by Clare Ashton
Abby looked stunning in those moments; Jude’s heart would race with admiration. She didn’t find Abby’s reaction embarrassing. Actually, she laughed at her thoughts, she found it adorable.
What the hell was she going to do? She shook her head and resumed her amble up the street. How different everything was from her stroll through the square on Friday evening. And she didn’t mean just her personal situation. The church was for sale and her mother on the rampage about that and everything else. Bill was sending a stream of messages, each more savage than the last. Jude stumbled at the recollection. How vicious people turned when rejected, and she pushed the thought of his latest actions from her mind to spare herself.
Peering across the square, Jude detected further rumblings of dissatisfaction. A group of elderly folks gathered around the sweet stall, switching between moaning about the state of the nation and the relative merits of toffees over fudge. One couple was berating a stall holder for selling a shampoo containing glitter while a mother surreptitiously replaced her bottle and sneaked off to Celtic jewellery. Had it always been like this or were the cracks new? The Conservative Club with its hanging baskets of blue flowers seemed to sit less comfortably beside the café proclaiming “The People’s Republic of Ludbury’s finest coffee”.
Jude sat on the end of a bench at the edge of the square and sighed louder than she’d intended so the teenage girl occupant at the other end twitched up from her phone.
The girl gave Jude a shy smile.
“Sorry,” Jude said, “I’m in a grumpy mood, like the rest of the square this morning.”
The girl grinned and turned back to her phone.
Jude closed her eyes, dug hands deep into the pockets of her woollen coat and dropped her head back to enjoy the sun’s rays. Her limbs were leaden and it was satisfying to relax into lethargy.
“Look at that,” a disgruntled voice said. “Always got their noses in an iPhone. Shouldn’t you be at school anyway?”
Jude opened her eyes as two pairs of legs shuffled past, one in grey, one in beige. The muttering continued as they walked away, not waiting for an answer from her companion on the bench. The teenager blushed crimson and peeped at Jude.
“My mum’s getting shopping then taking me to the doctor’s.”
“It’s OK,” Jude said. “You don’t have to defend yourself. You carry on enjoying whatever’s on your phone.”
The girl frowned a little and surveyed Jude’s face. “You waiting for the doctor too?”
Jude laughed. She must look grave. “No. I’m fine. In fact I am a doctor.”
“Oh,” the girl said. Actually she sounded impressed. She shuffled a little closer and tipped her phone toward Jude. “It’s school work. I’ve got a mock exam on Bleak House and wanted to read some other Dickens for background. I can get them free on my phone.”
“I do that, get classics for free on my reader.”
“Are you Mrs Goodman’s daughter?” the girl said.
Jude sat up, surprised she’d been recognised. “Yes, I am.”
“Is she all right?”
“Yes. Well, as much as she ever is.”
“It’s just, she doesn’t teach at school no more.”
“Funding cuts I’m afraid,” Jude replied. “They asked her to take early retirement.”
“Oh. Shame. I liked her.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We all did. Never a boring lesson with Mrs Goodman.” The girl’s grin widened.
Well that was true. Never a boring moment with her mother. Jude had craved mundanity as a child.
“She used to talk to us,” the girl continued. “Not like the other teachers who lecture. She was interested in what we had to say.”
Jude smiled mischievously. “I bet she loved it when you argued back.”
“She did.” The girl’s eyes flashed. “She used to encourage it. It was the only lesson where we were allowed to argue with each other. You know, discuss things. All the others were ‘shut up, learn your work, pass exams’.”
“You found her inspiring?”
“Yes, we did.”
That sounded like her mother, and a remembrance of childhood idolatry poignantly mixed with contemporary frustrations stirred inside. Jude could recall in vivid colour her mother putting on plays in the garden, Eli dressed in a tutu and Jude as the prince. She created worlds for them, the garden blurring into a magical woodland, the patio becoming plains of volcanic lava. She’d even incorporated the river into the scenery one summer, when the extended family were invited to watch. It had ended in disaster – a great aunt’s dog plunging into the river and spraying the assembled audience. Eli had a tantrum and pushed Jude in the river too. Her mother had almost stopped breathing she’d laughed so hard.
