by Mark Ayre
“They’re unreasonable people, these employers," Abbie agreed.
"So this team that supports you does so financially, as well as practically?”
It was obvious, which made denial pointless.
"So far as the Government’s concerned, I'm a freelance company growth and lead generation consultant with a small number of clients. My hourly rate is exorbitant but not unusual for a consultant of the calibre I purport to be."
“These clients are fake companies, I assume?"
“I think the term is shell corporation."
“I see. Shell corporations created by a single organisation, all so you can carry on saving lives, unburdened by bills or a mortgage."
“Possibly,” said Abbie. “They might support others like me, but in essence, yes: they pay me to save lives."
"Except," said Alice, "that's not all they want for their money, is it?"
Abbie drank a little more coffee. Said nothing.
"They also want you single, childless, alone. Presumably, they believe you're at your most efficient that way."
Still, Abbie said nothing. She tried to collect her drink but found her hands were shaking. Closing her eyes, she begged the tears not to come.
I know life is hard, Abbie. You wish there was more for you, and I do too, but you’ve been chosen for greatness. You can’t turn your back on that. You can’t have a family but think of all the families that remain whole and will remain whole because of what you do. Surely that’s worth your sacrifice?
Can't. You can't have a family. Ben had delivered the speech early in her training. On numerous occasions since, he had acted fast to crush signs of romance or attachment in Abbie’s life. Because he knew what was best for her. Knew she would never be as effective at saving lives if she was worried about a family back home. Before long, Ben would ask her to end things with Bobby. It was better she realised there was no future before he realised it for her.
Before she could stop them, the tears came. Raising her hand, she wiped them away as they rolled down her cheeks.
"Abbie," said Alice. "It doesn't have to—“
"Stop it. I've had enough."
And she had. Being polite went out the window. Abbie rose from the table, almost tripped over a chair and through tear-stained eyes, barely noticed the door from the kitchen open in time to stop herself running into the entrants.
"What's going on?" said Tony. Angry eyes went to his mother. Ollie didn't speak, but puppy dog eyes met Abbie's.
"It's nothing," said Abbie as Alice rose. "I was just leaving."
Tony turned from his mother and met Abbie's eyes as she dried them. As she forced herself to take a breath and be strong. He didn't know what to say.
"You can't."
This was Ollie. When Abbie turned to the teenager, his cheeks flushed, and he looked at his feet. Having risen, Alice had approached Abbie and her descendants.
"I was hoping you'd stay," mumbled Ollie. "We can't play games in threes. Need four as a minimum."
There was a hush. Ollie was embarrassed to have spoken up. Alice thought she might already have pushed things too far and didn't want to go any further. Tony was confused. Didn't know what was going on.
Abbie ignored the older two and focused on Ollie. Having seen the boy yesterday, she had thought he was nothing but a ball of hatred and anger. How wrong she'd been. He was a messed up kid with a mother who'd killed his father and driven a wedge between him and his grandma, then refused to offer any of the affection these two might have provided. Isolated him, essentially. It was no wonder he'd lashed out in the shopping centre when Abbie threatened Angel. As crap a mother as Angel was, she'd made Ollie utterly dependent on her.
Abbie's heart pounded. Could she really do this?
"Monopoly doesn't need four, does it?" she said to Ollie. "You might argue it's better with four than three, and I wouldn't take the other side because you'd be right. But you can't say it needs four, can you?"
"S'pose not," said Ollie, nailing the sullen teenager voice.
"You weren't going to stop at Monopoly, though, were you?" Abbie said, and Ollie's head tilted up. "Probably got some team games, and one on two wouldn't be fair, would it?"
"No," said Ollie.
"Would one or two be fair, Tony?" Abbie said.
"It would not," said Tony.
Abbie itched her cheek and let out a sigh.
"Annoying. I had things to do, but I suppose I'd better stick around. Sounds as though your day'll be a bit crap if I don't."
