The man shone his light at Mitchell. “You?”
“Um, yes.”
“I told you to keep away from that lock.”
Mitchell held up his hands. “I’m nowhere near it.” He tried to speak calmly, though he felt light-headed. “I know I’m not allowed to remove it. I just wanted to walk over this bridge one last time, while most of the locks are still in place. I’m nostalgic like that. Sorry about earlier today, I know you’re just doing your job.”
The man crossed his arms, unconvinced.
“Look, it’s my job to cut off the padlocks and when I saw the contractors, I grew anxious about losing my job,” Mitchell chattered. “What are you doing here?”
The man shrugged. “Just checking out the bridges. It’s too darn hot in my apartment and I had to get out for a while.”
“I know the feeling.”
Mitchell glanced over his shoulder to see Graham folding in the sides of one of the blankets. He could make out the dark mound of the padlock heaps. He grasped for something else to say to distract the man. “I have a daughter...”
“Yeah?” the man said. “How old?”
“She’s nine and is Word Up crazy. That band has a lot to answer for, if you ask me.”
The man tutted and relaxed his arms. “Tell me about it. I mean, their hit was crap. My girl is eleven and loves it, though. I found out she’d gotten herself a bloody Instagram account to follow them. Friends of hers were on there already, posing and pouting. Eleven years old!”
“People in this city have gone padlock crazy,” Mitchell agreed.
As the two men found a common bond, a clattering noise sounded from the middle of the bridge.
The man looked over Mitchell’s shoulder and raised his torch. “Did you hear something?”
Mitchell swallowed. “Um, no.”
“I’d better take a look.”
“Stop—” Mitchell called after him. He could see the crouched silhouettes of Graham and Mason.
As the man strode away, Rosie appeared in front of him, like magic. She held out her dog lead. “Have you guys seen my dog?” She widened her eyes with worry, and rubbed her bump. “I can’t find him anywhere.”
Mitchell held his breath. He caught up with the man, who lowered his torch.
“What type is he?” The man alternated his gaze between Rosie and the middle of the bridge, where the noise came from.
“A Dalmatian. You’d think it’d make him easier to spot.”
“Lovely dogs, those are. I’ll take a look with you. I just need to go and—”
“Ooh.” Rosie stooped over and rubbed her belly. She peered down at her bump. “I think I felt something then.”
The man eyed her warily. “Are you okay? Should you be out walking your dog at this time of night?”
Rosie shook her head. “Probably not. I should get home. Could you take a look for my dog with me? Then I’ll go.”
“Maybe call a cab. It looks like that baby could arrive at any time.”
Rosie circled her tummy again and pointed down the road. “Let’s try over here first?”
Mitchell jerked his head. “I’m heading back over the bridge. I’ll check everything looks okay on my way past.”
“I’d appreciate that, mate,” the man said.
Mitchell exhaled with relief as Rosie led the man away. He hurried over to the middle of the bridge where he found Mason and Graham still hunched over.
His friend looked up. “You gave me a fright then—thought we’d been caught.”
“Rosie’s just headed someone off.”
“We’re almost done, Mitchy. See you back in the alleyway in twenty minutes.”
Mitchell took the long way around, walking across Redford in the opposite direction and then toward the Yacht bridge.
Preparations for the opening event were being ramped up. A small stage was being erected with floodlights around it. A line of three white vans were parked up. Mitchell stood and watched the reflection of the moon rippling on the surface of the river. He wondered what Anita would say if she could see him here, dressed all in black and rescuing a padlock. But this time he couldn’t conjure up her copper curls and red coat in his mind. He saw Liza instead and he frowned, surprised.
What was she doing in his head?
A car horn sounded and, feeling flummoxed, he walked briskly away.
He made his way toward the alley as Graham had instructed until a noise came out of the darkness.
“Pssst, over here.” Mason beckoned him over. He pointed to where the two wheelbarrows were parked up, level full of locks. Graham kneeled down on the ground, sifting through a pile of them while Tony pointed a torch at his hands.
Mitchell gasped at the amount of them. “How many are there?” From his daily counting, he reckoned there must be a few hundred. “How am I going to move them?”
“I told you, Mitchy Boy,” Graham said. “You don’t have to worry about anything. And, here it is, voilà.” He held out a heart-shaped lock in the palm of his hand.
Mitchell peered at it in the darkness. “That’s not the right one,” he said and crouched down to help his friend. “Yvette’s is bigger and shinier.”
“Oh, okay.” They worked their way through more of the locks. “How about this one?” Graham said.
Mitchell saw the engraved words my heart is always yours glinting. His shoulders dropped, as if he’d slid into a hot bath at the end of a hard day. “That’s it,” he said, his voice full of relief.
Graham handed it over to Mitchell who wrapped his fingers around it. Although it was a cheap chunk of metal, in that moment it felt as precious as a diamond ring. Sheila could have Yvette’s lock. “Thank you.”
“Glad to pay you back. I hope Liza will be happy.”
“I think she will be.” Mitchell pushed the padlock into his back pocket. “Where are you taking the rest of the locks?”
Graham tapped the side of his nose. “You’ll see soon enough.” He picked a few padlocks off the ground and dropped them back into the wheelbarrows.
Tony and Mason heaved on the handles, turned the barrows around and wheeled them off down the dark alley without saying a word.
“Later,” Graham said to Mitchell. He and Rosie wrapped their arms around each other’s waists and stepped out of the alleyway back onto the road. “See you at our wedding, best man.”