Page 20 of A Seaside Escape
‘It can. And here, it does. The water down there is the firth that becomes the Atlantic Ocean. Over there is mainland Scotland and here, where we are, is the Isle of Seil. Clachan Bridge was built way back in 1792 by an engineer called Robert Mylne. You know Blackfriars Bridge in London? Yeah? He built that too.’
She had been very impressed with how much research he had done prior to their holiday and she smiled as she remembered his enthusiasm and eagerness to share with her what he had learned.
As she sat there reminiscing, cup in hand, she mused about how strange things had turned out. A couple of years ago they stood atop the bridge admiring their surroundings and soon, hopefullyverysoon, when their furniture and Sam arrived, they would be living a literal stone’s throw from that very spot.
Later, after the furniture had arrived and she had unpacked as much as could manage without Sam’s help, Mallory decided to go for an early evening wander, so she clipped Ruby’s lead onto her collar and the pair strolled away from the cottage to the main road. She paused for a moment on the bridge to remember that conversation once again and then walked a little further. She came to the pub on her right. It was a whitewashed building with a welcoming orange glow emanating from the windows. She took a breath and decided to go in to say hello. The warmth of the roaring fire was a welcome change from the early evening temperature outside, where it had become cooler as the sun had begun to descend.
With Ruby tucked firmly under her arm, she strolled over to the bar. A couple sitting in the corner were chatting quietly and eating a rather delicious-looking meal. Mallory began to salivate as her senses were bombarded with both savoury and sweet aromas.No, I’ll wait for Sam, she chastised herself.
An elderly gent sat at the bar drinking a pint of beer and reading a newspaper. Mallory smiled kindly and he returned her smile with a nod.
Eventually the bartender came through from a back room, drying a glass with a tea towel and holding it up to the light to inspect it before sliding it back onto a shelf above his head. He was a tall man; broad and muscular with fairly long, shaggy hair which was almost black except for a slight smattering of grey. He had a goatee beard which also showed signs of age but this was contradicted by his youthful face. He was ruggedly handsome and tanned. Mallory felt quite taken aback by how appealing this man was to look at.I’m only looking; she smiled to herself but then shook her head to rid her mind of such thoughts as the man looked up, hesitated and then came over.
He leaned on the bar in front of her and stared right through her with dark brown eyes that almost matched the colour of his hair in the dim lighting of the pub.
‘What can I get you?’ he almost growled, in a strong, Scottish accent.
She felt a little as though perhaps her being here was an inconvenience to him, somehow.
‘Erm… can I just have a diet cola please?’ she whispered, feeling like the request was almost definitely unreasonable judging by this man’s sour demeanour. Who wassheto order a beverage in a public house for heaven’s sake?
He didn’t answer. Turning away from her, he walked over and picked up a glass. She noticed his sculpted forearms as he placed the glass under the tap and drew down the dark brown, fizzing liquid, keeping the glass slightly tilted.
He was wearing a fitted grey V-neck T-shirt and black jeans. Around his neck was a tight black cord necklace with a stone pendant which sat close to his throat. The pendant appeared to have some kind of image carved into it but she couldn’t quite make it out. Peeking out from under his sleeve was the jagged edge of a tattoo which looked rather like barbed wire.
He brought the drink over to her and plonked it on the mat in front of her, spilling some of the contents as he did so. What was his problem?
‘One eighty,’ he stated.
She handed over an English five pound note which seemed to disgruntle him further as he examined it and then glanced at her with a question in his eyes. He handed her the change and went back to polishing glasses. She sat there perched at the bar whilst Ruby lay patiently at her feet dozing off.
‘I-erm-that iswe… are new here,’ she offered. ‘We’ve bought one of the cottages just by the water.’
The bartender glanced over at her and raised his eyebrows but before continuing with his task.
She fidgeted with the glass and against her own better judgement she continued; she always talked too much, especially when she was nervous. ‘Yeah, me and my fiancé have moved up here from Yorkshire. We might become regulars in here, living so close.’ She forced a small laugh.
‘Lucky us,’ the bartender snorted and turned his back to her. ‘Next drink’ll be on the house then, eh?’
In spite of his words, his dismissive nature made her feel quite unwelcome and the stress of the day caught up to her. Tears stung at her eyes and she missed Sam so much she almost walked out. After all, she was just trying to be polite and make small talk. She hoped that this wasn’t the shape of things to come. Deciding that she’d rather be back at the cottage to wait for Sam, she emptied her glass and rose to leave.
The elderly man from the other end of the bar stood to leave too and walked over to her. ‘Don’t mind Gregory, he’s a grumpy old fart some of the time but he’s a heart o’ gold, honestly. I think he’s hormonal.’ He winked and Mallory smiled. ‘Aye, he’s had a rough few years, poor man. Doesn’t excuse his aloofness but it does go some way to explain it.’
Mallory was grateful to the man for trying to put her at ease. ‘And I always thought that bartenders were supposed to have people skills,’ she sniggered.
‘Aye, well, I think he was at the back o’ the queue when they were given out,’ the old man whispered with a chuckle. ‘I’m Ron, by the way. I live up in the opposite direction from you.’
‘I’m Mallory and my fiancée is Sam. He’s on his way and should be here soon. It was nice to meet you Ron.’ She shook his hand.
Ron bent to fuss Ruby and she welcomed the attention. ‘And who is this little ball of fluff?’
‘This is Ruby. She’s very friendly, as you can see.’
‘Aye she’s a wee sweetie.’ He stood again. ‘Well, Mallory, I hope you and Sam will be very happy here. And don’t you worry, we’re not all like him,’ he said behind his hand, gesturing towards the bartender.
‘Thank goodness.’ Mallory smiled and made her way outside and back down to the cottage.
*
