Storm Rising

by Rachael Richey

  He nodded again and, taking the girl by the hand, led her into the caravan. Gideon had heard the exchange and had arranged himself on the window seat looking suitably moody and rock star-ish. Abi pressed her lips tightly together to stop herself from laughing.

  “This is…?”

  “Gareth,” the boy managed to say. “And Caitlin, my girlfriend.”

  “There you are, then. This is Gareth and Caitlin, and they want to meet you,” said Abi, pushing the two youngsters into the living area in front of her.

  Gideon nodded at them. “Hi,” he said. “Come and sit down.”

  The two teenagers dutifully sat on the floor at his feet and stared up at him. At this point, Abi could no longer contain herself and burst out laughing.

  “Gideon, you horror! Be nice.” To the visitors, she said, “Would you like a drink?”

  Caitlin looked up at her and smiled. “Yes, please. D’you have any Coke?” she asked in a lilting Welsh accent. Abi nodded and fetched a couple of cans from the fridge. She sat down on the floor next to Caitlin and smiled at her.

  “So you’re a fan of NightHawk too, are you?” she asked.

  The girl nodded brightly, causing the bobble on her hat to wobble.

  “I love them,” she said in a soft, shy voice. “I was really sad when Gideon said he was leaving.” She glanced at him and blushed slightly. “But when I found out about you, I understood.”

  Abi looked at her in surprise. “What d’you mean?” she asked, glancing quickly at Gideon.

  “Well, all the papers are telling the story of you two when you were teenagers,” Caitlin said enthusiastically. “How Gideon went on tour, and you were separated for years and years… It was so romantic! And then he left the band to look for you.”

  Abi took a deep breath. “It wasn’t quite like that,” she said carefully. “We were together as teenagers, certainly, and when Gideon went on tour we…we lost touch through no fault of our own, as it turns out. But”—she looked severely at the two teenagers—“it was not romantic. There is nothing romantic about being separated from the person you love. Don’t get the wrong idea about that.” She paused and then grinned slightly. “And I don’t think Gideon left the band to look for me.”

  There was a moment’s silence while Gareth and Caitlin turned their attention to Gideon.

  He shrugged. “Well, actually, I did, really,” he said apologetically. “That was certainly my main motivation.”

  Caitlin grinned and clapped her hands. “I knew it!” she said in delight. “Now you’ve found each other again, and you can be happy for ever after.”

  Abi coughed. “It’s not quite that simple—”

  The girl interrupted her. “Why not?” she asked. “It’s obvious you’re still in love. Where’s the problem?”

  “How d’you mean, it’s obvious we’re still in love?” asked Abi faintly, her mouth going dry.

  Caitlin rolled her eyes. “It said so in the papers,” she said patiently. “They said that Gideon”—she blushed slightly as she said his name—“left the band to find you, and that you were in love. And you look like you are, too.”

  Gareth nudged her and frowned. “Shut up, Cait,” he murmured. “You can’t say things like that.”

  Caitlin shrugged. “Don’t see why not,” she said. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  Gideon looked over at Abi and raised an eyebrow. She gave a self-conscious grin and leant forward so her hair would fall over her face. She heard Gideon give a little chuckle.

  “You’re probably right,” he admitted, smiling at Caitlin. “But when you get to our age, things are always a bit more complicated. Enjoy yourselves while you’re young.”

  Caitlin stared at him, wide-eyed. “Well, if you’re both in love, I don’t see a problem. There’s nothing stopping you being together, so just get on with it.”

  At that point Abi laughed out loud. “Wise words,” she said shaking her head.

  Gareth got up and pulled Caitlin to her feet.

  “We must go now,” he said. “Thanks for letting us in, and I promise not to tell anyone else you’re here.”

  Gideon stood up and held out his hand to Gareth.

  “Nice to meet you both,” he said shaking hands firmly and then offering his hand also to Caitlin. She grabbed it enthusiastically and squeezed.