Abbie knew she was talking to Ollie as if he were a child. Most teenagers would bite her head off for patronising them. But Ollie had never been treated as a child. He didn't see the voice as patronising but affectionate, which was precisely what Abbie felt.
Though Ollie didn't respond, he beamed.
"You two had breakfast?" Abbie asked.
"Not yet," said Tony.
"You should, and I hope you're hungry because your mum/grandma cooked enough to feed every kid in the country. So, hop to it."
Still beaming, Ollie nodded and left the room. Tony hovered. Gave Abbie a curious, questioning look.
"You alright?" he said.
Abbie nodded. "Go on. Go eat. Then we'll play these bloody games."
Tony hovered a moment longer, then nodded, turned, and went to join Ollie. Abbie watched them go and, at first, did not turn back to Alice, who was right behind her.
Alice was building up to saying something.
"Nothing you said changed anything," said Abbie before Alice could speak. "My life is what it is. The people who support me; I need them, so they call the shots."
Whatever Alice had wanted to say, it was gone. She had nothing.
"I know you think you can talk Angel around, but I have to say I'm not convinced," Abbie continued. "And I need you to know, if I think she's putting innocent lives in danger, I will stop her. If she tries to kill me, as far from innocent as I might be, I will stop her. Do you get that?"
"I get it," said Alice.
"Whatever happens, life's about to get hard for that kid through there because as hopeful as you are, I don't believe tonight will go smoothly."
Abbie looked at Alice.
"I think there's a good kid in Ollie, lost inside all that anger and pain. So I'm giving him the next few hours, and I intend to ensure he enjoys them; that he has a good day.”
She looked at Ollie, now preparing his breakfast.
"Because after tonight, I don’t think he’ll have another one for a long, long time."
Twenty-Six
The sun was beginning to fall. Before long, darkness would reign.
Abbie left the living room, mumbling something about having had a great day and getting ready.
Trying not to lose control, not to race upstairs, she rushed onto the landing, into the guest bedroom. Ditching her clothes in an untidy pile, she grabbed a towel, turned on the shower.
Grabbing the temperature dial, she turned it up, up, up.
Hopping in, she let the water scald her skin, pressed her head against the cool tiles, covered her mouth with her hands and screamed into her palms.
Then, she began to cry.
Fifteen minutes later, Abbie emerged, turned off the water, wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped into the bedroom, where she found Tony waiting on the bed.
"Don't you have a room of your own?"
His face flushed. Clearing his throat, he stood. Abbie noticed one of her phones was by his feet and dragged her eyes from it. She didn’t know which handset it was. Maybe Bobby had texted again; maybe Ben. She wouldn't pick it up.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," said Tony. "I did knock."
"And I said come in?"
He cast his eyes to the carpet, shuffled his feet. "I was worried about you. Still am."
"Why?"
Crossing the room, Abbie grabbed her clothes. They weren't precisely party-appropriate, but they were all she had—no chance she was wearing another of
Alex's outfits.
"You seemed upset downstairs, and you rushed out so fast. Is it what Ollie said?"
"It's nothing," said Abbie. "There's nothing wrong."
"You should look in a mirror."
"What?"
But she did as Tony suggested, glancing across the room. The heat of the shower had left an unnatural pink glow on her skin, as though she might be radioactive. Though she felt no discomfort, it looked sore, bordering on painful.
"I'm getting dressed," she said. "Please leave."
"You've been naked in front of me before."
"Oh yeah, and that gives you permission to see me naked whenever you want, right? Such a male response."
She might have slapped him the way he stood back and looked away. It took him a few seconds to recover.
"I'm not like that, and I thought you knew it," he said. "I didn't mean to imply... I would never... like I said, I'm just worried. If it's what Ollie said—“
"It's nothing. Didn't I say that?"
"But if it was what Ollie said—“
"Which it wasn't."
