Chapter 32
MELODY
Al picks Melody up after work and takes her on a drive to a mysterious destination.
She has no idea where he’s taking her and she’s not a fan of surprises but she’s happy to be in his company, in his solid, stable and deliciously smelling presence.
She stayed in his apartment again, and is hoping that Claire stays out another night soon.
What she once feared she now hopes for. Now and then she looks away from the fields racing by to steal a glance at Al’s face because she can’t get enough of looking at him.
‘It doesn’t involve confined spaces, lifts or long-term commitment,’ he’d promised, to entice her into the car. She should have been happy with all of those, but one oddly niggled at her.
After a long drive they pull up at a family home in the countryside.
‘Where are we?’ she asks, getting out of the car and hesitating.
He leads her away from the car.
‘Trust me. Do you trust me?’ He looks deep into her eyes, a serious face, but she sees his mouth twitching.
Hiding his grin causes the two dimples to appear in his cheeks, the dimples she wanted to touch her fingertips to the very first time she saw them.
She does this now with her two fingertips, slotting right in. Then she kisses him.
He seems taken aback by her moment of affection. Perhaps she hadn’t been doing that enough. She will make sure she does it more.
‘Let’s go,’ he says, taking her hand and leading her around the back of the house, following a path to a wooden cabin which Melody can see is set up as an office. There are sheets and drawings hanging as if the place belongs to an architect and she is none the wiser.
They walk past the warmth of that inviting wooden cabin to a cold, sterile garage. It’s ice cold, she stamps her feet for warmth, her hands are like ice, and they’re welcomed by a woman who is dressed for the weather, who knew exactly what to expect.
‘Melody, this is Caroline Clifford,’ Al says, introducing her to the woman, who’s holding a pair of spectacles in her hands and looks like she could comfortably go skiing off-piste. ‘I’m sorry to drag you away from your dinner. We won’t be long.’
‘That’s quite all right,’ Caroline says, turning to Melody to shake her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Melody can barely move her fingers. Caroline is wearing thick gloves and Melody is none the wiser after hearing her name.
Should she know who she is? Melody looks at Al, confused.
She’s still in the dark and she can tell from the nervous but excited look on his face that she’s about to be enlightened.
‘Melody, there’s something else I want you to meet,’ Al says, placing his hands on her shoulders and slowly turning her around. ‘These are the love locks from the Grace Plunkett Bridge.’
Surprised, she spins around and is faced with large industrial-sized bags.
Silent, in shock, she walks over to the bags and looks in.
Thousands of padlocks are piled up in the bags.
She reaches down to touch one – it’s as cold as a block of ice.
It’s like finding bags of treasure, she wants to dig her hands in.
‘They’ve been here all this time?’
‘Actually no, they were in somebody’s barn. We transported them here today. That was an operation,’ Al says to Caroline.
‘The van wouldn’t take the load, he had to come over and back three times,’ Caroline explains.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ Melody asks them both.
‘Caroline is one of our great metal sculptors,’ Al says, and Caroline doesn’t look abashed, she knows she is too. ‘We commissioned her to make a new design for the Grace Plunkett Bridge, using these locks.’
‘The Plexiglass is an eyesore,’ Caroline says, taking over, leading them to a long dusty workbench at a cobweb-filled grey concrete bricked wall.
‘And the safety grids are loose and almost baggy from the padlocks pulling out of them. You’re right, they have to be replaced with something safer, and I’ve been working on a design to utilise the metal from the locks.
’ She removes her gloves and reaches for a folder, flicking through it.
Al looks at Melody, she feels him searching her face. She grins at him with absolute delight, and at once she can see he’s relieved.
‘Of course, because this design is for a bridge, we have to bear in mind the materials used. Mixing metals isn’t standard for bridges, we don’t want galvanic corrosion to weaken the structure over time, but I can use the mixed metals to our advantage in the area we’re working with. I can incorporate it into the design.’
She flicks through the folder and lands on a sketch. On one side of the double spread is a loose sketch, on the other a very detailed drawing.
‘We talked about finding a symbol that reflects the Grace Plunkett Bridge and the area,’ Caroline says. ‘This is the Easter Lily.’
Al and Melody lean in closer.
