Storm Rising

by Rachael Richey

  Judy grinned and whispered back, “Thought you’d like him. He’s just your type.” She grabbed Abi’s hand and gave it a squeeze, adding, “Maybe he can be your excitement?”

  Abi slapped her friend’s hand and gave a short laugh. “Hmm…we’ll see,” was all she said.

  Just then Miss Ferguson, the deputy headteacher of the school, stepped up onto the stage in front of the band and tapped the microphone.

  “Girls and boys, I have great pleasure now in introducing tonight’s special guests, NightHawk. All the boys are probably known to you, so I hope you’ll give them a really warm welcome!”

  She led the applause and cheering as she left the stage and moved to the side of the hall to observe the proceedings.

  As the band began to play, Abi, Judy, and Sammy managed to edge their way forward until they could lean against the front of the stage and look directly up at the boys as they played. Gideon, his guitar slung around him, stood at the front, leaning towards the microphone, his lips almost touching it as he sang. Simon, drumming violently at the back, was sweating even more profusely as he played, and Charles hung at Gideon’s side, plucking morosely at his bass.

  Abi found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Gideon as he threw himself wholeheartedly into his performance. After three classic grunge covers, (one by Alice in Chains, and two by Nirvana) the band paused and Gideon leant forward to his microphone.

  “Thank you,” he muttered nodding at the audience. “Now for one of our own numbers, ‘Storm Rising.’ ”

  He stepped back, turned, nodded to Simon, and they started to play the opening notes of the song Abi would remember for the rest of her life. As the music swelled and Gideon started to sing, he turned until he was facing directly towards Abi, his penetrating eyes locking onto hers. Throughout the four minutes of the song his eyes kept straying back to her, and by the end of the piece Abi found she was holding her breath, her head spinning, quite unable to tear her eyes away from him. She felt he could see right into her soul, could read her thoughts and feelings. She had never met someone like that before. As the closing bars of the song faded out, Gideon held her gaze once more, and Abi was sure she detected the hint of a smile. The band then performed two more of their own works before eventually ending up with another Nirvana cover.

  As the music finally died away, the entire hall erupted into a torrent of cheering, whistling, and clapping, Abi and her friends leading the way in front of the stage.

  Gideon unplugged his guitar and, with a quickly murmured comment in Simon’s ear, he vaulted down from the stage and landed beside Abi.

  “Hi,” he said staring her in the eyes. “You look cool.”

  Abi grinned slightly. “Ta,” she said, staring back at him, her heart beginning to pound in her ribcage. She licked her lips and shifted her stance in an attempt to look even more cool. “That was brilliant,” she went on. “Are you playing again later?”

  Gideon shook his head, his thick dark hair swinging forward and brushing over his shoulders. “No, not this time. Think they only let us play ’cause we went to King Edward’s.” He paused and glanced away for a second before returning his gaze to Abi’s face. “We’ve got a gig in Reading next week. Hoping we might get spotted,” he said, his eyes sliding away from hers awkwardly.

  Abi grinned and nodded, attempting to appear knowledgeable. “That sounds great,” she said, flicking her hair back in as casual a manner as she could manage.

  Gideon shifted his position and leaned back against the stage. He looked at her under his lashes. “D’you wanna come and watch us?” he asked with a shrug, then grinned. “It’ll be spectacular.”

  Abi blushed, despite her attempt to remain cool, and nodded her head vigorously.

  “I’d love to! When is it?”

  Gideon grinned at her. “Next Tuesday. It’s in a pub, but apparently scouts from the record companies hang out there looking for talent.”

  Abi’s face fell. “I can’t come. I’m only…sixteen. I’ll never be allowed in.”

  Gideon raised his eyebrows. “’Course you will. You can come in the van with us. I’ll tell ’em you’re a roadie.” He chuckled. “Can I get your phone number, so then we can arrange it?”

  Abi sucked in her breath. There was no way on earth her mother would allow her to go to a pub in Reading. On a school night. To listen to a band. In the company of three eighteen-year-old boys. In fact, she had to admit that maybe just for once she could see her mother’s point of view. However, she was going to go, so she needed to think quickly.

