Bridge Over the Atlantic (16 page)

“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-others rear end. Greg pointed at the two dogs. “I hope you don’t expect me to greet you like that.”

Mallory burst out laughing. “No, a simple hello will suffice.” She bent to say hello to Angus who slobbered all over her face.

Greg laughed. “I’ll not do that either, I promise.”

Mallory wiped her face on the back of her sleeve. “Thank goodness!” she retorted.

Greg headed straight through to the kitchen. “Sit yoursel’ down, I’ll make us a coffee.” Mallory couldn’t be bothered to argue, so she sat. “I got that new tap sorted. I just need to fit it and then you’re away.” He called over the increasing noise of the kettle.

“Great.” She yawned and stretched. She felt like she had run a marathon.

Greg came through to the lounge with two steaming mugs.
Just what the doctor ordered
, she thought.

“So, I spoke to Stella last night.” Greg grinned; she guessed this meant she had a new job. “She says you’re very welcome to come and give it a go. See what you think. What do you reckon, eh?”

She pursed her lips. “Oh…great, yes, thanks.”

Greg waved an arm at her. “No, no, calm down with your mad enthusiasm you’ll do yourself an injury.”
Sarcastic sod.

Feeling a stab of guilt Mallory shook her head, “Sorry. I just…I’ve had second thoughts…I’m not sure I’m ready…it’s only been a few weeks, Greg.”

“Hey, no one knows better than I do about this shit. And I say, grab the bull by the horns and get out and meet people.”

She knew he was right. Life would go on; she didn’t know how, but go on it must.

“Anyways, I said you’d be there tonight at about six so I can show you the ropes, eh?”

“Okay.” She cringed. “I’ll be there.”

They finished their coffee, making small talk about the weather, things on the news and the fact that her friends were going to come up for a visit in June for her birthday. Greg latched onto the last bit with enthusiasm.

“So, am I right in thinking you’ll be the big three-oh this time, eh?” He grinned.

Mallory gaped open mouthed. “How do you know?”
Are there no secrets around here?

“Remember the other night when you told me off for worrying about your eating habits?”

She nodded sheepishly.

“You said then, and I quote ‘I am a twenty nine year old woman’ I don’t forget stuff. I have a mind full of useless information.” He laughed.

“Don’t remind me. I feel old.” She rubbed her face and her shoulders hunched.

“Ah, rubbish. You’re a wee bairn.” He shrugged off her comment. “Wait ‘til you’re my age then you’ll feel old.”

“What age is that then?” She had wondered this since she met him. She reckoned he was one of the people who hid their age well…but just how well?

“Guess.” He challenged her with a glint in his eye.

“I may offend you,” she warned.

“Na. I don’t offend that easily. Age is just a number.”

“Okay...you asked for it…” She pretended to ponder for a moment. “…erm…fifty five?” she teased.

A look of horror spread across his face and he sat open mouthed.

“Ahhh you said you wouldn’t get offended! Age is just a number you said!” She punched him playfully on the arm.

“You cheeky wee mare.” He laughed. “Go on, seriously, how old would you say I am?”

“Seriously? About thirty four…maybe thirty five?” It was genuinely what she thought.

His chest puffed out. “Na. I’m thirty eight next birthday.” He seemed proud of the fact. “I just look bloody good for my age.” He laughed again.

So that explains why he talked about me as his ‘little sister’ the other night.

“Yes, it’s your modesty I admire the most.” She mocked sarcastically. He really didn’t look thirty seven though.

He made a face at her. “Right, I’m off to get this tap sorted. I need that chalkboard making and if it’s the sink holding you back, I will make sure it doesn’t stand in your way.”

Greg put his empty cup in the sink and headed straight for the workshop. Just like last time, she ran upstairs, showered, dressed in leggings that she had found in her ‘slim’ clothes and a long sleeved blue tee. With the stress of the move and then losing Sam she figured she had lost just over fourteen pounds. Not good.