Yes, those were the moments Maggie excelled. Then there were the times of desperation and strife. Jude closed her eyes. What a vexing character her mother was. What drove her constant irritation? She’d rage at the wind some days, telling it not to blow. What fuelled it all?
“My mum’s coming now,” the girl said. “Will you say hi to yours?”
Jude came to. “Of course. I’ll remember you to her. What’s your name?”
“Amelia.”
“Good luck with your mock exams.”
Amelia smiled as she turned to go. “Good luck with whatever you’re going through.”
Jude laughed. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”
And like that, her spirits eased. A pleasant interaction with some good soul and the world seemed more hopeful. How precious those characters were.
Jude wandered through the square and towards the supermarket at the top of Broad Street in search of Jammy Dodger biscuits – comfort food to soothe Bill’s latest and perhaps final act. She looked down the wide avenue instinctively seeking out Abby’s surgery. And there her friend was, another good soul, stepping out into the sunshine.
She watched as Abby skipped from the ex-townhouse surgery and started down the terraced street, giving her fringe a flick from her face. Jude checked her watch. Her friend was running late.
Jude was about to call after her. It was natural to hail Abby, wanting to indulge in her company. But then what? Jude stood at a loss, wordless and feet heavy on the ground. This was impossible.
She turned away with resignation, but felt her friend’s presence more. Emptiness gnawed at her stomach and she could sense the pull from Abby on her back. The strength of longing was as powerful as for any lover.
“I can’t bear staying away from you,” Jude whispered.
She peeped back and watched her friend’s silhouette beneath the sun-filled arch of the gate house. Her shape caught her eye and Jude studied her friend’s physique, expecting to find it changed. Who was she now? Abby’s passion made Jude think of her in a different light. She watched – seeking out differences – only finding the same wonderful woman, the familiar sway of hips, fingers slipping through hair and flicking her fringe away. As Abby strode down the street, Jude was drawn after her, not wanting to lose sight of her friend.
At the bottom of the street, Abby unlocked her cottage door with a swift and practiced movement and disappeared inside. She’d be having lunch at home before, if Jude recalled, spending Monday afternoon at the care home. Walking down the street, Jude caught up, tapped the iron knocker and squinted through the glass panes. A sash window thudded above her and Abby peered down, her long fringe a curtain around her face.
“Hey.” Abby grinned. “How you doing?”
Jude smiled at the greeting and her heart filled at her friend’s warmth. It was like Abby always was.
“Come in,” Abby shouted. “It’s…” Her sentence was interrupted by a sharp inhalation. Eyes scrunched tight, mouth and nose elongated then she sneezed loudly. “…open. Excuse me.” She sniffed.
Jude sniggered. “Maximilian broken in again?”
“I swear that cat picks the lock with his claws.” Abby rolled her eyes. “I can’t find a way in this time...”
Her mouth stretched into another sneeze.
Jude laughed affectionately. Abby was lovely, even when sneezing, and although Jude was trying to keep a cool distance it tugged at her heart.
“Are you rushing out?” she called up.
“No. Grabbing lunch. Do you want…” Abby waved her hand towards the door as she was gripped by another sneeze.
“I’ll come in.” Jude said, shaking her head and smiling as she opened the door.
It was darker inside the cottage, the sunlight bright in the street and through the back door, but cosy. It was like the little house hugged you when you stepped inside.
Abby’s beloved Roberts radio, a gift from Maggie, was quietly chattering The World at One on the kitchen top and Jude breathed in, relieved to find the sanctuary familiar. It smelled of chocolate cake, fresh oranges and cinnamon. And indeed, as was so often the case, a small mountain of chocolate muffins was stacked on the kitchen top, a glass of juice stood half drunk and bundles of cinnamon sticks hung from hooks on the kitchen cupboards. It smelled like home.
“Put the kettle on,” Abby shouted down.
