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Chapter 13
Gerald leaned over and slipped the empty pipe into the glove compartment before setting off.
Abigail caught him looking at her. ‘What?’
He switched on the car engine. ‘It’s good to see you smiling, sweetheart,’ he said. We’ve all been worried about you. You haven’t been answering your phone or texts since the—’
‘Funeral.’ Abigail rolled her eyes. Most people didn’t like to mention it, as though it were a taboo subject, which she guessed it was, in a way. Who wanted to talk about death and funerals? But if Gerald was trying to spare her feelings by not mentioning the funeral, it didn’t make Toby’s death any less at the forefront of her mind. Surprisingly, it was the thought of showing her stepdad the cottage, the very cottage she was intending to sell, that was making her smile.
They set off, leaving Aldeburgh behind them as they drove down the long, straight country road with open rolling farmland on either side. Apart from the odd cottage fronting the road, there was nothing but views of the surrounding countryside. Abigail stared out of the window. Other counties had their lakes and peaks, mountains, and dramatic windswept plains. Suffolk had nothing quite so dramatic, but Abigail remembered what she had always loved about this rather underrated corner of England. It was the soft rolling countryside, church spires and sleepy English villages that looked to be from another era.
It still had small, local communities with neighbours who knew one another. But it was more than that. Where Londoners flocked to the West Coast and raved about Brighton and Bournemouth, to the East lay a corner of a largely undiscovered county with the most beautiful coastline in the country and sunrises that took your breath away. It was little wonder that those in the know referred to this stretch of coastline as the Sunrise Coast. Hidden coves, wild deserted sandy beaches, heaths full of colourful heather, and incredible wildlife havens that were a bird-spotter’s paradise – Abigail was thinking of the marshlands of Minsmere near Southwold that her brother loved to visit.
For a seaside holiday, Suffolk gave Cornwall a run for its money, without the eight-hour journey by road from London – or the crowds. With beach huts to hire, piers and promenades, it was all here if you fancied a more traditional English seaside resort with cafés, donkey rides, and fish and chips. Abigail had always thought the county was a well-kept secret, and she felt the locals would rather it remained that way.
At the end of the road, as they approached a main road that took them to Southwold, they passed a farm shop. Common in the county, many were no longer just little farm shops, but had cafés on site too, offering homemade cakes, sandwiches, and snacks made from local produce. She recalled that when she and her siblings were small, her mum and stepdad had often taken them to Friday Street to buy fresh meat and vegetables straight from the farm and to have cakes and drinks in the café.
‘Do you need anything from the shop?’ Gerald asked, slowing down behind a car turning into the farm.
Abigail shook her head. She only had groceries for a few days ahead, but they were all she needed, as she was still undecided about how long she would be staying. She still couldn’t get over the irony that she and Toby would finally have had the means, through the sale of this cottage, to buy their own home, but that he wasn’t there to enjoy it.
‘Right, are we heading to Southwold?’ he asked, double-checking before he turned on to the main road.
‘Yes.’
He glanced at her before turning right. ‘This is a bit of a mystery tour. Aren’t you going to tell me where we’re going?’
‘You’ll see.’
He did a double-take. ‘Hey, why the glum face all of a sudden?’
Abigail offered up a fake smile. It was what she’d become accustomed to doing, just to put people at ease when they found out she was a widow.
‘I mean it – why the glum face?’
Abigail sighed and rolled her eyes. There was no good trying to fool him. ‘I was just thinking that you might try to encourage me to stay – in Suffolk.’
‘Is that why you’ve put off coming to see us, since the …’ He trailed off.
‘Funeral. Yes, maybe – oh, I don’t know. I guess.’
‘So, where are you taking me?’
Travelling along the undulating main road that gently meandered around bends, passing cottages, but mainly open farmland, Abigail said, ‘To Southwold, then you’ll see.’
‘All sounds very intriguing.’
‘It is.’
He looked at her, but said nothing more.
Abigail hadn’t meant to say that. But itwasintriguing, the question of why Toby had been given the cottage. It made her wonder what her stepdad might know about the Somervilles, although she decided to wait until they arrived to explain her interest.
Some miles up the main road, they took a right turn, heading towards the sea. It was just as picturesque as the road to Aldeburgh. However on the approach to Southwold, it was obvious that it was a bigger town. There was a row of newly built townhouses on its outskirts. Abigail pointed. ‘If you drive straight down the high street, at the end, before you reach the promenade, turn right and head along the clifftop road.’
‘The one that takes you out of Southwold?’
‘Yes, that’s the one.’
