Abi's House

by Jenny Kane

  ‘I don’t suppose you have the actual original sketches as well as the computerised versions?’

  Abi smiled. ‘They weren’t exactly on my running-away list.’ She was thoughtful for a while, ‘You’re thinking of having a pictures-in-development show going on?’

  ‘It would be good for the kids to see the work that goes into their favourite books.’ Beth got up and pointed to the space on the wall behind Abi. ‘This was the only space I wasn’t sure how to fill. A few examples of your works in progress would be perfect.’

  Abi suddenly felt nauseous. ‘It would mean a trip to Surrey to fetch them. I’m not sure we have time before the family launch.’ Abi didn’t add that the last thing she wanted to do was risk going back to the house in case she bumped into Simon. Even though he couldn’t get into the house now, and the chances of seeing him were remote, the idea was still unsettling.

  Beth returned to where she’d been working at her grandfather’s old bench. ‘Don’t you have to go back and pack up your things some time, though? I mean, the sale is all but tied up, isn’t it? Surely the buyers will want to move in soon?’

  Abi had deliberately not mentioned that very fact to Beth. There had been so much to do, but now, after a week of full-on activity at the gallery, as well as countless trips back and forth to the printers in Redruth to get posters and flyers sorted, the workload was cooling down. The business cards had arrived, and thanks to Jacob’s contacts and Abi’s persuasive emails and telephone calls, they now had eight months of the following year booked up with an enthusiastic and eclectic collection of artists.

  Trying to divert Beth’s attention away from Surrey, Abi asked, ‘Which should I pick then? It’s my turn to choose a story first. A space story involving squidgy aliens, a pretty pink fairy princess tale, or a farm run by teddy bears story?’

  Beth frowned. ‘You wouldn’t be dodging my question now, would you, Mrs Carter?’

  ‘Yes I would. So, which shall I do?’

  ‘Not sure I fancy seeing any more pink princess stories in my lifetime. My parents always bought them for me. They never seemed to catch on to the fact I was a tomboy and that anything pink and fluffy was at the absolute bottom of my wish list.’

  ‘I have to admit, they’re my least favourite type of story to illustrate. Although they’re handy if I’m tired or pushed for time. Pretty princess stories are so formulaic that I can churn out similar-but-different pictures over and over again.’

  Beth grinned. ‘A little cynical perhaps?’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  Reading the descriptions of each story over Abi’s shoulder, Beth said, ‘I’d go with the space one I think. Got to love a squidgy alien!’

  ‘Deal! I’ll tell them that’s the one I want, then I can start getting some initial designs for the main characters down on paper.’ Abi hammered off an email, and headed to the kettle. ‘Cuppa before I trot the invites down to the postbox?’

  ‘Please.’ Beth steered the conversation back to where Abi didn’t want it. ‘When are you going to go and pack up in Surrey? I know you said you were going to get a house clearance place to take all the furniture away, apart from your sofa, and a removal firm to pack up everything and ship it down here, but that isn’t really want you want, is it?’

  Beth studied Abi carefully as she made them both a cup of tea. ‘Is it, Abi? Do you honestly think you won’t regret it if you don’t say goodbye to the place? There must be some things, like your artwork, that you would hate to lose. And don’t you want to pack up the rest of your own clothes? I’d hate the idea of some big burly removal man scooping up all my underwear and dumping it in a packing case.’

  Abi listened as Beth voiced all the thoughts she’d already had many times since the solicitor had informed her that completion for the Surrey house sale was in twelve days’ time. The same day, in fact, as the family launch of the Art and Sole Studio Gallery

  Pushing the point, Beth added, ‘I could manage if you went. Jacob has almost finished the commission he’s working on, and could help me out with the finishing touches to this place. And surely it would be better for you to go now, before you’re immersed in the world of squidgy space aliens?’

  Abi’s eyes fell on the crate that was holding the newly framed children’s artworks, all ready to be hung before the opening. ‘I know you’re right, but I wanted to be here when you put up the first display.’

