A Seaside Escape: A feel-good romance to warm your heart this winter

by Lisa Hobman

  She explained to Stella that she needed to go find him and why. Stella wholeheartedly agreed that it was a good idea for her to go.

  Mallory ran over to her house to collect her car keys. Ruby looked a little dazed at the intrusion but didn’t get up from her curled up position on the rug. Mallory grabbed what she needed and left, slamming and locking the door behind her.

  She set off for Greg’s but on arrival found the house in darkness and the car was gone. Knowing it was a futile exercise she banged on the windows but of course there was no answer, except the barking of Greg’s dog. She tried the front door and found it unlocked. As she entered, Angus came running towards her still barking until he realised who she was. Filled with dread she ran around the house looking in every room, closely followed by Angus. She called Greg’s name. No reply.

  She slumped on his sofa and noticed a pile of photos on the table, glistening in the moonlight that streamed in through the window. She switched on a lamp and picked up the photos. Mairi and Greg at the beach; Mairi and Greg at a friend’s wedding; Mairi and Greg kissing; Mairi and Greg out walking; every photo showed happy, smiling faces in loving embraces. They looked so in love. How could he have doubted her love for him?

  The last photo was one she picked up from the floor. The Buckle at sunset. Shivers traversed her spine when she remembered Greg’s words from a few months before.

  Every so often I take off up to The Buckle near Glen Etiv, where I met Mairi… there’s a little rock… I just sit there. I take my sleeping bag and sleep under the bridge… I feel her there.

  ‘Oh my God, poor Greg.’ She hurriedly fussed Angus and told him to stay then she ran out to her car, slamming Greg’s front door behind her.

  She scrambled into the driver’s seat and started the engine, fumbling with the handbrake. ‘More haste, less speed!’ she shouted at herself.

  She vaguely remembered how to get to Glen Etiv and knew it’d take her around two hours. She just hoped he was okay.

  Ever since Sam’s accident she’d hated driving in the dark. There was something eerily beautiful about the highland landscape at night but it was something she couldn’t appreciate as she gripped the wheel so tightly her fingers ached. She feared for Greg’s state of mind and thankfully that fear drove her forward with a determination to make up for being such a terrible friend. She had to find him and driving in the moonlight was the only way to do so.

  Staring at the road ahead, she shook her head. ‘What the fuck am I doing? I must be bloody insane.’ She hated herself for swearing and didn’t do it often but she was nervous and scared as to what she may find if and when she found Greg.

  It was past midnight when she eventually located the small road that was signposted to Glen Etiv. She figured it must be the one Greg talked about as the moon highlighted the Buachaille peak looming in the distance. She pulled onto the road and drove along with the peak to her right and moorland surrounding her only lit in portions by her headlights, until she crossed the small bridge Greg had mentioned.

  Her eyes were wide open as her headlights fell on Greg’s Land Rover. She screeched to a halt nearby, jumped out of her car and ran over to the vehicle. There was no sign of him. But there was a holdall scrunched up in the back seat.

  ‘GREG!!’ she shouted as loud as she could. No reply. She walked towards the bridge. ‘GREEEEEG!!’ she tried again. Her voice echoed in the night air and her heart was thumping in her chest.

  It was uncomfortably dark, apart from the crescent moon shining down and casting eerie shadows on her unfamiliar surroundings. There was a haunting stillness to the place. The only clearly audible sound as she walked was the water crashing around under the bridge, breaking the otherwise silent night.

  She decided to follow a narrow path which veered away from the road to the underside of the bridge. She remembered Greg saying he sometimes slept there. It was pitch black so she grabbed her phone from her pocket and switched on its torch.

  ‘Bloody typical. Can’t get a sodding signal anywhere, but I pay twenty-five quid a month for an effing torch,’ she chuntered loudly as she walked.

  There was a sleeping bag right where she had anticipated; but no Greg. She clambered back up to the road and aimed back towards Greg’s car. Tears of sheer anxiety stung at her eyes. Suddenly, the torch glinted on something, making her jump and stop dead in her tracks. It was a man. She shined the torch directly onto him. The figure raised an arm to shield his eyes from the glare of the light. It was Greg. She marched towards where he sat, on his little rock facing the Buckle.

