A Is for Abigail (6 page)

“Right,” said Stan, breaking the silence. “I’m going to return to the station and collect my car. Then I’ll come straight back and take the three of you home.”

“I’ve chores to do outside,” said Archie tactfully. “It’s time I got the tractor out, those fields won’t plough themselves.”

He hurried out of the door, grabbing his coat and boots on the way.

“I’m going to check the ewes and collect the eggs,” said Emily, zipping up her jacket and pulling on fingerless knitted gloves. “Help yourself to tea or anything you want.”

It was unlikely that either Aiden or Abigail heard her kind words or saw her leave the kitchen, they were still staring at each other, speechless.

Aiden sat down heavily.

“Abs, I’m so sorry…”

Abigail stared back at her husband with ice-cold eyes but her hold on the baby didn’t loosen. She felt as if a claw had grabbed hold of her heart. She suddenly recalled the old gypsy’s words.

Be warned … you may feel as though your heart is being ripped from your chest.

Eventually she managed to force out some words. Her tone was flat, expressionless.

“I don’t understand.”

“Abs, everything is my fault, and I’ve behaved appallingly. If you never forgive me, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.”

“You know how I’ve been working flat out on the contract… I’ve been away from you and Sixpenny Cross so much. I know that’s no excuse, but I kind of lost my way.”

“Explain.” Abigail’s eyes were narrow and flinty.

“I’m so sorry, Abs. I had an affair.”

“Go on.”

Aiden was gabbling now, eager for her to understand but mortified at having to confess.

“I had to work really closely with a woman called Martha Guttman, and we just kind of began a relationship.”

Abigail snorted.

“Martha is American. We had a relationship, well, just a brief fling really. I don’t think we ever had any strong feelings for each other. It didn’t last long.”

“How could you!” Abigail spat. “Didn’t she know you were married?”

“Yes, but she didn’t care.”

“Neither did you, it seems.”

“Abs, I’m so sorry, so very sorry. It should never have happened.”

“No, you bet it shouldn’t.”

“And then,” Aiden took a big breath, “then Martha announced she was pregnant. It was a big shock, to both of us, especially as we weren’t even romantically involved. She was horrified and insisted on having an abortion, but I couldn’t bear the thought of that. I persuaded her to have the baby, and then sign it over to me. She didn’t take that much persuading as Martha’s main interest in the world is money. So I offered her a lot, and she agreed to the deal.”

Abigail simply couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had the world gone crazy?

“She gave her daughter away for
money
?”

“Yes, Martha is like that. She doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She hated being pregnant, but she looked on it as a lucrative nine-month job. And she hated England, couldn’t wait to get away when the baby was born and our work was over.”

“I still don’t understand. What were you planning to do with the baby?”

“At first I thought I’d just tell the truth and bring the baby home to you.”

“That would have been the right thing to do.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t face telling you I’d had an affair. I was so ashamed.” Aiden buried his face in his hands. “And so I hatched a plan. One weekend when I was home, I took Sam for a walk in Sixpenny Woods and visited the travellers. I introduced myself to Bufniță and I told her to get you into conversation and persuade you to come to Sixpenny Woods at an appointed time. I told her that you were very kind-hearted and gullible, and that you’d probably give her your watch if she asked for it, in exchange for information.”

“It was you! You set Bufniță up! You told her to ask for my watch?”

“Yes. If you hadn’t given it, she’d still have told you to go to the woods at an appointed time. I had already given her a lot of money and promised her more if you didn’t give her your watch. I just thought you’d be more likely to turn up if she’d taken your watch.”

“Did she know about the baby?”

“No, nothing. I just told her to get the gypsies to move on as soon as she’d got you to agree to go to the woods the next day. I needed the coast clear so I could leave the baby there for you to find.”

“How
could
you! What if I hadn’t come to the woods? What if somebody else found her? What if animals attacked her?”

“I was there watching all the time. You didn’t see me. I was worried that Sam would see me though.”

Abigail remembered the sound of a car driving away at the time. And hadn’t Daisy said that she thought she’d seen Aiden’s car?

“And the delivery? I suppose you ordered all that baby stuff?”

