Ray’s thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of an elderly couple walking with arms entwined and being followed obediently by an equally elderly Labrador, on the far side of the bridge.  As he lent against the wall and watched them tottering over the wooden span towards him he began to paint a picture in his mind of their lives.  He guessed that they had been married for at least fifty years and were evidently still very much in love.  They had both worked hard all their lives and were now enjoying retirement living relatively comfortably on the money they had religiously put by every week to see them through their twilight years.

      Of course, he could be totally wrong, but something in the way they walked together, their voices and the way they smiled with contented pleasure suggested that they hadn’t resigned themselves to seeing out their days with someone towards whom love had given way to familiarity and habit, and, as is quite often the case, regret and resentment.

      Ray could see a nervous cloud of tension pass across the old mans face as the couple exited the bridge and saw him leaning against the wall a few yards away.  The woman stiffened visibly, gripping her husbands arm and moving her body closer to his.  He could tell instantly, and with remorse, that the man thought he and his wife were in mortal danger from this young, probably drunk and drug-crazed, yob that he now saw before him. It had become a sign of the times world wide that everyone, not just the elderly, were a potential victim of mugging, physical/sexual attack and possible death, every time they left the security of their homes.  The number of children being abducted whilst on their way home from school, or walking the short distance to the local shop for some sweets was on the increase.  The horrific pictures that were seen on the front pages of the tabloid press of women, some in their eighties, who had been beaten to near death for the sake of a few pounds, were becoming a regular occurrence and were a grim warning to anyone approaching pensionable age that no matter what they might have endured during World War 2, worse was yet to come.

      Ray couldn’t blame the man for thinking the way he did, and in an effort to show the couple that not all people his side of forty were ignorant, foul-mouthed, trouble seeking thugs, he greeted them with his friendliest of smiles and a pleasant ‘Happy New Year’.  With unfathomable relief, he saw the cloud lift and their bodies relax.  The woman released her grip and replaced her arm lazily through her husbands again.  She returned Rays’ smile and wished him a prosperous year, echoed by the man who shocked Ray by offering him his hand.

      They stood for a moment shaking hands and looking into each others eyes.  Ray noticed a sensuous feeling of  understanding and mutual respect pass fleetingly between them.  There was also a radiance he had never felt before and wouldn’t have been able to describe if his life had depended on it, which reached into his mind and flooded his body with something that couldn’t be likened to physical heat, but resembled that of  an energy or force akin to that administered by aliens and the like in Sci-Fi films such as Mr Spock in Star Trek or Darth Vader from Star Wars; the difference being this was immensely  pleasurable.

      The energy flow ceased the second they let go of each other, and immediately Ray felt the urge to grasp the mans hand again before the passion was lost forever.

      When he finally regained his composure the couple were walking away from him on the path that led to his house; the old Labrador still shuffling along about ten feet behind them, stopping every now and again to sniff at the ground or leave it’s mark on a tree.

      Watching them melt into the darkness, he could still hear the woman’s words ringing in his ears, ‘Let it go.’

      She hadn’t said them as if giving an order, instead it sounded like a plea; she seemed to be willing him to make good use of whatever it was, to succeed not fail.  He didn’t have the faintest idea what ‘it’ was and couldn’t begin to comprehend the magnitude of possibilities the three words conjured up.  At this precise moment he didn’t much feel like searching for the elusive ‘it’,  basking as he was, in the tranquil afterglow of the oddest handshake he’d ever experienced.

      They were gone now, the couple and their dog, all trace of them having merged with the inky blackness of the night.  A darkness that was augmented by the absence of the moon due to the covering of cloud which, although thin, did just enough to hide it from view.

      Ray turned away feeling an emptiness inside as if he had lost something dear to him and immediately thought of Alison.

      “Shit!”  he exploded rather forcefully and straight away fought to erase the thought from his mind.  It hadn’t been a thought of major proportions just a picture of Alison in her favourite dress with Jenny lying at her feet, but it had been enough to unsettle him and nearly send his current buoyant mood hurtling back to the sullen, depressed state it was in before his bath.