Without needing to search, Jude grabbed the kettle and filled it from the sink by the window. She rummaged in the corner cupboard for two Penguin novel china mugs – Wuthering Heights for Abby and a chipped Room of One’s Own for herself. She’d bought a set of six for Abby when they’d started as house officers at Shrewsbury Royal. Smiling at the fixture in her life, Jude popped a teabag in each and wandered around the room as the kettle began to gurgle.
The stove was ready to be lit and the sofa too inviting to ignore. She slumped down with an easy confidence and cuddled a plush cushion to her belly. Above hung a painting of Marloes Sands in Pembrokeshire. She’d seen it so many times she didn’t need to look to see the texture of the brush strokes and ochre and slate colours that made up the distinctive coast. Abby had bought it on holiday with the Goodmans six years ago. In fact Jude knew the origin of almost every item in the cottage.
She’d viewed the cottage with Abby. They’d decorated at the weekends when Abby moved in. Upstairs, she knew every inch of the spare room – Abby called it Jude’s room. Sitting here made her relax. This is where her troubles fell away. Not her parents’ house. Not the flat she shared with Bill. This was home.
Abby skipped from the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey.” She smiled. “Good to see you out of the house.” And she knelt down and held Jude’s hands.
Look at that smile. Jude hesitated, not knowing what to say. She stared into Abby’s eyes, those deep blue eyes which showed only love. Abby was like a tonic. A cup of warm comfort.
“It’s good to see you,” Abby said, and she hugged her. It was a platonic, affectionate squeeze with no repeat of the earlier flushes. Jude was relieved, but also strangely disappointed, and she stared at her friend in fascination.
“You want some lunch?” Abby said, getting to her feet. “It’s just tomato and mozzarella with a bit of ciabatta.”
“Sounds perfect,” Jude said and she wandered after her.
Abby slid two loaves into the oven and rifled in the fridge and without a word threw a couple of tomatoes to Jude. Abby sliced the mozzarella, Jude drizzled olive oil, and with a sprinkle of basil leaves from a window ledge plant still flourishing in the autumn sun, they quietly prepared their snack, like they did at weekends.
They peered as one to the back door and seeing the sunlight on the table outside, took their plates into the courtyard garden. A ball of white on the table opened a squint of green eye then reformed the perfect sphere of fluff.
“It’s OK Maximilian. We can use our knees.” Jude tutted.
Abby bit into her bread dripping with olive oil, and wiped a little from her chin. “Sorry to rush,” she said, “It’s the care home round this afternoon.”
“I know.”
Abby turned bashful and stared at her plate, as if remembering their troubles. “Are you staying long? In Ludbury?”
“I’ve no idea,” Jude said honestly.
“Is work OK? Are they letting you take a few days off?”
“Actually they’ve withdrawn my contract.”
“What?”
“I’d come to the end and it was due for renewal but…”
“Bill?” Abby said, her face anxious. “Bill’s mate’s the manager there.”
Jude nodded.
“Well that’s,” Abby, being a generous soul, stopped herself from saying something she’d regret. “I know they’re friends, but that’s not fair,” she finished.
Jude shrugged with heavy shoulders. “I’m not surprised.”
“You’ll pick up another position in no time, but how does Bill expect you to take that? You’ve got to be civil to each other while you sort things out.”
Jude swallowed her mouthful of bread and a lump which was forming in her throat. “I think he wants me to disappear as soon as possible.”
“But you’ve got a flat together. It’s not going to be easy.”
“Apparently it is. He’s bagged up my things and left them on the side of the road.”
“What?”
Jude looked away. “Dad’s gone to pick them up for me. With Celia’s surgery cancelled he’s free today.”
Abby didn’t reply and from the corner of her eye Jude knew she didn’t move. Eventually she set her plate on the seat and came closer.
“I’m sorry,” Abby murmured and she drew Jude’s head to her bosom. “I’m so sorry.”
