Bridge of Hope (6 page)

Fuck it. So it’s you, eh? The interloper
. Like a true arse, I just shrugged at her. H
ow to make someone feel welcome in one easy step. T
he fact that she was here to stay did not sit well with me at all.

She looked nervous and was fiddling with the glass. “Yeah, my fiancé and I moved up here from Yorkshire. We might become regulars in here, living so close.”

Oh, so there’s a fiancé. Not a husband. But she’s definitely with someone. Bollocks. No… no. Good… that’s a good thing, definitely.

“Lucky us.”
Fuck! Did I just say that shitty, sarcastic comment out loud?
I caught sight of her horrified expression
which confirmed my fear
. Yes. Yes, I did say it out loud.
There was absolutely no need for me to be so cruel. The poor wee girl was just trying to be friendly. This was the first impression she was getting of the locals. She’d be selling up before the week was out. Maybe that was a good thing. She finished her drink a bit too quickly and made for the door. Ron scowled at me and followed close behind her, muttering under his breath and shaking his head. I heard my name in amongst the expletives and gave him an apologetic look. But his glare told me I was in for it later.

Oh joy
.

~~~

Deciding I needed some fresh air, I grabbed Rhiannon and went out the back. It wasn’t my usual place. I preferred the view of the stone bridge from the front but being out the back was probably safer. The dark-haired beauty’s fiancé couldn’t come and kick my head in out here. Not that I was scared of him. Or anyone, for that matter. I just didn’t feel in the mood for fighting. Least of all when I knew I deserved a good beating for my attitude toward her.

I began to strum away in the hope that my cares would melt into the guitar strings. “I Don’t Want to Know” by Fleetwood Mac came to mind and so that’s what I began to play. I closed my eyes as I often did when I played. When I opened them, Stella was standing in front of me, smiling. She raised her eyebrows.

I turned my mouth up in response and shook my head. “Caught me again, eh?”

“I love a bit of Fleetwood Mac.”

“Yeah, me too. Look… Rhiannon needs some work. I’m going to drop her into the shop tomorrow but after that… well, I’ll give it a go, okay?” As soon as the words fell haphazardly from my mouth, I realised I hadn’t
really
thought it through. I’d acted on a bit of a whim.
Stupid fuck!
But it was too late. I’d said it. As the sentence repeated over in my head, my heart pounded and the enormity of what I’d just agreed to do slapped me around the face.
No going back now
.

Stella clapped her hands in front of her face like a kid in a sweetshop. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m
so
pleased, Gregory.”

“Yeah, well, I’d reserve judgement until I’ve done it if I were you. I might scare the customers away yet.”

“I seriously doubt that, hen.”

“We’ll see, eh?”

With a face-splitting grin like she’d won the fucking lottery, she turned and skipped back inside. I followed soon after to get back to work.

~~~

Ron came back early that evening. As soon as he glowered at me from the doorway, I knew I was in for it.

“Now, Gregory, I know that you have had a terrible, terrible year. But the look on that wee lassie’s face when you were so horrid… I have to say, Gregory, I was ashamed of you. I was ashamed to know you. She seems like a lovely, sweet young lassie, and you treated her as if she’d robbed your granny!”

My stomach knotted and twisted with guilt. Of course he was right, and I hadn’t been able to get it out ma head all day despite the guitar playing. And I couldn’t eat my lunch, which is
not
like me.

“Don’t, Ron. I feel like shit about it already. I’ll go away over tomorrow and take them some wine or something as a housewarming. I’ll apologise… I’ll explain.” I rubbed my hand through my hair as the moths in my stomach took flight at the thought of facing her. I’d say butterflies, but they’re too pretty to be residing in my guts. There was the distinct possibility that her man would punch me on the nose.

I couldn’t blame him if he did, but I had to at least try to make amends for my shitty behaviour. Maybe seeing them together would help to stop the stupid feelings she’d evoked in me. I could only hope.

The rain was hammering down outside. My walk with Angus later was going to be a soggy one. The door opened and some brave soul out walking came in for shelter. The drenched person rubbed a hand over her face and her hood fell off.

It was
her
.

I swallowed hard, waiting for her man to follow her in and look for me. He didn’t arrive and I breathed a sigh of relief. When she glanced over at me, I had this ridiculous urge to run over and hug her. She looked so damned bloody cute. The makeup around her eyes had run all down her face. She could’ve given Gene Simmons a run for his money.
Bless her.
She began to walk toward me and I had to stifle a laugh.

Something flashed in her eyes. “Oy! I don’t know what your problem is, matey, but I tried to be friendly earlier, only to receive the least warm reception I have ever had the displeasure to encounter from a
barkeep
, and now I walk over here in the pouring rain for you to
laugh
at me? Well, I would very much like to borrow your public telephone and then you can get stuffed and I won’t be bothering you again!” Her Yorkshire accent sounded harsh, broader than it had been earlier, and her tone was venomous.

I felt about two inches tall. Everyone in the place was looking first at her and then at me for my reaction. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I dropped my gaze. In all honesty, I felt ashamed. She certainly wasn’t a nervous, cute wee girl anymore. No, she told me good and proper. And she was right; I had treated her badly. The way she called me a barkeep stung a bit though. It came out like an insult. I guess I
really
deserved it.

The payphone had been reported broken a couple of days before when someone had tried to cram an old ten-pence piece into the slot, rendering it useless.

I peered around the pub and people awkwardly got back to their conversations.

