Abbie's Gift (15 page)

Easily her consciousness drifted away from her.

This time Abbie’s passage into the brightness  did not happen instantaneously; it was a slow transition,  and as she entered the realm again it gave her time to realise what a deeply beautiful place this was, peaceful and calm, her own woes disappearing immediately. She was again calm and tranquil.

Abbie was aware of something near her; she turned and saw it was Peter. Seeing his smiling face with his arms outstretched to embrace her, she wondered how she could have doubted any of this.

She felt safe with him, comforted and that nothing else really mattered at all.

“I’ve missed you so much” she said to Peter, “I was beginning to doubt that this was all true”. As she felt him hold her close, all her doubts and fears began to melt away completely.

                            ……………………………………………………………..

Later that day at home there was a telephone message for her from Daniel West: he would be happy to meet with her, and he had an appointment free the day after tomorrow at 10 am at his office and could she call to confirm?

After Abbie had showered and changed, she returned the call, and again left a message that she would attend the appointment. The deed is done, she thought. That would keep her mum happy. She wondered though, what would be achieved? She felt that she understood what was going on and had regained some sense of contentment. Was she really confused anymore by all of this?

The next morning, Rose and Abbie made their way to the woods together.

It was a bright but bitterly cold morning; the ground crunched underfoot as they walked and there was a stiff chill to the strong wind.

Rose linked Abbie’s arm, and they walked in front of Peter’s parents. His father carried a small holdall containing the urn with Peter’s ashes.

The few minutes at Abbie’s house before they set off had felt awkward for her, awkward for them all in fact. This was not an easy task for any of them.

Of course, Abbie did not admit to having been to the woods the day before.

At what felt like an appropriate point along the path, with the sun brightly shining through the trees, Abbie stopped and looked up; the light shone through the branches, and a few birds flitted about high above them. A crow gave a shrill screech that made everyone look up, and nearby two magpies pecked the dirt further along the path.

Here? Asked Peter’s father.

Abbie nodded, “yes” she said, and for some reason she realised that she was in fact smiling.

The urn was carefully lifted from the bag and Peter’s father held it tightly. Peter’s mother was holding a handkerchief to her face but was not crying, nor was Rose.

Somehow for them all this moment was special, precious but not sad; they felt a sense of unity in this moment that they were letting Peter go.  Abbie, however, felt the opposite: that by allowing his ashes to be scattered in this place, it was in fact bringing him closer to her.

Peter’s father beckoned to Abbie and she stepped towards him.  As he held the urn, she carefully unscrewed the top, and then together they both held the urn and tipped the ashes into the air. At that moment a chilling and strong gust of wind swept along the path, catching the ashes and swirling them away; in a few seconds, they were all gone.

At that moment, Abbie remembered how she had felt calm and at peace in the Garden of Remembrance on the day of Peter’s funeral, and that she had said to herself she would go back there. Now with this in her thoughts she decided she
would
return there; it had been a beautiful place and was a comfort to her and, although she was not entirely sure why, she felt she wanted to go there again.

Afterwards they all had lunch together in the pub, and Abbie felt closer to his parents than she had ever done before; maybe it was the fact they had agreed to allow his ashes to be scattered in the woods, and she was grateful to them for that. 

As the day of her appointment with Daniel West approached, the thought of meeting him made Abbie anxious:  What would he be like? What would she say? What would she
not
say?

The next day she went with some trepidation to the appointment, but to her surprise, once there, her anxiety settled completely. Daniel was middle-aged, she guessed; he seemed kind and genuine, someone that you could learn to trust and like even.

Daniel assured her of confidentiality in their discussion, that she was under no obligation to have to attend again in the future but if she wished then he would be happy to help her and work with her.

Then he asked a question that completely took her aback, it was so unexpected. Her immediate thought was how could he possibly ask me that?

Daniel began by asking

“What has brought you here to seek help?”

