Kitabı oku: «Strangers on a Bridge: A gripping debut psychological thriller!», sayfa 3
Chapter Seven
‘The irony is, when Kathy and I have run there before, we’ve often wondered about finding a body under the bridge.’
It was early the following day, and I hadn’t slept well. I’d had a recurring dream about a body falling from the Tobel Bridge. The first time it bounced like a ragdoll on the ground, and I woke with a start. The second time the body stretched into a marvellous swan dive and swept up through the forest like Superman, disappearing over the ridge of the canyon. The third time the falling image repeated itself over and over, never quite reaching the ground. After that I dared not go back to sleep.
Simon and I dodged each other through our breakfast routine like some ritual dance. He kissed my head and patted my backside as I paused to take the milk out of the fridge. A memory of how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other at the beginning of our relationship sprang to mind, and I trailed my hand across his shoulder as he passed. His butter knife clattered into the sink, and the coffee machine whirred, clicked and trickled his morning pick-me-up into a minuscule cup. The kitchen filled with the delicious aroma of a rich Arabica blend, and my thoughts returned to the bridge.
‘Kathy read about a woman who took her life last year in the local paper, and we were so glad it hadn’t been us that found her. We’d run there a few days before. The paper said Tobel Bridge is a suicide hotspot,’ I said.
‘That would explain the flowers and candles I sometimes see clustered on the pavement there on my drive to work,’ said Simon.
‘Don’t you think that’s kind of weird? I think the relatives or loved ones should leave those trophies where the body lands, not up on the bridge. Surely the soul departs down below, at impact.’
I shuddered to think of witnessing a jump. To think of Manfred jumping.
‘They need a wider audience to see their pain, Al. Better a string of commuters on their way to and from work than the occasional runner and mountain biker.’
‘You have to wonder what goes through someone’s mind when they jump, between takeoff and the final lights-out. I wonder if anyone has ever regretted their decision in the moment it takes to fall?’
‘Some people make stupid decisions every day,’ said Simon, and I swallowed. ‘But that one would be pretty final. No going back.’
He crunched into his toast. I shook my head, attempting to eliminate the thought of a jumper realising with horror they had made a terrible mistake in that split second before hitting the earth. I imagined them wanting desperately to turn back the clock, hoping an invisible force would lift them back onto the bridge, plant their feet securely on the tarmac. That could have been Manfred.
‘There would be no chance of survival at that height,’ I said absently, sipping my tea.
Simon licked a buttery finger and pushed his chair away from the table.
‘Al, I’m not sure what you were thinking, but can you tell me again why you came home first? I feel like we have another case of a rescued mongrel here, not just a clinical experiment for a psychology assignment. You and your hare-brained SOS help routines. Florence Nightingale or Mother Teresa, I’m not sure which.’
I had relished his jovial mood this morning, and wanted to treasure the light feeling between us for a little longer. But as he said this, my stomach heaved. I hoped I hadn’t made a huge mistake. I put my hand on his arm.
‘I thought you might be home. This was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced at college or work. I thought a male influence would help. We would have had to wait over an hour for the next bus down to Zug. I was so cold by then, I knew I had to change my clothes.’
Simon nodded nonchalantly, accepting my logic.
‘Well, I’m very proud of you, Al, for saving that guy’s life. He should be grateful. It’s a terrible thing, suicide. But it’s good there are professionals taking care of him now. I know you’re concerned, but there’s only so much you can do for someone with such an unstable disposition.’
He gave me a concerned smile.
Once the kids and Simon had been packed off to school and work respectively, I thumbed through the local phone directory for the number of the police station where we’d stopped the day before.
‘Zuger Polizei. Reto Schmid.’
The brevity and gruffness of the voice when he picked up on the second ring threw my confidence. I’d written down a few words in case I couldn’t get the message across.
‘Sprechen Sie Englisch?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Ein bisschen, but you can always practise your German, Fraulein,’ he replied in German.
My heart sank. His tone, immediately patronising, was weighted with a message now familiar to my ears. These bloody foreigners should learn to speak our language if they want to live in our community.
‘My name is Alice Reed. I wanted to inform you of a suicide attempt yesterday.’
