“What’s that, love?” he asked without turning around. “You’ll need to speak up. I’m getting a bit deaf these days.” He carried the teapot and a couple of flowered mugs over to the table and put them in front of Abi while he turned back to the fridge to fetch the milk. Then he sat down opposite his daughter and waited. Abi gave a short laugh, shrugged, and carefully poured out two cups of tea. When they were both cradling the warming drinks in their hands, she began again.
“I’ve got something to ask you,” she said loudly. Arthur nodded expectantly, sipping his tea. “I found something in the loft yesterday.” She paused and swallowed. “Something that has really, really upset me.”
Arthur looked up in consternation. “Abi, what on earth was it?”
“A box containing a lot of letters,” she said, watching him. “Letters addressed to me—that I never received.” A look of non-comprehension passed over his face.
“What d’you mean?” he asked, puzzled. “Letters that were delivered here, but you never got?”
Abi nodded. “Yes. Someone kept them from me. The first one was opened, but the other forty-odd hadn’t been.” She paused, still watching his face intently. “There were postcards, too. All to me. All from the same person.” She continued to watch him as realisation dawned and his face drained of all colour.
“Abi,” he gasped, “you mean from…all those years ago? You mean there really were some letters? He really did contact you?”
Abi nodded, her face stony, still watching for any hint that her father had been complicit in the plot.
“Oh, my poor girl! I’m so sorry. I knew nothing about this. This is all your mother’s doing.” His sorrowful look underlined his words. “I’m sure that’s what you’re asking, isn’t it? Did I know what she was doing?”
“Yes.” Abi gave an abrupt nod. “I don’t think I could have borne it if you’d been involved too. I expected that sort of thing from her, but although you’ve almost always let her have her way, I couldn’t bring myself to believe you would have let her get away with that.” A tear trickled unheeded down her cheek.
Arthur got to his feet and moved around the table to put his arm around his daughter. “Oh, Abi, love!” His voice cracked with emotion. “I would never have done that! I am so sorry for all the hurt I did cause you, but I had nothing to do with the letters.”
Abi leaned her head against his arm and sniffed.
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered. “Thanks.” After a few moments, she pulled away, rubbed her hand impatiently across her wet eyes, and looked up at her father. “Sorry, Dad, got to go now. I’m going to see Judy. I’m a bit nervous about that too, actually. I haven’t seen her for a couple of years. We’ve lost touch a bit, and it’s all my fault.”
Arthur patted her shoulder. “If I know Judy,” he said, “she’ll be delighted to see you and won’t mind at all. Now off you go, and have fun.” He glanced down at her. “When are you going back to Cornwall? Will I see you later, or tomorrow?” He sounded so dejected Abi felt a flash of guilt at her immense desire to get out of the confines of Berkshire and back home to her beautiful adopted county.
“I’ll go back tomorrow,” she said, “but I’ll come and see you again in the morning before I leave.” She pushed back her chair and stood to face him. After a moment she put out her arms, and they clung together for a second before she picked up her box and headed towards the front door.
Arthur put out a hand and touched her on the arm. “Will you take this now?” he asked holding out the key to a Yale lock on the palm of his hand.
Abi paused, then shook her head. “Not yet, Dad,” she said. “Maybe next time.” Then she flashed him a quick smile and made her way down the drive to her car, leaving him with a bright face at her words indicating there would be a next time.
Before she set off for Judy’s house, Abi spent a moment consulting her map. Since Abi had visited her last, Judy and her husband Robert Jameson had moved to the tiny hamlet of Lower Padworth, about half an hour’s journey away. Within a couple of minutes she was out of the claustrophobic suburban atmosphere and into the countryside. Not, she had to admit, the real open, wild country she was used to these days, but country, nonetheless, albeit rather tame. As she drew nearer to Judy’s house, the roads got narrower and more winding, and she began to realise why she’d been told it would take half an hour.
Abi had seen pictures of the cottage when Judy first moved there, and it had looked idyllic. She could imagine Judy, surrounded by small children, relaxing in a leafy garden bordered by a stream, while Robert chopped wood by the back door. She giggled to herself at the thought of Robert chopping wood. He was an estate agent, and she had very rarely seen him in anything other than his dark suit. He had always looked immaculate. Quite unlike his wife, who with the best will in the world could only at best be described as untidy.