  “Our phone’s not working properly at the moment,” she said. “P’raps you could ring Judy and leave a message? Simon has her number. He lives just down my street.”

  Gideon gave the tiniest of frowns, then shrugged and nodded. “Okay, whatever,” he agreed. “I’ll call her with the time, and maybe you could walk round to Simon’s and I’ll pick you up with him?” He glanced back at the stage where his friends were busily packing up the equipment and shooting him dangerous looks. He grimaced at Abi. “Okay, I’d better go and help the guys. See you on Tuesday.” He vaulted back up onto the stage and prowled away towards the others.

  Abi exhaled and leaned back against the stage, her eyes shut. She couldn’t really believe what had just happened. She had been craving excitement, and now it seemed she’d found some. Tuesday night was going to need some planning, and she needed to speak to Judy and Sammy and enlist their help. She couldn’t help having just a bit of a wobbly feeling in her tummy about the whole thing. Especially the fact that she’d lied about her age. She wasn’t even sure why she’d done that. It just felt right at the time. She hadn’t wanted him to think she was too young. Anyway, she would be sixteen in four months. She opened her eyes to find herself being confronted by two very expectant faces.

  “Well?” asked Judy impatiently. “What happened? Did he ask you out? Is he going to be your excitement?”

  Abi tried to keep a nonchalant look on her face but failed and broke into a huge grin. She grabbed both girls by the hands. “Toilets,” she ordered, and they weaved their way through the milling dancers and burst back into the toilets again. As the door slammed behind them, Sammy did a quick check to make sure they were alone before all three girls clambered up onto the worktop.

  Abi grinned at them again. “He’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed. “You were dead right, Jude…and I think he likes me. He asked me to go to a gig they’re doing in Reading next Tuesday, and I said yes.”

  Sammy squeaked and clapped her hands, and Judy looked smug. “I knew you’d hit it off,” she said, with a toss of her ponytail. “So how’re you gonna work Tuesday? Your mum’ll never go for it.”

  Abi nodded. “I know. I told Gideon to call you and tell you the time, and then I’m going to get picked up at Simon’s.” She paused, adding with a frown, “I thought maybe I could tell Mum and Dad that I’m staying at your house that night or something.”

  Sammy widened her eyes. “Are you staying out all night, then?” she asked in awe.

  Abi grimaced. “Well, no, I guess not, but I can’t just turn up back home at some unearthly hour, can I? What should I do, d’you think?”

  Judy surveyed her friend thoughtfully. “This needs some serious thinking,” she said with a giggle. “I’m sure between us we can come up with something.”

  Abi glanced at her two friends under her lashes. “I also”—she paused and cleared her throat—“I also told him I was sixteen.”

  Chapter 4

  2005

  “Another cuppa, love?” Her father’s voice jolted Abi out of her reverie and returned her to the present. All the memories that had come flooding back when she discovered the letters were pushed to the back of her mind as she turned to face him, forcing her mouth into a smile.

  “Sure, why not?” She leaned forward to take the proffered cup from his hand. She had already noticed his hands had a slight shake to them, and as he passed the tea to her, a small amount slopped over the edge an
d dripped onto the photo in her hand. With a stifled oath, Abi snatched the photo to her and pressed it against her jeans to wipe off the tea before it stained.

  Arthur stared at it anxiously. “Oh, no! I’m sorry, love. My hands are so shaky these days. I hope it wasn’t anything important.” He watched as she studied the picture.

  She shook her head. “No harm done,” she muttered, managing a slight smile to reassure him. She slid the photo back into her pocket before lifting the tea to her lips and taking a sip. “Lovely tea, Dad. Thanks. I’ll be down soon. A lot of this stuff is my old things, so I’ll pack them up and take them away with me.” She paused and looked him straight in the eye, adding significantly, “A lot of letters I didn’t even know I had.”

  Arthur shrugged. “Oh, well, your mother kept all sorts of junk,” he said, dismissing her comment. “You take whatever you want, pet.” and his greying head disappeared once more down the ladder.

