by Lisa Hobman
He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. ‘It sounds like a cliché, but it does get easier with time.’ He looked down at his coffee. ‘You just need to keep busy.’
‘Is that what you’re doing with your gazillion different jobs?’ she asked.
He glanced up and they made eye contact. For a brief moment, there was a sympathetic look in his dark gaze. But suddenly something changed in his demeanour and the shield he evidently protected himself with slipped into place yet again.
He straightened up in his seat and took another sip of his steaming drink. ‘Na. I like the variety. Don’t get bored that way.’ Why he kept reassuring her in one breath and putting up the shutters in the next one, she could only wonder. ‘Anyway, it’s good that you’re getting out and about. No point sitting and wallowing in self-pity, eh?’
Affronted by his insinuation that she was somehow enjoying her current situation, she huffed. ‘Thanks for your concern, I think. But I’m not wallowing, as you so eloquently put it. I’m grieving; there’s a difference.’
‘Aye what I meant is you should nae be on your own all the time. If you were my little sister I’d be keeping an eye on you, is all I’m saying.’
‘Well, thankfully I’m not your little sister. I’m a twenty-nine-year-old woman with her own life and I’m fine with Ruby for company, thank you. Don’t be so bloody patronising.’ It was her turn to avoid eye contact and look out to sea now.
They sat in silence for quite a while.
‘So, you made any other friends in the village yet?’ Greg asked.
Mallory let out a surprised snort at his hint that they were friends and then immediately felt cruel. ‘Sorry. That was mean. I was just surprised to hear you class yourself as my friend,’ she explained. ‘We haven’t exactly got along very well since we met, wouldn’t you agree?’ Greg looked hurt and she felt terrible. ‘Great, now it’s my turn to put my foot in it, eh?’ He didn’t answer. She had clearly hurt his feelings and they sat in silence again.
Suddenly he leaned forward. ‘Look, I know I can be an arse, all right? I’ve never had a female friend, I suppose. I’ve two brothers who never dare let me meet their girlfriends for fear I’ll speak to them how I speak to you. I spend a lot of time on my own, by choice I hasten to add, and I feel sorry for you.’
Anger at his words knotted Mallory’s insides. ‘You feel sorry for me?’ she spat. ‘I don’t want you to go out of your way to be your version of nice simply because you pity me.’ She was horrified and it showed as her voice rose.
‘No, you misunderstand me.’ His voice rose too now, ‘That’s not what I meant. See? This is why I don’t do… this.’ He waved his hand back and forth between them.
‘What are you on about? You don’t do what?’
He placed his cup down and rubbed his hands over his face. He was clearly exasperated, but Mallory wasn’t sure with whom: her or himself.
‘Look, that night on the beach, I really felt your pain.’ He paused as if calculating each sentence. ‘I felt so terrible for what you were going through. I understood… I understand.’ He looked skyward as if the words he was searching for may be written up there. ‘It’s not pity, it’s… it’s… argh… what’s the fuckin’ word?’ He raised his hands up in a swift ‘Eureka’ type of gesture. ‘Empathy!’
Mallory’s eyes began to sting as tears threatened. He was relentless. Couldn’t he just shut up?
Clearly, he couldn’t as he took a deep breath and leaned forward towards her again; his voice had calmed. ‘I know how hard it is. You’re in a strange place where you hardly know anyone and you’ve lost the one person in your life that would’ve made that whole situation okay.’ He took off his hat and ran his hands through his flattened hair. ‘I get that. I get what you’re going through. I felt I wanted to help – no that I needed to help, but it turns out I keep making it worse.’ He peered into Mallory’s eyes again. ‘Oh, fuck and now I’ve fuckin’ made you cry again.’
Mallory sniffed and wiped at her eyes. ‘It’s fine. I’m not your responsibility!’ she exclaimed. ‘I get that you understand, but every time I try to ask you anything, you go all mean and moody on me. I have no clue how to take you. If you want to be friends you have to change how you act around me. I can’t do with trying to second-guess your mood and wonder if I’ve overstepped the mark.’