  She exhaled a huge sigh of relief as she reached him. He hung his head.

  ‘Greg. Are you okay?’ No response. She crouched and tilted his chin up. His eyes were closed and his face was wet. She tapped his face with her free hand. ‘Greg, it’s me, Mallory.’ Slowly his eyes opened partially.

  ‘Mallory?’ He looked confused for a moment. ‘Oh aye, Mallory, my bestest friend in the world, Mallory, Mallory.’ His words slurred and she noticed a large, half-empty whiskey bottle clutched in his right hand.

  She wrestled the bottle from him. ‘Oh, Greg, you silly, silly sod. What’ve you done?’

  ‘Ahhhhad a wee drinky. In memory of my wee lassie.’ He smiled. ‘She’s dead, you know.’

  She sighed. ‘Yes Greg, I know. Come on, let’s get you home. We’ll collect your car tomorrow, eh?’

  ‘No… Fuck off!’ He swiped her hand away as she tried to take his arm. ‘You just fuck the fuck away, am stayin’ here with my Mairi.’ He was not a pleasant drunk.

  Annoyance washing over her, she snapped, ‘Oy, don’t swear at me.’ She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her neck and struggled to get him to a standing position. ‘You can’t stay here, not in this state.’

  He swayed. ‘Am shorry, Mallilly. I don’t mean to swear at you. You’re my best friend, you know that?’

  ‘Yes, Greg, so you said. Now come on. You’re going to feel like shit in the morning and I need to get you home. You’ve had me worried sick,’ she scolded him.

  He chuckled like a little kid. ‘Whoops, you swore. You said shit.’ His accent had become stronger in his drunken state. If this situation wasn’t so sad Mallory would’ve been amused by drunken Greg.

  Stifling a giggle, she said, ‘Sorry for swearing, Greg, now come on. You can’t stay here. It’s a road not a campsite.’ They wobbled and swayed towards her car.

  Suddenly Greg stopped and looked back at the moonlit mountain. ‘I met her there on that wee path. I’d been out walking and I was on my way back to the car. She dropped her map and tripped over her bootlaces trying to pick it up… I caught her.’ Greg was now seemingly lucid and Mallory was struck as to the similarities between his story of meeting Mairi and hers of meeting Sam.

  They stood in silence.

  Greg looked down at Mallory. ‘She was so beautiful, Mally, so beautiful. Long red hair, green eyes.’ A tear rolled down his unshaven cheek. ‘I miss her so much. I don’t want to be alone. I hate it.’ He brought his hand up to cover his eyes as he was taken over by his emotions. His lower lip trembled and his body shook much the same as hers had that night on the beach when he had rescued her. It was her turn to rescue him now. She hugged him and let him cry.

  Eventually he wiped his face on his T-shirt, took a deep breath and looked down at her again. Sadness gripped her too as she gazed up at the broken man, fully understanding his pain. Unexpectedly he reached out and slipped his hand into her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. She froze. He kissed her softly but it wasn’t the simple kiss of one friend to another. There was something else lingering between them that she didn’t want to acknowledge but her heart skipped in her chest. She noticed the taste of whiskey and remembered why she was here.

  Her mind snapped back into action. ‘Greg, no! What are you doing?’ She stepped back from him glaring.

  He wobbled a little. ‘Shit. I’m sorry, Mallory, I-I don’t know why I did that.’ He touched his lips as he stumbled backward
.

  ‘No, neither do I… Let’s just forget about it. Come on. You need to get home to bed.’ She knew he was drunk. She knew he was grieving, but boy was she going to have to work on forgiving him for that latest development.

  She helped fold him into her car which wasn’t really built for huge hulking men. Fastened his seat belt and slammed the door almost off its hinges.

  When she had climbed into the driver’s seat he was looking at her.

  ‘You’re mad with me, aren’t you? Please don’t be mad with me,’ he begged. ‘I couldn’t help myself, I really couldn’t. I’m sorry. I know you don’t see me that way.’

