Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Drama
- Published: 01/17/2016
Bridge too Far
Born 1941, M, from Whitby, United KingdomBridge Too Far
Make it to the church door.
Make it to the pew.
Take deep breaths whilst the coffin passed by and try, but fail, to stop the tears.
Then, way behind the few family and friends at the grave side she saw a stranger. This brought her back to the present.
She was dressed in a slim, black long coat. Her hair was short black and shone. Too red lipstick, too white face. Tears.
She turned and left quietly before the final rites.
…………………………………………………………………….
The "Bossman" had been dreading the final lift as he had dreaded many previously.
The last massive central connecting section of the suspension bridge connecting England to the Scottish mainland was even now on its way up the Firth. It was fastened to an ocean going barge and was attended to by two busy tugs. They were fighting a combination of rising wind and the last of the flood tide. Soon they would attempt to position the structure beneath the arms of the third largest suspension bridge in the world.
Everything was borderline. Already the wind was force four and rising. The waves were building with the wind in the north west.
'Bossman' was in the northerly crane cab with radio contact to all the lift participants. He was perspiring in spite of the chill and his neck and shoulder muscles were as hard as rock. He felt faint. Maybe it was the damned tablets. Experience told him it would pass.
He gave the signal to fasten the shackles to the piece and looked at the anemometer. The wind was still increasing and the tugs were clearly struggling to hold the barge anywhere near steady.
He looked around all the waiting lift stations and all the anxious eyes. Then he pulled his radio to reluctant lips.
"Ok, let's go for it!"
His rigging superintendent, Billy, was down on the barge. He gave the hand signals to the crane drivers to hoist. There were ominous creaks and groans as the rigging took up the massive load. Then a gap started to appear between the barge and the piece.
"That's it we've got the bastard!" shouted Billy.
The huge section swayed south in the wind and seemed as though it would never stop. It slowed and moved back. Maybe the whole caboodle would collapse. There would be loss of life. The media, licking its lips, would film it all.
"Bossman" immediately gave the order to hoist into position. Desperately slowly the steel road section lifted and an hour later was in its final position. It was then temporarily secured and made safe.
The rock muscles in his shoulders started to soften.
The departing tugs sounded their horns in congratulation as they bobbed their way homewards in the now already too rough seas.
The "Bossman" climbed wearily down from his all-seeing perch. Another one done. The elation once felt years ago replaced by just blessed relief.
The night after the big lift was impromptu part time.
"Bossman" had a few swift whiskies on the rocks before anything approaching a smile crept back into what had seemed a permanent frown.
His slightly tipsy secretary gave him a hug that was too close and passionate for his personal comfort
"I bet you feel better now that's over. The last big lift."
"Yes, a huge relief. Think I've done too many of these now. Feel like it's time to give up."
"Oh, don't say that. Who else would I make coffee for on a morning whilst he jokes and laughs and tries hard to have sex with me?"
"Well, there you are. You've hit the point. I take things far too seriously and don't have a life really."
Later that evening Billy said to him,
"That secretary of yours looks at you as though she wants to eat you."
"She's lovely but a tad too young for me. I think I'm really her father figure."
"Cobblers."
The Chief Accountant on the project was watching the ever increasing crescendo in the bars.
"I hope that the Project can stand the free bar tonight. It's starting to look a bit heavy."
"Don't worry", he said, "we'll sell off all the scrap steel, that'll pay for it. I bet you don't have that in your constructive accounting itinerary."
"Well I'm sure you will explain it all away in your usual eloquent manner when the crunch comes."
"These people dam well deserve tonight. I ask them to do things that not many people would even consider. Terrible weather, freezing cold wind, rain, in the middle of the night, you name it and they will do it. That's worth more to the project than your entire bleeding penny pinching."
The Chief Accountant felt somewhat taken aback by this aggressive, whisky fuelled response.
"Alright I take your point but don't shout at me or I won't give you a lift home."
The Chief Accountant returned to the bar for a vodka and martini. She was unaware that he was watching her.
……………………………………………………….
There were four positive knocks on the door.
"Billy, your husband's Rigging Superintendent. The lads have had a whip round and bought you this. We all thought a lot of your husband. He got us all safely through a lot of jobs. Pity he had to go the way he did."
She unwrapped the parcel to find that it contained an exact model of the last suspension bridge. It included the tugs and the barge and the lift cranes. The tiny plaque said simply '"Bossman" - From the Lads'.
"Thank you Billy. It's lovely. Do you know that the firm sent nothing except his final pay chit?"