He slid over to sit next to her. ‘Right, this is stupid. Can we please just fuckin’ start over, eh?’ He clamped his hand over his mouth. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry I keep swearing.’
Mallory smirked. ‘It’s fucking fine! Just don’t fucking do it again, okay? It’s fucking rude!’ she shouted. They stared at each other and then burst out laughing.
Once they had calmed down a little, Greg nudged Mallory’s shoulder with his own. ‘So, I’m guessing you’ll want to know my story, then, eh?’
She felt a little guilty for pushing him again. ‘Only if you want to tell me. We still don’t know each other from Adam.’
‘Aye, well, I know your stuff so I guess it’s only fair.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘What are your burning questions?’
She thought about it for a moment. ‘Look, it’s up to you how much you do or don’t say. I know that you lost someone. Maybe you can just leave it there if you prefer?’
He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘She was my girlfriend.’
Mallory glanced at him as he subconsciously rubbed his wedding ring indentation.
‘She was the love of my life, if the truth be known,’ he went on. ‘I’d been separated from my wife for a few years after she cheated on me with my best mate and I hadn’t been bothered about finding love at all. Didn’t think I could trust anyone again. Until I met Mairi up near The Buachaille, or as you might know it the Buckle, by Glen Etiv whilst I was travelling around, camping.’ Things were beginning to fall into place. His surly manner, the wedding ring indentation. He’d been hurt badly. But his affection for Mairi was clear as he continued, ‘She was absolutely mad about climbing.’ He smiled and closed his eyes. ‘She’d started as a wee bairn with her dad, travelling all over the place just to climb. That’s what she was doing when I met her. She called it Munro bagging… Oh, err, that means that she—’
Mallory interrupted him, ‘Greg, my name is Mallory, I was named after a mountaineer. My dad was a mountaineer. I know what Munro bagging is.’ She nudged him.
‘Oh, of course. I forgot.’ He rolled his eyes and carried on. ‘Anyway, to cut a long story short, she’d done all the big climbs in the UK and most of the European ones. She was one of the youngest female climbers ever to achieve Scottish Grade 3 and she’d been dreaming of something even bigger. She’d been saving up to go to Pakistan since she was a teenager. It was all she could go on about. Her face just lit up when she talked about it.’ He paused as if finding it difficult to continue.
He cleared his throat. ‘She was so beautiful. But when she talked about climbing…’ He shook his head as he trailed off. ‘I’ve always been quite outdoorsy myself. She managed to convince me to go with her a couple of times, but I just didn’t get it like she did. In fact, if I’m honest, it scared the willies out of me being so high up.’ He laughed. ‘Last year she met up with a team of professional climbers who she contacted through one of the big climbing websites she was always going on. They’d arranged a trip out to Pakistan and invited her along. She had the money and asked me if I minded. How could I mind? I wasn’t going to stand between her and her dreams, was I? Anyway, they set off in June to climb K2. She was in touch until they started the main ascent and then… nothing.’
Mallory didn’t quite understand. ‘What do you mean nothing?’
Greg huffed the air out of his lungs. ‘The news stations over there reported a freak storm.’ His eyes welled up with tears. The memories clearly still very vivid and equally as painful. ‘None of the team made it down. The bodies were never recovered. I never saw her again. I never got to say goodbye and my sweet, sweet girl was gone.’ His voice trailed off. A
shiver travelled down Mallory’s spine. ‘I went out to Pakistan to see what else I could find out, but they gave up searching pretty damn quickly. She was declared dead on August twentieth along with the rest of her team.’ He spoke through clenched teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. His anger was evident. ‘This morning at your house, I had a call to say they had found what they thought was part of her kit. Turns out it wasn’t hers.’
‘The tattoo… is that for Mairi?’ Mallory asked carefully, not really knowing if she should.
‘Aye. K2, the wretched place. The barbed wire represents the pain that place caused me. It’s there as a reminder that you have to be careful what you wish for.’
She understood. Completely. ‘I’m so sorry, Greg. I’m sorry for being so hard on you. I do understand.’ She smiled at her unlikely kindred spirit. There was a long pause before she went on, ‘I dreamt about Sam last night. It was so real. He spoke to me about my fears around staying here. I told him I wanted to go back to Yorkshire, but in my dream, he said I should stay.’ Her own eyes began to blur with tears again as she recalled how lifelike the vision of Sam had been.