Abbie then realised why he was asking, and almost chided herself for being so surprised at a perfectly reasonable question, for he had no idea of what had happened to her.  They had never spoken before, so how could he have known?

She took a deep breath and began. 

“My boyfriend died, and everything hurts and confuses me so much”.

The rest of the session was spent discussing the circumstances of her unexpected bereavement, how she had felt about it, and importantly, how she felt now.

To Abbie’s surprise she was given plenty of space and time to talk, there was no pressure or rush. The time was all hers. Daniel West seemed genuinely interested in her and somehow seemed to understand what she was trying to explain and how she felt.

Towards the end of the session, he said something that moved her deeply and she felt she might cry in front of him.

“Abbie, grief is a process that you have to go through; it is the price we pay for loving someone”.

Abbie found herself agreeing to come at the same time the following week; she paid, obtaining a receipt for her insurer, and walked out of the building into the fresh morning air.

Outside the air felt thin and cool, and she fastened her coat up high around her neck. Speaking to the therapist had been easier than she thought; it had been focused mostly on her and Peter, and how their dreams and hopes had been so suddenly taken away.

Abbie generally felt more in control of her emotions, so had any of this been a help to her she wondered?

She remembered what he had said: “Grief is the price we pay for loving someone”. But maybe the pain she had experienced recently was almost too high a price?  No! She told herself sharply, how could she even think that about her Peter?

Abbie sat in the corner of a quiet café, drinking tea and watching the world go by. People living out their lives: what were their hopes and dreams she wondered? For a while, she enjoyed just sitting and being alone, anonymous amongst a crowd, no one knowing her sorrow or her burden of grief.

Before she went home, she walked to the crematorium Garden of Remembrance and went in; it was quiet and almost deserted, with only one other person some distance away. Abbie walked around and savoured the peace and calm.  Most of the rose bushes had been trimmed neatly for winter, the colours of the warmer days long gone. The short hedges were smart and orderly in their rows.

She sat for a few moments on a bench, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, enjoying the tranquillity.

‘In my father’s house are many mansions’
came again into her thoughts, and she smiled to herself as she sat in contemplation.

She knew instinctively that she had chosen the right place for Peter’s ashes in the woods.

For now, her world somehow seemed a little more content.

Chapter 12

When Abbie telephoned her later that day, Rose was pleased to hear to her say that the counselling session had gone well, and that she had booked another appointment. Rose wanted to ask her about it, if it had helped, but then thought better of it; Abbie’s privacy had to be respected.

Later that evening Abbie sat alone, the glow of the fire filling the room.  She sipped a glass of red wine, enjoying the warmth the fluid gave to her; on the radio the jazz station played seductive saxophone music. She was deliberating about events, her feeling, and trying to put the pieces of her life back into some sort of apparent order.

Abbie felt that she somehow now understood her situation: the important thing was that she was able to hold together and manage all the confusion and turmoil that had engulfed her.

She also realised that her recent behaviour had aroused suspicion as to her wellbeing; she must manage this part better, she thought.

She had her own life, her work to return to when she felt well enough, and she also had another dimension of existence with Peter.

Abbie felt that as long as she kept this in perspective and managed its magnetism and her desire to be with him continually, then she could function and hold herself together.

She was realising for reasons she didn’t fully understand that being with Peter would happen only on occasions in her life; she couldn’t be with him all the time.  It was as though she was incapable as a human being of dealing with this, so she always had to return to her physical self.

Suddenly, just as her thoughts seemed to be clearing, Abbie began to doubt her convictions and her resolve weakened.

Maybe this
is
too big a thing for me to manage, she thought. I want to be with Peter, but how the hell can I live out these two different existences?  Can I really live both?  I either play the part of the grieving widow or I become this astral traveller, can I really do both?

Abbie again then immediately felt guilty, for this was all about Peter, and it was as though she was betraying him by doubting what had happened. She had to deal with this for him, she
had
to.