Billy fidgeted as though he wanted to go before asked any more questions.
………………………………………………………………………
"I shouldn't have volunteered to take you back home."
"Why not, you can always charge it to the Project as travel, as in taxi and pocket it."
"You really think I'm heartless don't you?"
"No, not at all. In fact over the last year or two I've grown quite fond of you. You’re obviously a strong woman and nobody's fool."
The cold rains sploshed onto the screen and were attacked by the wipers.
"Do you know something my feelings are exactly the same as yours? How strange."
"How nice you mean."
"Do you think it's just an end of term crush?"
"Could be."
The car slowed to a stop at his rented cottage.
She switched off the ignition.
He got out into the rain and walked round to her door and opened it for her.
They hurried to the cottage door.
He awoke alone in his own bed.
He heard a door close quietly downstairs and the memory of the night before flooded back.
He was hundreds of miles away from his wife and felt terribly guilty. He was sure he would pay a price for it somehow, somewhere. Still he couldn't change what was now done.
He did what he always did, got up and went to work.
High above the Firth the wishy-washy sun had been up an hour. It gave no warmth to the biting wind. In a small scaffold platform hanging precariously from the middle of the bridge a welder was finishing the final assembly weld. He didn't mind heights but occasionally a ship would pass directly beneath and he could see it through the gaps in the scaffold boards. This gave him nausea.
He would normally have a break about now and warm himself. He knew, however, that the "Bossman" would definitely be dropping in to see him soon. He always did if the weld was important.
Sure enough he heard the rattle of feet on the ladder from above. Then suddenly a bump, bump noise, someone falling. A shape caught his eye as it disappeared over the edge of the platform.
He looked over the handrail just in time to see the splash in the lead coloured water far, far below.
……………………………………………………………..
Billy made to leave but the question still came.
"Tell me, Billy, who was the smart, dark haired woman at the funeral.
He replied immediately.
"She was the Chief Accountant on the last job."
"What was her name Billy?"
"Wendy, she was called Wendy."
"Was?"
"Yes, she went to Singapore to work on the next bridge."
"Was she a close friend of my husband?"
"Err, just a friend from work I think."
He was more and more agitated now and moved quickly to the door.
"I'll have to go now; the lads are waiting outside on double yellows. All the best."
"All the best."
With the click of the door closing, she knew.
Bridge too Far(Ossie Durrans)
Bridge Too Far
Make it to the church door.
Make it to the pew.
Take deep breaths whilst the coffin passed by and try, but fail, to stop the tears.
Then, way behind the few family and friends at the grave side she saw a stranger. This brought her back to the present.
She was dressed in a slim, black long coat. Her hair was short black and shone. Too red lipstick, too white face. Tears.
She turned and left quietly before the final rites.
…………………………………………………………………….
The "Bossman" had been dreading the final lift as he had dreaded many previously.
The last massive central connecting section of the suspension bridge connecting England to the Scottish mainland was even now on its way up the Firth. It was fastened to an ocean going barge and was attended to by two busy tugs. They were fighting a combination of rising wind and the last of the flood tide. Soon they would attempt to position the structure beneath the arms of the third largest suspension bridge in the world.
Everything was borderline. Already the wind was force four and rising. The waves were building with the wind in the north west.
'Bossman' was in the northerly crane cab with radio contact to all the lift participants. He was perspiring in spite of the chill and his neck and shoulder muscles were as hard as rock. He felt faint. Maybe it was the damned tablets. Experience told him it would pass.
He gave the signal to fasten the shackles to the piece and looked at the anemometer. The wind was still increasing and the tugs were clearly struggling to hold the barge anywhere near steady.
He looked around all the waiting lift stations and all the anxious eyes. Then he pulled his radio to reluctant lips.
"Ok, let's go for it!"
His rigging superintendent, Billy, was down on the barge. He gave the hand signals to the crane drivers to hoist. There were ominous creaks and groans as the rigging took up the massive load. Then a gap started to appear between the barge and the piece.
"That's it we've got the bastard!" shouted Billy.
The huge section swayed south in the wind and seemed as though it would never stop. It slowed and moved back. Maybe the whole caboodle would collapse. There would be loss of life. The media, licking its lips, would film it all.
"Bossman" immediately gave the order to hoist into position. Desperately slowly the steel road section lifted and an hour later was in its final position. It was then temporarily secured and made safe.
The rock muscles in his shoulders started to soften.
The departing tugs sounded their horns in congratulation as they bobbed their way homewards in the now already too rough seas.
The "Bossman" climbed wearily down from his all-seeing perch. Another one done. The elation once felt years ago replaced by just blessed relief.