      Ray slowly wandered onto the bridge, halting as he reached the centre.  A wry smile crept onto his lips,  he felt pleased at the way he had sent the vision of Alison packing without the usual repercussions; there were no feelings of guilt or regret, no sentimentality or longing.  Instead he felt triumph, satisfaction.  Freedom?  But how big was the price tag that came with this freedom?  What would be the asking price?  The right to choose or abstain?  His sanity or his mind?

      Ray’s mind had become a refuge for unanswerable questions again as he leant forward, rested his arms on the railing, and peered over the side of the bridge into the gloom.  He knew there was water down there somewhere because he could here it gurgling and splishing as it travelled to the distant sea.  If the moon had been able to pierce the clouds there would be a spectacular show in progress as the waves caught the light and bounced it around in a million directions, but tonight the ‘show cancelled’ notices were up and the shutters well and truly closed.

      “I am so lonely,” he said slowly, purposely, into the night air, emphasising each word, , “so f…. lonely.”  He bit down the desire to swear with a reluctant, resigned sigh.

      He stared down into the void trying to cut through the dark and catch a glimpse of the water below.  He noticed a change, the darkness seemed to be clearing, it wasn’t the flowing waters of the river he saw but an old girlfriend, gesticulating wildly and telling him he was going to end up a lonely old man as nobody could live up to his expectations or meet his requirements.  She was replaced by a stream of friends and acquaintances, people he had known well, worked with, drank with, and in the case of a few of the women, would have liked to have slept with, but for some reason or other, usually his fault, he had lost contact with over the years.  Each one had something to say; ‘Get out more’, ‘Things wont come to you, you have to go out and find them’, ‘The world doesn’t owe you a living, you know’.  On and on they came like an endless conveyor belt full of good advice.  The last in the line was Alison, who said nothing but stood scrutinising  him with a look on her face that was half sympathy, half pity; with condemnation thrown in free as this weeks special offer.

      “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t want it to happen, remember?”  he shouted at her.  But she was gone and the ebony emptiness that yawned up at him seemed absolute.

      “It wasn’t my choice.”  He said quietly fighting back the anger and anguish that welled up inside, causing him to wring his hands together and attempt to hack chunks out of the wooden railing with his fingernails.

      Ray considered continuing his walk to John’s house and joining the party which would be reaching the ‘anything could happen’ stage. Usually at this point someone would end up in the pool to be quickly followed by all the other guests in assorted states of undress, mostly naked.  After a short drying off period it would happen all over again, this time preceded by a frenzied food fight, and culminating  in a visit from the local constabulary following up a complaint from the neighbours.

      He thought of moving, tried to move, but his body wouldn’t respond.  He didn’t fight it, having gone off the idea of the party since his encounter with the elderly couple a short while ago.

      He knew the real reason was more to do with the phobia surrounding his lack of self-confidence and low self esteem; the anxiety he would suffer being amongst a crowd of people who would be staring at him, watching his every move. Feeling everybody’s eyes following him around; watching him eat, drink, talk, laugh, walk, sit.  Their staring gradually weighing him down, stabbing and clawing.  He would hear their laughter and know that it was directed at him.  He’d see people turn away when he looked in their direction in an embarrassed attempt to hide the fact that they were staring at him, talking about him, and then notice how quickly they dispersed when he approached.

      There was probably a long-worded name for it, somethingorotherphobia he called it after spending half a day in the library searching through medical and psychology books in a vain attempt at finding a cure, or at the very least advice on how to deal with it.

