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Chapter 34
Abigail dumped the box and the projector in the hallway and returned to the car to fetch her suitcase. As soon as she shut the flat door, she got out her mobile phone. While she had been on the motorway, her mobile had rung. Eager to get back to London, Abigail hadn’t bothered pulling into a service station to see who had called. Although she had thoughtnews travels fast. Abigail had guessed it was Lili – she expected Joss’s uncle had told Joss who had told Lili.
Checking her phone as she closed the door, Abigail frowned. She didn’t recognise the number. She would have put her missed call down to someone misdialling a number when she discovered she had a voicemail. ‘That’s odd,’ she muttered. She walked downstairs to the kitchen to put the kettle on while she listened to it. She didn’t recognise the caller’s voice. She introduced herself as Francesca and asked Abigail to phone her back, mentioning her by name, so Abigail knew it was not a misdial.
‘No, thank you,’ she said to her phone, and deleted the voicemail. She imagined it was some marketing company that had got her name from a database and was phoning to sell her something.
She glanced up at the wall to check the time and recalled what had happened to her clock. She stared at the blank wall, thinking that it seemed a lot longer than a month since she’d gone away. There was hardly any post – just some fliers for local takeaways and restaurants, a bill, and a white envelope with her name handwritten on the front. She wondered if it was from the solicitors. There was no stamp, suggesting someone had hand-delivered it. Abigail nodded. ‘Yep, definitely the solicitors,’ she said as she left it on the kitchen counter, made herself a cup of tea and walked back upstairs. The last time she’d sat in the lounge, she’d been there with Lili, who had let the solicitor in.
Abigail sat on the sofa and looked around the sparse lounge with its two two-seater sofas, laminate flooring, cheap rug and large flatscreen television sitting on a glass stand that matched the glass coffee table. It bore no resemblance to the cottage by the sea that she and Toby had loved so much. She’d never noticed it so much after they had returned from a long weekend or a week away. She didn’t know whether it was her extended break away, or the fact that she had arrived back here alone, without Toby, but Abigail found herself looking at the rental flat and thinking,I really don’t like this place. It wasn’t really a surprise after the cosy cottage with its flagstone floors, old colourful sofas and easy chairs, multi-coloured rugs and cushions, not to mention the wood burner.
Abigail willed herself not to think of the place. After a cup of tea, and a sandwich she’d brought at the local supermarket that was open until late, she switched on the television, not watching it but needing something on in the background. She’d had no idea that she would feel so lonely on returning to the flat. For a moment, she even missed her annoying neighbour next door in the lighthouse. Perhaps that was why she’d thought he was sorry to see her go. Maybe, like her, he’d got used to knowing someone was next door, no matter how much he thought he didn’t want her there.
Abigail heard footsteps in the flat above her. That didn’t make her feel any better. She rarely saw her neighbours. She decided she’d have to return to work pretty soon. She couldn’t sit there, staring at the four walls. Oh, how she’d love to go for a walk across the bridge and bump into Sydney again. She suddenly felt guilty that she said she’d stay in touch and hadn’t. But then he hadn’t contacted her. She looked at her phone. She could phone him now.
The ten o’clock news in the background reminded her it was late. Too late to make a call, too late to think of anything other than unpacking and crawling into bed. Abigail did just that, feeling a little disturbed that she didn’t fancy taking her case into the bedroom and unpacking. ‘It’s because I’m tired,’ she said out loud, making excuses because she didn’t want to be there. But then she knew she had nothing to return to Suffolk for.Don’t you mean, no one, a little voice in her head said.And on that depressing note, unable to get Oliver out of her mind, Abigail took herself off to bed.
Abigail was just sluicing her face with water the next morning, surprised she’d woken up with an upset stomach, when her mobile rang. Without checking the number first, she answered it. A woman’s voice spoke down the phone, asking for Abigail.
‘Yes, it’s me. Look, if you’re the person who was trying to contact me yesterday …’ Abigail thought she recognised the woman’s voice from the voicemail she’d deleted. ‘If you’re trying to sell me something, sorry, but I will have to end.’
‘No, wait please. Did you get the invitation?’
‘I’m sorry, what invitation?’
‘Oh, don’t tell me I put it in the wrong letter box.’
‘Wait – was it a handwritten envelope?’
‘Yes, that’s the one. You haven’t opened it, have you?’
‘Nope.’ Abigail walked out of the bathroom. She was heading down to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast, thinking that whatever had been in the sandwich last night hadn’t gone down well; she was still feeling sick. She spotted the envelope and sighed down the phone. ‘Look, I don’t know who you are, but whatever you’re trying to peddle—’
‘I’m Sidney’s daughter.’
Abigail stopped on the bottom stair. ‘Sidney’s daughter, as in Sidney and Ulysses the dog?’
‘Yes.’
Why is his daughter phoning?Abigail wondered. She guessed why. He’d gone for a walk and left his mobile behind. Doubtless, she’d looked at the numbers on his phone and was ringing round to see where he was. ‘Look, he’s not with me, if that’s what you’re wondering?’
‘I know he isn’t.’
‘I don’t know where he is, if that’s what you’re ringing to find out.’ Abigail had the phone balanced between her shoulder and chin as she filled the kettle.
‘I’m not. I was calling to find out if you had the invitation, and if you had decided to come.’
Abigail eyed the envelope.
‘But now I understand. You don’t have a clue.’
‘About what?’ Abigail turned off the tap and put the kettle down. She felt her stomach lurch, but this time it wasn’t down to a tummy bug. ‘Is he all right?’ When the caller didn’t answer, Abigail said, ‘Has something happened?’
‘Look, I’m glad you haven’t opened the envelope. I wanted us to meet up so I could tell you in person because I got the impression from what he told me that you were friends.’
‘We are.’ Abigail frowned, realising his daughter had used the past tense. Despite only meeting him once, she felt her lip trembling when she realised. ‘He died, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. There’s an invitation to his funeral.’
