‘How long are you here for, Mary?’ asked Darren, when the table had been finally cleared.
‘Well,’ smiled Mary, looking at Mr Kobe, ‘I was planning on two weeks, but I’m not so sure now.’
‘Oh,’ said Abbey. ‘What do you mean?’
It was Mr Kobe who replied. ‘My office manager has had to go to Serowe to look after a sick relative, so I have asked Mrs Jenkins, given her extensive previous business experience, if she would consider helping out until Mma Tau comes back.’
Abbey smiled and clapped her hands together. ‘I hope you’ve accepted, Mary,’ she said excitedly.
‘Well, let’s face it, I haven’t got anything to rush back for, and I wouldn’t miss out on this for the world,’ she said, smiling back at Mr Kobe.
They left the hotel and made their way back home. Abbey and Darren said goodnight to Phil and walked up the hill, hand in hand.
‘I think our Mr Kobe is quite taken with Mary,’ commented Darren. ‘Did you notice the way he kept looking at her and grinning like a Cheshire cat?’
‘My god,’ replied Abbey. ‘She’ll have him and Phil eating out of her hand in no time!’
Once inside, Abbey noticed her mobile flashing to indicate a missed call.
‘That’s strange,’ she said checking the call register. ‘I’ve got five missed calls, all from my father!’
Given that her father had never rung her before in her life, Abbey decided to phone immediately.
‘Hi Dad, it’s me. Sorry for ringing back so late. Is there anything wrong?’
‘Yes, I’ve some bad news I’m afraid,’ he replied.
‘Oh, what’s the matter?’
‘She had a pain in her chest and went upstairs to lie down… Anyway, it was quick and she’d gone by the time the ambulance arrived.’
‘Who? Who had a chest pain? Dad, you’re not making any sense!’
‘Mother.’
‘Mother had a chest pain? And what do you mean, she’d gone? Gone where exactly?’
‘She’d died. She was dead by the time the paramedics got here. I’ve just told you.’
‘What?’ Abbey was silent for a few seconds before the words finally came out of her mouth. ‘Mother’s dead?’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Day and night seemed to merge together for Abbey as she went into a state of shock. Darren quickly organised with Phil to take over at the AVP office, while Mary and Mr Kobe would look after the safari business. Abbey stayed at the bungalow and refused to see any visitors apart from Phil, who sat with her on the veranda. Neither of them spoke, but just having Phil and Darren around her was all she wanted or could cope with at the moment. Darren rang the airline and booked tickets for him and Abbey to fly back to Manchester that weekend.
This time, when Abbey emerged from Manchester Airport, spring was well underway. Flowers and bedding plants were in full bloom in hanging baskets and roadside beds. The cherry blossom stood out magnificently against the blue sky, and the sun shone periodically through the clouds.
A gentle breeze freshened her face as she walked up the path to the front door of her parents’ house. Darren squeezed her hand tightly as the door opened and her father stood in front of her. She stood and stared at him, wondering whether or not to hug him. Before she had a chance to make up her mind, he quickly stood aside and ushered them both into the hall.
Abbey introduced Darren and the two men shook hands.
‘I’m sorry to meet you under such upsetting circumstances,’ said Darren.
Abbey’s father nodded silently.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Abbey, in an attempt to break the tension.
‘Dad,’ said Abbey, once they were settled with tea and biscuits in the dining room, ‘what actually happened?’
‘I told you what happened on the phone. She said she had a chest pain and went upstairs. I heard a loud thud and when I got upstairs she was lying on the bedroom floor.’
‘I take it she had a heart attack, Mr Harris?’ said Darren, trying to help Abbey tease information out of her father.
‘Yes, they did a post mortem yesterday.’
‘Oh,’ said Abbey, shocked. ‘You never rang and told me that was going to happen.’
‘I didn’t think I needed to. It’s just routine, you know, whenever anyone dies like that.’
‘So, what did they say?’ pushed Abbey. ‘What did they give as the cause of death?’
‘I just told you Abbey, were you not listening? She had a heart attack.’
‘But it was so sudden,’ said Abbey. ‘No warning or anything.’
‘Well, considering she had a heart problem, I don’t suppose it was that sudden,’ Mr Harris muttered impatiently.
‘What do you mean, she had a heart problem?’ hissed Abbey. ‘How long had you both known about this?’
Mr Harris looked uncomfortably at the floor. ‘She was diagnosed about three years ago.’
‘Three years ago, and you never thought to tell me?’ she shouted as she got to her feet. ‘Your own daughter, your only daughter and you didn’t think I had a right to know!’
‘Abbey, calm down,’ whispered Darren, taking her arm.
‘No, I won’t bloody well calm down,’ she shouted in her father’s direction.
She stood and glared at him, before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Darren eventually found Abbey in the back garden, sitting on the bench in the sun. He sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.
‘Look babes,’ he said, kissing her on the head. ‘This isn’t going to be easy for anyone, and shouting at your father isn’t going to put anything right, or make the situation better.’
