Chapter 4
Abigail caught Miss Watson glancing around her tiny lounge with its second-hand Ikea furniture. She suddenly felt the need to apologise for how shabby it looked. She and Toby hadn’t bought anything new in an age.
‘We’re trying to save for a deposit for our own place.’ Why was she talking as though he was still here? She stared off into the distance, still finding it unimaginably hard to comprehend that he was gone; their life together, their plans for the future snuffed out in an instant because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was back to thinking about the extra shift he’d agreed to do. He shouldn’t have even been there.
Abigail focused on the solicitor as she opened the file. Like Abigail had told Lili, she knew what was in there. And she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the sixty-grand death-in-service benefit from the NHS or the life insurance payout that would give her a fixed income for five years. She remembered he had opted for that rather than a cash lump sum. That way, he thought he’d covered all the bases if something happened.
Abigail remembered that discussion. She couldn’t survive in their flat in London on her income alone, even though the flat was tiny. The rents in London, no matter what type of property you lived in, were still exorbitant. Five years would give her enough time to get on her feet and hopefully meet someone else. That was his plan.
Abigail hadn’t wanted to hear it. She’d told him that if anything were to happen to him, that would be it. There would be no one else. She had avoided the talk – a necessary evil, especially in his line of work. It wasn’t as though he was a police officer, or even a firefighter, she’d reasoned. She’d thought he was as safe as houses as a paramedic. But he’d reminded her that he still worked in an emergency service, dealing with the public every day; who knew what he might encounter? Like a gang fight on Tower Bridge that escalated, leading to the death of a paramedic who was just doing his job.
‘So, let’s start with the property.’
Abigail had been staring off into space when the solicitor interrupted her thoughts. She stared at her. ‘What property?’
‘The one he left you in his will.’
Abigail rolled her eyes, thinking,god, she’s brought the wrong file. ‘Look, there’s been some mistake …’
Miss Watson slid an A4 sheet of paper along the coffee table towards Abigail. ‘At Benjamin and Hart, we don’t make mistakes.’
Abigail picked up the sheet of paper with her husband’s name printed clearly at the top. She slowly raised her eyes to look at Miss Watson. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t care if his name is on this piece of paper. There’s definitely some mistake.’
‘But your husband—’
‘I don’t care!’ Abigail was shaking her head from side to side. ‘Definitely a mistake.’
‘Well, there’s this.’ The solicitor produced another sheet of paper. ‘These are the deeds to a property that your husband—’
Abigail jumped up so quickly that Miss Watson stopped in her tracks. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Look, this is getting beyond a joke. You really are wasting my time and yours. I suggest you go back to the office and check your facts because this is most definitely not my late husband’s estate.’ There, she’d said it. He wasn’t her husband anymore; he was her late husband. She wanted to cry.
‘So, you’re saying you know nothing about this property in question that he has left you? The cottage on the Suffolk Coast called The Hideaway?’
Abigail gaped at the solicitor. ‘Did you just say The Hideaway?’ Abigail could feel the room spinning out of control.
‘Mrs Forrester?’
‘Abigail …’
The solicitor’s voice sounded as though it was coming from far away as Abigail watched the room fade to black.
‘What happened?’ Abigail was lying on the sofa when two faces came into view. Lili was kneeling by the sofa, holding her hand. She had a glass of water in the other hand. The solicitor was standing there flapping the file in front of her face.
‘I was reading the will, telling her about the cottage when … she fainted.’
Lili looked at Miss Watson. ‘What cottage?’
Abigail sat up and took the glass of water, sipping it slowly. She glanced at Lili. ‘It appears I inherited a property.’
‘From Toby?’
Abigail nodded. It was worse than that; she’d inherited The Hideaway. She handed the glass of water back to Lili, afraid that if she put it down on the coffee table, she might spill it over the paperwork. She reached over and picked up the official-looking documents. There was her husband’s name in black and white in the will and on the envelope containing the deeds. Abigail pulled out the title deeds and looked at them. Her name was on the title deeds. ‘I don’t understand …’
‘We transferred the property into your name as per the will.’
Abigail, her heart racing in her chest, said, ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that with my husband’s sudden … death, it’s still hard to come to terms with.’