“Yes.”

“You disgust me.”

“Abs. I’m sorry.”

“You had an affair. You lied. You cheated. You schemed and manipulated.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I can ever forgive you for this.”

“Abs...”

“You betrayed me.”

“Abs…”

“You tricked me into falling in love with your baby.”

“Abs, she could be
our
baby if you’d only forgive me,” he begged. “I’ll do anything, go to counselling, anything. My brief affair with Martha made me realise how much I love you. What a fool I’ve been!”

“I can hardly bear to look at you.”

“Abs…”

Aiden’s eyes beseeched her and his hand snaked out across the table to reach hers.

“Don’t touch me! I told you, I can’t even bear to look at you.”

Abigail looked down at the baby and stroked her soft cheek with one finger. Her mind was in turmoil. She began humming a tuneless song.

aaaaa

Martha paid for the postcard and walked out of the store. Central Park wasn’t particularly busy, and she headed for an empty bench, her high heels and the sway in her walk attracting the attention of several men in the vicinity.

She pulled the lid off her pen, thought for a moment, then wrote a sentence. Then she wrote the destination address on the other side. She had no trouble remembering it.
12, Sixpenny Lane, Sixpenny Cross, Near Yewbridge, Dorset.
Gee, what a darned stupid address!

A sparrow hopped a few feet away, searching for fallen crumbs from picnickers’ packed lunches. Two fledgelings hopped behind her, beaks agape in hope. A pair of joggers ran by, then two young mothers, deep in conversation, pushing strollers. She watched them until they were out of sight.

She read her message again, nodded with satisfaction then slipped the postcard into the nearest mailbox.

Stan wrapped his hands round the mug of tea his wife had handed him. Last night, when Aiden Martin had admitted to his affair and to being the father of the baby, Stan had been very surprised.

“Good gracious! Well, that’s not what I expected!” Sally had said, just as surprised as he was.

Stan had just returned from delivering Aiden, Abigail, and the baby back to their house in the lane.

“So what happened when you drove them back to their house?” Sally Cooper wanted to know now.

“They were hardly speaking. Mrs Martin looked as though she was in shock. And Mr Martin just stared out of the window. When they got out of the car, they were very polite, but you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.”

“Who was carrying the baby?”

“She was.”

“Good. She hasn’t turned against the little mite then. Babies have a way of bringing people together. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

aaaaa

Several days had slipped by since Aiden’s revelation. In spite of what he’d done, it was hard for Abigail to simply stop loving her husband. True, he’d lost her trust, and she was still furious, but Aiden was her husband. She knew him well enough to know that he was genuinely distraught and desperately sorry for what he’d done.

In his favour, he was gentle and attentive to her at all times, and clearly adored Tiffany.

Perhaps time would heal her hurt.

Aiden came into the room.

“Good news! I’ve just been talking on the phone to the company. They’re still thrilled about the contract being secured. I suggested that in future, I work more from home, and only go up to London for meetings. My boss was quite happy with that idea.”

Abigail looked at him.

“That means I’ll be home much more. I can help you, and be with you and Tiffany. Only if you’d like that, of course.”

Abigail paused before speaking.

“Yes, I think I’d like that,” she said at last.

Aiden stooped to drop a kiss on his daughter’s head and, with a new spring in his step, headed back to the room he had converted into an office.

On the front doormat, something brightly coloured caught his eye. He picked up a postcard and stared at the picture before turning it over to read. It was a New York city skyline, instantly recognisable by the Empire State building and Twin Towers. His heart lurched. He knew only one person in New York. Turning it over, he read the message.

I’m beginning to have second thoughts about giving up the brat.

Oh no! What did it mean? Was Martha going to become a nuisance? She’d made it very clear that she didn’t want to be saddled with a baby and he’d paid her handsomely. What was she playing at?

What to do?

Nothing, he decided. Except to phone the telephone company to get her calls blocked, just in case. Perhaps this was just another of Martha’s malicious games.

aaaaa

Time is a great healer, and slowly, slowly, as the days passed, Abigail’s broken heart began to mend itself. She brooded about Aiden’s betrayal a little less each day and her time was taken up with the joy of raising Tiffany.