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “I shall keep watching the papers to make sure you two sort yourselves out.” Then with a wave the two teenagers left the caravan and started up the path. As she closed the door behind them, Abi heard Caitlin saying, “I never got the chance to ask—” and Gareth interrupting with a muffled reply as they disappeared off towards the shop. Abi closed the door quietly and walked back into the living area. Gideon was standing looking out the window, and he turned as she came back in. He smiled at her.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he said, holding out a hand to her. “Apparently we’re still in love. How d’you feel about that?”

  Abi hesitated, then took his outstretched hand. She looked up at him.

  “Well, I can only speak for me…” She suddenly frowned as she looked down at the hand she was holding. She reached out and gently touched the leather wrist band that adorned it. “You’re wearing the wrist band I gave you,” she whispered. “When did you put that on?”

  Gideon looked down at her. “When I got dressed. I didn’t think you’d noticed.” He grinned at her. “I wore it until long after I stopped writing the letters. And ever since, I’ve always had it with me, and today I felt it was right to wear it.” He looked very vulnerable for a moment and swallowed nervously. “Umm…do you…” He stopped as Abi let go of his hand and reached down inside her jumper. She pulled out a thin silver chain on which hung the ring he had given her on her sixteenth birthday. She held it up to show him.

  “I’ve worn it on this chain ever since you went,” she said. “Well, no, I wore it on my finger until the baby was born. After that it’s been round my neck.” She grinned a bit lopsidedly. “Not sure it fits any more, actually. I’ve grown.”

  “Oh, god, Abi, I’ve missed you so much!” breathed Gideon, catching her hands again and pulling her close. “Caitlin was right. I did leave the band to find you, even though I still thought you’d abandoned me.” He tilted her face up to his. “I’ve always loved you, Abigail Thomson, and I know I always will,” and he bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips. Abi responded by sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. As their bodies touched, she shuddered with desire, and her tongue slipped into his waiting mouth. He moved his hands down to cup her buttocks, and they pressed their bodies hard against each other.

  Gently Abi pulled her mouth away from Gideon’s and whispered, “I love you too, Gid. I never stopped loving you.” Then their mouths met again, as they sank to their knees on the floor, their bodies entwined in an overture to their passion.

  Chapter 22

  2005

  Abi lay on the floor in front of the fire, her head cradled on Gideon’s chest and her legs entwined with his. Their lovemaking had been intense and passionate, almost desperate at first, and they were now both exhausted and euphoric. She wriggled to get more comfortable, and ran her fingers through his chest hair. Their clothes lay abandoned on the floor beside them, and neither of them had noticed the cold. Gideon raised a hand and gently stroked Abi’s hair.

  “Happy?” he asked softly, his mouth against the top of her head. She nodded, and moved her head to look up at him and smile. With a sudden movement Gideon flipped over and hovered above her, his dark hair falling forward and his piercing eyes boring into her. He pressed his lips hard against hers and slid a hand under her head.

  “I love you,” he murmured. “I will love you for ever.”

  Abi wound her arms around his neck and stared back into his eyes.

  “I love you too,” she said seriously. “Forever is a very long time. Do you really mean that?”

  Gideon brushed her hair back from
her face and ran a finger down her cheek.

  “Yes, I do. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. My only regret is how much time we’ve wasted.”

  Abi rolled him off her and sat up, hugging her knees.

  “But you don’t know me now. I’m not who I was ten years ago. I’ve really changed, and so have you. How do we know it’ll work?”

  Gideon sat up beside her.

  “Because it feels right,” he said immediately. “Surely you can feel the bond between us. Why, when we each thought the other one had abandoned us, did we both keep on loving each other? Why did I start dreaming about you again after all these years? Why did I have to look for you?” He caught her hands in his and made her look at him. “Abi, we’re made for each other. Can’t you see it?”

  Slowly she started to smile as she gently nodded her head.

  “I know,” she said. “Had to make sure you really felt the same, though. We have changed a lot, but that’s maybe no bad thing. I don’t think I was very nice back then.”

