Chapter 18

2005

Abi poured two large glasses of Pinot Grigio and handed one to Gideon. He hadn’t spoken since she’d finished telling him about the baby, and to judge by his face, he had a lot of questions to ask her. She sat down on the hearth rug again and sipped her wine. Eventually Gideon spoke without looking at her.

“So you never held her?” he said, so softly she had to strain to catch the words.

She shook her head. “No. They wouldn’t even let me see her. Looking back, that seems very wrong, but I was so young and so distraught I didn’t know any better.”

“Does she have a grave?” he asked next, still not looking at her. She didn’t reply, and eventually he glanced up at her. She was staring into the fire, her hair falling across her face. “Abi? Does she have a grave?” he repeated gently.

Abi shook her head. “No. The clinic ‘dealt’ with everything. I was so shocked I never even thought of that until ages later.” She paused, and her voice broke as she continued, “I asked my mother, and she told me they don’t bury babies that young, they just…dispose of them there.” With a sob, she rested her head on her knees. “And I believed her. I was so stupid!”

Gideon put down his wine and knelt on the floor beside her.

“Don’t blame yourself. You weren’t stupid. You were young. Much too young for all that.” He paused, and his face grew dark. “It seems everyone took advantage of that. Oh, that must have suited your mother just fine. It meant she didn’t need to force you to give up the baby.”

Abi raised her head and looked directly at him.

“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind that she killed her,” she said bleakly. “But I guess even she would stop short of murder.”

“What happened next?”

She shrugged. “Judy and her mother turned up at the clinic just as we were leaving. They’d finally managed to track me down.” She gave a tiny smile. “I think Judy was almost as upset as I was. She blamed herself for not being there. Stupid, of course. Then my parents took me home and made me get on with life as though nothing had happened.” She gave a short mirthless laugh. “I went back to school the next week and stayed there until I passed my A levels. Then in September of ’97 I went to Art College in Bath and never went back to my parents’ house again. Until last week, for her funeral.” She glanced up at him. “Same day you quit the band.”

Gideon leaned back against the sofa and stretched his long legs out towards the fire. He gave a heavy sigh and took a long swig of his wine.

“Hell of a week,” he said with a lopsided grin. “If I’d known it would end like this, I’d have thought twice about quitting the band.” He glanced over at Abi and was shocked at the expression on her face. “Not because of the baby,” he added hastily, reaching over and touching her on the arm. “Sorry, very bad joke. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for months. I even dream about you.”

Abi reached over, picked up the wine, and topped up her glass before she held the bottle out to Gideon.

He shook his head. “Better not,” he said with a grimace. “I’ve got to drive back to Hampshire.”

Abi frowned at him. “Not tonight, surely?” she said in surprise. “You can sleep on the sofa, if you like. It’s quite comfortable.”

In answer, he held out his glass, and she topped it up.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he said tentatively, watching her.

“Well, I guess we’ve got a lot more to talk about,” she said calmly, adding another log to the fire. “So it does seem more sensible. D’you need to call your parents?”

He grinned at her. “We’re not teenagers now, you know,” he said with a laugh. “They’ll be fine.”

Abi grinned back. “I suppose they will. How are they? I liked your parents,” she remembered fondly.

“Same as ever,” Gideon replied. “Loving the New Forest.”

Abi was silent for a moment. “D’you want something to eat? I was going to snack, but if you’re hungry I’m sure I can find something.”

Gideon smiled at her. “Snacking is fine,” he said, his voice quiet. “Crisps, chocolate, and alcohol. That’s what rock stars live on. At least according to my mother.”

“And marijuana.” Abi raised an eyebrow. “You stink of it. Did you have one in the car?”

Gideon had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

“Erm…yes, I did. Sorry. D’you mind?”

Abi laughed. “’Course not! Haven’t had a joint for years. Almost forgotten what they smelled like,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ll get some junk out to eat, shall I? We can picnic by the fire.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

Gideon stared into the fire and sipped his wine. He had taken in so much life-changing information over the last couple of hours that he really felt he’d lost complete control of his life. He could still hardly take in what Abi had just told him. He’d been a father, albeit for a very short time, and he’d known nothing about it. A tiny part of him wanted to get up, leave, and just keep running, but another much stronger part was curious to stay. Although Abi had changed dramatically over the last ten years, he had seen enough hints of the girl he fell in love with for him to want to talk more. He had to admit he was scared, and he hadn’t felt quite like that since the day back in ’96 when he finally believed he’d lost her.

In the kitchen Abi was noisily unwrapping crisps and dips and arranging them all on a tray. She was unnerved to see her hands were shaking, and she stopped for a moment and leant against the worktop, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It had really taken it out of her, retelling the story of the baby’s birth, and she was also trying hard to come to terms with the fact that Gideon was actually sitting in her living room, drinking her wine. She had dreamt of this day for so long, yet now it was here she was terrified. He seemed so much older and darker. His piercing eyes held a look of deep sadness, and his whole demeanour was one of mild despair. She accepted that her stories hadn’t helped, but she also realised they still had a lot to talk about. She took a deep breath, picked up the tray, and carried it through to the living room.

“Here we go,” she said with forced cheerfulness, placing the tray on the floor in front of Gideon. “Get stuck in. I’ll see if there’s some more wine.”

She slipped back into the kitchen, returning moments later with a new bottle. She sat down cross-legged on the floor opposite Gideon and picked up her glass and raised it to him.

“To…old times,” she said quietly. He hesitated for a moment, then raised his glass and gently touched it to hers. He finished the wine in one gulp and placed the glass on the floor beside him.

For the next twenty minutes they ate and drank in silence, sleepily watching the fire burn down and listening to the dogs whimpering in their sleep. Then Abi stood up and stretched.

