she didn’t pick up, he presumed she was busy at work and left her a brief message.
He tried to get on with his job, but with each padlock that broke and fell to the pavement, his mood shifted lower. The stitches above his ear itched and Barry’s rusty cutters took double the time to cut through the lock shackles. He didn’t feel his usual sense of satisfaction.
When 4.15 p.m. came, he’d had enough of work for the day. He wanted to see Poppy and try to catch Liza at Hinchward if she was working there. ‘I’m finishing now,’ he said, shoving the bolt cutters back into Barry’s toolbox.
Barry stared at him. ‘You’re forty-five minutes early.’
‘It won’t make much difference.’
Barry’s mouth fell open.
Mitchell kicked his padlocks into a heap and stuck the batch of letters into his back pocket. He wished Barry a good date with Enid, and when he walked away from the locks on the pavement, a strange sense of attachment to them washed over him.
As he made his way towards the school, Mitchell opened a few more of the envelopes and read snippets of the letters inside them along the way.
Dear Man on the Bridge,
My wife and I read about your courageous act, jumping from the bridge, and we both think you deserve a medal. We have two teenage sons and hope they grow up to be as helpful as you are. There are so few role models these days…
He opened a very short one from an eight-year-old named Matthew, which started:
Dear Sir,
I am writing to you because you are very brave and because my mum says I have to learn my writing more because I need to write better or I can’t have a phone…
Another came in a flowery envelope with a thank-you card inside.
My name is Alicia and I’m writing to say the Hero on the Bridge has restored my faith in men. Well, almost. Four months ago, my husband took our dog for a walk and never returned. I’ve had a downer on him and all blokes since, but this guy has shown maybe there are some decent people still out there in the world. Do you know if he’s single? I’ve got the dog back and am MOVING ON with my life.
As Mitchell read their words, an unexpected warmth spread over his body that his impromptu act had initiated this outpouring of support. People were opening up and sharing their stories with him, a stranger, and the molecule of pride it sparked inside him was something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
Finding it tricky to read and walk at the same time, he pushed the letters back into his pocket and promised himself he’d read the rest of them later.
Mitchell exited the city centre and noticed how the sun sparkled crystal-like on the surface of the river. He smiled at a couple of teenagers who shyly held hands.
And, as he walked on, he wondered where Yvette Bradfield could possibly be, and why his pulse quickened whenever he thought about her.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.