  She huffed. ‘You don’t see me that way either when you’re sober, Greg. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning.’

  ‘Mallory?’

  ‘Yes, Greg, what is it now?’ she snapped.

  ‘It is morning.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Over two hours later Mallory helped Greg upstairs into his bedroom. She figured that undressing him was probably inappropriate considering recent events and settled for pulling off his boots and pulling the duvet over him.

  ‘Mallory?’ Greg whispered as Mallory put his boots together under his bed.

  Mallory sat beside him on the bed. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m not sorry,’ Greg mumbled.

  ‘Not sorry about what?’ He had a lot to be sorry for this evening, but clearly, he disagreed.

  ‘For kissing you.’

  Mallory shook her head as she stood and walked towards the door. She switched off the light and, without speaking, left him to sleep off his alcohol-fuelled stupor.

  *

  She had set her alarm so that she could get up and go to Greg’s house early to check up on him. Once awake, she showered and pulled on her dark blue jeans and a lilac T-shirt, gave Ruby a cuddle and set off for Greg’s.

  She opened Greg’s front door and called his name. He didn’t answer. Most of the rooms of his home were on the ground floor, but there was an en-suite bedroom upstairs where Greg slept and where she had deposited him the night before.

  He had simple taste and most of his furniture appeared to have come from junk shops giving it a very eclectic feel. There was an old-fashioned jukebox in one corner of the lounge which he had repaired and converted to play CDs. He wasn’t one for modern technology, insisting that music was best listened to live but that vinyl or CD was close enough. He didn’t own an iPod or any other MP3 player and still believed in buying from record shops rather than online. He was such a traditionalist. The jukebox was full of his favourite bands and as she flicked through the discs, Mallory was quite amazed at the variety of music he owned. From Dougie MacLean to Tool, Queens of The Stoneage and A Perfect Circle and most of it pre-dated 2010.

  She walked up the stairs to his room and pushed open the door. He was laid; spread-eagled, face down on the bed.

  And he was butt. Naked.

  He must have got up after she left and removed his clothes. His buttocks were shapely and muscular, and his back was defined, almost sculpted. She paused and closed her eyes briefly, mentally chastising herself for noticing. To save his dignity, she pulled the covers over his lower half and gently stroked his hair to try and wake him. He rolled to his side and opened his eyes slowly and when he realised it was Mallory he sat bolt upright exposing a little more of his nakedness. Mallory gasped and averted her gaze.

  He grabbed the sheet and pulled it over his manhood.

  ‘Shit-fuck, Mallory!’ He was rather shocked, to say the least. Wincing and closing his eyes briefly, he held his hand up to rub his head.

  Feeling uneasy about what had happened the night before yet simultaneously sorry for him, she asked, ‘Are you okay? I was so worried when you took off. You were in a state when I found you.’

  ‘I’m okay… I think… sorry to worry you. I don’t know what happened.’ He shook his head. ‘I remember bits of it… did I… did I… kiss you?’ He cringed.

  ‘You did,’ she said plainly, her nostrils flaring at the memory.

  ‘Oh God, Mallory, I’m so sorry.’

  She pursed her lips and folded her arms. ‘That’s not what you said last night.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When I put you to bed, you told me you weren’t sorry for kissing me.’

  He blushed, beetroot red. She couldn’t help the half-smile that played on her lips at his embarrassment.

  ‘Ah. Right.’ He looked down and then a look of horror crossed his face. He rubbed his eyes. ‘Did you…’ He gestured down at his naked body. ‘Did you… take my clothes—’

  ‘God no!’ she interrupted rather harshly. ‘I took your boots off and pulled the covers over you. You must have got up and done the rest.’

  He cringed and shook his head. ‘Regardless of what I said last night, I am sorry. Please forgive me.’

  ‘Look, Greg, it’s difficult for me to sit here talking to you when you’re naked. I’ll go and put the kettle on, you get a quick shower and come down when you’re ready,’ she instructed.

