Abbie's Gift (3 page)

Abbie thought of having a large glass of cold refreshing Sauvignon Blanc, her favourite white wine, but one that Peter said was too acidic for him, he had preferred reds. She hesitated and decided again on tea, but not for any therapeutic value; she had not drunk any alcohol since his death, she had not wanted to and felt acutely aware that its effects would only have pushed her into a deeper and darker place than where she was already, and she did not want to risk this.  It soon became apparent however that many of the other guests had had no such qualms. She didn’t eat much, and alternated between sitting and walking amongst a few guests. Her mum, she thought, looked exhausted as she sat talking with a sherry in her hand.

Kate suddenly appeared at Abbie’s side and hugged her.

“Everyone at school sends their love and best wishes; don’t know if you saw Bill Summers the Head, he was at the chapel?”

“Really? That was kind of him, pity I didn’t see him, I’d have liked to have said hello”, replied Abbie.

“I’m sure there are others who would’ve liked to have been here and offered support, but I guess they didn’t want to intrude as they don’t know you that well yet.” 

Abbie and Kate were both secondary school teachers, and Abbie had recently moved to the same school as Kate at the beginning of the new school year some eight weeks ago. It had been a sideways move, not a promotion but a new challenge, and it also meant a lot less travelling for her; her previous commuting journey each day of some 45 miles each way had been tedious and tiring.

“God” Abbie exclaimed, “They must hate themselves for giving me the job, now this has happened and I’ve been off for weeks.”

“No they do not” replied Kate forcefully, “that’s what supply teachers are for, life’s little emergencies; Bill Summers said that himself, honestly”.

“Honestly?”

“Yes he did, so don’t fret, it’ll be ok.”

They both smiled.  “Or as in this case the ‘not so bloody little emergencies!” said Abbie.  The unexpected humour at her own loss initially shocked Kate, but she was grateful as she thought she could see her old pal returning.

“Exactly” she replied, returning the smile.

Later on when most of the people had begun to disperse, and only a few family and close friends remained, Kate plucked up the courage to ask Abbie if she had any thoughts about when she might consider returning to school.

Abbie looked surprisingly positive as she responded “Oh soon, I just can’t be specific yet you understand. I just need to feel a bit like myself again, and this is the first day that in some way I think that I have. So I want to know it’s for real and that I don’t do the jelly act again”.

The stab at humour again surprised Kate, considering how only a few days ago Abbie had been so low and totally out of it.

“I want to get back to some sort of normality”, then she suddenly laughed a little, shaking her head “but then I can’t can I? This isn’t normal, without Peter; with him has been my normal for a long time, not this”.

Kate sensed anger rising in Abbie’s voice as she began to rail again at the loss of her ‘normal’.

“Only when you’re really ready and not before, ok?  Look I have to go now so I’ll call you tomorrow, yes?”

“OK, yes”.

“I will”

“Good, do it, or else!” said Abbie smiling and, with a quick embrace and kiss on the cheek, Kate turned and left.

Abbie suddenly felt exhausted and wanted to be going home.  Enough of her public face for one day, she thought.

“Mum, I really want to be going home now.”

“Then I’m coming with you” said Rose, rising to her feet.

“No need, honestly.”

“No, I’m coming, besides two glasses of sherry is plenty for an afternoon,” she smiled.

They exchanged pleasantries with the remaining guests, lingering over hugs and smiles with Peter’s family. They would stay in touch, no doubt about that Abbie thought, they would at least for a few months anyway, and then she told herself off for having such a horrid thought.

The afternoon had developed into one of those very pleasant bright autumn days. Abbie and her mum decided to walk for a while to enjoy the air, Rose hoping it would also help to clear her head a little; Abbie also thought this as she had noticed a pinkish tinge to her mother’s cheeks.

Eventually they realised they were too near home to bother getting a taxi, and the walk had taken longer and more energy than Abbie had expected, some 35 minutes. When they arrived at her house, she was amazed at how physically tired she felt. The house was empty.  She knew that it would be, of course, but somehow in a small way still hoped it was all a terrible mistake and that her Peter would be there to greet her.

Once inside and they were taking off their coats, Rose turned to her daughter.

“Abbie, just so you know, I’m so proud of you, we got through it didn’t we?”

“Yes we did, I’m not really sure how I did, but we did, thank you.” Abbie kissed and hugged her mother.

“I’m going for a shower to freshen up.”

“OK love, I’ll make a cup of tea”

“Not for me just yet, I’ll see you in a bit”.

When Abbie’s footsteps on the stairs disappeared, Rose sat in the kitchen, glad for this time alone. She sighed deeply and took a deep, deep breath calming herself, ‘what a day!’ she thought .She glanced up at the stairs when she heard the bathroom door shut and the spray of water begin from the shower head. It was only then that Rose took her own moment. She had been a tower of strength for her daughter, a refuge, a comfort, but now that crumbled inside her as she leaned on the table, her head in her hands and began to cry.

Chapter 3.

Abbie left her clothes where they fell on the bathroom floor, which was very unlike her; she usually put away each item carefully into the wardrobes or into the laundry basket for washing.