‘Ein… was?’
‘A suicide attempt. Selbstmord Versuch. Yesterday. On the Tobel Bridge.’
‘Are you sure? Did you, how do you say, intervene?’
‘Yes, I intervened. I took the man to the hospital in Zug. His name is Manfred Guggenbuhl. I just wanted to make sure someone knew, officially. I wanted… I wondered if you had heard anything about this man. If he’s okay…’
‘Someone knows at the hospital if you went there,’ he said pointedly. ‘If they make a report, usually they send this to my colleagues in Zug. I was not informed.’
‘Well, I’m informing you now,’ I said crossly, and heard a sniff on the other end of the line. ‘I mean, I thought you might want to be vigilant, in case he tries again.’
‘Vigilant?’
‘Aufmerksam,’ I explained.
‘I know what the word vigilant means, Frau… Reed, gell? But are you suggesting the Zuger Polizei is not… vigilant?’
‘No… I… You misunderstand. I’m sorry. I just hope… Herr Guggenbuhl is okay.’
Chapter Eight
Kathy and I met the next day for our regular Tuesday run. A balmy breeze blew across the lake, a gentle Föhn from the south, threatening to strengthen as the day wore on. We ran slowly up the hill behind the house where the village road narrowed to a winding lane. I took a deep breath and my spirits lifted as I adjusted to Kathy’s rhythm and pace. I could hear her struggling beside me on the steep sections, so I slowed down a little.
The road levelled out, following the contour of the valley and, as the trees thinned, we were afforded a magnificent view of the Aegeri Valley with the lake as its centrepiece. Towards the southeast lay the snow-capped Glarner Alps and to the west, through a gap in the hills, the magnificent Rigi rose like a giant anvil through a mauve haze.
We decided to continue to the Raten Pass on the easier forest trails skirting the valley. A few clouds scudded across a blue sky, casting the occasional shadow on the newly sprouting grass in the surrounding meadows. As we ran, we chatted about her son, Tommy, and my boys, and the improvement in the weather for running.
‘You’ll never guess what happened when I was running the Lorze route on Sunday. I saw a guy up on the Tobel Bridge about to jump off. I managed to stop him.’
‘Holy cow, Al, that’s pretty serious! How did you know he was going to jump? Must have been scary. Ironic that we’d only been talking about it last autumn. Remember that woman who chucked her dogs off first, then topped herself? We invented that new word, canicide. But this is no laughing matter. Jesus, what did you do?’
Kathy’s curiosity had slowed us to little more than an exaggerated walk.
‘I ran up that hellishly steep path next to the viaduct and managed to talk him out of the deed on the edge of the bridge. It was pretty weird to think that, if I’d been ten minutes later, I might have found him somewhere at the base of the bridge, maybe even floating in the river,’ I said.
‘Shit, Alice, I can’t imagine. Did you call the police right away?’
‘I didn’t have my mobile phone with me. We went to the bus. I… We eventually went to the hospital and I left him there. They said someone would take care of him. I called the police yesterday, but it made me so mad they weren’t very helpful. I wanted them to contact him, make sure he was okay, but they didn’t seem to care.’
‘Wow, Al. Hope the guy’s okay now. You probably saved his life. Good girl!’
I wasn’t feeling convinced about being a good girl.
‘I really hope they took care of him at the hospital, poor sod. Attempted suicide shouldn’t be treated lightly, but I felt like no one was taking me seriously. Of course, he didn’t seem to want help, was probably more humiliated by his failure than anything.’
As we approached a thicket of trees next to a picnic spot near the pass, our mood was lightened by the haunting sound of a trio of alphorns. We stopped in our tracks at the beauty of the music.
‘Can you believe it? I tell you, we’re living in a fairy tale,’ said Kath. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve felt so blessed to live in this country where we don’t have to worry about locking our doors, we can run free in the mountains, and then get the occasional Heidi moment like this.’
I put my hand to my side and dug in my fingers to relieve a stitch that was threatening, before taking a moment to enjoy the evocative music, with the snowy Glarner Alps as the magnificent backdrop.
