“Yeah. Those early days were quite a laugh. Trying to hide from my mum how often I saw him. Making up more and more weird stories to cover where I was.”
Judy glanced at her from behind her daughter’s silky head.
“You know, I reckon my mum knew what we were up to that very first time,” she said thoughtfully. “I thought she was smiling rather too much when you turned up for breakfast.”
Abi gasped. “Really? Oh, I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have had to freeze in that summerhouse for so long,” she said with a giggle. “It was worth it, though.”
She fell silent as she remembered the unopened letters lying in the box in the boot of her car. She was still finding it hard to comprehend what her mother had done. All this time she had thought she knew just how evil her mother could be, hence the years of estrangement, but now—now she was beginning to get the hollow feeling inside just as she had so long ago. With something akin to panic, she turned to Judy.
“Judy, can I show you the letters?” she asked urgently. “I can’t get my head round this. What with the news, as well. It’s all too weird.”
Judy nodded. “Go and get them. I’ll get these two off to sleep in a bit, and then we can have a look together.” She paused for a glance at the clock. “Rob has to work late tonight, so we can natter as long as we like.”
An hour later, curled up on the sofa in the cosy living room, in front of a roaring log fire, the two girls sipped large glasses of Pinot Grigio, with the box from the attic between them. Judy had hurried the children into bed while Abi lit the fire. She wanted to do her bit in return for the hospitality. Judy had invited her to stay the night, so she had telephoned the hotel to let them know she’d be back in the morning to collect her luggage. A whole evening and night with her best friend was just what Abi needed. Judy was the only person she could discuss this matter with—she was the only one who knew all the details, and she was probably the only one who would ever understand how she felt.
Wearing a pair of borrowed snuggly tracksuit trousers and a baggy sweatshirt, and with the heat of the fire and the warming effect of the wine flowing through her bloodstream, Abi at last began to relax. Judy pulled out her hair clip and shook her blonde hair out onto her shoulders.
“That’s better,” she said with a sigh. “I need to keep it up during the day so little hands don’t keep pulling it, but it’s a real relief to let it out at night.” She glanced over at Abi in the light of the fire, adding enviously, “Your hair’s as gorgeous as ever.”
Abi smiled and subconsciously put a hand up to her head and pushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
“Ta. I like it,” she said with a childish giggle. She stared into the fire for a moment, then turned to Judy. “Shall we?” She pulled out the first bundle of letters.
Judy gasped when she saw how many there were, and leaned forward for a better look.
“Oh, my god,” she whispered. “He wrote all those to you? Oh, Abi, this is so sad! You poor thing.” She gently picked up one of the envelopes and peered at it. “This one’s open,” she observed, frowning.
Abi nodded and reached over to take it.
“Yes. Apparently that bitch read the first one, then just kept the rest, unopened.” She grimaced. “I guess it’s better that she didn’t open them all. That would have been even worse.” She reached down into the box again and pulled out a pile of picture postcards. “She must have read these, I s’pose. That sucks, too.” Abi handed the postcards to Judy, who flicked through them in amazement.
“Abs, he must have sent one from each place he visited. And they all say pretty much the same thing, ‘Come and join me, you’d love it here.’ Oh, Abi, how could she?”
Abi shrugged and tossed the bundle of letters back into the box.
“Because that’s who she was,” she said flatly. “She was a total bitch who for some reason hated her only daughter. She was a control freak whose only mission in life was to make things difficult for her husband and child.” She paused and looked at Judy, her eyes sorrowful. “And she certainly managed to do that really well.” She stuck her hand back into the box again, “There are some photos, too,” she said, pulling out a paper wallet. “I suspect these are the ones we took at that New Year’s Eve party your parents had. I always wondered what happened to them. She must have taken them when they arrived in the post, too.” She hesitated for a moment with the photos in her hand before thrusting them at Judy. “You look. I don’t think I can bear to.”
Judy took them and tipped them out into her lap. She quickly flicked through them all, nodding.
“Yep,” she said, “loads of the party. Lots of you and me, and several of Gideon. There’s a lovely one of the two of you…” She paused as she saw Abi’s face. “But let’s not look at that now.” She replaced the pictures in their wallet and put them aside onto the coffee table, then picked up the bottle of wine and leaned over to top up Abi’s glass. “You can look at them later, when you feel more like it,” she said calmly, leaning back against the cushions.
Abi picked up the box and gently placed it on the floor to the side of the sofa.
“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “I really can’t do this just now. Why am I feeling quite so bad, Jude? I really thought I’d put all this behind me. Almost.”
“Oh, god, Abi, what d’you expect? Not only have you made this awful discovery about your mother doing something horrible that helped to ruin your life, but the news of Gideon’s split from the band coming at the same time… It’s a wonder you’re even upright!”
Abi gave her a watery grin. “That’s why I need the help of my best friend.” She raised her wine glass and took a long swig, adding cheekily, “And you, of course!”
****
Gideon stretched his long legs out and luxuriated in the warmth from the huge log fire that crackled just a few feet in front of him. He took a long swig from the bottle of beer in his hand and closed his eyes with a sigh.
