Strangers on a Bridge. Louise Mangos

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.

       Chapter Eleven

      ‘Mum, where are you going?’ Oliver asked. ‘We’re supposed to be driving to the sports store.’

      I had taken a detour off the main road to Zug.

      ‘Oli, we are going to the store. Just taking a diversion today.’

      I sucked in my lower lip. Avoiding the bridge was like suppressing the memory of that Sunday. I hadn’t driven the car anywhere outside the village since then. I made Oliver sit in the back. He complained at first, as he had only recently been allowed to ride up front, but relented when he found a long-lost electronic toy hidden in the depths of the rear seat pocket. He glanced out of the window briefly as we took the detour. After my laconic explanation, he went back to frantically clicking his game.

      In the store, Oliver chose a new pair of shinpads and begged me to buy him a football shirt to add to the many in his collection. I was too weak to argue that he had enough football shirts. He climbed into the back of the car without prompting, happily clutching his bag. As I started the engine and began backing out of the parking space, he pulled his purchases out of the bag, absently looking at each item.

      ‘Oh, yeah, Mum, I was supposed to tell you something earlier and I forgot. There was a man outside the school today when we came out for lunch. He said he knew you, and he wanted me to say hello from him.’

      My eyes darted to the rear-view mirror, searching Oliver’s face. He didn’t seem concerned, merely recounting an observation.

      ‘Who was it, Oli? Did he tell you his name?’ I asked lightly.

      Oliver answered slowly, stretching out his new shirt to look at the logo.

      ‘That’s the thing. I can’t remember. I only remember he said to say hello to you.’

      I took a deep breath.

      ‘Can you remember what he looked like?’

      ‘Um, a bit older than Dad, a bit taller maybe. He had kind of greyish hair.’

      He sounded bored. Our eyes made brief contact in the mirror and he began shoving the shirt back in the shopping bag. His eyes glazed over as he looked out of the window.

      ‘Can you remember what he was wearing? Did he have glasses?’

      ‘Nah. Maybe. Don’t know. Too many questions, Mum. He just said to say hello. It’s no big deal, not like I had an important message to deliver, right?’

      ‘Was his name Manfred?’

      ‘Um… yeah, that was his name!’

      ‘Was anyone with you?’

      ‘What’s with the twenty questions? Is this a test? Actually, I was with Sara. We walk halfway home together most days. But don’t go thinking we’re an item. That’s totally not happening.’