  ‘You will be. I wouldn’t dream of starting without you. Anyway, I have to get on with sorting out next term’s lessons for my new class. I’ve usually done all that by now!’

  Abi swallowed, not wanting to voice the real reason she didn’t want to go. Instead she said, ‘I’m not sure I should leave Stan right now. He’s only just got used to me being there. It seems cruel to leave him after just three days. Not to mention letting down Sadie, who has quickly got used to going for proper walking again.’

  ‘These are all sounding like convenient excuses to me, young lady!’

  ‘I know.’

  Putting her arm round her friend, Beth asked softly, ‘So what is it? You don’t think Simon will be there, do you?’

  ‘Logically no. I don’t see how he could be. He has no access to the house. I’ll have to get some keys from the estate agent myself if I go.’ She sighed heavily. ‘It’s silly, but I’ve moved on so much. Going back there … it’s so full of the old me. I didn’t like that me very much. I could never quite forgive myself for being such a doormat, and yet I couldn’t fight the sensation off. Some days I’d wake up determined to be assertive, but Luke would say something, or give me a certain look, and all my fight would evaporate. The house felt crammed full of those feelings of defeat and failure.’

  ‘But you do want your things? Your special things, I mean, not the furniture, which I can understand you leaving behind, especially as Stan is selling nearly all his stuff with the house and you won’t need much.’

  ‘I guess I’d like a few bits and pieces.’

  ‘And it would be great to have your pictures here. You must have loads of art supplies you’ll need eventually. You don’t want to entrust those to delivery men, do you?’

  Abi was suspicious. ‘You seem to have thought about this rather a lot.’

  ‘Might have done.’ Beth looked partly caught out and partly mischievous. ‘It occurred to me that you might be nervous about going back, and you might not want to go alone.’

  ‘What have you done?!’

  ‘Nothing. Honestly.’

  ‘Beth!’ Abi didn’t believe a word of it.

  ‘OK, I may have suggested to Max that his van would hold much more than your car when it came to bringing stuff back here, and I might have taken a call for you from the estate agents yesterday saying the family are ready to exchange, and told them that you’ll be there tomorrow to clear out the first load of your stuff.’

  Abi stammered, ‘W-what? Tomorrow? But there is so much to do here. And what about Max? He might not want to drive nearly three hundred miles to fetch a load of boxes, and then all the way home again in one go. And he’ll have clients waiting for him and …’

  Beth looked smug. ‘Max is willing, a separate hotel room has been booked for each of you for the night, the van is full of empty boxes for you to fill up, and I’m taking Sadie out tomorrow night while Jacob takes Peter back to Stan’s to sort out a few antiques for one of the local sales.’

  Abi’s mouth opened and closed as if she was a floundering goldfish, which was pretty much how she felt as Beth gave her a hug.

  ‘Now be a good girl, turn off your computer, and go back to Abbey’s House. Pack your toothbrush and get an early night. Max will be collecting you at six o’clock tomorrow morning.’

  Chapter Thirty-three

  When Max knocked cheerfully on the front door of Abbey’s House at ten to six, it was opened by a fully dressed Stan.

  ‘Morning, me’andsome, all ready for your trip, are you?’

  ‘I didn’t expect you to be up, mate. Abi didn
’t wake you, did she?’

  ‘Trust me, the older you get, the earlier you rise. Abi’s in here.’ Stan shuffled through to the kitchen and indicated a dressed but somewhat weary-looking Abi who was wincing her way through a mug of extremely strong coffee.

  ‘Are you OK, lass?’ Max frowned at the spectacle of Abi practically mainlining caffeine. ‘You aren’t sick, are you?’

  ‘Only with nerves! I really can’t face this.’

  Max looked at Stan, who merely shrugged. Pulling out the chair opposite, Max reached across the table and held Abi’s hand. ‘But you went before, and you were brilliant standing up to that stupid estate agent like that. I was so proud of you!’

  ‘Were you? Thank you,’ Abi sighed. ‘Look, Max, this is so kind of you, and I know I have to go up there. Beth is right, I need my things. I’m already missing some of my art supplies, and I’d hate to lose all my original drawings and stuff.’