Greg’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Wow. I bet it was hard to wake up from that dream, eh?’
‘So, so hard. I keep expecting to see him standing on the bridge; or for him to come through the door and apologise for being late.’
‘Aye, I know what you mean. Every time I see a girl with long red hair I want to rush up and grab her to see if it’s Mairi… then I realise it can’t be.’ He thought for a moment, ‘So you’ve seriously been thinking about leaving, eh?’ He seemed surprised.
‘To be honest I just don’t know what to do. I have friends back in Yorkshire. I have my shop… but this is where Sam wanted us to be. This is where we wanted to be together. I think I feel closer to him here than I would in Yorkshire; even though I met him there.’
‘I get that. Every so often I take off up to The Buckle, the mountain where I met Mairi. There’s a turn off the main road that leads to Glen Etiv. I usually park in the little lay-by just past the bridge. A bit further up there’s this little rock where I like to sit. There’s an amazing view of the Buckle from there. I like to wait for the sunrise. I just sit there looking at the changing colours of the dawn. I take my sleeping bag and sleep under the bridge for a couple of nights. I feel her there, you know?’
Mallory nodded as everything about him seemed to click into place. After all she was the same when she stood on the little stone bridge near her new home.
Greg fiddled with his hat, looking lost in his thoughts. ‘You don’t need to feel lonely here, you know,’ Greg informed her after a few minutes of a more comfortable silence. ‘People around here are great. They’re warm, friendly people. From what I’ve heard, folks have nice things to say about you. It’s funny, you know; some people can move here and be here for years and never fit in. Not you, though. People love you already.’ He sat upright, turning to look at her. There was a glint in his eyes that she hadn’t witnessed before. ‘Hey, you know what you should do?’
Mallory was sceptical about what was coming next. ‘Hmm, you seem rather excited and that worries me.’ She squinted at him suspiciously.
‘A way to meet people. Stella is looking for an extra bartender for the evenings. I could put a word in for you,’ he suggested.
Mallory thought about it for a moment. She didn’t really need the money but it’d give her something to focus on; evenings were going to be difficult. But panic started to take over when she realised she was actually considering this. ‘But I have no clue how to pull a pint and I can’t add up in my head.’
‘Aye, well I can train you to pull pints and we have an electronic cash register, you know. We don’t live in the dark ages up here.’
‘Okay, well, have a word with her then. I could come in for a trial to see if I like it and if Stella likes me.’ Her words fell so easily from her lips that they took her by surprise. She had once again unexpectedly stepped out of her comfort zone and like all the other times she wondered if she might live to regret it.
‘Aye, well Stella employs me don’t forget, so being likeable can’t be one of the requirements.’ Greg laughed and Mallory joined in, thinking his self-deprecation was kind of sweet.
Chapter Seven
They sailed back to shore and Mallory was relieved that the air had been cleared between them. They had apparently come to a mutual understanding and Mallory understood Greg much more. She really felt for him. His emotions were still raw which wasn’t surprising considering it was less than a year since Mairi had been declared dead – and although it had been a horrible experience, at least Mallory had the chance to cremate Sam; there had been some sense of closure for her. Greg hadn’t had anything like that. Eleven months had passed for this poor man since his love had left for her trip never to return and there were still unanswered questions. He had no peace. She admired the immense strength of his character and silently forgave him for his abrupt mood swings.
As they climbed off the boat and back onto terra firma, Mallory broke the ponderous silence that had fallen between them once again. ‘What are you up to this afternoon then? More leaking sinks to repair?’ She smiled warmly at him, feeling more at ease.
‘Nah… I’m away to pick up Angus and I think we might go for a long walk.’
First Rhiannon and now Angus. What instrument could this possibly be? Mallory scrunched her nose. ‘Angus?’
‘Aye, I don’t bring him on the boat too often. He can get seasick and sometimes he bothers the customers,’ Greg informed her.