      Whatever it was called it had plagued him for years, controlling his life and ruining it in one way or another; it had got to the point now where he was pretty pissed off.  The time spent holding back, never allowing himself a share of the limelight, always being part of life’s background scenery had taken its toll.  All in the name of shyness.  The wonderful affliction that can prevent a gifted musician giving the performance of a lifetime, that renders an eloquent speaker dumb and takes a persons basic nature, locks it away in a glass cage allowing it to watch the freedom enjoyed by others, and letting it out only on the very rare occasion to join in before being cruelly hauled back from the brink of fulfilment.

      “What did she mean, ‘Let it go’ ” Ray said, suddenly remembering the parting words of the old woman, “Let what go?”

      The sound of a distant siren, an ambulance judging by it’s distinctive ‘American’ warble, pierced the night air, echoing off the river’s steep banks giving the impression there were a whole fleet rushing to or from a major disaster; a plane crash, a multiple pile-up on the motorway or the work of a machine-gun toting madman let loose in a packed night club.

      “Shit, I hope Alison wasn’t there.”  He realised how ridiculous this thought was as soon as it had entered his head and, not for the first time, felt a sharp tweak as his embarrassment jumped for joy.

      With all thoughts of the party long departed and in no mood for returning to his empty house, Ray sub-consciously chose to stay where he was for a while and continued to stare into the emptiness below him hoping eventually to catch a glimpse of the elusive river.

      The sound of softly approaching footsteps intruded on his concentration forcing him, with much reluctance, to wrench his eyes away from the voids hypnotic lure straight into a pair of equally hypnotic, velvety deep brown eyes that he instantly recognised.

      “What…?” He could only manage the one bewildered word before his throat closed effectively strangling any further attempts at speech.

      “I thought I’d find you here.  I called at the house, Jenny’s on form tonight.” The woman joked but with a hint of awkwardness in her voice, “How are you?”

      He couldn’t take his eyes off her.  There she was, the object of his suffering, standing in front of him as beautiful as ever, radiant even, and he couldn’t decide how or what he felt.  There was love, hostility, desire, rejection, memories.  The longing to hold her in his arms was being suppressed by the desire to keep a safe distance between them.  He saw the curves of her body, that oh so familiar landscape, pressing against the material of her coat that was wrapped tightly around her to keep out the cold.

      “Are you OK?” she asked, concerned that he hadn’t answered her.

      “Yeah, sorry” he spluttered finally, “you’re the last person I expected to see, I’m surprised.”

      “Not a bad surprise I hope.”  She walked nearer and stood next to him, resting her arms on the wooden railing, and gazed over the side of the bridge just as he had been doing a few moments ago.

      The scent of Alison’s perfume engulfed him.  He recognised it as being the rather expensive one he had brought her for her birthday and was pleased to know that she hadn’t severed all connections with him and their past.  He felt the warmth from her body and noticed that she was standing close, very close, practically pushing him off balance.

      ‘I noticed that too, do you think there’s something wrong?’

      “I don’t know,” he answered the voice’s question whilst adjusting the position of his feet to counter-balance the weight now leaning against his left side, “she’s not drunk and seems happy enough.  Where have you been anyway?”

      ‘That’s not important, ask her what she wants’

      “I’d prefer to be a bit more diplomatic than that.”

      ‘Please yourself!’

      “No, a pleasant one,” he replied slightly leaning towards her to see how she would react, “have you had a good night?”

      “No,” she didn’t alter her position at all, didn’t move away or give any indication that she had registered his movement towards her, “I’m sorry I didn’t phone.”

      “That’s all right, I thought you’d be enjoying yourself too much anyway, I wouldn’t expect you stop just to phone me.”

      “I haven’t been out all night,” Alison said without emotion, her attention fixed on the rail upon which she was drawing an invisible picture with her finger.  Ray tried to decipher the loops and curls traced by the finger which was still wearing the ring he’d given to her to celebrate their fifth anniversary as a couple, but was unable to tell whether she was writing or drawing.

      ‘Something’s definitely afoot…’

      “Yes, and before you do, we’ll have no reference to willies; now is not the right time, OK?” Ray said, quickly interrupting, “let’s save the jokes for later, you’re right though, for her not to go out on New Year’s eve is very strange.  I think we could be here for some time.”

