Abigail switched off the lights in the window and opened the door. Gerald was waiting for her. She was used to seeing him in his bright yellow fishing overalls, reeking of fish. It made a change to see him dressed in baggy grey cords and a blue jumper pulled tight over his large frame. Abigail smiled at his brown cloth flat cap. He never left home without it – or his pipe. He took the pipe out of his mouth when he saw her.
She’d barely stepped out of the door when he enveloped her in that big bear hug of his. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve missed you!’
‘I’ve missed you too, Gerald.’ She didn’t have to look up to know he was frowning. Ever since she was little, he’d wanted her to call him Dad. She wouldn’t, telling himyou’re not my dad.When she looked back, she realised Gerald had spent a lot more time with her than his own daughter, her younger half-sister, Emily. He might have been overcompensating because he knew he wasn’t her father.
Perhaps it was because she was older, but when she looked back, she realised that this hadn’t changed as Emily grew up. She felt guilty for the way she had behaved as a teenager towards him and Emily, as though they were her enemies. It was jealousy, pure and simple, for the fact that Emily grew up with her real dad, and she did not.
It had taken moving away to London at eighteen, and never coming back, to realise that something Emily had once said was true:If it wasn’t for you, perhaps I’d be closer to my dad, but you were always there, getting in the way, his favourite.
Abigail had never once looked at it from Emily’s point of view. She’d never considered the possibility that, although she was his stepdaughter, she was his favourite. She had treated Emily appallingly growing up, not speaking to her, not being the big sister she could have been. And yet Emily had always just stood there and taken it, still looking up to her, wanting to be like her, always hanging around outside her bedroom hoping for a kind word or a smile from her big sister.
Abigail cringed when she thought of the day she’d left Suffolk, heading to London to take up her university place. Emily had wanted to visit her in London. She had wanted nothing more than to have an adventure visiting her big sister, just the two of them out and about around London, without their parents in tow. As the youngest, and Gerald’s only child, she’d never had the freedoms that her older step-brother and Abigail had enjoyed. Abigail was lucky to have a brother who was older by two years. He was very protective. It meant she could go out with her friends, and she was popular because she knew all his friends; it meant that anyone who was friends with her could get introduced to boys.
The day she left for university was the day she had told Emily she would be quite happy if she never saw her again, or the guesthouse where she’d grown up.It had been a horrible thing to say. Looking back made her feel awful.So, she’d lost her father at sea, but she’d had a happy childhood. The only thing that had spoiled it was her own bitterness and jealousy, which was completely unfounded.
In fact, if she’d lost Gerry, Abigail would have had far bigger issues. It had been her secret fear, growing up, that something would happen to Gerry, too. She was relieved he had stepped down a few years back from his work with the RNLI. She felt that his job as a fisherman, going out to sea in all weathers, was not without its risks. But when her brother had volunteered, that had been the last straw. Abigail hadn’t been able to wait to get away to London, away from the unforgiving sea.
Abigail was back to thinking about her teenage years before she left for London. Because of her behaviour, she’d lost her sister. They hadn’t spoken since. Emily had been there at Toby’s funeral. She’d sent her a card of condolence, but avoided her during the small gathering at their flat afterwards. Abigail wasn’t surprised. Emily spent the time sitting on the sofa, wedged between Gerald and their mum, looking uncomfortable, like she couldn’t wait to escape. Abigail didn’t blame her.
This was the reason she had shied away from going back home. She wasn’t proud of who she’d been back then, but there was no going back and changing things. But after all this time, she was looking forward to seeing her brother and her mum. It had been too long. They had visited her in London, but the last time, at the funeral, had not been the occasion to have a catch-up.
Gerry let go of her. ‘Now, where are your suitcases?’
‘Ah.’ Abigail stared at him. She hadn’t put him, or any of her family, in the picture regarding the cottage she had inherited. Gerry was under the misapprehension that she’d just arrived and that he was taking her back to the guesthouse to stay.
‘As soon as you called, we had a room on the top floor all made up for you.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have. Guests like staying in the top-floor bedroom with those views.’ It had a large dormer window that looked out over the beach.
‘Ah, that’s not the one we’d made up for you. Emily is using that room. You’ll be staying in the bedroom at the back. I hope you don’t mind. You’ll still have the lovely views of the garden.’ As if reading her mind, Gerald added, ‘We had a cancellation and kept the room free so you could stay.’
‘Oh Gerry, you didn’t have to do that. In fact, you shouldn’t have.’ Abigail turned around and locked the shop door before she forgot.
‘Have you already booked in somewhere?’ he asked.
Abigail turned back to face him. He watched her put the key in her handbag. ‘You’re staying with your friend, Lili, aren’t you?’
Abigail shook her head. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘Good, because I wouldn’t want to think you’d prefer to stay with your friends than come home to us.’
Abigail pursed her lips and linked her arm in his. If it hadn’t been for the cottage, she imagined that was exactly what she would be doing – staying with Lili.
They started walking out of Cobblers Yard. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I’m surprised I’ve never found this place before.’
‘Yes, it’s a nice little place, isn’t it?’
‘It has a lot of atmosphere. The antique shop looks interesting. I think I’ll pop along when it’s open.’ They walked out of the yard and approached his car, a modern, practical hatchback.
As he opened the car door, he said, ‘So, I take it you aren’t staying with us?’
Abigail shook her head. ‘I’m not staying with a friend either, though, if it makes you feel better.’
Gerald glanced up the street.
She knew what he was thinking. ‘No, I’m not at The Anchor Inn either. Do you think I’d stay there, knowing the rabble that props up the bar on a Friday night?’ It was a joke. Gerald knew she was talking about him and his fishermen friends. He burst out laughing, chortling and guffawing, making her smile.
‘Okay, I’ll bite. Just where are you staying? Ah,’ his eyes went wide. ‘You’ve got a room in that posh hotel in Southwold.’
Abigail shook her head. ‘Close. It’s not the posh hotel though, but it is in Southwold.’ All of a sudden, she had an idea. ‘I want to take you somewhere.’
‘Is it on the way home?’
‘Well, kind of. We just have to go on a little further up the road to Southwold.’
Gerald sat in the driver’s seat and put his pipe in his mouth, staring at Abigail. ‘What are you up to?’
Sitting next to him in the passenger seat, Abigail smiled. ‘I have something to show you.’