  Gideon grinned. “You were always nice to me. But you were a bit cocky and full of yourself.” He ducked as she threw a cushion at him. “And now you’re more…grown-up, I s’pose.”

  Abi snorted. “Well, I should think so. I’m twenty-six!” she said with a grin. “So do you think we can make this work, then?”

  “We’ll never know if we don’t try,” said Gideon firmly. “So, Abigail Thomson, will you go out with me?”

  Abi giggled. “Yes, Gideon Hawk, I would like that very much,” she said primly. She leaned towards him and kissed him gently on the lips, then shivered suddenly as the cold caught up with her. She reached over and pulled her jumper over her head, then searched around for her pants and tights. Gideon got to his feet and was beginning to collect his own clothes when he suddenly stopped.

  “We never opened the box,” he said, staring at Abi.

  She stopped, in her crawl across the floor to retrieve her skirt from the table, and peered round at him.

  “I think we had other things on our minds.”

  Gideon picked up the tin box, where it had ended up following their passionate scuffle on the floor, and placed it on the window seat, while Abi scrambled to her feet and wriggled into her skirt.

  She stared at the box. “You know, it’s silly,” she said quietly. “But I’m nervous about opening this. Don’t know why… I’ve just got a strange feeling about it…”

  Gideon gave her a quick hug. “Well, all the more reason to open it,” he said with a shrug. “It may not be anything interesting at all. Let’s open it and find out.” He sat down on the window seat beside the box.

  Abi hesitated, then also shrugged, picked up her little screwdriver from the coffee table, and sat down with him. She tentatively inserted it into the lock and started to jiggle it around. Nothing happened. Gideon sighed and took the screwdriver out of her hand.

  “I thought we could unscrew the hinges,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her, “not pick the lock.” He applied himself to the two hinges at the back of the lid, and after a couple of minutes he had managed to loosen the first one enough to make the lid rattle.

  Abi nodded encouragingly. “Keep going, and then maybe I can find something stronger to prise the lid off.” She stood and went to look in the kitchen drawers. She eventually decided on a fairly solid-looking spatula and a short but sturdy knife.

  “Maybe these will help,” she said, returning to the living area and brandishing them at Gideon. He had managed to remove the first hinge completely, but the second one was causing him some problems.

  “These screws are completely rusted in,” he complained, trying to force them to turn.

  Abi handed him the knife. “Try this,” she said hopefully.

  Gideon took it, and by inserting it under the lid on the side where he had removed the hinge, he was able to raise it enough for them to be able to see inside. The box was nearly empty, with just a few documents and envelopes at the bottom. Abi squeezed her hand through the gap and managed to grab hold of most of the papers. She pulled them out, then put her hand in again to get the rest. Gideon set the box on the floor, and they sat with the papers between them on the window seat. Abi stared at them, not daring to look. Gideon touched her briefly on the hand.

  “Go on, Abs,” he said gently. “It ought to be you that looks at it. There’s nothing to be scared of. It can’t be anything bad, can it? We already know your parents tried to keep us apart. Whatever’s in here, we can deal with it together.”

  She flashed him a grateful smile and picked up the first paper. It was a birth certificate. An old birth certificate. A closer look proved it to be the birth certificate of Abi’s maternal grandmother. Janet Emily St. Clair, born 1910 in Norwich, the daughter of a vicar and a housewife.

  Abi looked up in surprise. “Never knew that,” she remarked. “My grandma came from Norwich? No one ever told me that. Not that I ever met her.” She picked up the next paper, another birth certificate, this time of her mother. Abi shuddered and put it aside.

  “This is just going to be a lot of family history, isn’t it?” She considered the stack. The next thing she picked up was a plain white envelope with her name written on it in her mother’s handwriting.

  “To Abigail. To be opened after my death.” Abi hesitated, then put it aside and picked up the next item. “Another birth certificate,” she said. “Who this time? Uncle Fred? Auntie Margaret?” Her voice tailed off as she unfolded the paper and read it. Without a word she handed it to Gideon. He read it silently, then stared at Abi.

