Abigail: Chapter 4
Waiting for dinner to cook, I decided now was as good a time as any to check the phone for messages. Twenty-seven seconds later though I was seriously regretting my decision. My mother had the ability to make even the most resolute tee-totaler turn to a stiff drink and ever since Jonathan had left us, she’d only gotten worse. On a good day I would remind myself that it was only because she cares that she sticks her nose into every minute detail of my life. Today however was not a good day. Today had been a very long day and with Grace feeling a little delicate it was only going to get longer.
“Hello love, it’s only me, your mum.” A pause, as if she were waiting for me to pick up. “I guess you’re not there. I don’t know why you bother yourself with a telephone love, it’s not like you ever answer it. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to pop over with the girls, maybe have a spot of dinner. Give me a ring back when you have a minute.”
Not only was she a hopeless cook, there was no way I was going to inflict my two to dinner with my mother on a school night. She couldn’t be trusted not to say something completely inappropriate and embarrass one or even both of them. Nope, not today thank you. I pressed delete and shuddered. I’d have to call round and see her myself, I knew that, but anything was better than dinner.
I sniffed the air. Dinner! The fish would be just about edible if I covered it in a boat load of mayo but the chips were completely beyond redemption. There was only one thing for it, we’d have to scrounge some food from the pub.
“Girls?” I stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted. Mumbled replies told me they could hear me. “I’ve had a bit of an accident with the chips. Do you fancy food in The Bont?”
It was a stupid question and the sound of rapid movement followed by a pair of faces at the top of the stairs told me just how silly a question it really was. Grace, who until now hadn’t been hungry, was the first to make it downstairs.
“I thought you weren’t hungry?” I said with a smile.
She shrugged. “Am now.”
We waited for Louise to put her shoes on before the three of us linked arms and headed in the direction of the village pub.
Jonathan and I had moved to Gloddfa Bont when I was pregnant with the twins. I’d thought about moving the three of us somewhere new after he left, but having vowed not to make any hasty decisions, I promised the girls we’d give it six months. After the initial shock and gossip had died down, staying turned out to be brilliant for us and now there was little we enjoyed more than a meal together down the local. Even Grace had a smile on her face by the time I pushed the door open and led them inside.
It wasn’t until I woke up the following morning that I remembered why we rarely went to The Bont for dinner on a school night. I’m not much of a drinker but, being far too easily swayed by my teenage offspring, I allowed myself a small glass of red. If I’d stopped at the one or remembered to have a pint of water when we got in, I wouldn’t be staring down the barrel of a migraine but alas. The three of us functioned on autopilot that morning. Me, with the responsiveness of a slug and them, barely holding back the tears of laughter as they watched me struggle. Swines!
After waving them off to catch the school bus I made myself another coffee and curled up on the sofa with my laptop. Missy padded in and soon made herself comfy on top of my feet and I mentally checked slippers off my Christmas list. The next hour passed happily with me reviewing my notes from the day before. There was something quite unsettling about Abigail Rogers; I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was yet. My thoughts were interrupted by my mobile. For a split second I considered letting it go to voicemail but after glancing at the screen to confirm it wasn’t my mother, I took the call.
“Hello? Charlie Diamond speaking.”
“Is that plumber?” The voice on the other end of the phone was male and sounded like he thought he’d dialled a wrong number.
“Yep, speaking. How can I help?”
“But you’re a bird.”
I looked down at my fluffy PJs, considered making a comment about my lack of feathers but then changed my mind.
“Did you have some sort of plumbing situation that you needed help with sir?”
“Ai. It’s me shower. It’s stopped working and missus needs to get to bingo. I’d do it me self but need to get to work.”
“Will your wife be home in about an hour? If you give me the address I’ll come round and have a look at it for you.”
“Champion. Thanks lass.” He gave me his address and then hesitated. “Sorry about the bird comment.” Before I could reply he’d hung up.
At some point I knew I’d have to knock the plumbing business on the head. I was getting far busier with investigations and at least no one questioned my ability to do the job when they hired me to find their nearest and dearest, well, not very often at least, but there was something quite satisfying about the physicality of plumbing. Plus it was an excellent cover for when I wanted to go snooping around. No one gives you a second glance when you wander around looking official, you become invisible.
I drained my coffee and got dressed in my plumbing uniform of polo shirt and combat trousers, tied my hair back in a quick ponytail and, hangover forgotten, was out the door in ten minutes flat. Abigail wasn’t expecting me until later that afternoon so with a bit of luck I could fix the poor lady’s shower and still have time to nip back for lunch. If only my doubts about Abigail could be quite so easily resolved.