She strolled up to the workshop with more coffee and got out the bits and pieces she needed to start on Greg’s board. She decided she was going to paint a top section in the same blue as the pub door and then write ‘Greg McBradden Playing Live Here:’ The bottom part would be chalkboard so he could write the dates on. She found a piece of wood in amongst her off cuts that would be the perfect size. She set to undercoating the board. They both worked in silence apart from the CD player, this time belting out a little Pearl Jam. Greg sang along.

Once the tap was finished it was around lunch time. He showed her that the tap was working and she was over the moon.

“Right, I’ll be off then. Think I’ll give the boat another try today. There seemed to be a few tourists around and I think the rental cottage just up from the shop has a large family staying, so fingers crossed.” She waved him off at the front door and got back to work on the board.

At five that night she showered again, to rid herself of the paint splats. She was very pleased with the job she had done on the board and was happy that the weather had been warm enough to enable it to dry and be completed all in the day. It was ready to take with her when she went over to the pub.

She rummaged through her ‘slim’ clothes again looking for something suitable for her first night working in the pub. She found a pair of black trousers and a fitted, v-necked, black and grey top with a paisley pattern. She straightened her long tresses and applied make-up. When she looked at herself in her full length mirror she actually liked what she saw for the first time in ages. She didn’t look quite so pale and her skin seemed to be settling into to its new shape so she didn’t look quite as drawn as she had been.

She opted for contacts, pulled on her black jacket, picked up the brown paper wrapped board and set out for the pub leaving Ruby curled up in her favourite spot in front of the fireplace.

Her nerves were shredded by the time she had walked the few hundred yards to the pub. Stella greeted her warmly. She was such a lovely bubbly woman. She put Mallory at ease straight away.

“I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Greg then. It’s my night off and I really feel like putting my feet up.” Stella lifted up the bar to allow Mallory through. She hung her coat in the back and took the package back through to Greg who was chatting to Ron at the bar.

A huge grin spread across Greg’s face. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“Hmmm, depends what you think it is.” She toyed with him.

“I think it’s my chalkboard,” he said hopefully.

“Then in that case you would be correct.” She handed him the package and he ripped off the paper like a kid on Christmas morning. She laughed at his enthusiasm.

He held the board at arms-length. He didn’t speak. His grin was gone.
Oh great, he thinks it’s rubbish
. Mallory worried to herself.

Greg shook his head as a huge grin returned to his face. “Mallory, Mallory, Mallory…it’s bloody brilliant!”
Phew!
Mallory silently breathed a sigh of relief. “Bloody brilliant!” He repeated, “I love it!” He turned it to show Ron.

“Aye she’s a talented lassie, our Mallory.” He nodded, smiling.
Our Mallory
. Her heart warmed at Ron’s choice of words. Greg put the board down leaning it up against the bar. He turned to Mallory and for a moment looked rather awkward. Eventually he grabbed her and hugged her hard. She felt winded. Her cheeks heated at his show of gratitude. When he freed her she just smiled, not really knowing what to say.

Greg’s cheeks coloured. He fidgeted and ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t seem to do public displays of affection comfortably. He muttered something under his breath about keeping it out of the way so it didn’t get damaged and walked out toward the back of the pub. Mallory looked at Ron and they both chuckled.

When he returned he had pulled himself together and began to show Mallory the ropes. He showed her how to operate the till, take food orders, where the glasses were kept, how to measure out shorts, and everything else he could think to teach her.

Then came the moment she had been dreading. She knew how folks, especially men, could be rather persnickety about the way their beer was served. She was aware that too much froth— “It’s called a head,” Greg had corrected her–was a bad thing but not enough froth—“Head, Mallory!”—was just as bad.

She gulped as Greg showed her how to tilt the glass at just the right angle. Not too far. The beer slid down the side of the glass and he slowly brought it to an upright position as the glass filled.
Impressive, he makes that look easy
. Mallory felt cocky.

It was her turn. The first pint was all froth—
sorry,
head
. Greg and Ron howled with laughter. Mallory felt her cheeks heat again. The second, all beer, no head. The men laughed again. Mallory was annoyed and stamped her foot like a petulant child. The third was better and had potential, according to Greg and Ron.

