Abbie's Gift (2 page)

As she walked, her anxiety grew and her emotions were running high, she felt that she wanted to cry... After about 10 minutes of walking and scanning every road she passed or crossed, at the top of the main road, she looked towards the hill on the outskirts of the town. The sun was casting a reddish glow across the sky; tomorrow will be a nice day she thought fleetingly.

For God’s sake, Peter where
are you
?

She felt herself getting angry now: he was probably already at home, having a shower, with a perfectly reasonable excuse for his lateness, waiting to explain that something had happened or simply admitting that  he had lost sense of the time. He would, of course, be sorry, and say he didn’t mean to have alarmed her. He’d no doubt promise again that he’d get a new watch battery that week!

She walked along the road, glancing into the houses she passed where lights had come on. Gaining a glimpse into other worlds and lives - one family just sitting down to an early evening meal - it almost cheered her to think that they too one day would be a proper family with children, she hoped.

She so wanted to be home now, with Peter safe, and again a shiver chilled her; she wanted to be safe inside their home together, with all worries and fears locked outside.

As the darkness rapidly began to descend, the night air grew colder, and she pulled her hands up into her coat sleeves to keep warm.

A few moments later as she turned on to the street opposite the entrance to the woods.

Abbie felt instant fear: her stomach knotted, and she felt almost physical pain. As she tried to breathe her heart raced and adrenaline pounded through her system… her head began to spin as she found herself running as fast as she could towards the police car parked at the entrance to the woods and to the two police officers standing behind a yellow taped-off area.

Chapter 2

The post mortem had found that the cause of death was due to a brain haemorrhage as the result of a circulatory abnormality called an arteriovenous malformation that would have been present since birth.  Although the death had been reported to the coroner, as was required in such circumstances, the coroner ruled that an inquest was not necessary, as the cause of death had been identified as having a genuine medical reason.  For this Abbie had been profoundly grateful, as Peter’s body had been released straightaway to the family.

It was reported that on Sunday, 15
th
October in the afternoon, Peter had gone running, a normal activity for him.   After a few miles he had entered the woods, as he had on many occasions before that day. Some 125 metres into the wooded area, it seems he had stumbled forward - a long scraping footprint was found in the soil on the pathway – and he had fallen to the ground some 10 metres further on.

His body had been found by an elderly man walking his dog; he had been approaching Peter from the opposite direction, but he had not seen him fall. He attended to him but could not get any response.  He did not have a mobile phone so he had gone quickly to a neighbouring house for assistance and called the emergency services. The police had arrived first, a few minutes later the ambulance. Despite attempts at resuscitation at the scene by the police and ambulance crew, Peter had been pronounced dead on arrival at the local hospital.

Abbie had arrived at the woods several minutes after the ambulance had left the scene. She could not recall hearing any 999 sirens …or had she?

The boyish-looking policeman would only tell her that someone had been taken to hospital following a collapse; when pressed further he admitted that it was a runner, a dark-haired man of about 30 years of age.

Abbie then knew what this meant.

She sat on the kerb by the police car, and felt a complete sense of bewilderment and detachment: should she cry or scream? She didn’t know how she felt or what to do. She had started to shake uncontrollably and a female police officer had assisted her, and somehow eventually managed to get from her mother’s telephone number and then called her to come and help. For Abbie this waiting had felt like an age, a lifetime, heavy with the intense crushing burden of anguish and sorrow and uncertainty.

Abbie couldn’t recall getting home, or what had really happened after this. Only memories of hysteria came to her. She was aware of a visit by the doctor at some point and of being sedated. She had slept, but for only a few hours. When she had awoken, Peter’s parents were there and she then knew the reality of the situation she faced. 

Sometimes now, even before her eyes opened in the mornings, the heaviness and sorrow would come crashing down on her.  

Then, in an instant, she jolted from her memories of the past and returned to the present, to a room full of people and to Kate, her best friend, kneeling at her side, her hand on her arm.