“Public phone isn’t working. You’ll have to come through to the back and use the private one,” I told her, and without making eye contact, I lifted the bar so she could come through. She followed me into the back hallway. I nodded toward the closed door before us, suddenly feeling the urge to reach out and squeeze her shoulder or make some small gesture of kindness. “There you go. And you might want to look in a mirror before you come back through.” I walked away and left her.

Ron sat with his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t need to tell me what he was thinking… but he did anyway. “You deserved every word of that tongue-lashing, Gregory… every blessed word.”

I grimaced in frustration with the old guy. “Just drop it, Ron, eh?”

He didn’t.

Instead he pointed a stubby old finger at me. “If I were you, I would be waiting for her and apologise properly before she leaves and gets her gentleman friend to knock your spots off.”

I huffed and rubbed my hands over my face. Once again he was fucking right. I rolled my eyes like an errant teenager and went back through to wait for her. She came out of the bathroom and I smiled, trying my best to be nice. She’d cleaned the streaks of black from her face and was back to be fucking beautiful again.

Still smiling, I plucked up my courage. “So you’re a Yorkshire lass, eh?”

She scowled at me. “That’s what I said.”

Okay… she wasn’t going to make it easy for me. “I have friends in York,” I told her, fuck knows why. She smiled… my heart melted and I smiled back. I pushed myself off the wall and stood in front of her. “Look, I’m sorry for being an arsehole earlier.”
Watch the fucking language, you stupid shit
. “I’ve been having a shitty time of it lately but I had no place being like that.”
Fuck… language!
I cringed.

She pursed her lips. “Don’t worry about it. We’re not friends. You don’t have to explain yourself.” She stood there, arms folded, glaring at me. Still looking fucking hot. I gulped.

“Oh, okay. Yes, I get it. That’s fine, then, I’ll be getting back to the bar.” I felt like crap. She’d actually
hurt
me. I’d tried but she’d shot me down in flames. This gorgeous, engaged-to-be-married Yorkshire lass had
really
hurt me. How did I come back from that? I didn’t think I had a chance.

She watched me expectantly, but when I didn’t say anything further, she stormed off through the bar and out the door into the rainy night. As I watched her retreating form, I was overcome with regret. If I hadn’t been such a bastard, she and I could’ve maybe been friends. Well, I’d ruined that now.

Chapter Eight

The next day I was out with Angus, and I saw Colin and Christine standing outside the shop chatting to Ron. I thought about going over, but it looked like they were having some sort of witches’ coven meeting and so I decided to bypass them and get on my way. I was trying to calculate what I would say when I went over to see the Yorkshire lass and her bloke. I owed them an apology.

“Greg!” Christine shouted. I glanced over and she motioned to me to join them. Taking a much-needed deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face and made my way over.

“Mornin’ all,” I said as breezily as I could manage.

“Have you heard the terrible, terrible news?” Christine asked, wiping at her eyes. Fuck. What had happened?

I shook my head. “What terrible news? What’s happened?”

“That poor wee girl. The one who’s moved into James’s…” Ron paused and lifted his hand to rub at the wrinkled skin around his eyes.

“Aye, what about her?” Shit, had news spread about my ill treatment of her already? Had she packed up and left?

“Her man… her fiancé… won’t be joining her.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really? Shit, has he dumped her?”

“No, Gregory… he’s… he’s
dead
.”

As if I were on a roller coaster, my stomach plummeted.

“
Fuck
, no. What happened?” I ran my hands over my head as I was sure the colour was draining from my face. The churning sensation in my stomach increased and flashbacks of hearing about Mairi’s death tortured me and mingled in with the words I was hearing from my friends.
This can’t be happening. It can’t
.
Not to her too.

“He was on his way up here and there was an accident. He was hit by another vehicle on the road by Loch Lomond.”

I huffed the air through my puffed cheeks as the news sunk in.
That poor girl. Shit, and I was such an arse to her.

“Oh God, that poor woman.” I glanced at Ron, expecting him to be giving me the evil eye, but instead he wore a sad expression.

“Poor girl indeed,” he agreed. “Anyway, I’ll be on my way. I might just pop over there and see if I can do anything to help. I saw she had a little dog. Maybe I could take it for a walk. I don’t know… I just want to do something useful.”

I completely understood his sentiment but figured I’d be the last person she’d be likely to accept help from, so there was no point offering.

Christine wiped her eyes. “I was speaking to Aileen from down the road. She thinks there are some friends and family coming to stay.”

“That’s good that she’s got someone coming,” Ron said. “It must be terrible being in a new place. Not knowing anyone and being alone.”

I made my excuses to leave. I felt terrible. Out of everyone here I was probably the one who understood her pain the most—but I could be no use to her. After all, we hadn’t exactly had the best start. The last thing she needed was some tactless Scotsman making things worse.

~~~

In the days following the news about the English girl’s fiancé, I noticed comings and goings over at the cottage. I was grateful to the complete strangers for being there for the woman. That was something she would need; friends and family. I saw the funeral cortege leave on the day of the service, and I stood with Ron with my head bowed down as the black cars left the village. In a ridiculous way I was envious. At least she was getting to say goodbye properly. I was glad of that for her. I wouldn’t wish what I’d been through on anyone.

As the vehicle passed us, I caught sight of the dark-haired woman. She looked so…
lost
. Her face a stoic mask. Emotionless. But lost all the same. My lower lip quivered as I saw the vehicles retreating up the road. My heart ached for the poor young woman.

The pain she must be feeling.