“—I wouldn't worry about it. It doesn't mean anything. It was a slip of the tongue. Happens all the time, especially with young people. You must have had it when you were in school? Kids calling teachers mum or dad. Everyone laughs, but they get it doesn't mean anything. It's the same with Ollie, and to be honest, it's not surprising. You treated him more like a mother than Angel ever—“
"Tony," Abbie snapped. "Stop it. Just shut up."
"I'm only trying—“
"I know what you're trying, and it's getting on my nerves. I knew sleeping with you was a mistake."
With her words and her tone, she'd slapped him again.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That's the point; it wasn't supposed to mean anything. It was just sex. We were both in a bad place, we needed a distraction, but that's the problem with people like you. You have a bit of fun, and immediately your brain starts twisting it, telling you it means more. Well, it doesn't mean more, Tony. It doesn't mean anything, and neither do you. I've a job to do. I'm a bodyguard tonight, and you're nothing more than the son of my client. That's it, and tomorrow I'll be gone. We won't ever have to see each other again, and thank God for that."
Abbie was breathing heavily, her head beginning to pound. Tony looked to be on the verge of tears.
There was silence, and into that silence, Abbie poured self-loathing. Her skin was starting to hurt from the shower, but it was nothing compared to the internal pain.
"Tony..." She was unsure if she was going to try make amends or tell him to get lost. In the end, it didn't matter.
"You're not the only one who needs to get ready for tonight," he said. "I'll leave you to it."
Wiping his eyes, he stormed past her to the door, stopping halfway through.
"Oh, and it's message received, by the way," he said, turning back. "Loud and clear."
And with that, he was gone.
After dressing, Abbie released an almost silent scream of frustration and kicked her phone beneath the bed. Both actions made her feel better, if only marginally.
She went downstairs and poured herself a glass of water. She could hear movement upstairs where Ollie, Tony, and Alice were getting ready. Alone in the kitchen, Abbie fought the urge to flee for good.
She needed out. It was as though some force had sucked the oxygen from the house, and if she didn't escape, she would collapse and die. The pull of the front door was strong. Incredibly strong. But she was here to save Alice. With every minute that passed, the danger grew closer. For the next six and a half hours, she couldn't leave Alice's close proximity. Not for anything. Not until she was sure the danger had passed. Or she died.
Fighting the front door's gravitational pull, Abbie refilled her glass, from which she had drank half, and dragged heavy feet to the bar. Alice hadn't replaced the key behind the bar, but neither had she locked the balcony door. Abbie released herself into the blessed cold air of the coming night.
There was the sun, fat and deep orange. Half-hidden by the sea, it looked like God was dipping a biscuit into tea. The view was more stunning than ever. Abbie strode past metal furniture until her toes once more poked over the edge of the cliff. Until she was watching the sea smashing against the rocks below.
One day of fun, wrapped in the warmth of a family's love. It couldn't do any harm. That was what she'd told herself. What she'd forced herself to believe. She had enjoyed the various games, but it was okay. Throughout, she was sure she would still be happy to walk once it was done. There would be no lasting emotional damage.
Then Ollie said, Mum.
Abbie hadn't grabbed her heart, though someone had surely stabbed her with a blade.
Not wanting to upset Ollie, Abbie had smiled at him, said it was okay. She was sure her face was smooth, unreadable, as her mind raced and her stomach churned.
Because that was how she'd been treating him. As a mother treats a son. Only when he said it did she realise. That word (mum) transported Abbie back to that falling-apart sofa in her childhood home's living room, stroking the considerable bump that stretched her elasticated waistband to its limit. The baby kicked. It hurt, but Abbie loved it. He or she would soon be here. Despite her mother's negativity and disgust, Abbie couldn't wait.
Days before Abbie's due date, her baby was taken. A couple of years later, she lost Violet and responded by turning in on herself. When Ben found her years after and told her she would never be able to have a family, she had cried, but it hadn't been hard to accept, had it? Because Abbie believed, deep down, her chance at a happy family had been stolen with her baby. Violet's death had murdered hopes of any happiness. Therefore, it was a privilege to save other families. To enable them to keep enjoying the gift fate and the cruelty of humanity had deprived her.