Three old men, dressed in traditional black wool jackets intricately embroidered with edelweiss, had carried their bulky instruments up the hill to this idyllic setting. The melancholic music drifted across the fields.
As the music came to an end, a long, hollow, three-pitch harmony fading to silence, I smiled and raised my hands to my mouth in a silent gesture of appreciation. Tears pricked at my eyes, and my throat wobbled with emotion. Kathy broke into a round of applause and one of the men beckoned her over to try the alphorn. After much honking and huffing, we were reduced to girlish giggles, and the musicians shared our amusement.
As they began packing their instruments away in their cases, Kathy said, ‘Race you home,’ though she knew I could beat her on any day. We started off at a jog.
‘Speaking of races, when are we going to get you to run this elusive marathon then?’ I asked.
Kathy snorted.
‘I’m serious,’ I continued. ‘I know you said you didn’t think you’d ever be able to set the distances in training, but I honestly think you can finish a marathon. It would be so much fun to train together.’
‘Well, I was considering running Zürich next April,’ she stated, as though it was something she had never stopped thinking about.
‘Brilliant!’ I said.
‘But, Al, a marathon! You have four under your belt. It will be my first. I’ll be holding you back. You’ve had so much more experience than me. Jeez, you were county champion. How can I compete with that?’
‘It’s not a competition, Kathy. Well, only on a personal level. I’m keen to see if I can get anywhere near my previous personal best time. My PB. And I’m not thinking of April next year. I’m thinking about something closer. Perhaps one of the autumn races.’
She looked at me incredulously.
‘This year? Oh, Al, I don’t know,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I’ll talk to Matt about it and let you know.’
‘Come on. If you commit, you must sign up straight away. It’ll give you the incentive to train if you know you have a place waiting for you. I’m going to sign up on Monday. You know Matt would be only too pleased for you to set yourself a big goal.’
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘You’re serious. Bossy, but serious.’
Earnest dedication to a training programme was needed for such an event, but a little voice told me to persuade her to make the commitment. Our breath now came easier as we loped downhill side by side.
‘If we start a sixteen-week training programme before the school holidays, it’ll be perfect timing for the October race. We can build a pyramid schedule, training up to a run around the Zug Lake six weeks before the race. That’s about thirty-six kilometres. Perfect for the longest run. We can do a weekly speed session at the Zug Stadium track. It’ll be great to keep each other motivated.’
She sighed. She knew I wasn’t going to let it go. We were approaching the turnoff to our home.
‘Okay, look, I’ll try. I’ll sign up too, and hope I can keep up with you. I’m not going to come in for tea this time, Al. I have a lunch with the library committee at the international school, so have to get spruced up for them.’
My phone buzzed as Kathy unlocked her car. We hugged and I pulled it out of my belt as I walked towards the door. Simon must have forgotten something. I looked at the screen, a number I didn’t recognise. Must be a wrong number. I clicked open the message.
Thank you.
I waved absently as Kathy drove off, with promises to stick to all our run dates as we prepared for our marathon.
Thank you.
I was confused, couldn’t think who would want to thank me. And in English. Could this be Manfred? It made sense if it was. But my automatic relief that he was okay was short-lived as my heart skipped a beat.
How the hell did he get my mobile phone number?
Chapter Nine
MAY
Leon’s class at school had organised a public presentation about European cultures, and his teacher had asked whether some of the mothers from the Chat Club could help with an English-language exhibit. I was thrilled to be asked, for this was a tiny step closer to being accepted as part of the community.
I was helping Leon’s teacher move a folding table in the foyer of the sports hall when the bell rang for the end of school. Children spilled out of the schoolhouse like marbles from a jar. Some of them dribbled into the exhibition and were joined by their parents later. Leon and a friend of his were in charge of one of the exhibits on the other side of the hall. He hadn’t wanted to participate in the English project and had instead chosen an exhibit on Serbian culture with some friends.
‘It’s nothing to do with you specifically, Mum, but it’s kind of embarrassing to be standing with your own mother at an exhibit all afternoon,’ he said when we initially talked about the project.