  ‘But?’ Max spoke as though coaxing a young child.

  ‘But I never did have the guts to call Simon again. Some of the stuff in the house is Luke’s, and I’m sure he’d rather it went to Simon and his parents than have it sold off.’

  Max thought carefully before saying, ‘There must be some things of Luke’s you want yourself as well? A few objects that remind you of the good times? Photos and stuff maybe?’

  Abi took her hand from Max and began to roll her wedding ring around her finger. ‘This. This is what I want to keep.’ She paused, not sure whether to continue, but as Stan had backed out of the room on the pretext of seeing what Sadie was up to, she felt she had to go on. ‘When Luke gave me this we were happy. Sometimes it seems absurd now. But we were. He enjoyed being the one who went against convention then – in a businessman-type way at least. He seemed proud to have a wife who didn’t fit the mould.’

  ‘Until he got promoted.’

  ‘Yes. I was never sure exactly what it was about the promotion that changed him so dramatically and so fast, but for Luke it was suddenly no longer funny to have a wife who wanted to earn her own living, didn’t like cooking for business reps, and who wanted children. All things which most certainly would not have fitted in with the lifestyle he saw for himself. I know it sounds antiquated, and the height of non PC-ness, but that’s how it was.’ Abi yawned. ‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve told you all this before. I didn’t sleep too well. I might not be the best company on the drive, and it’s such a long way.’

  Max stood up. ‘I think you should take a pillow and get your head down. If we leave now you’ll be able to grab a good three hours’ kip before I need a coffee and a bit of breakfast.’

  Abi got up and put her arms around his comforting bulk. ‘You are wonderful.’

  Picking up her overnight bag for the hotel, Abi also knew that her nerves had as much to do with being in a hotel with Max later as they did about going to her old home. Even though they were booked into separate rooms, Abi was sure she’d feel much better when the next two days were behind them and they were safely back in Cornwall.

  Abi hugged Stan, asking if he was sure he’d be alright, making the old man laugh out loud. ‘Girl, me and Sadie have been fending for ourselves for years. Be gone!’

  Settling herself in the front of the van with her head on the pillow, Abi had her eyes closed before they left the street.

  Seated in the van, higher than she was used to, Abi couldn’t believe how safe she felt. Luke had always driven to show off to as many people as possible. Max’s driving, like everything else about him, was careful and steady. The knot of apprehension in Abi’s stomach began to unravel in the presence of the kindly Cornishman.

  ‘You asleep yet?’ Max pulled his vehicle through the narrow village street.

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Good girl.’ He concentrated as the van somehow breathed in enough to let a lorry pass on the other side of the narrow road before they pulled out onto the A30. ‘Abi, can I ask you a personal question?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you still want children?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. So do I. Now go to sleep.’

  Abi’s heart tightened with a flickering warmth of happiness she hadn’t expected to feel until she was back behind her studio desk drawing pictures of squidgy aliens.

  Beth stared at the calendar on her phone. How could it possibly be the twenty-fifth of August already? She was used to the school summer holidays passing with lightning speed, but this year the time had simply dissolved. And although she hadn’t had much actual holiday time, Beth found she had a far bigger sense of achievement at the end of August than she usually did.

  Standing in the middle of the gallery studio, Beth reflected on how much had happened since Max had rescued Abi in the pub restaurant on her first evening in Cornwall. Not only did Beth now have a definite future for her grandad’s old shop, but she had a new friend, a business partner, and a gorgeous boyfriend. None of that would have happened if Abi hadn’t come looking for her house.

  Briefly wondering how Abi and Max were getting on, and hoping that Max wouldn’t be freaked out when he saw what luxury Abi had been used to living in, Beth turned her attention back to the task in hand. ‘Right then,’ she told the gallery, ‘time to go and bulk-buy orange squash and plastic cups, order cupcakes and chocolate cake for the family launch, not to mention some champagne, orange juice, and posh nibbly bits for the official launch.’ Picking up the business’s brand new chequebook and bank card, Beth set off to spend money.