‘I know that, but why do they treat me like someone they barely know? What have I ever done that was so wrong? All I’ve ever wanted is for them to love me like a normal mum and dad, and do normal things, like go shopping with my mum, spend some quality time with both of them, talk about the things that go on in my life. Is that so wrong?’
‘No, not wrong at all. But maybe you’re going to have to deal with that later, after the funeral. Your Dad is barely coping himself. You can see that, can’t you?’
Abbey nodded. She knew Darren was right, but every time she looked at her father, anger welled up inside of her at his reluctance to show her any emotion, or talk about the sudden loss of his wife and her mother.
Somewhat apprehensive, she went back inside and tried to engage him in conversation, reading the cards of condolence that had arrived.
‘Who is this one from?’ she continually asked, as names cropped up that she had never heard of.
Her father quickly tired of her questions and, after mumbling his excuses, left the room, leaving Abbey standing alone in the lounge, none the wiser. She looked at the photographs on the wall of her parents on their wedding day, of her grandparents on theirs, and suddenly wondered if, maybe, they had been expecting photographs of her wedding to add to the collection. Apart from a school photograph in Abbey’s old bedroom, there was no other proof of her existence in the house.
The house itself seemed to be in a time warp. Nothing had changed since she was a little girl. The same furniture stood in exactly the same place, and the same curtains hung at the windows. It even smelt the same - a combination of furniture polish and a faint odour of over-cooked food.
As she wandered around the house over the following couple of days, she felt sadness as the memories of her childhood came flooding back. She saw a little girl with a few dolls, playing in her room, under orders not to make any noise that might disturb anyone, and not to come downstairs until she was called to the table to eat. Meals were always eaten in silence and involved eating off china plates and drinking tea out of china cups. She had been thrilled at being offered a glass of milk, or coke, whenever she was invited to one of her friend’s houses for tea. An invitation she was never able to reciprocate.
In retrospect, her parents had never managed to ge
t on the same wavelength as a child, or make any compromises in their lives to accommodate one. She had always felt as though she was in the way, and very insignificant in the scheme of things. It was only when she had started earning her own money that she had taken steps to rectify this in her own mind, as she overhauled her physical appearance with regular visits to the hairdressers, and bought a new wardrobe of clothes every year.
She had watched with envy the clothes her school friends wore, and dreamed of owning a pair of jeans and trainers. Abbey had not been allowed to wear jeans or short skirts, and her attire had caused many arguments in her teenage years as she had tried to leave the house, dressed the same way as her friends.
She had left school at eighteen, just after completing her A levels, preferring a more vocational route than an academic one. Her parents had been dismayed when she turned down unconditional offers from two universities and applied instead for the office junior’s position at Paradise Printing. She had married her boyfriend the same year and, when the marriage abruptly ended one year later, Abbey rented her own flat, and embarked on a quest for independence.
Would that have happened if she had been brought up differently? Had her parents been inadvertently responsible for her transition from a quiet, introverted child, into a confident, assertive young woman? These thoughts and many more meandered through Abbey’s mind as she tried to make sense of the situation, and take control of her emotions.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Over the next few days, Darren became an emotional walking stick for Abbey, as well as a means of keeping the peace between her and her father, as they tried to arrange the funeral and agree on what should be included in the service. The night before the funeral, Abbey lay in bed, staring into the darkness, when she felt the need to talk.
‘You know, I hardly knew my mother.’
‘In what way?’ asked Darren, turning over to face her.
‘Well, talking to the vicar today for instance. He asked me what her favourite hymns were and I didn’t have a bloody clue. I don’t know what her favourite flowers were to put on the coffin, and I have no idea about her friends, or who I am going to meet tomorrow at the church. In fact, what did she say to her friends about me? Was she proud of me, of who I am, what I’m doing?’
Abbey wondered if she would ever be able to come to terms with her mother’s death with so many unanswered questions. Time would tell, but she wasn’t optimistic and she wasn’t sure she would ever get any answers from her father, who seemed reluctant to talk to her. She closed her eyes, trying to force sleep to come to her, but was still awake when the hall clock chimed three times.
The next morning she was up and showered before Darren was awake. She brought him a cup of coffee and sat on the bed next to him.
‘Darren,’ she said, kissing him on the forehead. ‘I want to go back to Kasane, tomorrow if possible. When are the flights booked for?’
‘We’re not due to fly back until the weekend, but I can bring them forward if you want. Abbey, are you sure about this? I thought you would want to spend some time at home first, before heading back.’
‘This isn’t home,’ she replied. ‘Not anymore.’
Throughout the funeral, Abbey felt she was functioning on automatic pilot. The weather stayed fine and the sun shone, which helped to lift her spirits a little. Her mother was cremated in the village cemetery and Abbey had arranged for a small memorial stone to be placed in the garden of remembrance. On the coffin was a single white rose with a short, handwritten message.
‘Peace comes from remembering that only love is real.’
This was Abbey’s parting gesture to a woman who had played a significant part in her life, and now more than ever she needed to feel at peace from knowing that, despite everything that had happened in the past, her mother did truly love her.
‘Be at peace now Mum, please,’ whispered Abbey under her breath, as the coffin disappeared through the curtains.