Together, she and Aiden set up Tiffany’s nursery and established a routine. Any outsider might have thought they were the perfect little family.

Aiden dared to hope that one day, Abigail would forgive him.

The only fly in the ointment was Martha. The woman was so spiteful and unpredictable. Every day he listened for the postman’s footsteps on the gravel drive and made sure he was the first to pick up the mail.

The next postcard showed the Statue of Liberty against a clear blue cloudless sky. Little boats dotted the island around it. The message was terse.

Blocking phone calls from me won’t work because I know where you live.

Aiden’s heart went cold. Could she take Tiffany back? Or was this just another ploy for more money? Should he tell Abigail?

No, he decided, it would destroy her.

Weeks passed and things were going well between them. No more postcards arrived and Abigail seemed to be warming to him a little more each day. Next week was her birthday and he had made big plans to surprise her.

On the morning of her birthday, a timid tap on the bedroom door woke Abigail.

“Come in...”

“Happy birthday, Abs.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course.”

Aiden came in, carrying a beautifully arranged breakfast tray complete with a tiny vase of primroses.

Abigail sat up sleepily.

“Gosh, that looks wonderful! Thank you.”

“And I have something for you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny gift-wrapped box and placed it on the tray.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Abigail tore off the paper and opened the box. It was an exquisite Tiffany eternity ring. She gasped and looked at Aiden.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I had it engraved, although the writing is so tiny you may need a magnifying glass to read it. It says ‘You are my world - A’. I want you to know how sorry I am and that I will love you and Tiffany forever. I want you to think of that whenever you see the ring.”

“That was a lovely thought,” she said, slipping it on her finger with her engagement ring and wedding band.

Aiden smiled down at his wife. She smiled back.

“Now go and get another plate,” she said. “Help me eat this lovely breakfast. There’s far too much for one, and hurry up because Tiff will be yelling for her breakfast in a minute.”

Abigail never forgot that birthday. It was a beautiful day, and they went for a walk along the lane. Aiden pushed the pram and Abigail held Sam’s lead. The grass verges were lush and green, and wild flowers peeped at the little family as they passed.

Archie Draper saw them go by from a distance and smiled, making a mental note to tell Emily that all seemed well with the Martins.

Aiden cooked a romantic meal for two that evening. He poured sparkling champagne into glasses.

“To us, and the future,” he said.

“To us,” said Abigail, raising her glass.

Their eyes locked.

That night they shared a bed for the first time in months.

When no more postcards plopped onto the doormat during the following weeks, Aiden dared to hope that Martha had lost interest and would no longer harass him.

Life was good. Tiffany was thriving, and Abigail was beginning to regain her sparkle. The wound that Aiden had inflicted was deep, but she was healing.

Then one dark day, another postcard landed on the mat. A garish photo of Times Square stared up at him. Aiden picked it up, shuddering, and read the message on the back. This time it was a little longer.

I’ve made my decision. I’m coming to collect the brat. Be warned, no court in the US or UK would come between a baby and its real mother.

Aiden’s face was ashen. The thought of losing his baby daughter was unbearable. Should he warn Abigail and risk breaking her heart again? With a trembling hand, he placed the postcard with the others, hidden in his desk drawer.

Next day, another arrived, a picture of Brooklyn Bridge on the front.

I’ve booked the flight. I’ll hire a car at Gatwick and drive down to Ten Cent Dump. See ya!

Aiden needed advice and made a decision. He dialled Stan Cooper’s number at the police station.

“Morning, Stan. Aiden Martin here. I wonder whether I could pop down and see you for a chat? Something’s come up and I would really appreciate your advice.”

“Morning Mr Martin. Of course! Is it official business, or just friendly advice? I only ask because if it’s informal, instead of going to the police station, knock on our kitchen door and Sally will make us a cuppa. Sometimes three heads are better than two.”

“It’s just friendly advice I need, and a cup of tea would be nice, thank you. It’s about Tiffany.”

Plucking the postcards from his drawer, he slipped them into his inside jacket pocket and called to Abigail who was upstairs with Tiffany.