Jude was raw again. The comfort and warmth of Abby enveloping her unleashed vulnerabilities and the emotion began to swell. She clung to Abby’s arm, clasping it around her.
“You can’t control who falls in love with you, or who you fall in love with,” Abby murmured. “And people get hurt when they split up. It’s rubbish. But that doesn’t give him an excuse to treat you like this.”
“I haven’t been fair to him,” Jude stuttered. “I don’t blame him for being angry. I wasn’t as committed to him as I should have been.”
Abby crouched in front of her and held her hands. “Were you honest with him?”
“Yes.”
“Were you hurtful?”
“No. Not deliberately.”
“Then you can’t blame yourself.” Abby pulled Jude in again, her arms wrapped around. Jude closed her eyes, safe and warm. Home.
“It’s good to spend time with you,” Abby whispered after a while, still holding her tight. “Even though it’s not under the best circumstances, I always enjoy your company.” Abby hesitated and Jude’s heart pounded wondering what she’d say next. “You know,” Abby continued, “I’ve taken your friendship for granted at times. Other times, I realise how precious it is.”
Jude knew when Abby spoke of, how devastated Abby had been at Bill’s proposal and the loss of her friend.
“I always appreciate it,” Abby said. “However much time you spend with me, it will always be appreciated.”
Jude clasped her fingers desperate around Abby’s arm. What could she say? That she knew Abby was in love with her. That Abby’s pain distressed Jude more than cutting Bill from her life. That Jude adored her friend and hated she’d suffered all these years. Jude wished more than anything she could make Abby happy, but had no idea how.
“I’d better go. I’m running a little late,” Abby said gently when Jude couldn’t respond. “Come with me?”
Jude stared into Abby’s kind face, holding her arms so firmly she couldn’t think how to release her.
“I’d like that.”
And after lunch, they walked together, down the street, over the river, through the woods, Jude not letting go of her friend for a second.
Chapter 15.
“Dr Abby!”
It was as if the entire care home had rustled up their best clothes and sat waiting for Abby’s entrance. The old-manor day room erupted when Jude and Abby walked in and Jude couldn’t help giggle at her friend’s reception.
“Dr Abby! I got my
new teeth,” a woman shouted across the room.
Jude guessed the woman was in her nineties, a frail little thing who hardly took up any of her armchair. She flashed her gnashers in an ecstatic smile and Jude would put good money on there being a large character in that small frame.
“She doesn’t want to see your teeth dear,” a large woman beside her said. She grasped the smaller lady’s hand with a generous arm, which wobbled a great deal. “It’s the dentist who does that. Dr Abby wants to hear about my shingles.”
And it was a credit to Abby that she greeted them both with enthusiasm. She knelt down before the incongruous pair who looked like they hadn’t moved from the chairs in years and took the woman’s hand.
“Bev, those teeth are the icing on an already beautiful smile. Of course I want to see them.”
“Bless you, sweetheart,” Bev replied. “See Dot. Knew she’d be interested. I told her all about having them fitted last time she was here.”
“That’s not what she’s here for. She needs to hear about my shingles and these headaches I keep having.”
“I’m here for the whole afternoon,” Abby said, “to hear everything from your migraines to your dentures.”
“See,” Bev said.
“First I must catch up with Ray and Dawn though,” Abby said kindly.
“You go ahead love,” Dot said. “She’s not said a word all week, just groans and rocks to and fro. Poor old Ray.”
Abby got up and crossed the room touching Jude on the arm as she passed. “I’ll catch you later,” she said. “Walk back with you after you’ve seen Celia?”
Jude grinned. “See how it goes. You’re in demand. You might be here all night.”
Abby wandered to a corner where an elderly man and, Jude assumed, his wife sat next to an upright piano. The man gripped his partner’s hand and gazed into her eyes, but she stared into space. It was the state which frightened Jude most at her clinic, more than cancer or any other ailment – people losing themselves.
She turned away, praying for the hundredth time that the fate not befall her or anyone dear. Then her spirits lifted as she spied Celia by the window, engrossed in a game of chess with Desmond.