Abi shivered a little when she realised it was two years since she’d had any real contact with her best friend—apart from Christmas cards. And now she had another baby. Suppose Judy had changed? Suppose they didn’t get on any more? Abi gripped the steering wheel tightly as she negotiated a particularly tight bend, and chewed on her bottom lip. She realised just how much she was relying on Judy’s help today. She needed to talk to someone who understood. Someone who had been there at the time and who knew everything. Even Sammy had not known everything. She and her family had moved away as soon as their exams were over, and Abi and Judy had lost contact with her almost immediately. Now Abi couldn’t help wondering if Sammy had written to her, as well, and her mother had concealed those letters too.
Suddenly, as she reached the brow of a steep hill, Abi found herself looking down onto what must surely be Judy’s cottage. It lay nestled at the bottom of the hill, a little white square topped with a moss-spotted slate roof and surrounded by a box hedge. Abi coasted down the hill and drew up in front of the wooden gate. She peered around her and saw that just past the house was a brick garage with a concrete parking area in front of it. She pulled forward and eased her car into the small space next to a red Fiat equipped with two child seats in the back. She hopped out of the car and, after hesitating for a moment, locked it and dropped the key into her bag. She took a deep breath and walked the few yards along the road to the little wooden front gate. It opened with a creak, and Abi took a tentative step onto the overgrown gravel path leading up to the brightly painted red front door. As she approached the door, her hand poised to ring the bell, a small boy erupted around the side of the house, yelling loudly and banging a toy drum. He was dressed in a puffy quilted anorak, jeans, and blue wellington boots. He stopped short when he saw Abi, and for a moment they stared at each other in silence.
Then he turned and ran back the way he’d come, calling loudly, “Mummy! Mummy! Strange lady!”
Abi grinned to herself. So that was Thomas. She calculated he must be nearly three years old; the last time she had seen him he’d been less than one. She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to follow the child around to the back of the house, but the front door was flung open and a smiling woman launched herself onto Abi and gave her an enormous bear hug.
“Abs!” she screamed, clutching her friend as if her life depended on it. “Oh, god, I’ve missed you! Come in, come in!” and Judy caught Abi by the hand and pulled her into the cottage, shoving the door shut behind them with her foot. Abi followed Judy through the dark hallway and into a large low-ceilinged kitchen. The floor was covered by a dark brown, rather worn carpet, and the pine cupboards all appeared to be full to bursting. There was a huge rectangular pine table along one wall, covered by a mound of papers, toys, and dirty breakfast dishes. Judy hadn’t changed.
“Sit down, sit down!” ordered Judy, propelling Abi into a chair at the end of the table. “I’ll just get rid of these.” And she swept most of the dirty dishes up in one go and deposited them on the draining board. The dishwasher was already running, and there appeared to be more than enough to refill it already. Having cleared a fair amoun
t of the table, Judy wiped her hands on a tea towel and turned to face her friend. She pushed a strand of straying blonde hair out of her eyes and grinned widely. “Abi. I’ve missed you sooo much! When Mum called yesterday, I was over the moon. How could you ever imagine I wouldn’t want to see you? Of course I understand why you stopped coming. I probably would’ve done the same in your place.” She paused to draw a breath, then laughed out loud, adding with a grin, “But it’s brilliant to see you! I’ve dreamt of the day when I could show you my castle.”
Abi smiled back at her friend. She was the same old Judy. Her blonde hair, now shoulder length, was caught back from her face in a large tortoiseshell clip, and her still model-slim body was dressed in jeans, a stripy T-shirt, and a long black cardigan. She had big fluffy slippers on her feet and a large number of gold and silver bangles around her wrists.
Abi laughed. “Oh, Judy, it’s so good to see you! You haven’t changed a bit. I’ve been so worried you might be mad at me, but you don’t seem to be.”