“Abs, I’m going to walk down to the village to post a letter. Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks, don’t think so. I’m going to try to have a tidy up here, otherwise Hilary will be very shocked when she comes back to start cleaning again next week. We’ll see you later.”

aaaaa

Aiden sat at the kitchen table with Stan and Sally Cooper.

“I took the liberty of filling Sally in on all the details,” said Stan. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Aiden shook his head.

“How is that little baby of yours?” asked Sally, smiling.

“She’s gorgeous, thank you, growing fast. Abigail is a fantastic mother. But the reason I’ve come is this...”

He drew out the postcards and handed them to Stan one by one, in the order in which they had arrived.

“They’re from Martha, of course. Tiffany’s real mother.”

Stan looked at each card, front and back, then passed them to his wife, who gasped.

“You see, I don’t know if she’s telling the truth, or just trying to frighten me to get more money out of me.”

“She certainly doesn’t sound very motherly,” remarked Sally.

Stan laid the postcards in a row, end to end, and sat quietly thinking.

“But can she really take Tiffany away?” asked Aiden.

“Surely she can’t,” said Sally. “Can she, Stan?”

Stan took a deep breath.

“Here’s what I think, for what it’s worth. I think Martha is probably trying to scare you into offering her more money. If that’s the case, you mustn’t pay her because it’ll never stop. She’ll always be asking you for more money.”

Sally and Aiden nodded.

“However, let’s say that, after all, she’s genuinely decided she wants to be a mother and take Tiffany back. I’m afraid it’s possible that she
could
claim the baby. But she can’t just turn up and knock on your door and expect you to hand over the baby. These things take time and have to be done officially. There’ll be DNA checks and paperwork to complete. Maybe even a court case.”

“You did well keeping these postcards,” said Sally, tapping the cards on the table. “They may be used as evidence later.”

“I suggest this,” continued Stan. “Keep me informed of everything. If any more postcards arrive, tell me straight away. And if she turns up,
don’t
let her in, just call me immediately.”

“Should I tell Abigail, do you think?”

“Judging by these postcards, Martha is very unstable. If she writes again, yes, I think you should tell Abigail. I think it’s only fair to warn her,” said Sally.

Stan nodded in agreement.

“With any luck, Martha will just give up, and you won’t hear any more,” he said.

aaaaa

The next day, the sky was black and storm clouds rolled in. Torrential rain fell, leaving great puddles in the lane.

In spite of the terrible weather, the postman crunched up the drive to deliver the mail. A picture postcard dropped on the mat. It showed a picture of Big Ben, and bore an English first class stamp. Aiden’s pulse raced as he picked it up.

Cooeee! I’m here! Gotten myself a car and should reach Ten Cent Dump tomorrow. Make sure the brat is ready.

Aiden checked the postmark. Yesterday! That meant that Martha could arrive at any minute!

He raced to the phone and read the latest message out loud to Stan.

“Right,” said Stan. “Make sure all your doors are locked. If anything happens, and I mean
anything,
inform me. And I think you should tell Mrs Martin.”

Outside, the storm raged. Giant raindrops pounded the windows and lightning flashed in the sky. Aiden walked into the kitchen where Abigail was rocking Tiffany to sleep.

“Can you believe this weather?” she asked, staring through the window.

“Abs, I need to tell you something. I didn’t want to, but it’s important.”

Abigail caught the urgency in his tone and looked up, concerned.

“What is it?”

So Aiden told her about the postcards, and his visit to Stan. He showed her the cards and saw her face blanche. He handed her the final postcard.

“The postmark means she’s on her way now,” he said.

Abigail’s hand covered her mouth in shock.

“What shall we do?”

“Stan says we should lock all the doors. She can’t take Tiffany, and we’re not going to let her into the house. If she turns up, we phone the police.”

Abigail’s face was white, but her jaw had a determined set to it. She nodded, clutching Tiffany closer to her.

“I think you should take Tiffany upstairs, and I’ll keep watch downstairs.”

As he spoke, the sky flashed white, followed by a terrific clap of thunder that shook the house.

All the lights went out.