Page 25 of A Seaside Escape
Chapter Five
May 2015
In the few days that followed the cremation and her mini breakdown, new neighbours made themselves known to her. Her tragic circumstances had spread around the village like a wildfire. She was touched by their condolences, offers of kind, reassuring words and help.
Colin and Christine, the proprietors at the village shop, stopped by with home-made carrot cake; Colin’s specialty they had told her. Ron from the pub came by to walk Ruby several times and the lady from a couple of doors down, who had lost her husband a year ago, called by with flowers, a card and an understanding hug. Mallory had shed tears at how wonderful these, to all intents and purposes, strangers were being. She felt sad that her welcome had been under such sad and painful circumstances. But they had welcomed her nonetheless.
Josie and Brad had put their own lives on hold temporarily, unwilling to leave Mallory to deal with her grief without them close-by. Friday evening came around and her friends decided that she really should get out of the cottage. They figured that a nice walk in the fresh air and then a couple of drinks at the pub was in order. Mallory took some convincing, but eventually she conceded and readied herself. Renee had agreed that Ruby should stay home and she was happy to doggy-sit.
Mallory pulled on a baggy sweater, jeans and a fleece. She scraped her hair into a low ponytail and slid her spectacles up her nose. When she examined her appearance in the bathroom mirror she was shocked at just how pale and drawn she had become. She lifted her glasses and dabbed on some under-eye concealer to rid herself of the dark circles and rubbed a tinted lip balm onto her lips. She didn’t have to look glamorous, but human would help.
The walk was short but helped clear some of the fuzz that had taken up residence in her head. They detoured slightly and stopped at the midpoint of the bridge on their journey towards the pub. Mallory inhaled the cool sea air into her lungs and fought the tears that once again stung her eyes. Would she forever be plagued by this sinking feeling whenever she stood here? Josie and Brad, who flanked her, enveloped her in a group hug. It felt good.
‘C’mon guys.’ She squeezed her friends’ shoulders. ‘To coin a well-known Josie Gardiner phrase… “let’s go get rat-arsed!”’ This brought giggles and overly enthusiastic grins to her friends’ faces. They made their way towards the inviting glow of the pub lights and its warm welcome.
Inside, Mallory stopped when she saw Greg leaning on the bar at one end; pint in hand. Unlike the other occasions she had encountered the brusque Scotsman, this time he was on the other side of the bar, not grumpily serving the locals and visitors. He looked fidgety and rather nervous. He was wearing a dark blue shirt which had little pale blue flowers on it – a contrast to the faded band T-shirts she had seen him in before, but it suited him.Probably on a date,she deduced.
The three friends sat by the fireplace with their drinks and chatted. Josie and Brad doing their best to keep the conversation light-hearted and Mallory began to enjoy a relaxed feeling brought on by the alcohol.
They had just begun their third round of drinks when someone began to speak over the PA system. They turned to the direction of the voice. Much to their mutual surprise, Greg sat on a stool in front of a mic stand, clutching an acoustic guitar.
‘Ahem… evening all.’ He coughed. ‘Good to see you. Ahh… for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of being served intoxicating liquor by my good self… I’d better introduce myself, eh?’ He fidgeted nervously again. ‘My name is Greg McBradden and I’m the local handyman, bartender and all-round grumpy arse.’ He looked directly at Mallory who cringed and felt rather guilty considering he’d come to her rescue on the beach so readily. He laughed to himself at her obvious recoiling. ‘Anyways, I’m going to do my best to add “entertainer” to my list of talents. Thanks to Stella, the owner here, she seems to have a disliking for all you locals as she’s agreed to let me sing to you.’
The pub customers roared with laughter; some heckled and some booed good naturedly.
Lifting his guitar aloft, he went on, ‘So…I’d like to introduce you to Rhiannon… my guitar… named after a Fleetwood Mac song that got me into playing in the first place… so you can blame them if you don’t like ma playing.’ A rumble of laughter travelled the room. ‘She has just been repaired at the guitar hospital… also known as a music shop for you heathens… so she sounds grand… If any of yous get up and leave, don’t forget I know where most of you live.’ Greg chuckled.