“Thanks for this, guys,” he said. “You have no idea just how good this feels, to be away from…everything. I’ve just had enough of everything and everyone to do with the music business—and the media!” He opened his eyes and raised his glass to his hosts.
“You’re more than welcome, Gideon.” The slim, dark-haired woman curled up on the hearth rug at the feet of her lanky husband smiled. “You should always know you can use us as a bolt hole. Have some more clams?” She held out a loaded plate towards Gideon. He shook his head slightly and adjusted his position on the deep-cushioned sofa.
He had fled Manhattan the day before and headed straight for Martha’s Vineyard, where he knew he would find a welcome with his old friends. He had first met Kurt and Sonia van Dieman when he came to America on tour nearly ten years before, and they had taken pity on the raw young musician, so far from home and clearly in mourning for the loss of a love. They had taken him under their wing, and over the years a relationship formed between the three of them that Gideon had to admit was far stronger than any other he’d ever experienced. They were the only people he felt comfortable talking to about Abi, and as he leaned back against their welcoming cushions, he found himself spilling out his heart to them yet again. Over the years, whenever something was not right in his life, he had escaped to Martha’s Vineyard and the sanctuary of their home to sort himself out. Right now his plan was to go back to England, but before he embarked on his mission he needed the energy boost that the Vineyard and the company of his friends always gave him.
He had arrived the previous evening and spent the day relaxing around the island and enjoying the unseasonably warm temperatures. Now the evening was drawing in, the temperature had dropped, and Gideon was very glad of the warmth of the log fire. By the morning he might feel ready to take on the next stage of his journey.
His main aim was to return to England, avoiding the media attention that seemed to follow him everywhere. Luckily Kurt had his own Lear jet, kept on the Vineyard, and had offered Gideon safe passa
ge to a location close to where his parents resided in the South of England. Gideon stretched and sat up.
“I know it’s early, but I think I’ll hit the sack, guys. Got a long day tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t mind flying me, Kurt? It’s really good of you.”
Kurt, a tall, spare, balding man in his early forties, waved a hand at Gideon.
“’Course not, man, no problem. Sonia and I fancy a trip to England anyway. Been a while since we visited,” he said, ruffling his wife’s hair as he spoke.
Sonia slapped his hand away and stood up.
“D’you need anything else in your room, Gideon?” She gathered up the empty plates they had left around the fire. He shook his head, so she went on. “I’ll wake you at five thirty. Kurt says we need to leave early.” She paused and laid a hand on Gideon’s arm as he passed by. “It’ll be fine, Gid. I’m sure you’ll be able to lay all your ghosts to rest.” And she stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
He patted her on the shoulder, waved a hand to Kurt, and made his way up the open wooden staircase to the guest bedroom overlooking the sea. He stood for a moment at the window, gazing down on the lights of the town and the boats bobbing out in the bay, before pulling off his clothes and sliding between the sheets. He checked his mobile before he turned out the light and found thirty-seven missed calls and seventeen text messages. He rolled his eyes and checked the first few. A large number were from Simon, a few from Chas, and most of the rest from the band’s manager—almost certainly irate. With a quick movement of his finger he deleted them all and turned his phone off. He flicked off the bedside light and lay in the semi-darkness staring at the shadows playing on the ceiling above his head. The full moon shone directly into his room and cast an eerie glow over everything. As he drifted off to sleep, he found himself wondering if the moon was shining down on Abi, as well.
****
Abi sat up in bed and hugged her knees. She was cosily tucked into the single bed of the tiny guest room that nestled in the converted attic of Judy and Robert’s cottage. The roof sloped so steeply she couldn’t sit upright in bed without danger of a headache, and the only window was a tiny Velux affair in the ceiling. It sported a gaily striped red-and-white roller blind, but Abi had left it open so she could see the stars in the clear winter sky. She glanced at her watch. It was well past midnight. Robert had returned home at half past eleven, and Abi had felt she should give them some time together, so she had excused herself and scurried up to her room laden with an assortment of towels and toiletries Judy had pressed onto her. She peered over into the shadowy far corner of the room where her precious box was tucked under the only chair. She sighed. Sleep was an age away, and she felt her gaze drawn, tantalized, towards the box. She was feeling stronger now, after her day with Judy, and she wondered if she was ready to take a look through the photographs.
She took a deep breath, then slid out of bed and padded barefoot across the wooden floor to the corner of the room. As she passed under the skylight, the light from the full moon caught her attention, and she stared up at the beautiful sight in the night sky. A small shiver passed through her, and she bent down, retrieved her box, and scampered back to bed.
She had no bedside light, so she decided to use the torch built into her phone rather than put on the overhead light. Delving into the box, she pulled out the wallet of photographs, then slithered back down under the covers, rolled onto her stomach, and switched on the torch. Biting her lip in anticipation, Abi gently drew the pile of glossy prints out of the wallet and laid them on the pillow. The top one was of her and Judy dressed up ready for the New Year’s Eve party. She couldn’t help grinning to see the large quantities of glittery eye makeup they both sported, and the curious coloured streaks that adorned their hair. They were both wearing flowered dresses but had managed to make them look disreputable with the addition of some tatty accessories and the fact they were both wearing Doc Martens on their feet. Abi grinned and put the photo at the bottom of the pile.