I felt out of place, though. Parents stopped to talk easily to my best Chat Club ‘student’, Esther, and the other woman at our stand, but no one was prepared to speak to me in either English or German. I was still the foreigner here. When I caught Leon’s eye across the hall, he looked away guiltily. He must have known it would have been easier for me if he were by my side. He wasn’t aware I simply wanted to hold on to that mother–child connection before he grew into an adult.
As we cleared trestle tables and poster boards away at the end of the day, Leon’s teacher caught up with me, and we crossed the courtyard together.
‘Frau Reed, I didn’t want to talk to you before because we were so busy with the exhibition, but I need to speak to you about Leon.’
My heart sank. Her tone didn’t sound positive.
‘I want to thank you so much for helping with this exhibition. Your input was invaluable.’
She hesitated. I knew immediately she had some bad news for me. The one-minute manager. Praise before the bad news.
‘I don’t know if you are aware, but Leon seems to have lost his way this year at school. His grades are way below the level for his transfer to Gymnasium and he does not seem happy to be at school. He and another boy are being very disruptive in class, and I am afraid they may have been picking on some of the younger students in the primary school during break. I wanted to wait until the end of the school year to see if things improved, but an incident this week means I have to speak to you. This is something the school cannot tolerate, and the school counsellor has asked me on more than one occasion whether we need to address the issue with you, the parents.’
‘Wow, I knew he was behind on some assignments, but… no, I wasn’t aware. I’m stunned.’
I knew I was distracted at the moment, with the Manfred incident and the decision to run a marathon later in the year. But I didn’t think there were signs I had ignored. Or worse, could I be the cause? This was surely every mother’s fear.
Taking a deep breath, I thanked the teacher for making me aware of the situation, and promised to address the issue.
Simon and I lay in bed reading, the silence a comfortable familiarity. I finished a chapter before closing the book and placing it on my stomach.
‘Leon’s teacher talked to me at school today. He’s having a few problems with his work and… his social behaviour. I’m finding it very difficult to talk to him at the moment.’
Simon lowered his book and looked at me.
‘Oh, really? What’s up? It sounds like he’s doing great when he talks to me. Is he getting poor grades?’
‘His grades are pretty bad. He doesn’t get his assignments in on time and he’s doing the absolute bare minimum at the moment. Plus his teacher says he’s been teasing some of the younger kids in the playground. She talked about getting the school counsellor in, to address bullying.’
I waited while Simon absorbed this.
‘That’s not so good, Al. I’ll have a talk to him at the weekend. I’m sure it’s something we can straighten out. Are you okay? I wouldn’t worry. He just needs a bit of nudging in the right direction.’
‘I’m fine. It’s just a little weird, coming on the back of the suicide thing. I feel like a load of negatives are building up. I didn’t get a very good feeling at the exhibition at school. It’s still so hard to feel accepted by the community.’
‘Then it’s good you’ve decided to run this marathon. It’ll be great for you to concentrate on a goal for yourself. And Kathy will be supporting you.’
I thought of Kathy and her lifestyle. Endless shopping and lunches with the executive wives. Running was really the only thing we had in common.
‘I’ve got to get some sleep,’ he said, pecking me on my cheek.
He rolled over onto his side and turned out his bedside light.
It seemed I had been asleep but a moment when the telephone rang persistently on the bedside table. Normally a light sleeper, I dragged myself out of the somnolent depths before reaching across to the phone. The light blinking dully from the number display was enough to allow me to locate the handset in the darkness.
‘Hallo,’ I mumbled sleepily. A static crackle. I was about to return the handset to its cradle when I heard a slow intake of breath. I pushed the phone tightly to the shell of my ear, thinking I had missed something, and heard a subsequent exhalation.
‘Hello, who is this?’ I asked, senses now alert.
‘Mmm?’ groaned Simon beside me, ever the comatose sleeper.
‘Ssshh.’ I pressed the receiver harder against my head, until all I could hear was my own ragged breath roaring from the mouthpiece to my ear. I cleared my throat, and heard a click and the drone of the dial tone.
‘Wrong number,’ mumbled Simon and sank back into slumber. I squinted at the caller-identity screen on the handset. It showed ‘withheld’ which didn’t give me any clues. It could be a mobile phone.
