Page 5 of Love Unlocked

‘I know your name, and I’m not going to go near the locks,’ he says, shuffling paper work around on his desk, fighting his rising anger. ‘What’s the point of putting a lock on a bridge anyway? It just ruins a good bridge.’

‘It symbolises connection and promise. And don’t look at me like that, you’re one of the mushiest fellas I know. I heard all about your proposal to Tara, with all those soppy romantic film quotes, so don’t even pretend you don’t have a love lock on a bridge somewhere in the world. It’s probably your profile pic.’

‘I don’t.’

But she’s not listening.

‘You’re just trying to wind me up and it’s not working,’ she says, wound up.

Al watches Walter in the boardroom, a glass box in the centre of the room, a human sweat box, transparent for all to see. If it was designed that way to ensure meetings are short then it was a genius idea. Walter’s expression: concerned, attentive and caring. Small mouselike features, small eyes, small nose, small lips, big unruly curly hair. Rodent. Girls always thought he was cute, while Al was sexy. Walter was awkward and approachable, girls got to him to get to Al. Walter listens to the two women and occasionally takes notes.

Moments later the meeting ends and Walter holds the door open for them. Natasha is quick and jumps out of her chair to greet them. They leave, red cheeks and coats over their arms, flushed from the heat in the room. Walter looks over at Al, then away again quickly, afraid.

Yeah, be afraid, Al thinks, glaring at him, hands in his pockets, balled up in fists. Walter gathers his paperwork and scuttles off to his desk at the other end of the floor.

‘Good morning, ladies,’ Al says. ‘Welcome to my office, it’s nice and cool in here. Would you like some water?’

‘Oh yes, please,’ Helen says, pulling at her polo-neck sweater.

‘Natasha, could you, please?’

‘Of course.’

‘Please sit.’ He sits behind his desk. ‘How can I help you?’

‘We’re here about the Grace Plunkett pedestrian bridge.’

‘I’m familiar with it.’

The Grace Plunkett Bridge, erected in 2016, one hundred years after the Easter Rising, is a pedestrian bridge over the River Camac which runs behind Kilmainham Gaol museum where she once resided, and where she wed her husband Joseph Mary Plunkett hours before he was executed for his involvement in the Rising.

‘Contrary to beliefs, we are not anti-love,’ Helen Hanratty says with a smile. ‘I have been married for fifty years, and Mary has been married for forty-five. We realise that this No Love Locks campaign can be seen as anti-love.’

He sits up, actually interested, because he is very much anti-love and would support any campaign that would weaken its popularity. Maybe Ian Curtis would be interested in this topic.

‘There are a few factors to consider. One, it’s not aesthetically pleasing. Tourists are mostly to blame of course, they are the acts of selfish visitors who feel the need to leave their mark on a city instead of enjoying it.’

‘They’re a normalised form of vandalism,’ Mary says sternly.

Al nods along in total agreement. Stupid people in love, smearing their love in people’s faces. They should grow up and keep it to themselves.

‘Secondly, there’s the environmental issue, we spoke to your colleague about that, people snap on the lock, throw the key in the river, as a sign of their unbreakable devotion to one another.’

He rolls his eyes along with them. What are people in love like?

‘The keys can block drains and lead to floods. And it’s an area prone to flooding, as you well know.’

He nods along, enthusiastically, already wanting to get rid of these dangerous love locks.

‘Thirdly. Danger? There’s the potential collapse of the bridge. Or of the panels beneath the railings at least. They look to be bending from the weight of the locks. Love locks or not, they’ll tear the bridge down.’

‘You’re right,’ Al says, in full and total agreement. ‘Everything you said is right. I’m going to go there myself as soon as I can to visit it.’

They’re surprised by this quick response, after weeks of him ducking and diving to avoid them.

Ian Curtis said it. “Love Will Tear Us Apart.”

And these damn love locks will tear down the bridge. They’ll have to go.