      ‘I’ll just nip back and get us a flask of coffee then, shall I?’

      Ray ignored it, focusing his attention on Alison, “Why haven’t you been out, you’re not ill are you?” he asked her, trying hard not to make it sound as if he were treating it like a joke.

      “I’m fine, I’ve been thinking, trying to come to a decision.”

      For an moment he thought he had discovered the cause of Alison’s strange behaviour, why she was cuddled up to him, her hesitation, her seemingly vague yet occupied manner.  It scared him, set alarms ringing and clanging and bleeping throughout his body; ‘what was he going to do?’, ‘HELP!’.

      ‘You don’t honestly think for one minute she’s going to ask you to take her back, do you? ‘

      “Yes!….I think….I don’t know!  But what if she does?”  Confused, Ray hoped the voice would, as it had done on many occasions, provide him with an answer, an easy solution that would make everybody happy.  He was disappointed this time.

      ‘You’re on your own with this one, I can’t make that kind of decision for you, sorry’

      Alison was continuing to scan the rail and therefore didn’t perceive the look of rabid anger that soured the features of Ray’s face. He turned his head away from her, just in case, and its movement seemed to jerk Alison out of her semi-trance like state, “What’s wrong?” she said, the awkward tone still there but now being dominated by concern, fear.

      “Nothing,” he lied unconvincingly, “I thought I saw the water for a second.”

      ‘That was pathetic!’ the voice said disdainfully

      “It is dark down there isn’t it?” Alison was saying before Ray could elaborate his lie and make it sound more plausible, “do you remember the time we came here during that really cold winter and the river had frozen over, there were people skating and …..”

      “I don’t believe it,” Ray thought as Alison continued to recreate the event, “she’s never dragged up things we’ve done in the past before, Christ! she never did it when we were together so why now?”

      “…..lucky to be alive!” Alison finished with the same emotionless voice that had accompanied all of her conversation so far.

      “It must have been an important decision to stop you going out tonight of all nights” Ray said deciding not to beat about the bush. He was hoping that the mood Alison was in would encourage her to open up and tell him everything instead of the usual encrypted version she normally gave.

        “How do you feel about us?”  she asked so nonchalantly that Ray wondered whether it was worth answering.

      “There is no ‘us’, is there?”  he replied with an irritation born out of uninvited recollections.

      “I know, I’m sorry,”  Alison said sheepishly, noticing the change in Rays voice and the way his body, whose closeness and familiar warmth she found she was quite enjoying, had tensed when she’d asked the question, “what I meant was us not being together.”

      “I’m comfortable with it, what about you?”  Ray relaxed again, allowing his body to mould itself into Alison’s welcoming contours.

      “Come on, get on with it.  Spit it out.”  Ray thought to himself.  An uncharacteristically selfish eagerness to hear what Alison had to say  was beginning to take up residence in his head, moving things around and making space available to accept, store and analyse every word, every phrase.

      ‘Give her a chance’

      “Shut up!  Piss off!”  He was whipping himself into a frenzy.  Like a salivating dog attached to a rope that leaves it 6 inches short of reaching a big, juicy bone, he was nearly, but not quite, within touching distance.  “I bet you she’ll come straight out with it, ‘I made a big mistake, I can’t live without you, please take me back,’ all apologetic, tears in the eyes, major dramatics!”

      On the outside, Ray’s demeanour portrayed a cool, laid back calmness which stood in stark contrast to the gibbering, hyper-active beast running riot through the corridors and alleyways of his overworked brain.

      ‘Have you taken something I don’t know about?’

      “Shh, shut up she’s talking!”

      Alison was looking at him quizzically and it took him a moment to realise that she had asked him a question and was awaiting his reply.

      “Shit, she’s asked me and I’ve missed it because you were babbling on as usual!”  Feeling embarrassment more than anything else, Ray composed himself and quickly rehearsed the reaction he had decided upon giving when asked the question he felt sure Alison was going to ask.

