by M. R. THOMAS
She opened the front door and stepped in the hallway, closing the door behind her. Somehow today, now that she had completed everything she felt that she needed to do, the house no longer felt as empty as it had before. She couldn’t quite make sense of that and why, except it felt different to her. As she walked to the kitchen for some water it would not have surprised her if Peter had been waiting for her. Her house had never before felt like this since his death: was it possible that there were spirits present to guide her? Maybe even Peter she thought, then she remembered she had seen them on the hill.
Whatever it was, it was comforting and safe.
Abbie stood for a while in the shower, just enjoying the hot water flowing over her head and her body; a simple pleasure taken for granted as a necessity every day, but today she enjoyed it more knowing it was her last.
After drying herself she put on her robe and went downstairs. She felt hungry and decided to have a warm drink and something to eat.
She decided on her favourite of scrambled eggs on toast, and used the three remaining eggs from the fridge. As she ate her food the thought flitted into her mind that here she was, eating her last meal like someone condemned.
She laughed to herself. Don’t be so stupid, she thought, I’m not condemned, I’m choosing a life in eternity free from the burden of worldly pressures and anxiety.
Abbie knew that since she had made her decision there would no notes left for anyone. After all, this was not suicide; her death would be certified as natural causes.
She also took time to destroy her diary, tearing it into tiny pieces and putting it into the bin. No evidence, she thought. Then she had another thought: can a broken heart be identified in a post mortem? Because she knew that was what would happen to her body, but really it did not matter.
She made herself a large mug of Earl Grey tea and sat in the lounge, deciding to listen to some classical music for a while. She sat there for about an hour and when the CD had finished she went to the kitchen and tidied up the dishes, putting everything away in its place. After this Abbie checked the whole house room by room to see that all was tidy and nothing appeared unkempt in any way.
When all this was done, Abbie went upstairs. She put her robe on the back of the bedroom door and paused, looking at Peter’s dressing gown. She picked it up and smelt it again, and straight away his scent filled her senses. She positioned his dressing gown over the bed as an extra cover and climbed in between the sheets. She looked over at the picture of him on the bedside table and thought, this is really it.
Abbie lay on her back in the bed with the covers up to her chin. She felt warm and snug, and a wave of tiredness began to come over her. She yawned. Abbie focused on her breathing and allowed her mind to sense the weight of her body on the bed, breathing in and out steadily, and she focused on her consciousness and willed herself to leave her body.
She waited for that light motion and sense of movement to start within her as her consciousness broke free, but this time it never came. She tried to relax more, but her mind began to throw in thoughts of ‘it’s not going to happen.’
Abbie was not prepared to allow this to distress her. She remembered having tried too hard previously so she continued to lie in the bed motionless, and focused all her mind and energy on her breathing. How long she did this for she didn’t know, as she did not open her eyes.
Each time an intrusive and negative though came into her mind, she purposefully ignored it and brought her attention back to her breathing, slow and steady, in and out.
She slowly gained control of herself, realising it was only natural anxiety about her wanting to achieve something very important. Her breathing became shallow and developed into a fine and steady rhythm, and within a short period of time, her spirit left her body.
Chapter 17
Forty-eight hours later, Rose began to feel a little concerned that she hadn’t heard from Abbie. She’d left a telephone message thanking her for a lovely meal the night before, and she felt it was somewhat unusual that she’d not called back.
That evening, Rose called Kate to see if she’d heard from or spoken to Abbie. Kate hadn’t, and she was also surprised to hear that Rose’s calls had not been returned. It did seem unusual, but Kate tried to reassure Rose that there was probably some valid reason, like her ‘phone had most run out of charge and she hadn’t realised.
At the end of the day, having rung several times with no answer, Rose decided that the following morning she would go round to Abbie’s house.
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The cold air was piercing as Rose made her way to Abbie’s house. From the road the house looked fine; the blinds on the windows were open, nothing seemed out of the ordinary at all.
Rose rang the bell and waited, and then rang it again; no answer.
She looked up and down the street as thought searching for an answer. She went to the neighbours on both sides, but no one was home there either. She reached in her bag, and scribbled a note on a piece of paper with a pencil and pushed it through the letter box. As she did so she peered through the slot, but nothing she could see gave any clue to the whereabouts of her daughter.
Back at her own house Rose couldn’t settle all day; something inside of her told her there was something wrong. She needed to know that her daughter was safe; the not knowing was the hardest part.
She called Kate and left a message asking her to contact her urgently.
About 4 pm Rose’s ‘phone rang, and she snatched it up within two rings.
“Hello”
“Rose, it’s me, Kate, is everything OK?”
“Oh Kate, thank you for ‘phoning. I’ve still not head from Abbie and I’m so worried”.
“Gosh Rose, I can’t understand why she hasn’t called you, unless she’s gone away again, but it’s not like her at all is it?”
“No, and I’ve got this nasty feeling”.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know”, Rose began, “call it motherly intuition, but I’m frightened, can you help me?”
“Yes of course I will, what can I do?” She asked.
“I’ve got a set of keys, for emergencies” Rose said, “I’m worried and wouldn’t normally go into someone’s house, but I need to do this, please come with me”.
“I’m on my way” Kate replied.
Standing on the kerb next to Kate’s car they both looked at the house in darkness, but still there were no clues.
Rose put the key in the lock. The door slowly opened and then it seemed to jam, and Rose realised it was mail catching on the mat; she pushed it harder and it overcame the temporary obstruction. Her hand trembled as she felt for the light switch. Rose stepped in to the hallway, and she could feel the warmth, so the heating was on.
So maybe Abbie was now at home and the phone’s been out of order, she thought.
“Abbie” she shouted, “it’s me, mum”. As she moved down the hall she became aware that the other rooms were in darkness too.
Behind Rose, Kate now also felt uneasy and concerned for her friend. Her heart was beginning to race. “I’ll check upstairs” she said.
Without any acknowledgment Rose continued straight ahead to the other rooms, turning on lights as she went. She stood in the warm silence wondering what on earth was going on.
A few moments later Kate came down the stairs, and Rose turned around as she came into the lounge to see her trembling and ashen-faced.
Kate took hold of Rose’s arms and Rose could feel her shaking. Initially, in those few brief moments, nothing registered in Rose’s mind until Kate said, “We need to call the police and an ambulance”.
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Abbie’s death was certified as natural causes by the coroner. She appeared to have died peacefully in her sleep; the time of death indicating that she had gone for a lie-down in the afternoon. There was no substantive medic
al cause or underlying illness pathology, although it was mentioned that she was thin and underweight. It was also noted that she had in fact been pregnant at the time of her death, which was a surprise to her family and her close friends. They had had no idea, and they wondered if Abbie had known.
What was not reported, to protect the family, was the fact that the foetus although extremely small, appeared grossly deformed, almost inhuman and that because of this, determining the duration of the pregnancy in relation to the time of death had not been possible.
What was also never reported, to the family or anyone else, was the comment made by the technician during the post-mortem when he was examining the foetus. Despite his years of experience, he had been so shocked by its appearance that he had told his colleague that it looked like the child of the devil.
The End.