  Abi sank back onto her heels and sighed. It would seem that maybe her father hadn’t been a party to the deception orchestrated by her mother more than a decade ago. Although she felt some relief that only one of her parents had betrayed her, she nonetheless felt a little cheated at having no one on whom to vent her anger. She slowly sipped her cooling tea and couldn’t help wishing it were something a little stronger. The emotions that had surfaced when she made her discovery were never far away, but for the past ten years she’d managed to suppress them in order to function as a normal human being. Otherwise, she doubted she could have carried on. Now they were all back. Coupled with the news she’d seen on the television the night before, they gave her an overwhelming sense of drowning, with nothing to catch hold of to save herself. She really needed to talk to someone. Someone who knew what had happened all those years ago. Someone who understood.

  With a sigh, Abi piled everything back into the box and heaved it across the floor towards the loft hatch. She wriggled around until she could lower her legs onto the ladder, turned off the light, and made her way down onto the landing. Balancing the box on her hip, she pushed the ladder back up into the loft and closed the hatch with the pole before heading downstairs.

  Arthur was pottering in the kitchen, making some sandwiches, and Abi paused in the doorway, her arms clasped around the precious box.

  “Dad.”

  He turned at the sound of her voice, butter knife in hand.

  “You finished, love? Would you like a sandwich?” He waved towards the kitchen table, which held a clutter of jars and packets.

  Abi shook her head. “Can’t stop now, Dad. Got to go and see someone.” She paused, wincing at the lost look on his face. “I’ll come back tomorrow to help you finish off. If you want.”

  Arthur put down the knife and came to her.

  “That would be lovely, Abi,” he said quietly. “I’ve really missed you these last few years, you know. Maybe now…” The wistfulness of his expression said it all as his arm fell to his side.

  Abi nodded and smiled at him.

  “Yes, Dad, maybe now. Maybe now we can spend time together again, but right now I have to go. Do the Cromwells still live in the same house?” she asked over her shoulder as she headed down the hall.

  Arthur squeezed past her and opened the door. He nodded. “Yes, they do. Creatures of habit, just like your mother and me.” Abi could think of no two sets of parents more different than hers and Judy’s, but she nodded again, smiling her thanks.

  Once back in the car—her father had insisted on carrying the box for her and putting it in the boot—Abi sat for a moment to take stock. She needed to see Judy. She really couldn’t think of anyone else she could talk to about this, but there was a problem. When Abi first left home and went to college, she and Judy had kept in constant touch and met up frequently, but in the last couple of years they had drifted apart. Abi found it hard to believe it could have happened; they used to be inseparable, but four years ago Judy got married. Her husband was lovely, Abi was the first to admit that, but she had always felt slightly awkward visiting them, almost as if she were an intruder. So she began to see Judy less often. She would still phone and they would chat, but she was always aware of Robert in the background, and later on baby Thomas (who must be at least two by now, she calculated), and eventually their contact had dwindled to Christmas and birthday cards. Now Abi desperately wanted to see her friend but was too embarrassed to simply arrive on her doorstep after so long. The only other thing she could do was to make her approach through Judy’s mother.

  Taking a deep breath, she fastened her seatbelt and started the car. As she left, she could see her father’s silhouette in the living room window, and she felt a wave of sorrow. She still couldn’t forgive him for his part in her life all those years ago, but she did love him, and she needed to be there for him now. The revelation that he too had hated her mother warmed her heart, and she had begun to understand the way he’d acted ten years earlier.

  She swung the car around the corner and turned into the road that Judy’s parents had lived in since before the girls first became friends at the age of four. She pulled up alongside the kerb just outside the house and turned off the engine. Pulling down her sun visor, she quickly checked her hair and makeup. Considering the way the day had gone so far, she didn’t look too bad. She grabbed her bag and, opening the door, stepped out into the familiar street. As she stared up at the blank windows, Abi realised that most likely Mrs. Cromwell would be at work. She used to be a midwife at the local hospital, and as far as Abi knew she still worked there. She gave a little shiver, then tentatively opened the gate and walked slowly up the path to the front door. She rang the bell and within a couple of seconds the door was pulled open by a tall, slightly plump middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a pink jumper. Her faded blonde hair was caught into an untidy bun at the back of her head, and she was wiping her hands on a tea towel. She started in surprise when she saw Abi on the doorstep and took a step backwards.

