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Chapter 21
Abigail opened the door to the study. She was expecting a grilling, and for Lord Somerville’s son to be there too. What she got was a single young lady, a couple of years older than herself, perched on the edge of the desk. She was smiling and appeared not at all dragon-like. In the lift, the housekeeper had told Abigail, in a hushed whisper, a bit about Carys; she was single, thirty-seven, no children, and back living in the Hall after an acrimonious divorce.
What Abigail had expected when she walked into that room was an unhappy, moody young woman who, perhaps, had let herself go after splitting from her husband. The ready smile, the glossy long brown hair, the makeup and the figure-hugging trouser suit were at odds with the image she had in her mind.
Carys stepped forward and held out her hand. They shook hands, and Carys placed a hand over Abigail’s as she said, ‘Welcome to Somerville Hall, Abbi. Oh, sorry, is it Abigail or Abbi?’
‘It’s Abigail.’
‘Fantastic. Now, I know you’re only with us for a short time, which is a shame, by the way, but we are so happy that you have joined our family.’
Abigail didn’t know what to say. After Lord Somerville’s attitude to his employees, this wasn’t what she’d expected. Why hadn’t the housekeeper told her that the daughter was so nice?
‘Here, take a seat, please.’ Carys pulled out a leather upholstered chair in front of the desk. Carys sat in the one next to her. ‘So, tell me all about yourself.’
Abigail’s smile faded. She didn’t want to talk about her life to a complete stranger, although it wasn’t Carys’s fault. She was going to get a bit more than she bargained for with that question. ‘I grew up in the area. My mum and stepdad run a guesthouse down the road.’
Carys smiled. ‘Yes, I’ve heard of the guesthouse. A lovely little place in Shingle Cove. You know I have recommended it in the past to my friends for the perfect little getaway in Suffolk.’
Abigail smiled. It was sweet of her to have done that.
‘I left for London, went to university and … and got married.’
Carys was still smiling.
‘Then …’ Abigail looked at her hands, ‘My um … I lost my husband. He died.’ Abigail looked up. ‘I’m a widow. I returned here because …’ She stopped, realising she’d nearly brought up the cottage – her husband’s unexpected legacy, and now hers.
Carys looked stunned. ‘I’m so sorry, you don’t have to explain.’ She leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Abigail’s shoulder. ‘How about a nice cup of tea?’
Although she’d just had one down in the basement kitchen, Abigail nodded her head. It was surprising how keeping busy and occupied kept the overwhelming grief that threatened to engulf her at bay. Toby was never, ever far from her mind. Talking about grief might work for some people, but for her it just brought it all back.
Abigail expected Carys to ring for the housekeeper or some other member of the staff to bring up the tea. Instead, she spotted a kettle, mugs, tea bags and sugar on a tray. In the small fridge beneath was some milk and some chocolate biscuits. Carys offered her one when she walked over with the tea. ‘I found my brother’s secret stash at the back of the fridge. Wondered where they were. He’s often working late in the study. I come in here in the morning and find biscuit crumbs, but he always denies he’s got a packet of McVities.’ She smiled. ‘Take two, why don’t you? Serves him right for not sharing.’ She grinned.
‘Dark chocolate digestives are my favourites,’ said Abigail.
‘His too.’
Abigail wondered why Carys was looking at her with a strange expression; they couldn’t be the only two people in the world who liked dark chocolate digestives.
‘I prefer milk chocolate,’ Carys added as an afterthought. ‘Anyway, look, I’m sorry about …’
Abigail waved it away with the flick of her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. How were you to know?’
‘Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? As your employer, we should know these things.’
There was an uncomfortable silence in which Abigail didn’t want to say it, but she agreed. She remembered what the housekeeper had said, which was to keep her mouth shut. but something was on Abigail’s mind. As Carys had brought up the subject of being aware of things as far as the staff were concerned, she had to bring it up. ‘Do you mind if I tell you something?’ It was a stupid thing to say. How would Carys know if she minded if she had no clue what she was about to say?
Carys put her mug of tea down on the desk and leaned forward in her chair. ‘Please, if there’s something on your mind, you can always tell me.’
‘Well, I was chatting to some of the staff during our tea break.’ Abigail hoped she didn’t ask who. If she did, she’d say she’d forgotten their names, even though she hadn’t; she didn’t want to get anybody into trouble. ‘I think they’d prefer to sit somewhere a little less cold and damp.’
‘Cold and damp?’
‘The kitchen in the basement. That’s where they have their breaks. There’s one picnic bench in the parking area around the back of the house, or they sit in their cars. Isn’t there anywhere else they could sit? I have to say this place is a bitUpstairs, Downstairs.’Abigail cringed, averting her gaze, wishing she hadn’t saidUpstairs, Downstairs.It just came out.
‘How long have you been here?’
Abigail said in a small voice, ‘I started today.’ She quickly added, ‘I know, you’re thinking,what does she know?’