  Jacob was in his element as Peter picked out a few middle-value antiques from Mary Abbey’s supply of car boot sale bargains, to sell individually or in group lots at Peter’s Truro auction house.

  ‘You know,’ Peter turned a pretty set of miniature mining lanterns in his hands, ‘some of these won’t make that much in an auction house, but might do well in a tourist shop. Has Beth considered selling a few bits in the gallery? If she had a month when she couldn’t find an artist willing to pay the fee, then there are enough bits and pieces here to sell for Stan. They could split the profits?’

  ‘That’s an excellent idea. Thanks, mate.’ Jacob wrapped a china figure of a tin miner in a layer of packing paper. ‘I’ll ask Stan when he wakes up.’

  ‘That’s a hell of a snore he’s got on him.’ Peter smiled at the echo of the old man’s snores, which were coming through the open doorway from where Stan was having his afternoon doze.

  Peter laid down the last item for the sale just as his mobile buzzed into life. A few minutes later he hung up. ‘Well then, it’s all systems go.’

  ‘What is?’ Jacob pulled a spare cardboard box from beneath the table and began to load it with the things for the sale room.

  ‘The Ming vase. It’s got into the next sale in London.’

  ‘No way! That is fantastic. Thanks, mate. So, when is the next sale?’

  ‘Well, we got it in as a late lot, so quite soon. I hope that’s alright, but Christie’s aren’t people you turn down if they offer a sale slot.’

  ‘Christie’s! As in major London auction house Christie’s who get buyers from all over the world?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘How the hell did you pull that off?’

  ‘Charm, mate, all charm.’

  Looking far from convinced, Jacob stood up and hooked his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll just see if Stan is awake so I can tell him, then I’ll call Beth. This is brilliant. They’ll be over the moon. ‘When is the date exactly?’

  ‘Second of September.’

  ‘You lived here?’

  ‘Yes.’ Abi got out of the van, and peered about her furtively, half expecting Simon to jump out at her from behind the bushes.

  Stretching his legs, Max walked to the back of the van and pulled out two empty boxes. ‘Ready to do this, lass?’

  Abi, who was clutching the set of keys they’d collected on the way, nodded with little conviction.

  ‘Come on, lass, once we get your things, we can leave every
thing else for the clearance people and the removal firm. Three hours maximum and then we’ll be off back down the motorway in search of our Travelodge and an evening meal.

  It felt very strange putting a new key into her front door, but as Abi stepped inside, the familiar feel of the place swept over here. Although Max was right behind her, Abi was aware that the ghost of Luke didn’t feel as if it was going to pop into her mind and start ordering her about as it had used to.

  Remaining practical, Max said, ‘So then, I know you want the sofa from the kitchen. Anything else from in there, or shall we hit the living room first?’

  ‘We need to go in my bedroom, the bathroom, and my studio. Nowhere else.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Positive. Come on, let’s get this over with.’ Abi strode to her studio with a speed born of the desire to escape as fast as possible. ‘Do you see the chest of drawers there?’

  ‘I do indeed.’ Max looked at the basket-weave chest, which he could tell at a glance had cost a fortune.

  ‘Can you put everything inside in a box while I go and rescue the clothes I want from the bedroom?’

  ‘Sure, or I could pick up the whole chest and secure it in the back of the van? That’s a decent piece of furniture. It would look great in the studio behind your desk back home.’

  Loving how he referred to her space in Cornwall as ‘home’, Abi agreed, ‘It would. Thanks, Max! It’ll be much quicker to move in one go as well. The only other things I want from in here otherwise is that pile of unused canvases, those three portfolios, and the easels. Can you manage all that if I sort my suitcases?’

  ‘I certainly can, ma’am.’

  ‘You’re a star.’

  ‘I will expect a reward later.’

  A flicker of uncertainty shot through Abi. Did he mean sex? She knew she wanted to, but not yet. Not today, not when she was heavy with fatigue and as jumpy as hell after a visit to her old home.

  Max smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried! I just meant an extra portion of chips with dinner. I’ll get this lot sorted.’