  *

  Greg waited for her to leave the room until he punched his pillow several times, whispering expletives as he did so. Why was he such an arse where she was concerned? He slammed his body back into the mattress and wondered why he couldn’t be a better man around her. Huffing at himself, he unsteadily climbed out of bed and went to the shower.

  *

  Mallory found all the necessary items she needed to make fresh coffee, not instant. Although, she didn’t much care that he didn’t like her coffee this morning. He’d have to put up with it.

  When he was freshened up, Greg sheepishly came downstairs in his jogging bottoms and nothing else. She turned her head towards him. His dark, shaggy hair was damp. He smiled but she turned away. Slowly, he walked over to her and, standing behind her, kissed the top of her head as she looked out of the kitchen window at his pretty, well-tended garden. Surprised at the gesture he made, she turned to face him. His torso was still glistening a little from his shower and she felt an unwelcome aching deep inside her. Confusion clouded her mind as she tilted her chin to look at him. He was too close for comfort.

  ‘I am sorry I kissed you,’ he whispered.

  Butterflies set about dancing in her stomach which angered her. ‘Y-yes, so you said.’ She felt an almost overwhelming urge to lick the droplets on his chest and scrunched her eyes to try and liberate herself from her unwanted thoughts.

  ‘But… I’m only sorry because I know you don’t feel the way I do.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘If I thought for a second you felt the same…’ His expression was sad, pained almost.

  Mallory stuttered, ‘I-I don’t understand.’ But really she did. How could she not? He was making things very clear.

  He clenched his jaw. ‘Mallory, do I have to spell it out for you? I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you in the pub. I was angry with myself for wanting you. It was too soon. I was still grieving. I shouldn’t have felt that way, but I couldn’t help it.’

  She could feel his breath on her face as he looked down at her. He smelled of cologne and mint.

  She swallowed as her heart rate increased. ‘But… but you said you were happy to be friends. You were so sincere. I-I believed you.’ Her legs had turned to jelly and heat radiated from his body, making her cheeks flush with warmth.

  ‘I tolerate being only friends. If I’m completely honest, I want more. Much more. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Can’t you find room for me in your heart?’ He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  She was so confused; both by how her body was reacting to him and by his words. She longed to touch his muscular arms, to feel them around her, to trace the tattoo on his chest and kiss it. It’s wrong to lust after another man so soon, half her subconscious screamed.

  ‘I can’t, Greg, it’s not right,’ she breathed.

  But the other half of her subconscious was screaming, kiss me, just k
iss me dammit! She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. It didn’t happen.

  *

  Greg looked down at her standing there with her eyes closed. Her chest heaved as her breathing became irregular. She looked terrified. He hated that. It made him feel nauseated that she could be scared of him. But then he looked at how they were standing. Mallory was backed up against the work surface, unable to move, her hands clenched in front of her. He was about an inch away from her, looming down over her like some menace. He disgusted himself. She opened her eyes as he gazed down at her with an intense stare. His jaw still clenched. Tension wracked his body.

  ‘I know… You don’t have to worry, I won’t say anything again.’ He stepped away from her, shaking. ‘You’d maybe better go, I think I’ve said enough.’ His voice was low and filled with sadness. What had he expected to happen, really? Idiot.

  ‘Greg, please, I’m still grieving. It’s too soon. Please don’t be upset with me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.’ A sob broke free and she covered her mouth as if to stop it but was too late.

  Looking at her from under his lowered eyes, he spoke as calmly as he could. ‘But I’m not yours to lose… and you’re not mine.’ The words were painful to utter but true. ‘Just go, eh?’ He tried to smile but couldn’t and knew at that moment that shutting her out was only self-preservation but she wouldn’t see it that way. She would see him rejecting her as a friend simply because he wanted more. Selfish bastard. With all his heart, he wanted to make her happy, ease her pain. He wanted those feelings to be mutual. But they weren’t.

  *

  Mallory rushed for the door; unsure as to what had just happened. A terrifying sense of loss once again washed over her. She was torn between running back into his arms and kissing him, or running away and getting on a plane to Canada or a train to Yorkshire.