“Wow, I’m stuffed,” she announced with a yawn. “Think I could do with a coffee, too, to soak up some of that wine. D’you want one?”

Gideon nodded briefly and gave her a slight smile. She smiled shyly back and disappeared off to the kitchen. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but she didn’t know how to do it. Having talked so much about what had happened to her, she felt she should be asking what had happened to him in the intervening years, but there was only one thing she actually wanted to know. She poured the milk on the coffees, added the boiling water, then carried them out to the living room. Gideon had got off the floor and was stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed. Abi thought for a moment he had fallen asleep, but as she quietly placed his coffee on the table his eyes opened, and he stared at her. She sat down on the floor again and looked up at him, cradling her mug in her hands.

“Gid,” she said, using her old pet name for him. “I have to know something.” He sat up and nodded to her. “In August ’95, when I hadn’t heard from you and was beginning to get desperate, I saw you on the news…” She paused, and he looked at her questioningly. “You were with a girl. You were in Seattle, I think, and you got into a limo with some tart hanging on your arm. That destroyed me. Who was she? And did you really find someone that quickly?”

Gideon looked shocked. He sat forward and caught hold of Abi’s hand.

“Christ, Abi, what d’you think I am?” he said. “I didn’t look at another woman for years after we parted. I was still in love with you.” He paused and frowned for a moment. “I think I remember the time you mean. We got followed everywhere by groupies, and they used to hang on me, and try and get me into bed, but I told them all I wasn’t interested. That one was a real pest.” He grinned. “If you could’ve seen what happened in the car, you would’ve been happier. I told her where to go, and Simon took over. He loved all the attention. I think he liked being with me ’cause I attracted them all but passed them on to him, and since all they cared about was sleeping with someone famous, he had a ball.”

Abi shivered. That scene on the news had haunted her for years. She had honestly thought he had abandoned her, his head turned by the fame and attention. Now she felt so ashamed. She hung her head and her hair swung forward over her face.

Gideon laughed. “You’re doing the hair thing again,” he said. “I always loved that.”

There was a slightly awkward silence for a moment before Abi looked up.

“I’m sorry, Gideon,” she said quietly. “I actually thought you were being unfaithful to me. I thought you had had my letter telling you I was pregnant, and that you didn’t want us any more. I’m so sorry.”

Gideon slumped back against the cushions. “I can see why you might have thought that. I would have done. I thought you’d abandoned me, after all. I didn’t receive any of your letters either. Where did you send them?”

“The record company. I guess they never passed them on.” Abi’s eyes reflected her pain.

Gideon frowned and shook his head. “No, they forwarded mail to us regularly,” he said, his voice puzzled. “I wonder if you had the wrong address?”

Abi shook her head. “No. I thought of that, so I went and asked Simon’s mum, and she had the same address. She said she often wrote to him that way.”

“Yes, she did. Simon never told her where he was, so she had to.” Gideon paused thoughtfully. “He certainly got plenty of letters from her that way.”

Abi frowned. “Well, my mother hid your letters to me, but I can’t imagine why anyone would hide my letters to you, can you?” Gideon was silent for so long she wondered if he’d heard her. She looked up at him. “Gid? Can you?” she repeated.

Slowly realisation dawned on Gideon’s face, and his eyes glinted dangerously.

“Yes, I can,” he said sharply. “Simon.”

Abi gasped and stared at him in amazement.

“Simon?” she repeated. “But he’s your best friend. Why would he…?” She shook her head in disbelief.

Gideon sat forward urgently. “Remember what he was like when you came to gigs? He used to hate it. He had this thing about girlfriends ruining the band. Like they had with other bands. But I never thought he’d go to such lengths to keep us apart.” His face hardened as he thought back over the years. He began to see how Simon’s behaviour had been the cause of a lot of trouble. In recent years they had not been nearly as close as in the past, and Gideon realised, sad though it might be, he could actually believe that Simon had kept the letters from him. His head snapped up and he stared at Abi, “Did your mother read the letters?” he asked abruptly.

Abi shook her head. “Only the first one. Oh, and possibly the postcards. Why?”

“Just wondering if Simon read yours,” he said tightly.

Abi gasped, immediately realising the implications.

“Then he would have known about…all these years?” she stumbled over the words. “How could he not tell you?”

They stared at each other in silence. Then Gideon shook his head.

“No, even Simon couldn’t be that cruel,” he stated firmly. “He couldn’t have read them. He must have just destroyed them.” He stared at Abi with a dangerous look on his face. “And I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Abi scrambled to her feet and perched on the end of the sofa.

“Why was everyone so against us?” she asked softly. “We didn’t hurt them.”

Gideon’s shoulders slumped, and he reached out and gently touched her arm. “Dunno. It’s like they set out to ruin our lives.”

“I thought they’d succeeded,” said Abi slowly. “But maybe we can put some of it right, now.”

Gideon gave her a small smile. “Maybe we can,” he agreed.

They sat in silence for a minute, and then Abi glanced at the clock.

“Hell, it’s nearly one,” she said in surprise. “How on earth did it get that late? I think I’ll turn in now. I’ll get you a quilt and a pillow for the sofa.” She jumped to her feet and ran upstairs to fetch the bedding.

Gideon bent down and began to clear away the food and drinks, piling everything onto the tray and carrying it into the kitchen. When Abi returned, he had kicked off his shoes and was rearranging the cushions on the sofa.

Abi dumped a pile of bedding on the chair and grinned at him. “Okay? I’ll see you in the morning, then. Sleep tight,” and with a wave she disappeared upstairs again.

Gideon stared after her, an inscrutable look on his face, before he bent down, closed the fire up, and began to make up his bed.