Greg decided it was time to let Mallory loose on the customers and so he stood back and gestured for her to serve the couple who came to the bar. Once she was done and had managed to get their order correct
and
give them the right change, she felt quite proud of herself. Greg and Ron gave her a mini round of applause.

“Aye, you’re a natural lassie.” Ron beamed, “and you’ll certainly brighten this place up, if you know what I mean.” He gestured toward Greg and winked at her, making her giggle.

“See, I told you you’d be fine.” Greg thankfully didn’t see Ron’s gesture. “Now you’ll need to decide what hours you’d like to do, but really I could do with some help on the night’s I’m playing here. You know when the crowds hear about my gig and they come swarming in droves.” He chuckled. Mallory rolled her eyes.

June 2011

Mallory was really enjoying working at the pub. She had made several new friends and had mastered the art of pint pulling in the two weeks since she had begun perfecting the skill. Greg had been great and they had laughed a lot during their shifts together. The chalkboard had made an appearance when Greg had played his second gig.

It was a week until her birthday, but she hadn’t heard anything from Josie about when they were coming up. She felt a little disappointed. As her birthday fell on a Saturday this year, Greg had made suggestions that they should have a barbie on the beach and Stella had given them the go ahead for a night off. Mallory wasn’t bothered. She just wanted to see Josie and Brad.

She stood behind the bar. It was Greg’s third gig tonight and he was, as always, dressed for the occasion. Tonight, he wore a white linen shirt and he had married it with khaki combats. Very smart, Mallory smiled. Although, why he felt he had to look different on the other side of the bar befuddled her.

“You look terrified,” she commented as he stood drinking a glass of cola. “What’s up?”

“Ah, nothing. I always get like this before I go on. Goodness knows why. I’m a grown man.”

“Age has nothing to do with it. We all get nervous, Greg. You’ll be fine.”

He checked the clock and so did she. Eight, time to go on. The bar had filled up nicely. People enjoyed coming and hearing him sing and Mallory enjoyed it too. He took his position at the mic and lifted his guitar onto his lap.

“Evening all, anyone would think something was going on with all of you’s turning up tonight,” he joked. “As always, I’ll steer clear of my own stuff but be warned, one of these days I’m going to sneak one in when you’re not looking.” A low mumble of laughter ran around the pub. “Don’t forget, no singing along, it puts me off and you’s lot can’t sing anyway.” The usual jovial boos and light hearted heckles came.

“Right, this first song is a wee bit obscure, but I love it so tough.” He smiled. “It’s by a band called Nirvana who take me back to my younger days. I’d like to dedicate this to someone who I think I can now class as a good mate. This is ‘
About a Girl’
.”

He began to strum his guitar and his eyes closed as they always did when he first started to play. Mallory felt quite touched by the gesture and smiled her approval over at him as she bobbed around to the music. He nodded and winked at her with a cheeky grin. The song felt quite appropriate too given their long chats about their lost loves.

Greg’s set was very well received and he even had a swarm of young women around him by the end of the night. They had been in last time, but hadn’t dared approach him. This time they had obviously acquired a little Dutch courage. They giggled and played with their hair while they chatted to him. He seemed a little embarrassed but also appeared to be enjoying the attention. Mallory chuckled at how the girls flirted and batted their eyes.

“Get you with your groupies,” she joked when he came over to the bar, finally rid of the mini Harem.

“Aye, they cannae resist.” He blushed. “What did you think tonight, Matey?” he asked. She smiled at the new term of endearment she seemed to have been allocated.

She scrunched her face up. “I thought it was a bit rubbish really.” She carried on emptying the dish washer under the bar. He looked hurt. “God, for someone who doesn’t get offended easily, you get offended…easily!” She threw a bar towel at him. “You were fab as always, you numpty.”

Greg frowned. “Great choice of words. Remind me to get you to critique my first album, eh?” He threw the towel back at her.

“I especially liked the Nirvana track you opened with.”

“Aye well, that’ll be before your time, eh? You being such a kid,” he teased.

“Oy! I remember Nirvana very well thank you.” Mallory went through to the back to get her coat.