‘In the shape of a calla lily, the Easter Lily badge was brought into use by Cuman na mBan.’ The women’s party.
‘And worn as a symbol of remembrance for the fallen during the Rising. Grace Plunkett became a member of the party after the Rising. And it has broader symbolic meanings of purity, rebirth and hope. There are three metal grids on each side of the bridge. I suggest six identical panels of the Easter Lily, with mixed metals from these locks as a symbol. Recycle, repurpose and reimagine,’ Caroline says.
‘One of the central laws of science is that matter cannot be made or destroyed, it can only change from one form to another. I like Al’s idea that the locks can evolve from their former form on the bridge, and be transformed, but still remain a part of the bridge. ’
Rebirth. Reinvention. Yes, Melody is very much in agreement and in tune with this message. This bridge, these locks, meeting Al has brought about a rebirth and reinvention of her own.
Al studies the drawings, his face intense and serious.
Melody steps back and watches him, falling for a new side of him, while Al and Caroline have a technical conversation about the cast and the timings.
She turns away from the drawing and moves back to the heavy-duty construction bags filled with tonnes of metal and love.
Somewhere in there is Belinda and Derek’s lock, which will forever be infused into the bridge.
Derek would certainly love this, but will her mum want to be eternally fused into a bridge with Derek for all time?
She feels Al’s hand on the small of her back. Even through her coat she feels his heat, and the warmth he brings to her body. She has a reaction each time he touches her, her stomach swirls.
‘What do you think?’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she says, looking up at him. You’re beautiful, she wants to say, but instead she asks Caroline, ‘Do you think you’ll use them all?’
‘I can’t. There are between ten and twenty tonnes of steel in the bags.
Right now I’m cleaning them individually and removing the plastic casing from some of them.
Some locks I won’t use, the cheap plastic ones certainly not.
Not all metals are appropriate for the bridge and being exposed to the elements.
I’ll try to incorporate as many as I can. ’
‘It’s perfect,’ Al says.
‘The next step is to go to the foundry, where the steel will become molten and poured into this cast, and then we’ll see. I always strive for perfection, at that point, but with this sculpture I think the imperfections in the metal will be important.’
Al nods. Melody can see that her words speak to his freshly mending heart.
Back at the car, Melody throws her arms around him.
‘I knew it!’ she squeals happily. ‘I knew you still had the locks! I kept saying it over and over. You lied all this time?’ She’s not angry, she’s smiling, filled with glee, not just for the sake of her listeners who she promised, but because she read Al correctly.
The understanding she has for him has been confirmed.
She can read him, feel him, she understands him and the more she leans into it, without fear, the deeper the connection to him feels.
It’s not something to be scared of, it’s a joy.
‘I didn’t actually lie. I repeatedly told you that I was instructed by my boss to send them to recycling.’
‘Ohhh, yes you did,’ she says, laughing. ‘But I knew you had them.’
‘How?’
They’re facing each other. She’s on tiptoe because he’s so tall, her arms around his shoulders, his around her waist, their bodies pressed together. ‘Because you’re a mushy gushy emotional feeling man who believes in love, and symbols. You wouldn’t crush them.’
‘I was very angry at the time. I wanted to rip the entire bridge down.’
His eyes darken at the thought. The hurt will never completely disappear.
She’s sorry she wished for this at the beginning when she met him.
She’s sorry that his attachment to Tara and his disassociation were things she was attracted to.
She’s sorry she continually wished for him to be trapped in his pain just so that she could feel safer.
‘And even then, during the worst time of your life, you still didn’t crush them. You did a beautiful thing. You saved everyone’s love.’
‘Now who’s the mushy one,’ he says, with a laugh. He kisses her quickly and lets go, much to her disappointment. He moves to the car. ‘I don’t know about all that. I saved my ass at work is what I did. Come on, let’s go.’
He unlocks the car and sits inside.
Melody feels something is off. He’s withdrawn.
She sits into the car, tries to shake it off.
She’s not used to caring if someone is not giving their full self.
She’s perhaps getting a taste of her own medicine.
On the drive home he’s silent and she tries to read him now.
There’s something on his mind. When they near her apartment block on Spencer Dock he pulls in and puts the hazard lights on.
‘Is your flatmate home tonight?’