by Lisa Hobman
Mallory shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. But I wish you didn’t have to go.’
‘Me too, Mally, but the shop won’t reopen itself. We all need to get back into a normal routine. Brad has had a few calls asking when he’s free to do a kitchen for that family in Adel, that he worked for before, and he really should take the work.’
The shop in Leeds had been displaying a ‘Closed until further notice due to bereavement’ sign for over three weeks and Brad had dropped everything to be with his girlfriend and her best friend. He was quite a guy, Mallory thought. But they were right. The time had come for Mallory to move onward. It was going to be the most difficult time of her life, apart from the death of Sam, but she needed to move on.
*
Two weeks into May, Brad and Josie packed up their belongings into Brad’s old van. It was time for another goodbye. Mallory had said far too many of them recently and they weren’t getting any easier. She tried hard not to give in to her emotions but failed miserably.
Josie clung onto her friend. ‘Oh, don’t cry, babe. We’ll come up in a few weeks for your birthday! It’s the big three-oh! We’ll take you out if you like. Or we could stay in, whatever you want. Let’s see how you feel, eh?’ Josie kissed Mallory and climbed into the passenger seat before she too erupted.
Brad hugged Mallory. ‘Take care of you, Mal, right?’ He kissed the top of her head.
Clinging to her friend, she closed her eyes. ‘Thank you both for everything. I really don’t know what I would have done without you. I’ll miss you.’
‘That’s what friends are for, Mally,’ Josie said through her open van window. Brad climbed into the van and they drove away. Josie hung out of the car waving frantically until they were out of sight.
Mallory walked back into the eerie silence of the house. She looked around the room at her old brown leather sofa that had seen better days, her burgundy rug complete with worried-looking dog, the solid oak sideboard displaying photo memories, the widescreen TV that Sam had insisted they needed, the beautiful artwork on the walls, some that Mallory had before Sam and some that they had bought on visits to Scotland together. And there, above the beautiful inglenook fireplace on the mantle, sat the urn.
She touched the cold surface of the container. ‘Oh Sam, what do I do now? I feel so lost. I miss you so much and I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you. Why did this have to happen to you?’ She wiped away a tear as Ruby jumped up, stretching her little fuzzy body along Mallory’s thigh.
‘Come on Ruby-doo, let’s go get some fresh air eh? Want to go for a walk?’ She picked up the little dog and nuzzled her spikey fur. Ruby wagged her little stumpy tail in excitement at her second favourite word; her favourite being dinner.
Mallory clipped on Ruby’s lead, grabbed Sam’s old fleece and set off out into the afternoon sunshine. It felt surprisingly warm compared to the chill of recent weeks. The pair strolled along, stopping at the same place she always did when crossing the bridge. She loved the view and the memories that it evoked, no matter how painful. As they continued on a Land Rover pulled up alongside them and stopped.
‘Hey, Mallory,’ Greg shouted through the lowered window. ‘How are you doing?’
She smiled. ‘Oh hi, Greg. I’m okay, I think. Having my moments.’
Greg climbed out of the vehicle and came around to where she stood. ‘Look, I wanted to apologise for that night in the pub.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘If I’d have known…’
‘Look, don’t worry, you had no clue. How could you have? I’d had quite a bit to drink too which I don’t think helped. Really, please don’t worry.’ She smiled again, hoping to reassure him.
‘I just felt so bad. I came around the day after.’
‘Yes, Josie said so. You don’t need to worry, honestly.’
He cringed. ‘Aye, but I just feel that every time I speak to you I put my foot in it.’
‘Well, if it’s any consolation, up to that point in the evening I thought you were really good,’ she enthused.
Greg blushed; he actually blushed! Mallory found it quite amusing that this surly, skyscraper of a man could be a little shy about his talent.
‘Really? Thanks. I’m hoping to do it again soon. You should come along. Are there any other songs I should avoid?’ he asked cautiously.
Shaking her head, she replied, ‘No, just that one.’