      “I’m sorry,” he said calmly, “I didn’t hear you, what did you say?” The effort it took to disguise the over-zealous anticipation in his voice made him wonder if it was all worth it.  Why was he behaving like this when he was almost certain he didn’t want her back?  Maybe it was the air of uncertainty that hung over him like a storm cloud waiting to burst open.  These thoughts were quickly ushered out of the way as he saw Alison open her mouth to speak.

      “Could we,” she started.

      “Yes! Yes! Yes! Here it comes!”  Ray thought nearly wetting himself with excitement.

      “Could we go hom…… back to your place, I’m feeling a bit cold?”

‘Ooohhh!  Love the Freudian slip….or was it?’  Child-like giggling echoed inside his head.

      Ray’s jaw dropped.  If this had been a cartoon his jaw would have hit the floor, rolled off the bridge into the water and would probably have caught a fish.  A piercing scream erupted inside his head and he found himself deflating as if someone had blown up a balloon inside his body and was now letting the air out very quickly.

      “We don’t have to if you’d prefer not to” Alison said somewhat annoyed at Ray’s response, or lack of it.  He could see she was hurt as well as she stared at him, her eyes attracting more of what little light there was as they appeared to moisten.

      ‘Who feels a prat now then?’ the voice taunted, ‘you’ve gone very quiet all of the sudden, anything wrong?’

      It was quiet, Ray thought.  The screaming had stopped, as had the deflating.  All he could hear was his own breathing, the distant water and a faint, far off ring, hardly perceptible, but strong enough to make you aware of it.

      Seeing Alison’s eyes momentarily water snapped Ray out of cartoon impression mode forcing him to lie unconvincingly, “of course, I was just thinking if I had left the place tidy or not.  You know how it is, you don’t bother as much when you’re on your own do you?” Yes he did feel a prat, though not for his crazy notion that Alison was going to ask for some kind of rekindling of their relationship, no, he felt stupid for the way he had reacted in front of her of all people, like something out of Bugs Bunny or Tom & Jerry. “Come on, let’s go.” He said moving away from Alison and turning in the direction of his house, relieved that he didn’t have to look into those doubting eyes for a while.

      As they slowly meandered along the path which would guide them onto the road leading to Rays house, what once had been their house, they chatted about this and that and looked like any other young couple, in love and enjoying a moment of togetherness.  Alison had interlocked her arm with Rays and their bodies were pressed up against each other as they walked side by side, keeping each other warm.  The temperature had suddenly dipped a couple of degrees since a slight but steady breeze had started to blow as they left the bridge.  Their talking and breathing causing large plumes of steam to be irregularly emitted from their mouths and nostrils into the now cold, night air.

      During a break in conversation, Rays inner voice said, ‘Maybe you’re right. Judging by the way she’s hanging on to you I’d say it was a safe bet she’s going to ask for another try.’

      “So you fancy a bet now do you?  What’s changed your mind?”

      ‘As you said, she’s been standing very close, bringing up the past, acting strange as if she wanted to say something but was waiting for the right moment, her awkwardness; the clues are there if you look for them my dear Watson.’

      “Thank you, I’ll bear that in mind.  Lets just wait and see what happens.”

      A large chunk of enthusiasm had been ripped out of him and replaced with an attitude bordering on indifference.  He hadn’t been aware of Alison’s closeness or how she had perked up and was now quite jovial, smiling, and walking with a spring in her step.  He was deeply ensconced in the next round of the ‘do I love her/would I take her back’ battle with, in the blue corner, the experienced, undefeated champion, YesIdo OfcourseIwould, up against, in the red corner, the newcomer and challenger, NoIdon’t NoIwouldn’t.  The challenger was ahead on points at the moment but was taking a pounding against the ropes from the champ.

      “Have you moved without telling me?” Alison asked?