  “It’s her birth certificate.” he managed at last. He looked at the paper and read aloud, “Natasha Storm Thomson, born 12th January, 1996 in Reading, Berkshire. Mother Abigail Thomson, Student…” His voice faltered. “No father recorded.” He scanned down the page to the bottom. “Birth registered on… 14th January, 1996, by… by Joan Louise Thomson, Grandmother.” He stared at Abi, his face suddenly pale. “Abi, your mother registered her birth. She named her Natasha. Why would she do that…unless…” He reached over and picked up the pile of papers. He quickly searched through them, then looked at Abi.

  She swallowed. “What are you looking for?” she whispered.

  “Her death certificate.” he said baldly. “It’s not here.”

  Abi picked up the pile of papers and leafed through them. They were mostly envelopes, and she glanced at Gideon.

  “Maybe it’s in one of these envelopes?” she said doubtfully.

  Gideon shook his head. “No, Abi, it’s not here because it doesn’t exist.” He gazed directly at her. “Abi…Abi, I think Natasha might still be alive.”

  There was total silence as they stared at each other, neither daring to speak, not knowing what to say next. Abi had spent the last ten years believing her baby had died at birth. Suddenly there was the possibility she was still alive. The room spun dizzily around Abi—her world was out of control. She closed her eyes, and the room spun still more. She felt Gideon put his arm around her shoulders, and she let herself lean against him. He stroked her hair and muttered something soothing, but all the time her mind was whirring though the last ten years. Ten years of lies, of deceit, of heartache, of lost time. Not only had she been parted from Gideon at the whim of another person or persons, she had had her child taken away from her and had not been allowed to grieve. And now…maybe all for no reason. She opened her eyes and sat up, turning round to face Gideon.

  “What do we do?” she asked, sounding lost.

  Gideon nodded to the pile of papers. “We need to look at the rest of the documents,” he said firmly. “There may be something there that sheds more light on this. Something that confirms my thoughts. Come on, open this one,” and he handed her a plain white envelope. Abi peeled it open with her finger and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She read it slowly, her face draining of all colour, then handed it to Gideon, a strange look in her eyes.

  “It’s a letter to your mother, to confirm
that Natasha has been taken to the Birtwhistle Children’s Home in Kent,” he read out. “It seems to be a private children’s home, and your mother has requested they keep her updated on her progress.” He lowered the letter and stared at Abi. He cleared his throat, and his voice cracked with emotion. “Abi…we have a daughter.”

  Abi’s eyes filled with tears, and her face crumpled.

  “All these years,” she sobbed, “all these years she let me believe she was dead. And all the time…” She scrabbled around for a tissue to blow her nose. Gideon picked up another envelope and hurriedly opened it. His face paled.

  “Abi…Abi, listen to this.” He read, “Thank you for returning the completed form signed by your daughter Abigail Thomson, Natasha’s mother, giving permission for Natasha to be made available for fostering. We understand that adoption is not an option at this time.” Gideon looked at Abi and raised his eyebrows. She shook her head in bewilderment.

  “I never signed anything,” she gasped in horror. “I really didn’t. She never asked me to. She couldn’t, could she? She’d let me believe Natasha”—her voice shook as she said the name—“that Natasha was dead. I didn’t sign anything.”

  Gideon shook his head. “I’m sorry, Abi, but your mother’s duplicity knew no bounds. She must have forged your signature.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, she must have done that in the first place, to get Natasha into the home. This letter is dated November ’99. Let’s see if there are any more.” He picked up the pile of papers again.

  Abi was in shock. What on earth had her mother been thinking? Why had she been so intent on not allowing Abi access to her own child? She must surely have been breaking the law.

  Gideon was opening another envelope. “This one is dated in April 2000,” he said. “Apparently Natasha was fostered to a couple in Tunbridge Wells for a few weeks, but it didn’t go very well, and she went back to the home.” He read on, then took a deep breath and looked at Abi, his eyes bewildered.