He saluted her. ‘Okay, noted. Keep a lookout for the blackboard at the pub… well that is when I’ve made one. Right, well, I’d better go. I’m off to fix a leaky tap at Colin’s. He tried to do it, but I think it’s something a bit more serious than he thought.’ He walked back to the driver’s side of the car and climbed in. ‘I’m glad you’re okay… well, as okay as you can be, eh?’
He fastened his seatbelt and looked back to where Mallory still stood. ‘Anyway, you should come up to the pub for some food sometime. Stella makes the best steak pie and you look like you could use a good meal.’ He clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words had fallen out. ‘Fuck. I really should just not talk to you, eh?’ He shook his head as if he was annoyed with himself and drove away quickly without another word.
Mallory frowned and smoothed Sam’s baggy fleece down her body. She didn’t care if it was too big. It still smelled of Sam. She tugged on Ruby’s lead and they continued their walk.
Chapter Six
The next day, Mallory decided to get stuck into organising her workshop. Hearing Greg talk about making a blackboard had given her the desire to get back to making things. It’ll be a good way to take my mind off everything.
She went upstairs into her room to hunt out her scruffy old denim dungarees. They were torn in places and covered in an array of coloured paint splats, but they were what she always wore when she was creating and they were so comfy. She pulled them on and walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner and looked at her figure. She remembered how Sam used to look at her when she wore them. That glint in his eye like he could devour her whole. She scraped her long, wavy, chocolate brown hair into a high ponytail and doubled the band over so that it sat in a knot atop her head.
Armed with her iPod and a bucket of soapy water, she walked up the uneven path to the little stone building at the top of the garden. She pushed open the rickety old wooden door and flicked on the light. There was a film of dust over every work surface and enough cobwebs and creepy-crawlies to make Tim Burton salivate. It really was like the set of a horror movie; she half expected Frankenstein or some other such monster to come crawling out of the woodwork. It was clear that the place hadn’t been used in earnest for years and Mallory decided that was about to change. She selected ‘Jagged Little Pill’ by Alanis Morissette from her playlist. Nothing like a bit of Alanis to belt out to whilst I’m cleaning, she mused and set to, cleaning and sweeping. It felt cathartic to be doing something physical. Maybe tonight I’ll sleep.
The old sink in the corner had a rusty old tap which wouldn’t even turn. So, after emptying the filthy, dank water from her bucket she went back into the house to refill it. Ruby followed her everywhere like a little four-legged shadow.
After a good three hours’ hard graft, the workshop was coming together nicely. The work surfaces along both lengths of the building were clean. The floor was swept and, to her delight, Mallory had discovered that under all the dirt there was a terracotta tiled floor. The pot sink was back to its original off-white and the whitewashed walls were free from cobwebs and spiders. It needed a lick of paint and maybe a noticeboard and some bright pictures to give her something pretty to look at whilst she worked.
She unpacked her various tabletop saws, sanders and routers from their boxes and placed them along one length of the work surfaces. Fortunately, she had discovered that the place appeared to have been rewired and so there were enough power points for all her gadgets.
Remembering Greg had talked about repairing taps at Colin’s, Mallory decided that she would venture over to the pub
later and ask him what could be done to mend the one in the workshop so she could begin work straight away. She had an idea of a trade-off that would mean they both got a good deal out of the situation.
Once she had finished setting things up she made a quick inventory of her supplies and wrote a shopping list of things she would need. She decided she would go shopping the next day.
She showered away the grime and roughly dried her hair until it fell shaggily around her shoulders then she set about finding something to wear that didn’t need ironing. She found a pair of grey trousers and a red V-neck sweater that would do.
Once dressed, Mallory applied concealer to the ever-present, dark under-eye circles and a rose-coloured gloss to her lips. She pulled on her black boots and black waxed jacket and set off to the pub.