This time she didn’t care, she wanted the refreshing water over her and she couldn’t wait a moment longer. She wanted to feel fresh and clean as though somehow these magic waters might rescue her from the pain of her tragic loss. She enjoyed the torrent of hot soothing water as it drenched her from head to toe, she treasured its warmth. Such a simple thing taken so often for granted, but so precious and, at that moment, just what she needed.   She closed her eyes and remembered that, more often than not, she and Peter would shower together. She had loved that depth of intimacy they had shared; often he would wash her hair and soap her skin.  She then realised with a jolt that those moments would never happen again with him.

She opened her eyes; the emotion rising within her as she put a hand on the tiled wall to steady herself as she felt a rush of dizziness pass through her.

‘No’ she thought, ‘no! I’m not ready to cry again yet, I’ve done enough’.

She took a deep breath, collecting her senses and awareness of her surroundings, and soon that sense of emotion, the wave that had risen up in her rapidly began to dissolve and disappear, and that tranquil sense of calm that she had experienced at the chapel earlier began to return.

The verse from the New Testament that had been read in the service came back to her, clear in her head and thoughts.

“In my father’s house are many mansions, if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you that where I am you may be also.”

She wondered if she had remembered it correctly, and decided that later on she might  look it up and read the whole passage, as she knew there was a Bible somewhere amongst their books, no, among
her
books. For some reason she didn’t know why, she could clearly recall that it was St John’s Gospel Chapter 14.

She imagined Peter laughing at her if he knew she wanted to look up a passage in the Bible.

“Careful or you’ll want to be a nun next!” was the type of sarcastic comment that he’d make when teasing her.

‘A nun’ she thought, ‘a bit late for that….’ but then again she now realised that his death meant by all reason some period of celibacy, enforced and not welcomed. She quickly turned off the shower and wrapped a large fluffy bath towel around her body, and snuggled into its gentleness and warmth drying herself.

In the bedroom, Abbie looked at her naked form in the full-length mirror, for the first time in two weeks. She immediately saw that she looked thinner, or was it the mirror distorting the image, like a funfair sideshow teasing her?  No, she knew that, in two weeks of having hardly eaten along with the hysteria she had suffered, that this meant weight loss, it wouldn’t mean anything else. She always thought that she had a good physique, not too rounded and ideal for sports and athletics. Now the recent weight loss made her body look a bit more boyish, her curves had now flattened out a little.  She thought to herself that in a way she liked this leaner version of her shape; if she tensed her abdomen some of the muscles were clearly visible and defined. She liked this and thought an increase in hard exercise would help her maintain this new leanness.

She combed her wet hair and put on some loose cotton jogging trousers. Deliberately and carefully, she picked a white polo shirt of Peter’s hanging in his wardrobe and put it on. It hung loosely from her frame; she held the fabric to her nose but could only really smell cleanliness and fabric conditioner. She then looked up and she saw on the hook behind the bedroom door his towelling bathrobe, the one she had bought him when they first moved in together some 2 years ago, as he didn’t have one at the time. That was before they bought this house, when they initially shared his flat as she had moved in there because it was larger than her own.

Now she carefully took the dressing gown down off the hook. How, over recent days, had she not noticed it? When she had so wanted something real of his close to her? She felt its fluffy soft cotton fabric, warm as always, and she held the material to her face and inhaled deeply.

There he was in an instant, it was Peter’s smell, and it was so real to her, exactly him.  A beautiful fragrance she thought, reminiscent of wood spice and soap.  She hugged the piece of clothing tightly as she breathed him in, longing for his arms to be around her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you so much,” she whispered into the cloth, half willing it to respond.

Then, sounding as natural as anything she had ever experienced, a voice, Peter’s voice, said so clearly back to her - “I love you.”

Did I really imagine that or did he just speak to me? she thought, as she looked around the room, completely unsure.

Giving herself a mental shake, she placed the dressing gown on the end of the bed and went downstairs.

Her mum was gently dozing in an armchair; the wall clock showing that it was already 3.45 pm.

‘Where does the time really go?’ she said to herself.

Abbie let her mum carry on sleeping, realising that she must be so tired after all she had done the past weeks. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of water which she gulped down in one without stopping, satisfying a thirst that somehow had only became apparent to her once she’d begun to drink.

Abbie sat in silence, listening to the faint tick of the kitchen wall clock, lost in her own thoughts.  She did not feel any sense of emotional sadness, just an emptiness that seemed to fill her entire body and mind.

How many days was it now since she had not seen or spoken to Peter?  Since he went running and did not come home?  She ached for him, longed to see him, and to speak with him, to hold him, but realisation that those things would never happen again was filtering through her sense of general bewilderment that had now become her reality.  She felt somehow that, despite all the recent turmoil, she wanted and needed to get back to some regular routine of living and purpose. She deliberately avoided using the word ‘normal’ in her thoughts as whatever ‘normal’ was in the future, for her it had to be learned, discovered, found. Her past experience of ‘normal’ would remain exactly that, past, but forever etched in her memories.

Where do I start? she thought to herself.

Abbie had always been a real self-starter, a getting-things-done type of person, never one to procrastinate; she would and could produce order out of chaos and she felt, somehow, that she needed to do this now to try and rediscover some routine and meaning in her life.