Judy frowned and shook her head. “Of course not, you doofus. I’ll always love you. You’re still my best friend, you know.” She paused, a twinkle in her eye. “Now come and meet the new addition to the family.” She beckoned to Abi to follow her.
Leaving the kitchen, they walked through into a big sunny conservatory furnished with a motley collection of wicker chairs and tables. In the middle of the room sat an old-fashioned wooden playpen. The current incumbent of the playpen was lying face down in the middle, fast asleep, her thumb stuck firmly in her milk-encrusted mouth.
“Meet Sabrina Abigail Mary Jameson,” said Judy proudly, watching Abi’s face.
Abi stared at her. “You called her after me?” she whispered in disbelief. “Why? I’ve been such a bad friend.”
Judy stepped forward and lifted her sleeping daughter out of the playpen.
“Don’t be daft,” she chided. “I knew you’d be back. I knew you only needed time. Now have a hold—she’s really cuddly,” and she thrust the sleepy baby into Abi’s arms. “There you go, enjoy. I’ll put the kettle on.” She slipped out of the room, leaving Abi with an armful of sleepy, chubby, baby girl.
Abi gazed down at the little bundle with her mouth open. She was holding a baby. She, Abigail Thomson, was actually holding a baby, and it didn’t seem to mind. She smiled down at the tiny girl who lay in her arms, her chubby little hands clenched into fists, her sleepy blue eyes flickering open as she became aware of her surroundings. Awkwardly Abi hoisted Sabrina into a more comfortable position and gently stroked her cheek with a finger. Sabrina’s eyes opened properly, and she stared at the stranger who was holding her. Abi held her breath, waiting for the expected scream, but none came. Instead, Sabrina reached out her hand and grabbed Abi’s finger. Then she pulled it towards her mouth and gave an angelic smile before closing her teeth around it.
“Ow!” Abi snatched her finger back and grinned down at her tiny charge. Sabrina chuckled, and Abi found herself joining in. When Judy returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, she found her best friend sitting cross-legged on the floor with Sabrina perched on her knee playing with her necklace.
Abi looked up and smiled. “She’s gorgeous,” she said simply, “just like her mum.”
Judy grimaced and carefully placed the mugs on the table, out of reach of tiny hands.
“You wouldn’t say that at three in the morning,” she said with a laugh, reaching out her arms to her daughter. Sabrina looked up at her mother and chuckled, bouncing up and down on Abi’s knee. Judy grinned and, bending down, scooped her daughter up and tucked her under her arm. “Come and have a seat, Abs,” she said, dumping Sabrina unceremoniously back into her playpen. “It’s lovely and warm in here when the sun’s out.” She slumped down into a well-cushioned wicker chair with a sigh.
Abi picked up her coffee and sat in the chair next to her. She took a sip and watched Judy over the rim of her mug. “It’s so cool to see you, Jude.” The tone of her voice gave away exactly how much the meeting meant to her.
Judy leant back in her chair and tucked her legs up underneath her, then raised an eyebrow at her friend. “So what gives?” she asked. “I take it you’ve seen the news?” Abi nodded, and Judy went on, “So it still bothers you, then? It’s been ten years, Abi. You need to move on.” She gently reached out and touched Abi’s arm.
“I had, or at least I thought I had. More or less-ish.” Abi gave a wry smile. “The news brought it all back. But it’s not really that, Judy. Something else has happened.” She took a deep breath and glanced at her friend. “I found something when I was clearing out Dad’s loft. Some letters—to me.”
Judy was watching her, a slight frown on her face. “To you? So? Who from?”
“From Gideon.”
“But you said he never wrote to you. You never heard from him…” Judy clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, god, d’you mean she hid them from you?” Abi nodded, mute. Judy’s already pale face whitened still further. “Had she read them?” she asked slowly.
“Only the first one, and probably the postcards,” said Abi, taking a long slurp of coffee. “There are loads of them, dated from June ’95 to about May ’96. Judy, he didn’t abandon me. He thought I abandoned him. He still wanted me.” Her voice cracked as she finished speaking.
Judy took a deep breath. “Have you read them all?” she asked quietly.