Annoyed I had been fully awakened, I shuffled to the bathroom for a pee. The fluorescent light over the bathroom mirror blinded me. I gathered my nightie and sat on the toilet with my eyes half-closed, cursing the boys’ inconsiderateness as my thighs hit porcelain so cold it felt wet. I reversed my crouch, put the seat down, sank back down and crossed my arms on my thighs, absently studying the ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor.
Chapter Ten
I scrolled back through my messages until I reached the one I assumed was from Manfred. I didn’t have to go far as I rarely used my mobile phone. I opened the message and hovered over the choices available to me. I was about to begin keying a reply when I chose the CALL option.
‘Alice!’ He picked up on the first ring, and his voice made my earlobes tingle.
‘Hi, Manfred, I just wanted to check in with you. Make sure you’re doing okay. I’ve been thinking about you since Sunday…’ I paused, hoping my statement didn’t sound odd.
‘What a coincidence! I wanted to contact you. I have to come to Aegeri at the end of the week. For some business. Will you meet me for coffee?’
‘Umm…’ I bit my lip. This was a far cry from the guy I’d found on the bridge three days before.
‘It’s okay. I wanted to thank you again. Maybe text messages don’t come across in the right way. Please. One coffee.’
‘Okay,’ I said slowly. ‘How about ten o’clock on Friday at the Lido Café? It’s near the bus st—’
‘I know where that café is. Perfect. We’ll see each other then.’
As I pushed the END CALL button, I felt relieved. He sounded confident. Lively. Not like someone who would return to thoughts of taking his life.
As I pulled into a parking space in front of the café, Manfred strode towards me. He was wearing a charcoal-grey suit with a white shirt and smart maroon tie, and carried a leather attaché case under his arm. He was prepared for whatever his ‘business’ was in our quiet little alpine village, and he looked rather striking. I felt a little sloppy in my fleece jacket over a T-shirt and a pair of patched jeans, and lifted my hand to my head to smooth my hair as I felt the heat rise to my throat.
I stepped out of the car and put out my palm for a handshake. He bypassed my hand and held my elbow, kissing me boldly three times on the cheeks in the traditional Swiss greeting between friends. I blushed as he walked up the steps to the café and held the door open for me. I smiled my thanks and walked in.
The waitress recognised me and awarded me a curt nod. She glanced past me and beamed at Manfred, her eyes flicking over him in appreciation, and gave him a jovial ‘Grüezi!’
We took a table close to the window with a view towards the lake. I ordered a tea and Manfred an espresso.
‘She doesn’t seem so friendly with you,’ Manfred whispered as the waitress walked away.
‘No, I’m not her favourite person. She’s the manageress here, and the mother of twins in Leon’s class at school. They’ve been together all the way through primary school and she still holds a grudge for the things I did wrong when we first moved here. I walked the boys to school for months at first. I didn’t realise it’s taboo here. Part of the kids’ education is learning independence. You’d never let kids so young make their own way to school in England. It’s just not safe. Anyway, she reported me to the school director, and there were words. It’s amazing how someone can keep hold of a bad feeling for so long, especially one arising from something so insignificant. I think it’s more to do with the fact that I’m a foreigner. Anyway, it’s the only decent café in the village with a good view, so I tolerate her grumpiness.’
The waitress returned with our order on a tray, and placed the cups on the table. Manfred said something to her in Swiss German. At first charmed by his attention, I caught the words ‘Engel’ and ‘Menschenliebe’ and her smile faltered as she glanced at me. I cringed inside to think Manfred was explaining my good turn the previous Sunday. I was sure this woman’s imagination wouldn’t stretch to thinking of me as an ‘angel’ capable of ‘human kindness’. I concentrated on the cup in front of me, pressing as much flavour as possible out of the weak Swiss teabag.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ I said as she walked away. ‘You’re probably only making things worse for me.’
‘People need to know about your goodness, Alice.’
I glanced at him, and he smiled. I wasn’t sure whether he was joking, but I felt strangely flattered.
‘What kind of business are you doing in the village?’ I changed the subject, genuinely curious about his sudden return to confidence after wanting to take his life only days ago.