  “Oh, I wasn’t expecting—I mean, I thought you were the postman!” With a throaty laugh, she peered more closely at her visitor. “Surely that’s not Abi, is it?” Her eyes widened. “It is! Come on in, love. I heard about your mother.” She stopped there, knowing any form of condolence was inappropriate, and ushered her guest into the hallway.

  Abi stared around her, bemused. Just like her parents’ house, Judy’s house had not changed at all since she was last there. The same wallpaper, the same carpet, the same rather old-fashioned furniture—probably the same photos on the mantelpiece. She followed Mary Cromwell into the kitchen and was waved into a seat at the cluttered table. Abi perched on a pine chair, one of a set that actually was new since her last visit, and clutched her handbag nervously on her knee. Mary smiled encouragement at her.

  “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked as she filled the kettle. “I take it you’re here for your mother’s funeral?”

  Abi nodded curtly and licked her lips. “Yeah. And now I’m helping my dad sort out some stuff.”

  Mary pulled out a chair and sat facing Abi across the table. After a moment she reached out and caught one of Abi’s hands in hers. “It must be very hard for you to come back,” she said, her voice gentle. “The memories must be dreadful.” She paused and scanned Abi’s face. “I guess you want to see Judy?”

  Abi swallowed and raised eyes filled with unshed tears. She nodded, then pulled her hand away and delved into her pocket for a tissue. After noisily blowing her nose, she wiped her eyes and sat back in her chair with a sigh.

  “I’m so sorry, Aunty Mary,” she said, regressing to her childhood name for her friend’s mother. “It’s been an emotional couple of days”—she paused, a slightly sardonic smile playing about her lips—“not for the traditional reasons, as I’m sure you understand, but a lot of unexpected stuff has happened, and it’s thrown me. I really need to see Judy if I can, but I feel dreadful just turning up, when we’ve rather lost touch over the last couple of years.” She paused again and looked appea
lingly at Judy’s mother. “It’s all my fault. I kept feeling I was in the way after she got married. Then they had Thomas and were a real little family, and, well, it made me feel…” In her misery she halted and rubbed an impatient hand over her eyes.

  With a sigh, Mary Cromwell got to her feet and moved around the table to put her arm comfortingly around Abi’s shoulders.

  “There, there, love,” she soothed, handing her a box of tissues. “I understand. I understand more than you can imagine.” She stared over Abi’s head into the distance, a slight frown creasing her brow. Then she gently shook Abi’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “And of course you can go and see Judy. She’ll be delighted. I know she understands how you’ve been feeling.” She glanced up at the clock above the cooker. “If you go now, she’ll be home, probably about to bathe the kids. Shall I call to tell her you’re coming?”

  Abi looked up in surprise. “Kids?” she asked. “She has two now?”

  Mary smiled. “Yes, she had a little girl in April. She’s six…no, seven months now. She’s called Sabrina. Judy’s been dying to show her to you. Shall I call her?”

  Abi nodded, attempting to take in this new information. Her best friend had a new baby, and she’d known nothing about it! That was outrageous. She mentally chastised herself and realised she needed to get her act together and stop being so selfish. She had thought only of her own feelings when she stopped contacting Judy. She had not considered how her friend might feel. How she might have needed a friend to help her through her pregnancy, someone to gossip with, someone to shop with…someone to be there for her. Abi felt like such a jerk. Just because of what had happened to her all those years ago, she had abandoned her best friend. The friend who had stuck with her through all her bad times. She slowly got to her feet. Mary had disappeared off into the living room and was speaking quietly to someone on the telephone. Abi held her breath—suppose Judy didn’t want to see her? Suppose she had really upset her friend? She didn’t think she could bear that, and she edged closer to the kitchen door in an effort to eavesdrop on the conversation. Mary gave a short laugh, and then Abi heard the ping of the receiver being replaced in its cradle. She was standing nervously in the kitchen doorway when Mary reappeared, smiling.