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‘Did you go to work this morning?’ she asked, noting Abigail’s office attire as she followed her into the kitchen. She had thought her friend was on compassionate leave.
Lili had visited Abigail’s flat frequently in the past, but less often since she’d moved out of London to live permanently back in Suffolk. Whenever she’d visited, Abigail had always offered an excuse for the hoovering that hadn’t been done, the laundry in a pile in the basket in the bathroom, and the kitchen and lounge that needed a good tidy. Lili understood. They had busy working lives and could have done with a cleaner but couldn’t afford one.
When Lili walked into the flat, she had never seen it looking so clean and tidy. In fact, it was so pristine that if Abigail had owned the flat, she’d have surmised it was going on the market to sell.
Lili followed Abigail down the hall, past the lounge. She paused in the doorway. The cushions on the two grey sofas had been arranged just so. The coffee table looked as though it had been polished. In fact, the whole flat smelled of a mixture of lavender furniture polish, window cleaner and another less pleasant smell – bleach. From what Charlotte had said about Abigail refusing to answer her door, she’d expected to find Abigail still in her pyjamas, virtually living on the sofa, surrounded by dirty plates and mugs, and with the flat, like her life, having fallen into complete disarray. She hadn’t expected this – Abigail looking after herself, looking after her flat and meeting friends for coffee.
Lili didn’t know who Sidney was, but when she’d arrived in the van and had seen Abigail walking down the street, for a moment she hadn’t recognised her. Abigail must have spent time putting on makeup and using straighteners to tame her long blonde tresses. Lili was used to seeing her when she wasn’t at work, in jeans and a baggy top, with minimal makeup and her hair scrapped back in a ponytail. All this wasn’t at all what she was expecting from someone who was grieving the loss of her husband.
‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, Lili?’
‘Um, yes, that would be great.’ Lili followed Abigail down the stairs into the basement kitchen. She’d just stepped off the bottom stair when she spotted broken glass on the floor. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh, I was cleaning the clock, and it slipped out of my hand. Why don’t you go back upstairs while I clean it up and make some tea.’
Lili looked at her in her smart navy trouser suit. ‘Have you got a dustpan and brush? I’ll clear it up. You prepare the tea.’
Lili insisted. She took off her coat and rolled up her sleeves. Abigail passed her a broom and dustpan and brush. Lili set to work, glancing from Abigail to the kitchen worktops that she’d never seen looking so clean and devoid of plates and dishes and ingredients that her friend hadn’t bothered to put away. Today, not only was the kitchen spotless, but the jars on the worktop had been arranged just so, reminding her of the cushions upstairs, and the tea towels had been neatly folded and were hanging on the handle of the cooker.
Once again, it reminded her of a show house being prepared to be put on the market. Abigail’s landlord would be impressed if he saw the state of the flat.
As Lili swept up the glass, she wasn’t feeling impressed – in fact, she was worried about her friend.Although she hadn’t wanted to find Abigail still in her pyjamas and her dressing gown on the sofa, in a state, not coping, in some ways this was more worrying; Lili thought she must in denial. She looked up at Abigail.When will the reality hit her?she wondered.
The kettle boiled as Lili emptied the last of the glass into the lined pedal bin in the kitchen. ‘I think I’ll tie this bag up and put it in your wheelie bin outside.’
Abigail glanced at Lili before pouring hot water into two mugs. ‘Oh, okay, that would be great.’
Lili lifted out the black bin liner, pulled the yellow drawstrings tight, and walked upstairs. She opened the front door to find someone on the doorstep about to ring the bell.
‘Ah, Mrs Forrester! So sorry to call around, but I haven’t been able to get through on the phone. I sent you a letter last week, but as you haven’t responded, my firm agreed I could make a house call.’
Lili stared at the young woman. She was dressed in office clothes and was carrying a briefcase. If she was from the estate agent and was wanting to do an inspection, Lili thought that Abigail could do without the intrusion, even though the flat was all spick and span.
‘I’m sorry, who are you?’
‘I’m from the solicitors’ office – Benjamin and Hart. We’ve been trying to get in contact about arranging a time for the reading of the will. I am so sorry for your loss.’
Lili stared at her. It was just as she thought; Abigail was in denial.
‘I’ve brought the paperwork. My boss agreed I could do a home visit – if you prefer. But if now isn’t a good time …’
‘It’s the perfect time. Just give me a sec …’ Lili ran down the front steps and dumped the rubbish in the wheelie bin, leaving the young woman standing on the doorstep. When she returned, she motioned for her to step inside. ‘Come through here. I’ll fetch Abigail.’
‘Oh, you’re not—?’
‘No, sorry. I’m her friend. Please, take a seat in the lounge.’ Lili led her into the room with the large bay window looking out on to the street. ‘Would you like a drink – tea, coffee?’
‘A cup of tea would be lovely.’
‘How do you take it?’
‘Milk, no sugar, please.’
‘Okay, great.’ That was just how Lili took hers. ‘I won’t be a minute.’ She was about to leave the room. ‘Um, can I ask your name?’
‘I’m Miss Watson from Benjamin and Hart.’
‘I’ll let her know you’re here.’
