On the Bridge

I felt my mobile ping in the pocket of my new pink winter coat which I had purchased specially for this trip to London. Leaving my long-suffering husband behind in Australia, I had made this trip to spend time with my brother, cousins and long-time friends from boarding school days. It was a way of celebrating 70 years of life on this planet with my English family. Also because of Covid I hadn’t seen any of them for about 4 years. 

Looking at the phone I saw it was a text from the man himself. A long text too. I opened it up, starting to read it while walking across the bridge to the Tate Modern Museum. Laughing on reading his description of his last rehearsal for the play he was doing, I suddenly found myself literally in the arms of a young woman.

A young woman who was shaking with terror, clutching me like she had seen a ghost. Looking at her face, I realised that   I recognised her. “Charlotte”,I said incredulously. Charlotte’s wide eyes looked up at me in astonishment . “Mary”, she said, “What are you doing here?” “I am going to meet some friends at the Tate … “ but I couldn’t finish my sentence as Charlotte put her hand over my mouth, starting to drag me the opposite way from the museum. “Please keep walking, don’t look back”. On saying this she took my arm, pulled her hood up over her head ,rushing me on like there was no tomorrow. Trying to stop her, to make some sense of these bizarre actions, I pulled her into a bit of a shelter under the bridge. “Charlotte, what is going on? I have to meet my friends in twenty minutes. I need to have some explanation”.

I watched her look around , moving her head in staccato type shakes. It seemed like she was looking for someone. Just as she started to speak, she pulled me in front of her so that she was hidden by me and the bridge pillar. “Lucky she is shorter than me”, I thought, following the direction in which she was looking. I saw a man, stockily built, wearing a baseball cap, just leaving the bridge. He was looking all around him, very determinedly. I could feel Charlotte rigidly pressed against my back. I retrieved my mobile from my coat pocket and pretended to be speaking to someone. As I made a furtive glance in his direction, I saw him take a cursory look at me, but then turn away and in what was obviously a fit of pique, throw his cap on the ground. He lit a cigarette, with somewhat trembling hands , pick up his hat and slowly move on. “In a voice absolutely quaking with fear, Charlotte whispered, “Where is he now?” Checking that he had disappeared into the crowd, I whishpered “ He’s gone now, I can’t see him any more”.

I turned around, taking this fearful girl in my arms, holding her until she eventually calmed down. I had known Charlotte since she was about 13. She had gone to school with my daughter. Her mother was one of my closest friends. I knew she had been living and working in London, also travelling around Europe. All had been going well according to her mum so what on earth had gone wrong. I was determined to find out. In fact for her mother’s sake I must find out. First I texted my friends to tell them that I couldn’t meet them, that something very urgent had come up . Explanations later.

Taking Charlotte by the hand, saying to her, “We need a coffee. There is a café over the other side of the street. Let’s go there, perhaps you can enlighten me as to what the trouble is.” Looking very scared, Charolotte nodded, but then whispered, “What if he comes back?”. “Well, we’re in luck”, I replied. My cousin manages this café, that’s why I suggested it. I can ask her to give us a coffee in her office, so we won’t be seen from the street”. Relaxing a little, Charlotte let herself be guided into the café. I quickly told Sal, what we needed. She was great, no questions asked. Immediately we found ourselves being propelled to her office, and in minutes , 2 steaming hot mugs of coffee were in front of us.

I could see that Charlie, as she liked to be called, was still in quite a state, nervously wringing her hands, looking about her, not able to look me in the eye. When I thought back to the last time I had seen her, which was at her twenty first party, the difference was palpable. That was a year ago. There I had seen a confident, attractive young woman with her life in front of her. She had been Head girl at her school, gone through University with flying colours, but not wanting to join the work force straight away, she had decided to travel.

My cousin briefly popped her head through the door checking that we were okay. I nodded. Smiling she left us. I took the bull by the horns, addressing the elephant in the room. “Charlie what is going on? I want to help. I have a lot of contacts here in London, including my brother with whom I am staying, so please I am here to listen, not to judge”.

