Abby lay in her bed listening to the sound of her sister breathing as she slept. She knew she should sleep too but there was too much on her mind.
There were several ways this little venture could play out and Abby didn’t know yet where it was going. There were two things she was certain about: the first was that she had to finally put an end to a lifetime’s unhappiness, remove the thorn that had been forever in her side. The second was that whatever the final scenario turned out to be, Abby was aware she’d need Jamie’s help. It wasn’t beyond her understanding that there was a looming possibility of a custodial sentence somewhere down the line. It had to be avoided at all costs and she knew this was something Jamie was notoriously good at. His reputation as a defence lawyer was second to none.
That’s if it ever got to that. Abby was determined that this would not end up in any court.
She sighed and turned her mind to more pleasant thoughts. A smile came to her lips as she remembered the extraordinary discovery of the afternoon. The Camargue had been so beautiful, breathtakingly so. She’d never experienced anything like it and it would stay in her memory forever. The light, the glorious light on the pink wings of the flamingos and the grey-and-white horses. And their sense of freedom. Those horses were in their own utopia, away from humans, able to do as they pleased. A calm, simple life with no one to rely on for their survival.
It was all Abby had ever wanted for herself and she knew her extreme sacrifices had bought her independence, freedom from her mother. But she hadn’t actually planned on retiring quite so young. She’d originally thought of reducing her hours, maybe even finding another job. Of living her life more fully, taking a holiday, trying out new places, new experiences. Maybe even going out for dinner once in a while. Instead she’d stopped altogether and hidden herself away on a tiny, albeit beautiful island, where she couldn’t get out of the habit of scrimping and saving, just to make certain she’d have enough to last her until old age – which was half a century away. Perhaps even longer. No, the decision to retire had been sudden, unexpected. It had come out of fear.
FORTY-ONE
2018
The placard held up by the rep in arrivals readSomeone Special Singles’Holidaysin bold black letters and Abby cringed. If it had been possible for her to turn back around and head through baggage reclaim to the plane, she might have done just that, but then she would’ve had to explain to her boss how she ended up not taking a holiday after all and he would go on at her and HR would send some officious email and it was all too much hassle. It wasn’t even really a holiday, it was a long weekend, Friday to Monday, and she’d picked that weekend purposely as the Monday was a bank holiday, which meant she only spent one day’s leave. (She wasn’t allowed to sell them all, there were regulations against it, but she certainly wanted to max out her allowance.)
She walked over to the beaming man with the sign and was directed to a minibus outside Florence airport. As she stepped on board her heart sank further as she noted a collection of...she didn’t want to say oddballs – that was unkind. In any event, she was there too, but it was becoming clear to her that people who booked a singles’ weekend were not necessarily busy high-flyers looking to make like-minded new friends.
Abby took a seat in an empty row, nodding hellos at those she passed. One or two of the girls looked at her with a sharp eye of appraisal, clearly summing up the competition, and all of the men’s gazes were open and hopeful.
As she sat down, the man opposite, dressed in a black T-shirt and ripped black jeans, leaned across the aisle.
‘Hi, I’m Sean.’
She shook his outstretched hand, noting it was slightly sweaty. ‘Abby.’
‘What do you do?’
Flipping heck, it was one hell of an opening question. No warm-up at all, and the way he’d said it, it sounded like a test. Abby had the distinct impression she was about to be defined by her job.
‘Business analyst.’
His eyes remained blank, then he quickly covered with a knowing smile. ‘Cool.’
You have no idea what that is, thought Abby.
‘You?’ she asked.
‘I’m a music producer,’ he said faux-casually as he attempted to cross his leg and rest an ankle on the other knee, but he was hampered by the tight leg room and had to drop it to the floor again.
‘Oh yes? What kind of music?’
‘Bit of grime, garage, jungle. Some hip hop. I did Shanga Weed’s debut – you heard of them?’
She shook her head. ‘Sorry.’
He looked downcast. Or was it relieved? She couldn’t tell. But then another female boarder, a not unattractive blonde who cast her eyes over the bus looking for a seat, took his attention. Sean was about to indicate the space next to him when she slid into one at the front.Did she just swerve him?thought Abby, hiding a smile.
The blonde was the last to board and the rep opened with his effervescent welcome as the bus drove off. Sean took up where the rep finished, non-stop jabber the entire journey to the hotel, and Abby began to wish she’d had the foresight of the blonde woman and eyed up the seating arrangements with a little more nous.
There were a number of excursions organized that they were encouraged to sign up to –all included in the price!the rep kept enthusiastically reminding them – and later that day, after the welcome drinks, Abby found herself, along with about eleven others, following the rep around the highlights of Florence. They explored the Piazza della Signoria, taking in the Uffizi and the Palazzo Vecchio, outside which stood the vast copy of Michelangelo’sDavid. Abby was happy to hang back and listen and wonder at the genuinely magnificent buildings. She found she was even beginning to enjoy herself. As they gazed upwards at a spectacularly painted dome, or marvelled at a statue, Abby was increasingly aware of Sean zoning in on the blonde girl from the bus again, always within two feet of her, gesturing, talking. Even when Blondie moved away he managed to find her again, always at her shoulder. Abby amused herself as she noted how, as much as Blondie continuously batted him away, he kept coming back for more.
The afternoon wore on and they stopped outside agelateriain another picturesque square, where, unable to decide between chocolate and cherry, Abby went for both.
‘Lucky you don’t have to watch your figure,’ said Sean, grinning as she took her first lick.
He was proud of his ‘compliment’, Abby could see. She really couldn’t be bothered to explain to him how objectifying his comment was and, looking around for the blonde girl, Abby saw she was talking animatedly to another man from their group.
So Sean had finally been elbowed away and now she, Abby, was next in line for conquest. She started to wander off but, to her dismay, Sean followed. He made a beeline for her at dinner too and she had to endure two hours of how difficult it was handling ‘creative types’ in the music ‘biz’. Eventually she could stand it no more and went to bed. Served her right for being amused by poor Blondie being trailed earlier.