After the service, she played her role as the dutiful daughter, shaking hands with everyone and making polite small talk with some of her mother’s friends and a few of the remaining living relatives. A buffet had been organised at a local hotel afterwards, and Darren divided his attention between Abbey and her father, who seemed distant and at times unaware of what was happening. Abbey had managed to get her father’s agreement that the flowers were to be sent to a local hospice, and all her mother’s clothes were to be collected by the British Heart Foundation, which seemed appropriate given the cause of her death.
That evening, as Abbey busily packed the suitcases ready for their return to Kasane the following day, Darren appeared in the bedroom and sat down on the bed, putting his hand on top of the case, causing her to stop what she was doing. She looked at him quizzically.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Abbey, you need to talk to your father before tomorrow. You can’t leave it like this! Plus, what about the reading of your mother’s will? Don’t you think he might want your support? Don’t you want to know what’s in it?’
Abbey didn’t reply, but stared aimlessly out of the window overlooking the back garden.
‘Look,’ pushed Darren. ‘We don’t need to be at the airport tomorrow until late afternoon, which gives us plenty of time to accompany your dad to the solicitors in the morning. Abbey, I know this is hard, but I think you need to put aside your pain and deal with this as a grown up, instead of a petulant child.’
She turned to face him, the look on her face a combination of anger and pain. Before she could speak, he took hold of her shoulders and looked directly into her face.
‘Listen. Before you bite my head off, just hear me out, OK?’
She nodded silently and looked down at the floor rather than at him.
‘I’m not saying you have no reason to be hurt or upset with either of your parents, and I think your father is going to have to compromise his position here, although I can now see where you get your stubbornness from.’
‘You should have met my mother if you think my father’s stubborn!’ she whispered, slowly raising her eyes to look at his face.
‘Like I said,’ continued Darren, ‘you and your father need to thrash this out and try to communicate with each other properly. I also think that you have the opportunity to turn this situation around.’
‘Oh, how do you suppose I do that?’
‘Talk to him, adult to adult, not child to adult. You’ve complained that they always treat you like a child, so prove him wrong. Your father is only continuing to behave the way he’s been programmed to over the last thirty-three years, and if you don’t start reacting differently nothing is going to change. Be there for him tomorrow; be calm and, if necessary, take control if he gets upset. You never know, the penny might suddenly drop, and he might start to appreciate you for who you really are. And yes, Abbey, I’m not blind - I do understand why you feel the way you do.’
Abbey stood rooted to the spot. The anger in her subsided and grief immediately took its place. The tears flowed uncontrollably and her body shook as she finally released the suppressed emotion from her system. At no time did Darren try to speak or stop her from crying. He just held her, letting the weight of her body rest on his.
‘She never knew,’ mumbled Abbey, her head still buried in his shoulder. ‘I tried to tell her, the last time I saw her, I tried.’
‘Tried to tell her what?’
‘That I loved her.’
Abbey agreed to postpone the flights until the weekend. Darren drove the three of them into town for the reading of the will. Her father and the solicitor were the executives and, as expected, everything was to be signed over to her father. Her mother had left Abbey an amethyst necklace, which she had always adored from being a child, but had never been allowed to touch.
‘I’d like to have it today if possible, Dad,’ said Abbey as they drove back to the house. ‘Also, can I have a look through some of the family photographs, and maybe take some of the three of
us back with me?’
Her father nodded absently in the back of the car but made no reply, preferring to look out of the car window and not in the direction of Abbey, who had turned around to face him.
At midday the following Saturday, the suitcases stood ready in the hall. Darren had booked a taxi back to the airport. Abbey was sitting in the dining room, going through a box of photographs that her father had eventually and very reluctantly retrieved from the attic. She put a couple into her bag and couldn’t help but think there were very few of her as a young child, or any family portraits. She comforted herself with the thought that maybe that sort of thing just wasn’t done when she was growing up. Yes, she was sure that would be the reason.
‘Abbey, the taxi will be here soon. Are you ready to go?’ called Darren, who was standing in the doorway holding her jacket.
‘OK, just coming. Dad, did you find the necklace for me?’ she shouted up the stairs.
Her father appeared on the landing.
‘I put it in an envelope, on the table. Didn’t you see it?’
Abbey walked over to the table, picked up a plain brown envelope and looked inside. She slowly turned to face her father and held the envelope out to him.
‘I want you to give this necklace to me,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said quietly. ‘You already have it.’
Abbey repeated her request, her heart now thumping inside her chest.
‘Dad, I want you to take the necklace out of this envelope and hand it to me personally. You haven’t even written my name on the front. This necklace is a gift from my mother, not a letter from a stranger to be left on the table without a word, in the hope that I might just notice it!’
He stared at her, looking slightly confused. He then took the envelope and handed her the necklace.
‘Thank you.’ She took the necklace, aware that her hand was shaking. ‘Dad, I know this is hard,’ she continued, determined not to let this opportunity slip by, ‘but you don’t have to be so guarded anymore in what you say or think. In fact, you’re going to have to start thinking for yourself again and make your own decisions.’
The Perils of Skinny-Dipping Page 19