Wasn't it?
Then Ollie said, Mum.
They had been talking about dispersing to get ready. A minute after Ollie's slip up, Abbie had made her excuses and left. Walked out, she thought. If Tony was right, she'd fled.
Bobby's smile.
Oh, it was all coming now. How long had Abbie lived, cloaked in misery and telling herself it was okay? Not lived, but existed. She'd told herself it was fine.
It wasn't fine.
Oh, shit, it wasn't fine.
She began to bend, to put her head in her hands. More tears were coming, but she stopped them and stood straight. An existential crisis was coming but now was not the time. Alice's life was in danger. Abbie had to put her focus on saving the birthday girl.
What came next, well... that was for later, wasn't it?
She turned and sighed at what she saw.
This was what happened when you allowed in emotional turmoil. It was unprofessional. It stopped you from noticing things that otherwise never would have slipped past.
Abbie never missed an oncoming attack. Never. Except when she was too busy unpicking the implications of her empty life to focus on her surroundings.
She turned and sighed at what she saw. Had enough time to twist, to put her back to the swinging metal chair.
Then it hit her.
Holding in the shout as pain shot up her spine, Abbie went down. By the time she landed, Gray had the metal chair back in the air. Damn, the guy was an ox.
With a whoosh of air, the chair came again. Abbie rolled. Dodged the worst of the blow. Metal caught her shoulder, and this time there was no containing the yell of pain.
Now on her back, Abbie's mind whirred. Reacting as each blow came would only end one way, and it wasn't with victory. She needed a plan.
Gray had twisted the chair. Holding it at the top, legs pointing down, he changed tactic. Rather than swinging again, which, let's face it, had to be knackering his arms, he raised the chair and brought it down legs first, presumably hoping to skewer her.
Abbie knew what she had to do. A slip up would mean death.
Twisting onto one arm, Abbie slotted
herself between the legs as the chair clanged onto the rock. Abbie rolled onto her back, looking at the grinning Gray, expecting him to lift the chair and attack again.
He didn't. Abbie heard rushing feet and knew Ariana was coming.
Then Alice's youngest living daughter was there, wearing a sleeveless white top, tight leather trousers, and black, heeled boots. She looked fierce. Might have looked beautiful, but the grief-crazed eyes conspired to ruin the effect.
Gray kept the chair fixed in place. Releasing a battle cry, Ariana began kicking Abbie's side between the chair legs. Her boot moved with surprising speed. To get so many kicks in, Abbie's attacker had to sacrifice some power. No matter, if she hit enough times, the pain would soon mount up.
Abbie twisted, moving towards the chair legs furthest from Ariana. As she went, she released her arms, moving them towards her assailant.
Who kicked her stomach, kicked her hand, kicked her chest. This last caused Ana to roar with insane triumph.
Then Abbie caught her boot with one hand, grabbed the ankle of her planted leg with the other, and yanked.
With a scream, Ariana went to the ground. Instinctively, Gray released the chair to tend to his lover.
"No," said Ariana. She knew what Gray abandoning his post would mean.
Gray returned, but Abbie had already launched the chair. The metal back slipped through Gray's finger as his weapon sailed from the balcony and into the sea.
Gray stared after the chair as though he couldn't quite believe what had happened.
"Don't just stand there."
This was Ariana. She was rising, but not as quickly as Abbie.
Gray faced his adversary as Abbie raised a boot and kicked his stomach.
He stumbled, but so did she. This close to the edge, Abbie teetered and almost went over. Heart pounding, she pulled herself back from the brink as Gray came again. Still off-balance, Abbie couldn't dodge his next swing and took a fist to the jaw. She ducked his arm, and this time he almost went over the edge. In normal conditions, Abbie would have spun with the blow. Used it to get some momentum and to escape her assailant's range. Upon landing, she could have sprung into action and launched her counter attack.