It was eight o’clock and the pub was lively with couples and families enjoying the home-cooked food. The aromas emanating from the kitchen made her stomach grumble in need of satiation. She wandered over to the bar and perched on a stool. Greg was serving a very well-spoken middle-aged gentleman who was enquiring about the local guest beers. Greg was imparting his knowledge and chatting pleasantly.
Greg finished serving the man and came over to her. Tonight, he was back to his normal attire; a black T-shirt with a strange emblem and the words A Perfect Circle on the front, black jeans and his cord necklace. She could still only see the very edges of the tattoo on his arm. He nodded in greeting but didn’t smile.
Hmm, back to the status quo then, eh? she said to herself.
‘You came out then,’ he said, stating the obvious.
‘I guess so, or else I’m a very realistic hologram.’ She too spoke without smiling.
‘Aye. Well, what you drinking? It’s on me.’ He flung the towel he was holding over his shoulder like some bartender in a western.
Wondering if she should order a Sarsaparilla as a joke, she paused for a moment. ‘As you’re buying, I’ll push the boat out and have a Jack and cola.’ She smiled. She hadn’t had one of those for months.
Greg recoiled. ‘Ugh! Have you no taste at all? First you ask for Jack when you’re in a Scottish pub selling the best single malts you’ll ever taste… then you kill it with cola?’ He closed his eyes and shook his head as if slowly realising he had just about done it again. He gulped. ‘I mean… coming right up.’ He wandered over to the glasses and measured out a double Jack, topping up the glass with cola. When he had placed the drink in front of her, he passed her a menu. ‘Steak pie is my recommendation, but see what you fancy.’ He walked away to serve someone else.
‘Nice chatting to you,’ she mumbled sarcastically, but he was out of earshot. She perused the menu and settled for the steak pie after all.
Once he was done serving he came back over and stood leaning on the bar in front of her. ‘What are you eating then?’ he asked sharply.
‘Well, you recommend the pie so I’ll go for that please.’ She tried to be pleasant, but he wasn’t making it easy with his brusque manner.
‘Mashed tatties or chips?’ he asked.
‘Mash please.’ She tried to hand him payment but he scrunched his brow and waved his hand dismissively. Argh, I can’t keep up.
‘Mash is for wussies. I’ll bring you chips.’ He grinned.
‘Oy! I said…’
He had already walked away through to the back. Git, she thought.
Mallory moved over to sit at a table near the roaring fire. She felt a little too conspicuous sitting there all by herself and surrounded by families and couples. She decided that she would eat and leave, preferring the company of her little black dog than that of a grumpy bartender and a room of strangers.
Eventually, Greg placed a huge, steaming plate of pie and chips in front of her and then walked away without a word. Shaking her head at his rudeness once again, she began to tuck in. She hated to admit it, but Greg was right, it was absolutely delicious. The chunks of steak were melt-in-the-mouth good and the pastry was short and buttery. She even had to admit that the home-made chips hit the spot nicely.
After a few minutes Greg appeared again, pulled up a chair and sat right opposite her at the table. He didn’t even have the courtesy to ask if it was okay. God, he could be arrogant and was clearly lacking in social etiquette.
He nodded at her plate of food. ‘Nice, eh?’
She nodded in agreement, chewing on a tender piece of succulent beef.
He smiled as if proud to be proved right, ‘Told you it was good.’
‘You did,’ she mumbled, still with a mouthful. He was a real master at stating the bloody obvious. She was now trying to decide which was worse: sitting alone to dine or having her mercurial audience of one. It was a tough one.
‘Anyway, have you got that workshop sorted yet?’ he enquired.
‘How did you know about that?’ she asked, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned that the house had a workshop.
‘The guy who lived there before, James McLaughlan, I did a bit of work for him a few years back. A bit of rewiring and stuff. He moved up north to be wi’ his family. Nice guy. He used to make wooden toys for the hospital and the hospice in Oban,’ he informed her.
‘Oh right, that’s nice.’ She thought that James must have been quite a man to do such thoughtful, selfless things.