She took a big gulp of her from her mug. She put it slowly back on the table, a deep breath, before at last looking me in the eye, she started to unburden herself. “Thank you. I am not sure you or anyone can help me but I have to tell someone or I will go mad. I was contemplating throwing myself off the bridge, but I knew I couldn’t do that to my mother with my dad’s death so recent” . Tears came into her eyes and I took her hand. She continued, “ As you know after Uni I wanted to travel. Mum had friends here in London so here I came. I got a job in a pub, found a room to rent with two girls and a guy. All was fine and I was enjoying myself. The guy, Brian, was really nice, took me out to different pubs, night clubs. We even went away to Cambridge for a few nights. It was really idyllic.” She stood up, moving around the room, or perhaps pacing would be more accurate, while racounting the next bit of her narrative.

“After our trip to Cambridge I began to notice a difference in Brian. When we went out he started to become very possessive. If another guy even looked at me, he would make us leave, telling me that it was my fault. I shouldn’t be such a flirt, shouldn’t dress the way I did, on and on like that.  I tried to reason with him but he wouldn’t listen”. Gently I asked, “Why did you stay with him Charlie?”

She started pacing with even more intensity, “Believe me I didn’t want to. I started furtively looking for other places to rent. Eventually I found a room in Camden, not so convenient for my job but I had to get away. One of the other girls was a real help and between the two of us we managed to move my stuff while Brian was working. I breathed such a sigh of relief my first night there, slept properly the first time in ages. However, the next night I had just returned from my shift at the pub when there was a loud knocking on the door. I ran to open it so it didn’t waken the rest of my housemates. There he was looking like thunder. He was the maddest I had ever seen him. He pushed past me, then turning, dragged me into the kitchen where he grabbed me, shoving my arm right up behind my back, yelling abuse at me, continually twisting my arm”. She showed me the bruises on her right arm. Poor girl, they were awful.

Tears started flowing down her face. I got up, took her in my arms, just holding her, until she gathered herself together. “Look Charlie, it is obvious that you need help. If you will allow me, I am going to speak to my cousin about all this. Her husband is a social worker, so I think he might be able to help. But for tonight I am going to take you back to my brother’s where I know you will be safe”. I sat her down in her chair, then went through to the café to sort things out with Sal. Of course she was immediately on the case, promising to talk to her husband Mark about it tonight.

I returned to the back room to find Charlie sitting staring into space, hardly acknowledging that I had returned. I gathered up our things, helped her back on with her jacket, then after saying goodbye and a big thank you to Sal, we left to make our way to Waterloo station, a five minute walk. We walked in silence, each thinking our own thoughts. “She can sleep with me”, I thought, “I know John won’t mind”. He is a very kind man, and a super brother. Arriving at Waterloo I sussed out the next train to St. Margarets, my brother’s station. We had half an hour to wait. As we had had no lunch, I suggested to Charlie that we go into Pret a Manger to buy a sandwich. She said she wasn’t hungry but came with me anyway.

I was at the counter ordering when there was a violent tugging at my sleeve, Charlie was almost beside herself. “I have just seen him, he’s here, what am I going to do? Oh my God, I don’t know what to do”. I finished paying, then taking her by the hand led her to a table at the back of the café. “Where did you see him? Did he see you?”. “On the concourse, wandering around. I don’t think he saw me but it is obvious he is looking for me. How did he get here, how did he know I would be here? He must have followed us from the café because I never come to this station.” The words came tumbling out of her at the rate of knots?

My brain was doing cartwheels, trying to think what was best to do. Waterloo station was a very busy station, so hopefully we could camouflage ourselves among the crowd. Then a brainwave of an idea sprung into my head . The Ladies. 

“OK, let’s grab your sandwich, we need strength Charlie. Then we will check that the coast is clear and go to the Ladies. We can stay there until just before our train is due. With any luck Brian will have given up and gone away. She was too distraught to gainsay this suggestion so we put  the sandwiches into my bag, or I should say squashed them in. Then we left the café, Charlie looking all around before exiting. “Let’s go now”. Pulling her along we almost ran to the Ladies, luckily nearby, flew down the steps, put our pounds in the turnstyle and went through.  I told Charlie to go into a cubicle and I would wait outside, and would knock on the door three times when it was time to come out. Fortunately it wasn’t very busy.

I have never known twenty minutes tick by at such a slow speed. Every time I checked my phone for the time it seemed to have only moved by a minute. Eventually with five minutes to catch our train it was time to perform the knock, keep our fingers crossed and bolt for the train.