‘I have a document I needed to sign. The lawyer needed to witness it. I… he lives in a house up the hill. It’s done. I have everything I need. Everything is perfect.’
‘That’s good. I’m glad you’re so positive.’
‘You’ve made me realise how stupid my action was. I have rediscovered a purpose in life. That’s why I wanted to thank you today.’
Manfred had already finished his espresso, but my tea was still too hot to drink. He gazed out of the window over my shoulder.
‘I didn’t want to hurt anyone,’ he said, and I recalled my statement on the bridge about leaving a mess. ‘I wouldn’t have hurt them. My w… wise sister. My boy.’
I frowned.
‘They would have missed you.’
‘You don’t understand. You don’t know why I was there. Last Sunday.’
Having been so curious for the past few days, I wasn’t sure now whether I wanted to know.
‘There was a knife,’ Manfred continued, and I swallowed. ‘For cutting bread. Sharp. Victorinox, good quality. Swiss.’ He paused, and I didn’t know what to say.
‘I never intended to hurt them. Would never have hurt them. But my son, that morning he was driving me crazy.’
I chewed my lip, but forced myself to maintain eye contact.
‘So you see, there was already a mess in my life. I was leaving one behind, and the bridge was to solve that mess. But now I’ve met you, and you have made me see clearly. That’s why I’m thanking you.’
My heart thumped. Manfred’s arm lay next to his cup on the table, and I had the feeling he was going to reach for my hand. To keep both mine occupied, and wishing my tea would cool faster, I took a croissant from the wire breakfast basket on the table and tore off one end. The waitress would shortly clear the tables and prepare them for the lunch crowd. The bread helped ease the burning on my tongue but prevented conversation as buttery flakes filled my mouth. I sprinkled the crumbs from my fingers onto a serviette in front of me, filling the silence with meaningless distracting activity. Manfred watched my every move.
‘Manfred, can I ask you where you got my mobile number?’ I asked when I could finally speak again.
His face scrunched into an expression Leon might have used if I’d asked him the same question, as though I was supposed to know the answer. I raised my eyebrows. The pause had given him a couple of extra seconds to answer.
‘At the hospital. I asked if I could have it. In case… you know, to thank you.’
I imagined him persuading the nurse to give him the number. That disarming smile. Those green eyes. Still, they shouldn’t have given it to him. It didn’t seem professional. Very un-Swiss.
‘Have you tried calling on our landline at home?’
‘No, is that preferable?’
‘It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. Who did you end up talking to at the hospital?’
He smiled and tipped his head, as though he hadn’t understood the question.
‘I hope they had a psychologist on duty,’ I continued. ‘Will you be having some therapy sessions? It’s really important you continue to talk to somebody about what happened.’
‘They have a good group of professionals at the cantonal hospital, yes. It’s a smart new facility. Good to see the taxpayers’ money going into something useful.’
‘It’s not just about the fact that you tried to take your life, Manfred. There is much more healing to be done. You have to start with yourself before you deal with your… family.’
‘It’s all about talking it out, isn’t it, Alice? This is also good therapy. Talking to you.’
I smiled at him, and glanced at my watch.
‘Oh, I’m afraid I have to go. The boys will be home from school soon and I need to prepare their lunch. I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better. It’s important to keep talking to the professionals. I’m not a very good practitioner.’
He looked at me with a quizzical smile. I reached into my bag for my purse, but he put his hand on my arm.
‘Honestly, Alice, I’m okay. This is on me.’
He spoke as though I was being an overprotective mother, and I hoped he didn’t think I was a prude. It was as though I was suffering more from his suicide attempt than him. I put on my fleece to cover my flustered state. He left a ten-franc note and a few coins to cover the bill and a tip.
‘I came by bus,’ he said as I unlocked the car outside the café. ‘So I’ll say goodbye here. Or I should say Uf Widerluege.’
And before I could say anything he kissed me again three times on the cheeks.
Uf Widerluege. Not goodbye. But see you again.
I hadn’t asked him where he was going on the bus. I wondered what had really gone on in Manfred’s house the morning before he went to the bridge. I felt so sorry for his confusion and conflict.
And then I thought what Simon would say.
That I was crazy to have even considered meeting with this man.