‘Right, well, seeing as this is my first night I’m not going to scare you away with my own compositions. This first one, you should all know, but don’t bloody sing along. I hate that.’ He laughed. ‘It’s a little number that I like to call “Trouble”… because… erm, that’s the song title.’ Another rumble of laughter. ‘It’s by a guy called Ray LaMontagne and I’d like anyone who knows him or follows him on Twitter to tell him I’m sorry.’ The customers laughed again.
Greg began to strum the opening chords and closed his eyes as he did so. Mallory, Brad and Josie exchanged looks which pretty much meantCrikey! Who’d have thought it?They laughed together at their mutual shock.He named his guitar? Bit odd… It did, however, explain who Rhiannon actually was.
An amazed silence blanketed the room as everyone listened, mesmerised by the voice of this erstwhile loner who had appeared to have come out of his shell right before their very eyes. Song after song had everyone swaying and, contrary to Greg’s insistence, singing along. It was wonderful to hear someone with such a soulful voice doing justice to some of the best songs from the last decade.
Mallory and her friends drank and drank. But Mallory, feeling relaxed, was surprisingly sober. She sang along and felt as if all her sorrows had melted away for that brief period of time.
Without giving his next song any introduction, Greg took a quick gulp of his beer and began to play a series of singular notes. Shock gripped Mallory and she felt frozen to the spot. Her heart began to pound and she felt the minimal colour she currently had drain from her face as Greg began to sing. Mallory’s eyes widened as her friends exchanged worried looks.
‘Oh shit, Brad, it’s bloody “Chasing Cars”!’ Josie growled at her boyfriend whose mouth had just fallen open in realisation.
Before she could stop herself, and before Greg pierced her heart with the chorus, Mallory rose and, dodging the people at the tables nearest to her, bolted for the exit, closely followed by Josie and Brad.
Mallory burst into the evening air and gulped as if she had just come to the surface of a very deep loch. Clutching her chest, she struggled to breathe. Her heart was making its most earnest attempts to escape its bony cage as Mallory ran. She collapsed to her knees in the middle of the bridge where she began to sob uncontrollably. When Josie and Brad reached her, Josie dropped to her side and encircled her in a strong embrace.
‘He’s gone, Josie!’ Mallory sobbed. ‘He’s gone and I can’t bear it. I don’t know what to do. I’ll never hold him again.’ Her body convulsed as emotion wracked her. ‘He’s gone.’ Brad too crouched to join the girls and stroked Mallory’s hair. The same sorry words fell, over and over, from her lips, as if she was determined to make them sink in. ‘He’s gone… he’s gone and he’s never coming back.’
Carefully Brad lifted Mallory into his arms and the friends made their way back to the cottage. Eventually, Mallory’s sobs subsided and Brad carried her upstairs to her bedroom under the concerned gaze of Renee who stood, hands clasped over her mouth and tears caressing her cheeks. Josie helped her friend to undress and tucked her into bed. She cried herself to sleep, this time with gentle, pain-filled silent tears.
*
Mallory awoke and glanced over at her clock; ten forty-five. She sat up and the most horrendous pounding in her head forced her to lie back down. Sunlight streamed in through the curtains – the same silly, tissue-thin curtains that she and Sam had endured at the cottage in Yorkshire. They never got around to buying new ones even though it had been on their ‘to do’ list.
She heard a knock at the front door and managed to scramble over to peek out of her room to see who it was. She had no intention of answering it herself.
Thankfully Josie had opened the door. ‘Oh, hi. What are you doing here?’
On hearing Josie’s somewhat hostile greeting, Mallory cranked her neck so that she could see who it was without being seen herself.
Greg stood there looking like a rabbit in headlights. ‘I came to check up on Mallory.’ He fiddled with his car keys as he spoke. ‘I saw her run out last night and was worried she was sick or something.’ He ran his hand through his hair.
