The Man Under the Bridge

Under the bridge sits a man. He’s called William Morton, and he’s 57 years old. He smokes a cigarette. Behind the haze of smoke there is a beard and a toothless grin. He has dark grey hair and a bald patch forming on the top of his head.

He’s drunk on cheap cider. He’s been an alcoholic for five years now. He thinks it’s been five years. He started drinking when he lost the last of his family, apart from his daughter Charlotte, in a plane crash. The crash was somewhere in Asia. Or was it South America? Or Australia?

No one survived the crash. The bodies were never recovered. They were burned and turned to ash when they hit the ground. Bill’s never said goodbye to them. He wants to go back home to them.

His daughter, Charlotte, died not long after the crash. She completed suicide. Bill believes that her body is at the bottom of the lake, a few yards away from the bridge.

He’s known to the locals as Bridge Bob, because he lives under the bridge and he is the only homeless man in this small town.

His pit bull terrier Max lies on the floor next to him, his head resting in Bill’s lap. A man wearing a black jumper and a dog collar approaches him, carrying a Tupperware container.

‘How did you end up homeless?’ asks Tobias.

‘I don’t remember, vicar,’ replies Bill. ‘It was about 4 years ago now.’

Tobias is the new vicar, and he brings Bill leftovers heated up in the microwave. Tobias’ wife bakes the world’s best brownies. Tobias brings those too.

‘There’s no homeless shelters around here,’ Tobias says. ‘It’s a tiny town.’

Bill shrugs. He likes it here. He’s lived here his whole life and he’s not going to leave. He was born in this town and he will die in this town.

‘My daughter’s body is at the bottom of the lake,’ Bill says.

‘Oh?’ Tobias raises an eyebrow. ‘Have the police investigated it?’

‘Nah,’ Bill says. ‘They think I’m lying. They think I’m nothing but an old, drunk fool. They told me she’s alive and well. They’re lying. She’s not come to see me or nothing. She’s got to be dead.’

Bill’s hat is on the floor, a few rusty coppers inside. Tobias digs in his pocket and hands Bill a £20 note.

‘You can always come to the church when you need a warm place to sit,’ Tobias says. ‘The church is open all day.’

‘Any chance I could stay at night? Let God protect me?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Tobias says. ‘I can’t allow that.’

Tobias walks off to head to his prayer meeting. He kicks at an old, crushed up can and turns to look at Bill. The man lights another cigarette and downs a cider, drinking it with vigour. Bill’s head droops forward. Max is still sleeping.

People walk past Bill on their way to and from the train station. Bill’s thought about going to the station and jumping, but if he’s going to do that he should jump into the lake to be with Charlotte.

‘Ain’t got a spare bit of change, have you?’ he asks a passer-by, a man dressed in a pinstripe suit who is carrying a leather briefcase.

‘I’m not giving you anything,’ the man retorts. He spits on Bill’s shoes.

Bill strokes Max’s head. The dog is quiet and his nose is cold.

He holds his hand over Max’s pink nose. Something is wrong. Max snores all the time when he’s asleep, but he’s been quiet for hours. There is no movement of air through the dog’s nose. Shaking, Bill leans down to listen to his best friend’s heartbeat. He can’t find it, he can’t hear it. Max is cold. He opens Max’s eyelids.

‘Damn it, boy!’ Bill cries. ‘No, you can’t be dead! Wake up, Max! Don’t do this to me!’

He slams his fist on Max’s chest, tries blowing air in the dog’s mouth. Hot tears roll down his cheeks.

Bill carries Max’s body to the field, where the lake is. He takes out the knife from his socks and tries to dig a hole, but it’s no good.

‘Tobias!’ Bill knocks on the vicarage door. Its red paint is peeling. ‘Open the fucking door!’

‘Goodness,’ Abbie opens the door. ‘Can I help you?’

‘It’s alright, Abbie,’ Tobias lays a hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘Bill? What’s happened?’

Bill points to the body of his dog on the ground. ‘I want a spade, so I can give him a proper burial. He’s just gone. I don’t know what happened, Tobias. He stopped breathing an’, an’, I didn’t fucking notice.’

Bill falls to his knees and buries his head in Max’s body. Abbie rushes off to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

‘Where do you want him buried?’ Tobias asks.

‘In the field, by the big lake,’ Bill says. ‘He always used to love running over that field. He ran into the lake a few times, too.’

Later, Bill sits by Max’s grave. They marked it with a wooden cross that Abbie found in their shed. Tobias tried to grave ‘Max’ into it.

Bill’s head spins. He spent the £20 on booze and cigarettes. He’s drinking with rapid speed. He leans over and spews into the grass, wipes his mouth and goes back to drinking the cider.

Max is the only thing that’s been keeping Bill alive and now Max has been snatched from him by Death’s cruel hands. Max is Bill’s best friend. Max stuck by him, never left his side, not once.

Bill wipes his eyes. The sun is setting, the sky a magnificent blend of pinks and oranges and reds. He hears the bells of the church ring, calling people to evening prayer.

Bill takes the knife. He places the cold blade on his neck, and walks down the edge of the lake. He drops the knife and jumps in. The water fills his lungs, and Bill walks into Death’s open arms.