Abi shook her head. “Just a few. I only found them yesterday. I’ve brought them with me. But do you see what this means? I should have tried harder to find him. I needed to find him, but I gave up.”
“You only gave up ’cause you thought he didn’t want you. You thought he was having fun with those girls we kept seeing in the photos and on the telly. You never heard from him, and, well—the evidence seemed to be there that he’d moved on.” Judy paused and grabbed Abi’s hand. “It’s not your fault. As usual, it’s all your bloody mother’s fault.” Judy didn’t even bother to apologise for speaking ill of the dead. There had never been any love lost between her and Abi’s mother, and she wasn’t pretending there had been. “After all, Abs, we all felt the relationship was doomed from the start. Remember how hard it was for you to get to see him, especially that first time?”
Chapter 6
Tuesday, 20th December 1994
“Okay, so how’re we gonna manage this?” Judy stood with her hands on her hips, facing her friend. “You really haven’t thought it through at all, have you?”
Abi tossed back her hair and scowled. “Of course I have,” she muttered crossly. “I’m gonna tell Mum and Dad that I’m staying at your house. They’ll never bother to phone to check. You can come over and invite me, in a bit. Then we can go to school tomorrow together and no one will be any the wiser.”
Judy snorted. “As I said, you haven’t thought it through. You’ll be arriving at my house in the middle of the night. Okay, so I could manage to let you in secretly, but how do we explain your presence in the morning? Don’t you think my parents might notice an extra person at breakfast?”
Abi screwed up her nose. “Okay,” she conceded, “I hadn’t thought of that, but I’m sure we can get round it.” She paused and thought for a moment. “I know—I’ll sleep in your summerhouse!”
Judy clapped her hands to her head and stamped her foot in frustration. “Oooh,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s December, Abi! It was trying to snow earlier. You’re not sleeping in the summerhouse. I don’t want to have to explain to my parents why the frozen dead body of my friend is languishing in their gazebo. Now think sensibly, woman! We need a proper plan.” She picked up her school bag and slung it over her shoulder.
Abi sighed and followed suit, trailing in her friend’s wake as they made their way to where the school buses waited. At a faint cry to their left, they turned to see Sammy waving energetically as she boarded her bus. They waved back and climbed the steps onto their own, where they made their way to the back—a privilege of being Year 11—and shoved their bags un
der the seat. Abi, in the corner seat, twisted round and leant back against the window. Judy perched cross-legged on the seat beside her.
She grinned at Abi. “You wanted excitement,” she said, giggling. “Excitement is never uncomplicated.”
Abi grinned back. “Fair enough.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “But how are we gonna work tonight?”
Judy bit her lip. “There is one way, but we’d have to be very careful—and it does involve the summerhouse.” She giggled again. “You tell them you’re staying with me, I’ll confirm it, and then when you arrive back, you get Gideon to drop you at the end of the road. Walk up to my house, and I’ll let you in the back way. Mum and Dad both have early starts tomorrow, so hopefully they’ll be in bed by about eleven. You can sleep in my room, but then around six-ish you’ll need to get up and go out to the summerhouse and wait till it’s time for school. Then you can arrive at the door to pick me up, ready to walk to the bus,” she finished triumphantly. “How does that sound?”
Abi was dubious, but she shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’ll need to stay in the summerhouse till eight. I’ll freeze!”
“Considering you were suggesting you sleep there, I think you can survive a couple of hours. Anyway, you could always call for me at seven-thirty. That wouldn’t be suspicious. They may even offer you a cup of tea.” Another giggle.
“Okay, we’ll do it.” Abi nodded, wriggling with excitement. “Oh, god, I hope it works!”
“What are you two plotting?” asked an inquisitive voice from just in front of them. They looked up to see a girl from their class peering over the seat in front with a calculating glint in her eye.
“None of your business, Collette,” said Judy shortly.
Collette sneered. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that.” She turned back to her companion and whispered something that was inaudible to the girls behind her. Her friend laughed and glanced round at Abi and Judy for a moment. Abi stuck her tongue out at her before turning back to Judy. “Problem?” she asked quietly.
Storm Rising Page 6