“Hello you”, she said, “You were miles away then, you ok? No don’t answer that, it was a stupid question”

“Hi, no I’m ok actually, honestly I am, I was just thinking things over”

“You’re allowed to” replied Kate, “you look better than the last few days, that’s really good”

Kate had visited Abbie on the evening of that day, when Rose had called her with the awful news. She had stayed awhile but felt as though she was in the way, with Peter’s mother there weeping continually.   Abbie had been inconsolable, distraught. Kate had left eventually when the GP arrived and administered something potent that calmed Abbie instantly and allowed her to sleep.

Kate had also called round each day after work, just to be there with her friend, despite the fact that she hardly responded to anything or spoke. Abbie had become a shell of her former self, hollow, empty and at times devoid of emotion but at others a complete whirlwind and torrent of sadness, uncontrollable, inconsolable in grief and tears. She had hardy eaten, hardly slept, not left her bed for several days, becoming a hermit under the safety of her duvet, refusing all visitors except Kate.

They were best friends. They had been since their teenage years. Kate was painfully aware that Abbie needed her support now more than ever; she needed to know that her closest people would come through for her, just to be there without words; that physical presence itself would be enough.

Abbie somehow found she was able to smile,

“ Thank you” she said, “you know I slept well last night, the best I have for a long time, and when I woke up this morning I somehow knew that today of all days, somehow I could find the strength to get through this, I have to for Peter. I realise now that I’ve been a total basket case these past few weeks, but I felt all I could do was grieve. I didn’t actually believe it had happened, sometimes I catch myself still thinking it’s a dream, no a nightmare in fact.  Somehow I’ve shifted into some ability to function; my head is all over the place but I’m managing.  Well, I did have a major howl again this morning but then slept and after that felt better, you know, not as emotionally distraught as I have been up to now.”

Kate wanted to weep and hug her friend, but contained herself.

”It’s a tragic situation, terrible for you, God knows how you’ve managed, but I know you’ll get through this”.

“So everyone keeps saying” replied Abbie, “What if I don’t want to get through this, I don’t want to deal with this?” Abbie’s voice became more fragile, and Kate felt on difficult ground.   “Trying is just too hard”. Abbie said, looking at her friend.

Kate didn’t know what to say, and it was then she really saw the fatigue, the pallor, the worn-out friend behind the mask that said to the world, “I’m OK”. It worried her again.

Just before 10.30 am, Abbie noticed that her mum was busy collecting the teacups and glasses taking them into the kitchen, and she knew then that it was almost time. A sudden wave of anguish crushed her chest and rose up to her throat, and she took a deep breath.  At that moment Peter’s elder brother Alan came over to her, and squatted next to where she sat on the chair. Strangely again she felt able to raise a smile for him and she went to speak but, before she could, he placed a hand on her arm and said “the cars have arrived.  They’re ready for us, it’s time to go.”

‘How could they be here?’, she wondered, she had not heard the door bell, then it occurred to her that someone -  maybe Alan - had been keeping a look-out to prevent the door bell ringing loudly and startling people.  The buzzer had always made a terrible din; how she and Peter had laughed about it as it often made them jump.

“OK” she nodded, “I’m ready, I think.”

Abbie was suddenly very aware of the silence that descended over the people in the room, as they  made their way out of the lounge into the hall and outside into the cold sunlight.

Although Abbie had said that she was ok, she really felt like running a mile, literally, but she knew that was not an option. Later she could run if she wanted, she thought, it would get rid of her adrenaline that was coursing through her system and help her relax a little. In the few moments that these thoughts came to her, she again realised that she had been detached from reality, because she found herself already helped into her coat and leaning on her mother’s arm as they walked into the brightness outside. She stopped abruptly when she saw the hearse with the casket inside, topped with beautiful white flowers in full bloom.

This was in fact the first time she had been out the front of the house since that dreadful day.  It felt and looked alien to her, odd, a strange, unfamiliar place. People had gathered on the pavement, their expressions solemn; for a moment, it was as if she was watching a film of herself walking to the limousine.

‘No’ she thought,’ this is real, my Peter is in that box,’ but then how could she be sure? After his death, she had not wanted to or been in any state to even consider seeing his body. The identification had been done by his father and brother.

She drew a deep breath before climbing into the waiting spacious car, which sat with its engine purring idly. Somehow, that extra oxygen in her body gave her legs the strength not to buckle beneath her.

