through to the back and use the private one.’ He lifted the hinged area of the bar up to allow her through. She followed him reluctantly. ‘There. And you might want to look in a mirror before you come back through.’ He turned sharply and went back through to the bar.
Yeah well, maybe you should go look in the dishwasher to see if your manners are there, you surly pig, she chastised him me
ntally with words she daren’t utter aloud. But seriously, what was his problem?
Mallory first tried Sam’s mobile number but had to leave a message when it went straight to voicemail. ‘Sam where on earth are you? It’s gone nine o’clock and you should’ve been here ages ago. I’m so worried. Please just ring me and let me know where you are. I love you.’
She tried his work number; then Ryan’s number. But there was no answer anywhere. As a last resort, and resolving to leave a substantial enough payment to cover the cost, she dialled Sam’s mom in Canada in case she had heard from him. But still she couldn’t get through.
Where the heck is he? Worry was building rapidly and her stomach was in knots. She hung up and left an English five pound note beside the phone out of courtesy. No doubt grumpy-britches will have something to say about that but it’s tough.
As she passed the hallway mirror, she glanced at herself. ‘Oh great.’ The reason for the mercurial bartender’s amusement became clear. He was, in his own bizarre way, trying to help her with his comment about looking in the mirror. She looked like some kind of Kiss tribute band reject, as the streaks of eyeliner and mascara had left tramlines down her pale, wet face. She made her way down the hall to the door with the letters W.C. and proceeded to remove the remnants of Gene Simmons from her face.
When she came out, Gregory was leaning up against the wall waiting. He smiled when he saw that she had cleaned her face. ‘So, you’re a Yorkshire lass, eh?’ He had very smiley brown eyes when he wasn’t being a grumpy-arse.
Oh, so now he was trying to be friendly. Shame she wasn’t in the mood. ‘That’s what I said.’
‘I have friends in York,’ he offered. She found herself smiling at his rolled ‘r’ when he said that.
He smiled too. ‘Look, I’m sorry for being an arsehole earlier.’ He pushed off the wall and stood in front of her. ‘I’ve been having a shitty time of it lately but I had no place being like that.’