Bridge Encounters: "Mummy!"

A short story set on the "Puente Nuevo" - The New Bridge - in Ronda, Spain.




"Mummy!"

Sounds like someone is lost, I think to myself.

"Mummy!"

I look around to find the source of this piteous cry. I catch glimpses of a small figure making a ripple in the river of tourists that move along the side of the bridge, all trying to jostle for a good view of the three-hundred foot drop to the bottom of the narrow gorge.

"Mummy, where are you?"

I kneel down to be at eye level with the young lad who bumps into me.

"Hey, kid, are you okay?"

He looks up at me with big, greyish-blue eyes and with the realisation that having a three-day growth of beard rules me out as being his mother, his emotional dam bursts, sending an enormous wail pouring out.

Not having much of a maternal streak, I give him an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll find your mother."

I wait patiently for him to calm down. The boy still has that puppy fat that shows he has a way to go before he makes the transition from cute to brat. Even without hearing him speak, the heavy sprinkling of freckles could probably be joined together to spell "ENGLISH". I steer him over to an indented section of the wall where there is a spot to sit down and eventually the sorrowful tide goes out and is reduced to an occasional stuttering sob.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Thomas," he says in a small voice.

"Not Tommy, or Tom?" I ask, surprised that he doesn't use a diminutive form.

He looks at me as if I'm completely daft. "No," he replies, very emphatic, as only a child can be.

"Ah, okay. So where did you last see your mum?"

Thomas thinks for a moment and waves vaguely in a direction. The complete opposite direction to that which he has come from.

"Riiight." This is going to be harder than I thought.

"Can you tell me what your mother is like, then?"

His face brightens up. "When she smiles, her eyes go old, like yours." He reaches up with both hands and scrunches the crows' feet that adorn the corners of my eyes.

"Gee, thanks."

"She makes a funny face," Thomas continues with barely a pause, "when she puts on her lipstink." He demonstrates with an exaggerated pout.

"If she makes a face like that," I say, half to myself, "yes, it would be funny."

He ignores me and carries on. "Mummy makes the bestest biscuits, with lots and lots of chocky bits!" He rubs his podgy tummy, which is probably the result of one too many chocolate chip biscuits. "Yumminy, yumminy in my tumminy!" He finishes the statement by licking his lips with a big, long tongue.

He frowns suddenly. "She does make me eat vegetables, though." He pokes his tongue out in disgust. "Mummy says they're good for me. If they're good for me, why do they taste yucky?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"She gives me super-duper cuddles!" He wraps his chubby, little arms around himself as he imagines it. "It feels real nice 'cos Mummy is soft and squidgy like a big pillow."

"I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear that."

The young lad steps up onto the low wall and gripping hold of the bars in his dimpled hands, looks down at the huge drop. He seems unconcerned at the height, possibly because his mind is elsewhere.

"Sometimes, when she's sad, I have to give her a big hug, to make her feel better. Mummy says I'm the bestest thing she's got in all the world."

He stops talking, apparently satisfied with his description.

I can't help but grin. "Your mummy sounds great. But what does she look like?"


For another story about kids, the charming and funny things they say, and the true, non-commercial spirit of Christmas, check out my comedy, Santa's Night Off. When Santa is sick on Christmas Eve, Mrs Claus discovers what his work involves and maybe that under his grumpy exterior is someone who really cares about the kids, not just delivering presents.

***FREE*** 6th - 10th December (Wed-Sun) on Amazon.

Santa's Night Off on Amazon