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Chapter 15
‘Is everything alright?’ Gerald asked, catching the look on Abigail’s face.
‘Yes, I’m doing Emily a favour and standing in for her with a cleaning job at Somerville Hall. Why didn’t you tell me she was working there?’
‘She’s only just started – must’ve slipped my mind. Sorry.’ He frowned. ‘So, with the cottage and all, are you okay working there?’
Abigail raised her eyebrows, unsure what he was getting at.
Gerald elaborated. ‘You know, considering they are contesting Toby’s ownership of the cottage?’
‘Ah.’ Abigail hadn’t considered that. She looked at Gerald. ‘Did you tell mum about the cottage when you spoke to her on the phone?’
‘You know I did – she asked you about it.’
‘Er, no, I meant regarding the cottage having belonged to one of the Somervilles and the family’s intention to contest the will.’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Do you mind holding off from telling mum about all that? Just for now. I don’t want it to get back to the Somervilles.’
Gerald nodded. ‘That would be awkward if they found out it’s you who now owns Daphne Harris’s cottage.’
Abigail pursed her lips. ‘That’s right. And you know Emily. If she finds out she couldn’t keep it to herself. Word would soon get back to the house. Promise me, Dad, you won’t say anything?’
He beamed at her. ‘Well, when you put it that way …’
Abigail frowned, not realising the wordDadhad slipped out. It did, from time to time, when she wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t surprising. Although she had made up her mind when she was little and found out he wasn’t her real dad, that she wouldn’t call him that anymore. It wasn’t until she was much older, away at university and going out with Toby – when she saw his relationship with his stepdad, whom he had no problems calling Dad – that she realised her relationship with Gerald had been the same, just as close, just as loving.
Unfortunately, it had taken all those years to look back and realise she hadn’t missed a thing. In fact, who knew – if she had known her biological father, perhaps she wouldn’t have had the same wonderful relationship she’d had with a man she wasn’t related to. What was that old saying?You can’t choose your family.But Gerald had. He’d chosen to marry her mum and raise two children as his own, and perhaps they’d had a much better, happier upbringing for it. For all Abigail’s dream while she was growing up of escaping from Suffolk, she’d had a happy, relaxed, loving family life, all because of her stepdad.She might have lost a father, but she had gained a dad. It had just taken her until she became an adult to realise that.
She suddenly put her arms around Gerald and gave him a hug. ‘I love you. You know that – right?’
‘Of course I do. I’m just amazing.’
‘Oh, stop,’ she said playfully, punching him in the shoulder.
His expression turned serious. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody else in the room to overhear. ‘About that other business. I won’t say a word unless you tell me to, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Do you need a lift over to your friend’s house? It’s in Thorpeness, isn’t it?’
Abigail hesitated. Now she felt really bad for telling a lie, and another one. ‘She will come and pick me up.’
As they walked out of the door together, he glanced at his car, which was parked in front of a shed-like structure beside the cottage. ‘What’s in there, do you think?’
Abigail shrugged. She hadn’t bothered to look inside the shed. She’d lost a week, lying on the sofa and wishing for all the world that Toby hadn’t gone into work to do overtime that day. But no amount of wishing was going to bring him back.
‘It’s quite large,’ commented Gerald, walking around his car to get to the front. ‘Large enough to …’ he pulled open one of the doors. It creaked on his hinges. ‘Store a car.’ He turned around and looked at Abigail.
Abigail stared into the gloom of the wooden structure. There were shelves of odds and ends, tools, boxes of screws, nails. But what Gerald was looking at was the shape of a car beneath a tarpaulin-like cover. ‘Did you realise there was a car too?’
Abigail shook her head. ‘I don’t remember anything in the will.’ But then she hadn’t been paying attention.
Gerald’s eyes drifted to the lighthouse. ‘I suggest you fetch the will and check, just to be sure.’
Abigail followed his gaze. Thinking of her crotchety neighbour, she agreed. ‘What if this belongs to him?’
