that wouldn’t trigger any anger in him. But in the end I didn’t have to say anything because he spoke first.
‘I read about a guy who jumped in the river last year. He was drunk and decided to go swimming, only he got stuck under a shopping trolley and the currents swept him away. He couldn’t get out,’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion.
‘And you liked the sound of that?’
‘No. But then it will be over. After all that, it will be over.’
‘Or it will be the beginning of a new kind of pain. As soon as you’re in that water, no matter how much you want it, you’ll panic. You’ll fight it. You’ll struggle to take in oxygen and your lungs will fill with water because, even though you think you don’t want to live, your instinct will be to stay alive. It’s in you to want to stay alive. As soon as the water is drawn into your larynx, another natural instinct is for you to swallow it. Water will fill your lungs, which will weigh down your body, and if you change your mind and decide you want to live and try to get to the surface, you won’t be able to. And the thing is, there are so many people around you right now, they’re ready to dive in and rescue you – and do you know what? You think it’ll be too late, but it won’t be. Even after you lose consciousness, the heart will carry on beating. They can give you mouth-to-mouth and pump out the water and fill your lungs with air again. They could save you.’
His body was shaking and not just from the cold. I felt him go limp beneath my arms. ‘I want it to end.’ His voice shook as he spoke. ‘It hurts.’
‘What hurts?’
‘Specifically? Living.’ He laughed weakly. ‘Waking up is the worst part of my day. Has been for a long time.’
‘Why don’t we talk about this somewhere else?’ I said, concerned, as his body went rigid again. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to talk about his problems while he was hanging off the side of a bridge. ‘I want to hear everything you have to say, so let’s get down now.’
‘It’s too much.’ He closed his eyes and spoke more to himself. ‘I can’t change things now. It’s too late,’ he said quietly, leaning his head back so that it rested by my cheek. We were oddly close for two strangers.
‘It’s never too late. Believe me, it’s possible for your life to change. You can change it. I can help you,’ I said, my voice little more than a whisper. There was no reason for me to project; his ear was right there, at the tip of my lips.
He looked me in the eyes and I couldn’t look away, I felt locked in. He seemed so lost.
‘And what happens if it doesn’t work? If everything doesn’t change like you say it will?’
‘It will.’
‘But if it doesn’t?’
‘I’m telling you, it will.’ Get him off the bridge, Christine!
He studied me, his jaw hardening as he mulled it over. ‘And if it doesn’t, I swear I’ll do this again,’ he threatened. ‘Not here, but I’ll find a way, because I’m not going back to that.’
I didn’t want him dwelling on the negative, on whatever it was that had sent him here. ‘Fine,’ I said confidently. ‘If your life doesn’t change, it’s your decision what you do. But I’m telling you that it can. I’ll show you. You and me, we’ll do it together, we’ll see how wonderful life can be. I promise you.’
‘It’s a deal,’ he near whispered.
Dread immediately flooded my body. A deal? I hadn’t intended on making a deal with him, but I wasn’t going to discuss it now. I was tired. I just wanted him off the bridge. I wanted to be in bed, wrapped up, with all of this behind me.
‘You need to let go of me so I can climb over,’ he said.
‘I’m not letting you go. No way,’ I said sternly.
He half laughed, a tiny one, but it was there. ‘Look, I’m trying to get back on the bridge and now you won’t let me.’
I took in the height of the bars he needed to climb, then the drop below. This was going to be dangerous. ‘Let me call for help,’ I said.
Slowly I removed one hand from his chest, not totally trusting that he was going to keep his word.
‘I got here by myself, I can get back on the bridge by myself,’ he said.
‘I don’t like the idea of this. Let me ask someone to help.’ But he ignored me and I watched him trying to turn around, his large feet on the narrow ledge. He moved his right hand to a bar further away and shuffled his feet so that he could turn to face the bridge. My heart pounded as I watched, feeling helpless. I wanted to shout to the spectators to help, but shouting at that point would have given him a fright and sent him into the water. Suddenly the wind felt stronger, the air seemed colder and I was even more aware of the danger he was in after our brief respite. He angled his body to the right, twisting from his waist and preparing to swing his left foot over the water and turn to face the bars, but as he pivoted his weight on his right foot, it slipped off the narrow ledge. Somehow his left hand managed to grab the bar he had been reaching for just in time, leaving him hanging on with one arm. I heard the collective intake of breath from the spectators as I reached for his flailing right hand and clinging on tightly, used all my strength to pull him up. In that moment it was the fear in his eyes which terrified me the most, but on reflection it was that look that gave me strength, because the man who only moments ago had wanted to end his life was now fighting to live.
I helped pull him up, and he clung to the bars, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. I was still trying to compose myself when Detective Maguire came rushing towards us with a thunderous look on his face.
‘He wants to get back on the bridge,’ I said weakly.
‘I can see that.’ He pushed me aside and I had to look away while they manoeuvred Adam to safety. As soon as he landed on the bridge, we both sat down hard on the ground, all our energy spent.
Adam sat with his back pressed up against the railings; I sat opposite him on the other side, trying to stop my head from spinning. I tucked my head between my legs and took deep breaths.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, concerned.
‘Yeah.’ I closed my eyes. ‘Thanks,’ I added.
‘What for?’
‘For not jumping.’
He grimaced, the exhaustion showing in his face and body. ‘Always happy to oblige. Seemed like it meant more to you than to me.’
‘Well, I appreciate it.’ I gave him a shaky smile.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
‘Christine.’
‘Adam.’
He reached across and held out his hand. I moved from the railings to reach and as I took his hand in mine he held on tightly and looked me in the eye.
‘I look forward to you convincing me that this was a good idea, Christine. I think my birthday would