We exited the rather unsalubrious toilets, with me holding onto Charlie’s arm, asking her, “Any sign?”. She shook her head. I checked the board to find the platform, which was, as usual, number 16. Hurrying through the barrier I steered us into the last carriage, thinking that would be the safest or at least furthest away from the barrier.

We settled into two seats opposite each other without saying anything. The train whistle blew simultaneously with a little scream and massive intake of breath from Charlie. “Oh my God, there he is, getting on the train” . I followed her gaze, seeing the guy with a baseball cap, dressed in black, that I had seen on the bridge, leaping into the third carriage. We were in the sixth. Her wide scared eyes looked at me pleadingly. “Ok, toilets again, I’m afraid. They are just through that door at the end of this carriage. You have time if you go now”. She didn’t need telling twice. Up, like a bullet out of a gun, she was gone.

My heart was beating furiously. I knew now we couldn’t  get off at St. Margarets, as he was bound to follow us, then he would know where Charlie was staying. “Thank God”, I thought that my brother was home today. If we get off at Twickenham, the next station on, I could liaise with John for somewhere to pick us up, therefore, fingers crossed, losing Brian in the process. I texted John, alerting him to the current situation. He texted back with an alternative suggestion. “Get off at Clapham Junction. Always crowded, easier to lose someone, then catch the next train to St. M. Good luck KIT”.  I broke out in a smile at his use of our code, KIT, meaning, Keep in touch .“Crikey, it’s like detective fiction”, I mused replying with a thumbs up emoji. I pulled my crossword out of my bag, but couldn’t concentrate. I kept looking up every few minutes to see if Brian had entered our carriage.

As the train was easing into Clapham Junction I hastened to the toilets, knocking on the door. A white faced Charlie appeared. “We are getting out here, I will explain in a minute”. Nervously looking around she nodded. Once again time seemed to stand still as the train took for ever to draw into the station and for the doors to open. I let her out first, then just as I was leaving the train, I turned back to check that there was no sign of Brian. I was just about to say, “All okay”, when I saw him. He was entering our carriage. He spotted us. Immediately he started speeding up so he could make the doors before they closed. As I was telling Charlie to run, I saw him leap off the train, starting to follow us.

I had no idea which way we should go. My only motive was to lose him in the crowd. We squeezed on to a very packed escalator. “Go, Go,” I yelled to her. “Sorry, sorry, emergency”, I was saying to people as we pushed past them. He, too, was doing his best to catch up with us. However, luck was on our side. An old woman with an enormous amount of shopping stood blocking him. Desperately trying to get past her, she refused to give way muttering obscenities at him. It may have been my imagination, but I could swear she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. “God does indeed move in mysterious ways”, I thought.

Desperately looking at the platforms to see where there was a train we could catch, also trying to keep a backwards eye on Brian, and a forwards eye on Charlie, I felt myself beginning to panic. “Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean” I muttered to myself. Words a friend had passed on to me, that helped keep him sane in his crazy workplace. We were still running, when I saw with great relief an electronic sign giving information about the Twickenham train. It was leaving in one minute. Dragging Charlie up the stairs,nearly pulling her arm out of her socket, poor girl, we just managed to catch the train with twenty seconds to spare. We sank down exhausted into the only two seats available on opposite sides of the carriage. Looking out of the window I saw Brian on the platform, despairingly looking up and down it, but amazingly not looking into the departing train.

I put my fingers up in a V sign to Charlie. I could see her sink back into her seat in relief. Then I rang my brother asking him to pick us up at Twickenham. I didn’t want to risk getting out at St Margarets. No questions asked, he told me where he would pick us up. He would make sure he was there waiting for us.

Never had the sign saying Twickenham been so beautiful. We alighted, still hurrying up the stairs, still looking behind us. No sign of him. Parked across the road was the welcome sight of John’s blue Mazda . Not bothering to wait for the pedestrian signals, we hurried across the road and into the life saving vehicle.

John could see we were both spent, so didn’t bother with small talk, just looked at me questioningly. I nodded, “All ok”.

We reached John’s upstairs flat in St. Margarets where he poured us both a brandy. The story was told over a couple more brandies, then Charlotte asked if she could lie down. Taking her through to the bedroom, she gave me the most enormous hug. “How am I ever going to thank you”. I smiled hugging her back, “Just buy me some Haigh’s chocolates when you are back home”. A small laugh emanated from her, “I think that will be as soon as I can get a plane ticket”.