The night after the big lift was impromptu part time.
"Bossman" had a few swift whiskies on the rocks before anything approaching a smile crept back into what had seemed a permanent frown.
His slightly tipsy secretary gave him a hug that was too close and passionate for his personal comfort
"I bet you feel better now that's over. The last big lift."
"Yes, a huge relief. Think I've done too many of these now. Feel like it's time to give up."
"Oh, don't say that. Who else would I make coffee for on a morning whilst he jokes and laughs and tries hard to have sex with me?"
"Well, there you are. You've hit the point. I take things far too seriously and don't have a life really."
Later that evening Billy said to him,
"That secretary of yours looks at you as though she wants to eat you."
"She's lovely but a tad too young for me. I think I'm really her father figure."
"Cobblers."
The Chief Accountant on the project was watching the ever increasing crescendo in the bars.
"I hope that the Project can stand the free bar tonight. It's starting to look a bit heavy."
"Don't worry", he said, "we'll sell off all the scrap steel, that'll pay for it. I bet you don't have that in your constructive accounting itinerary."
"Well I'm sure you will explain it all away in your usual eloquent manner when the crunch comes."
"These people dam well deserve tonight. I ask them to do things that not many people would even consider. Terrible weather, freezing cold wind, rain, in the middle of the night, you name it and they will do it. That's worth more to the project than your entire bleeding penny pinching."
The Chief Accountant felt somewhat taken aback by this aggressive, whisky fuelled response.
"Alright I take your point but don't shout at me or I won't give you a lift home."
The Chief Accountant returned to the bar for a vodka and martini. She was unaware that he was watching her.
……………………………………………………….
There were four positive knocks on the door.
"Billy, your husband's Rigging Superintendent. The lads have had a whip round and bought you this. We all thought a lot of your husband. He got us all safely through a lot of jobs. Pity he had to go the way he did."
She unwrapped the parcel to find that it contained an exact model of the last suspension bridge. It included the tugs and the barge and the lift cranes. The tiny plaque said simply '"Bossman" - From the Lads'.
"Thank you Billy. It's lovely. Do you know that the firm sent nothing except his final pay chit?"
Billy fidgeted as though he wanted to go before asked any more questions.
………………………………………………………………………
"I shouldn't have volunteered to take you back home."
"Why not, you can always charge it to the Project as travel, as in taxi and pocket it."
"You really think I'm heartless don't you?"
"No, not at all. In fact over the last year or two I've grown quite fond of you. You’re obviously a strong woman and nobody's fool."
The cold rains sploshed onto the screen and were attacked by the wipers.
"Do you know something my feelings are exactly the same as yours? How strange."
"How nice you mean."
"Do you think it's just an end of term crush?"
"Could be."
The car slowed to a stop at his rented cottage.
She switched off the ignition.
He got out into the rain and walked round to her door and opened it for her.
They hurried to the cottage door.
He awoke alone in his own bed.
He heard a door close quietly downstairs and the memory of the night before flooded back.
He was hundreds of miles away from his wife and felt terribly guilty. He was sure he would pay a price for it somehow, somewhere. Still he couldn't change what was now done.
He did what he always did, got up and went to work.
High above the Firth the wishy-washy sun had been up an hour. It gave no warmth to the biting wind. In a small scaffold platform hanging precariously from the middle of the bridge a welder was finishing the final assembly weld. He didn't mind heights but occasionally a ship would pass directly beneath and he could see it through the gaps in the scaffold boards. This gave him nausea.
He would normally have a break about now and warm himself. He knew, however, that the "Bossman" would definitely be dropping in to see him soon. He always did if the weld was important.
Sure enough he heard the rattle of feet on the ladder from above. Then suddenly a bump, bump noise, someone falling. A shape caught his eye as it disappeared over the edge of the platform.
He looked over the handrail just in time to see the splash in the lead coloured water far, far below.
……………………………………………………………..
Billy made to leave but the question still came.
"Tell me, Billy, who was the smart, dark haired woman at the funeral.
He replied immediately.
"She was the Chief Accountant on the last job."
"What was her name Billy?"
"Wendy, she was called Wendy."
"Was?"
"Yes, she went to Singapore to work on the next bridge."
"Was she a close friend of my husband?"
"Err, just a friend from work I think."
He was more and more agitated now and moved quickly to the door.
"I'll have to go now; the lads are waiting outside on double yellows. All the best."
"All the best."
With the click of the door closing, she knew.
- Share this story on
- 4
COMMENTS (0)