‘Aye, he was a top bloke. Anyways, what are you going to do with the space?’
He was incredibly nosey, she decided.
‘I make things. It’ll be my workshop, if I stay.’ She put another forkful of the delectable pie into her mouth.
Her clipped answers weren’t having the desired effect and he continued, ‘Oh right, what do you make then?’
‘I make little signs with phrases on, picture frames, chalkboards and a few other bits and pieces.’ She decided there was no time like the present to put forward her proposal. ‘Funny you should mention the workshop actually.’ She swallowed the food and took a gulp of her Jack and cola.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Aye? Why’s that?’
‘Well you mentioned earlier that you were fixing Colin’s tap and I wondered if you could come and have a look at the sink in the workshop?’ She hesitated. ‘If you have the time, obviously, no pressure.’
‘Oh right. Aye, I could come and have a wee look. What seems to be wrong wi’ it?’
‘It won’t budge.’
Greg looked thoughtful, scrunching his eyes up as if trying to do a mental calculation.
She placed her cutlery down. ‘If you can, I thought maybe I could make you that chalkboard you mentioned when I saw you earlier. You know by way of payment and to save you a job.’
Greg smiled and held out his hand towards her. ‘Got yourself a deal, Mallory.’ They shook on it. ‘I’ll come around tomorrow and have a wee look if you like?’
‘Great.’ That was easier than she had expected. She smiled, relieved and thinking maybe he wasn’t as grumpy as she had previously thought.
‘I’ll bring you a dessert menu,’ he said, whisking away her plate before she’d really had time to decide if she’d finished or not. She was too full to even consider a dessert and so she decided to make a quick exit before he could return. She felt a little guilty, but figured he would get over it.
She stood outside briefly to gaze up at the stars. It was a very clear night and there was little uplight so she could make out millions of tiny white dots of light and a few constellations that she learned about from her dad on their ‘Munro bagging’ camping trips; a thing that sounded more like the pastime of highwayman instead of the ticking off of mountains climbed.
This sky took her back to one of the times her dad had taken her out onto the Yorkshire moors when she was around eight years old. They had packed a flask of hot chocolate and Mum had given them a Tupperware box of home-made flapjack. They packed her dad’s telescope and set out at ten o’clock on a chilly October night. They had pulled up in the middle of a picnic area car park near Sutton Bank and gazed up at the stars fro
m the boot of the old car. She had snuggled up to her dad with a little mug of the sweet chocolaty drink as he had pointed out Orion and The Plough; Mars and Venus. They had looked at the clear image of the face on the moon and had named him Boris, just because it was funny and suited his expression. Her dad was such a kind and gentle man; and a wonderful father.
Smiling at the memory, she walked towards the Sealladh-mara cottage. The fire was welcoming when she opened the front door and so was Ruby. It was almost ten and she felt exhausted after her busy day. She couldn’t be bothered to watch TV or read so she let Ruby into the back garden and on her return into the house gave her a little cuddle.
‘Come on Rubes. Time for bed.’ The two companions went up to Mallory’s room where she undressed, brushed her teeth in the little en-suite and pulled on her snuggly pyjamas. She climbed into bed and switched off her lamp. Ruby made her way to her favourite place; under the covers beside Mallory’s feet. Mallory smiled when she thought back to the first time Sam had stayed over…
*
January 2014
‘Well, I don’t know about you my little love muffin, but I’m bushed.’ Sam stretched once the film they had been watching had finished. The movie, The Hangover, had been both hilarious and cringe-worthy.
‘Yup, me too.’ Mallory got up from the beat-up old sofa and took the empty popcorn package and wine glasses into the kitchen. ‘You go on up, I’m just going to wash these few dishes whilst you do your teeth.’
Sam followed her into the kitchen, slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. ‘Mmm, are you sure you’re okay with me staying over? It’s not too soon is it?’ They had been seeing each other for a few weeks but, apart from Christmas, they had been virtually inseparable since that first passionate night.