The ride to the crematorium was only a few miles, but Abbie thought it seemed to go on forever, she even felt impatient at the slow pace of the vehicles. Initially nobody spoke; she gazed blankly out of the window. Rose sat next to her and didn’t remove her arm from her daughter’s.

In an odd way for the first time in many days, Abbie felt a strange sense of calm; she felt that she had shed every tear in the world, and was totally dried up. It was then, suddenly, she realised that she had no idea what was going to happen at the service. Her two weeks of hysteria had meant that all the arrangements of Peter’s funeral had gone on without her

“Mum” she said, “I don’t know what to expect, what’s going to happen?”

Rose gripped her arm tighter.

“Well”, she began, “Peter’s brother and his dad did all the arrangements. Although Pete wasn’t particularly religious in recent years, they decided on a C of E type service, as he’d been involved in the church, the Boys Brigade or something, when he was younger, so there’ll be a couple of hymns , a reading, a eulogy, that sort of thing”.

“But Mum I can’t speak”, Abbie said with a real sense of alarm in her voice.

“I can’t do it!”

“No love, no”, Rose replied turning to look into her daughter’s anxious eyes, “you don’t have to, one of Peter’s friends is going to do it, he’s happy to it, don’t you worry”.

Abbie felt that sudden sense of tension begin to decrease a little, and her heart rate somehow calmed down as the cars crunched over the gravel drive outside the small chapel.

Half an hour later Abbie emerged into the sunlight.  The service, full of words - descriptions, readings - somehow had penetrated her sorrow and grief at the way her life had changed, and it truly brought home to her what she had lost. It stayed with her; purposefully she had listened to the vicar, and hung on to the words of the reading from the New Testament, St John Chapter 14:

“
In my father’s house are many mansions…I go to prepare a place for you, that where I am you may be also
…”

Beautiful words of comfort she thought. Even when Stephen, Peter’s friend, had wept as he spoke, she had not shed a single tear, but listened intently to each and every word of praise and goodwill.

As Peter’s body was committed to God’s keeping and the casket moved through the purple velvet curtains she had not dared blink, as she didn’t want to miss one moment of Peter’s final departure from her sight.

As Abbie stood in the fresh air, with people milling round, she removed her arm from her mother’s; she felt comforted, consoled and able to stand up herself, not by being physically strong but in a way supported by the love of others who were around for her and also for Peter.  She also felt strong in the knowledge that they had loved and been committed to each other. Their five years together were now for remembering. Yes, it had only been short, but at least they had had that time together.

She no longer regarded herself as religious, but somehow felt a kind of spiritual peace had blessed her.

Although there were people around talking and touching her arm, kissing her cheek, she noticed beyond them the blueness of the sky, the whiteness of the clouds overhead, and even the smell of the neatly-mown grass lawns between the flowerbeds in the garden of remembrance.

Peter’s friend Stephen appeared and hugged her, and she kissed his cheek.  He still had tears in his eyes.

“Thanks for what you said; it was so lovely and kind, thank you”.

Stephen nodded, trying to stifle his tears; Abbie knew it wouldn’t work for him.

“It’s ok” she said, “I’ve cried so much, and continually. I just don’t seem to have any tears today, for some reason”.  At that point, Stephen broke down and put his arms around her neck, sobbing as he clung on, and she felt comforted again by this genuine outpouring of love for her Peter, it warmed her. A few moments later, Stephen’s sobs subsided, but words were still beyond him just now. A few others, some familiar, others no so, offered condolences and gestures of support.  Peter’s mother looked lost, so Abbie went over to her.  They had never really been particularly close, but this day Abbie felt that they knew and understood each other’s grief. They did not hug but allowed their hands to clasp together between them, signifying some type of long-lost mother-in-law / daughter- in-law bond, which now would never really exist.

Soon the funeral director was escorting the guests back to the limousines.  In a way, Abbie was sad to be leaving this tranquil place so soon, but she knew that she would return.

Everyone had more or less arrived at the same time at the pub, the Stag and Hare.   The first-floor function room had been booked, with a buffet and a drinks bar available for those who wanted something stronger than tea, that magic cure for all ills; not that it had helped Abbie much over the last few days.