Ah so it wasn’t an instrument. But Angus hadn’t been mentioned before. ‘Is Angus your son?’ she asked, hoping she wasn’t prying.
Greg threw his head back and guffawed loudly.
‘What’s funny?’ Mallory smiled but wasn’t sure why.
Greg shook his head, his laughter still erupting. ‘My son… actually, he is rather spoiled, so I suppose in a way he is.’ He glanced up at her. ‘He’s my dog. Stella looks after him sometimes when I’m out on the boat.’
Heat rose in her cheeks. ‘Ah right.’ She couldn’t help but laugh now at her earlier thought. ‘What type of dog is he?’ Mallory had always loved dogs.
‘He is a Lab-satian.’
That’s a new one on me. ‘A what?’
He smiled fondly. ‘Labrador Alsatian cross breed. He’s bloody huge, greedy and daft as a brush.’
‘Oh lovely. I’d love to meet him sometime. I can’t believe you have a seasick dog.’ The thought made her giggle.
‘Aye, I wasn’t too impressed the first time I took him out I can tell you.’ They walked towards his Land Rover. ‘I used to hope he’d get over it but subsequent trips proved me wrong on that score.’
She smiled and shook her head as images of Greg carrying his poorly dog off the boat materialised in her mind. ‘Poor little chap.’
Greg laughed out loud. ‘Little? Did you not hear me describe him?’ A more comfortable silence descended between them as they reached Greg’s car. He opened the door and climbed in, closed the door and wound down the window. ‘I’ll have a word with Stella tonight and let you know what she says. Although I can tell you now that she’ll welcome the chance to have someone around who tends to smile more than I do.’ She smiled up at him, seeing a new side to his character. The fact that he was capable of self-deprecation helped warm her to him a little more.
‘Okay, thanks for that. Not sure how I feel about the prospect of facing so many new people but we’ll see.’
‘Well if it’s any help I think Ron will prefer your face to mine any day.’ He started the engine. ‘See you tomorrow then, eh?’
‘See you tomorrow. And thanks for today.’
He shook his head. ‘Nae bother.’ He raised his hand in a wave and drove away.
‘Bye for now!’ she shouted after him. She and Ruby turned to head for home.
As they walked, she replayed their conversatio
ns in her mind. Greg had opened up so much more and she appreciated his honesty. She knew that there was also a tale to be heard about why his marriage had ended, but that would wait. She felt she had found a little common ground with Greg; someone who understood and felt her pain. Maybe they could help each other to come through their grief. Maybe, just maybe, they could be friends…
She walked through her front door and glanced around. I do like this place, maybe I should give it a try?
The ashes still sat in their plain container on the mantle in the lounge. She knew that a decision would have to be made soon: she didn’t want to become one of those people who talked to the urn. Now that’s the type of thing Sam would have poked fun at for sure.
Mallory made herself a chicken stir fry and noodles and poured herself a glass of wine. After she had eaten she watched the first part of a movie on TV, but kept dozing off and so she decided to go to bed. It was only ten o’clock, but she was exhausted. It had been quite a day.
She was awakened by someone pounding on the front door. She sat bolt upright and looked at the clock. Wow, she must have been tired – it was nearly half past ten in the morning. She dashed out of bed and down to the front door, rubbing her bleary eyes and tugged it open.
Greg stood there, worried expression on his face, toolkit in hand, huge excitable dog by his side. ‘I was beginning to think you’d done a moonlight flit.’
She yawned. ‘Sorry, I must have slept really deeply. I’ve only just woken up.’ Good grief, once again I look a sight when Greg calls round. He must think I live in my jim-jams.
Greg looked her up and down and smirked but didn’t say anything. He was wearing a T-shirt with an image of some kind of rabid wolf and the words ‘Faith No More’ emblazoned over the top. She’d heard of the band but wasn’t a fan. He had an interesting array of T shirts, she mused. She stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.
‘I brought Angus, is that okay? You said you’d like to meet him.’ Mallory nodded as Ruby came up to greet the new canine visitor. The two dogs sniffed each other inquisitively, their noses stuck up each-other’s rear end. Greg pointed at the two dogs. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to greet you like that.’