The next few proved to be general pictures of the decorations and the food, and Judy’s mum icing a cake, wearing a party hat. She turned over the next one, and there was Simon, a sulky look on his round face, leaning nonchalantly against the mantelpiece. If ever anyone looked like they’d rather be anywhere else but there, that was Simon. Abi shook her head. He had really had issues at that time. He’d been nearly as much of a problem as her mother. The next photo showed Judy hiding in the cupboard under the stairs with a half-drunk bottle of wine and a very red face, and the next one was, surprisingly, of Abi’s parents. They were very conservatively dressed, her father in grey trousers with a sports jacket and tie and her mother in a severe purple belted dress and sensible black shoes. Neither looked happy, and her mother looked decidedly disapproving. Abi couldn’t help wondering again why they had actually gone to the party. She paused her search and reached out from under her quilt to have a quick swig from the glass of water by the bed. Then she pulled the quilt right up over her head and turned over the next picture.
For a moment the world disappeared. There was a rushing sound in her ears, and her head spun. This was the picture she’d been awaiting with both trepidation and anticipation, and her fingers tightened, badly creasing the edges. There they were. Eighteen-year-old Gideon and fifteen-year-old Abi. They were both smiling widely, and Gideon had his arm around her. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and her hair was falling across her face. Her mind raced back to the very second the picture had been taken, and a sob caught in her throat. How different things should have been! If only she’d been just a bit older and wiser. If only her mother hadn’t been such an evil bitch. And now Gideon had left the band. For all she knew, he could be on his way back to England; and for all these years he’d thought she had abandoned him. He knew nothing of what had happened after he left, nothing of the hell her mother had put her through and the agony she had suffered for years afterwards. Her head shot up, and she stared at the wall behind the bed. The agony she was still suffering. What had happened to her in the months following Gideon’s departure had left her scarred for life, and he knew nothing of it.
Chapter 8
Saturday, 31st December 1994
“Judy, come and finish setting out the food, please. You can have fun later!” The sound of her mother’s voice brought Judy’s head round the kitchen door.
“What, now, Mum? Abi’s just arrived. We were going to do our makeup.”
Mary Cromwell looked at her daughter over her glasses.
“Yes, now, Judy. Plenty of time for makeup later. Abi can help,” she said firmly, nodding at Abi as she sidled into the room in the wake of her friend.
“Hi, Aunty Mary. Thanks for inviting me,” she said politely, adding, “I actually think Mum and Dad are coming later, too.” Her voice showed her surprise and displeasure.
Mary Cromwell nodded briefly. “Yes, I think they are. I saw your father the other day, and he mentioned they might.” She paused and looked quizzically at Abi. “I must say, I was rather surprised. They don’t normally join in any social activities.”
Abi grimaced. “I think they’re coming to keep an eye on me,” she said with a sigh. “I know they’ve heard about Gideon, and they probably want to make sure I behave myself.”
Mary raised her eyebrows. “I hope you will while you’re in my house!” She chuckled and applied herself once more to her cooking.
Judy caught Abi by the hand and dragged her into the dining room.
“Is he definitely coming?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Simon wouldn’t tell me.”
Abi snorted. “Simon’s probably trying to put him off,” she said crossly. “You know what he’s like about girlfriends.”
Judy giggled. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him busy so you two can get some time together,” she said serenely, moving to the dining table and starting to lay out some placemats. Abi grabbed a pile of paper napkins and began to fold them into triangles.
“I don’t think
Simon’s the main problem tonight,” she said. “How are you going to keep my parents occupied?”
Judy grinned at her over her shoulder.
“All sorted,” she said. “Dad’s going to show all the oldies his holiday slides. That should keep ’em busy for hours.”
Abi’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What a curious thing to do at a New Year’s Eve party.” She giggled. “That doesn’t sound much fun.”
Judy shrugged. “Well, it is their party, I s’pose,” she conceded, “and since there’s no way either of us would be allowed to go to a proper party anywhere, we’ll have to make do. We’re very lucky Gideon and Simon are coming. I’m sure they could be somewhere much more fun if they wanted to.”
By seven o’clock the girls had finished laying out the food, done their makeup, streaked each other’s hair with spray-on colour, and were sitting on the stairs waiting impatiently for something to happen. Gideon had told Abi he would be arriving with Simon’s family at about eight, and she was seriously wondering how she was going to get through the next hour. Judy nudged her friend.
“Let’s get some wine,” she suggested with a grin. “We can hide a bottle just for us. No one’ll notice. Dad bought up most of the supermarket.”
She pulled Abi to her feet, and they jumped down the stairs and went into the kitchen. Judy’s mother was upstairs getting dressed, and her father was setting up his slide show in the living room, so the girls were able to raid the fridge with no risk of discovery. Judy pulled out a bottle of Muscadet and peered at the label.
“Dry white,” she muttered to herself. She looked back at Abi. “Is dry white okay, d’you think?”
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