Maybe wine will help the whole process, she thought,

Another glass and Abbie was settling, feeling its influence nicely, warm and content. The ‘phone rang and she deliberately chose to ignore it.

The room was very dark by now, and Abbie hadn’t put any lights on; the low glow of the fire did not quite reach the far corners of the room. 

As she sat sipping her wine on the floor next to the fire, she could feel its heat on her cheeks.  She looked at the gas flames dancing in the hearth and then glanced around the room.

What the hell is that?  She quickly sat bolt upright in the darkness, and a shudder of fear ran down her spine.

Across the room in the darkness she could make out a strange shape on the chair, and she blinked to make sure it wasn’t the wine blurring her vision.

Whatever the shape was, it seemed to be looking directly at her.

Abbie peered hard into the darkness in front of her, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, trying to make out what she saw.

She was sure that the shape in the shadowy darkness had limbs - legs and arms - and she could make out a roundish shape of a head. 

She was frozen to the spot in fear, and her glass began trembling in her hand. She couldn’t take her eyes off the chair and whatever it was that was perched there, staring at her. She urgently needed to pee, but didn’t dare to move.

How long she actually sat there she didn’t know; it could have been seconds or minutes, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the malevolent shape in the corner.

As Abbie’s eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, she could definitely make out a small human-like shape across from her in the darkness of the room. It didn’t move, but it seemed that it was coiled like a gargoyle from a church wall. If she tried hard to focus her eyes through the darkness, she thought that she could see maybe an ear on the side of the head, and a chin; the face seemed round and plump had darkened sockets where eyes should be, and she was convinced that she saw them flicker once or twice.

She now desperately needed the bathroom.  If this thing was out to hurt her it had had ample opportunity she decided, so she would try and get out of the room to go upstairs.

The blood and adrenaline pounded around her system, and she could feel the pulsation in the sides of her temples.

Abbie drained her glass and rose to her feet, thinking that if necessary she could stab at it with her glass.  The alcohol made her feel braver, but she kept her eyes fixed on the shape as she moved.

She walked to the edge of the room and stretched her hand to the wall for the light switch, but it was not there; she moved her arm up and down, but again didn’t find it. So she moved closer to the wall and as she did, it was as though the thing had turned its head towards her. She reached for the switch and felt something on her finger, and she realised she had bent back her nail and broken it in the frantic search for the switch.  She glanced quickly at the wall and in the darkness was just able to make out the light switch. In an instant she flicked it on and turned back towards the chair.

What she expected to see she didn’t really know, but there in the bright light and the flicker of the fire was a coat and jumper piled together with her hand bag. Abbie didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

She sat on the arm of the sofa and realised that the coat and jumper she had taken off earlier had just seriously terrorised her, and she laughed out loud.

When all the feelings of terror had left her, Abbie got up and left the room. As she did so she briefly glanced back towards the chair, and part of her brain told her immediately that it hadn’t really been her bag and the jumper, but something else, something sinister and not of this world. Another icy chill ran down her spine and made her shudder. She went upstairs, closing the door firmly behind her.

Abbie decided that she’d enough wine for one night; although she felt its relaxing affect, she didn’t feel drunk. As it was 10 pm, she ran herself a bath, and decided a good long soak would be relaxing and therapeutic.

Abbie went back downstairs to make some tea and took this up to the bathroom. She chose to leave the light on in the bedroom to guide her way back later on and, leaving the bathroom door ajar to allow some light in, she settled in the bath, enjoying the warmth of the water and the soapy bubbles over her skin. Her bedside radio still emitted the sultry jazz tunes across the hall and into the bathroom which was gently lit by two large church candles; their flames danced and flickered against the tiled walls, casting moving shadows.

Abbie tried to convince herself that what she’d just experienced in the lounge was in fact her over-sensitive imagination, her mind being played with in the darkness by her own fears and insecurities, and she laughed at herself for having been so stupid. She knew though that the fear was not stupid – it had been real, powerful and paralysing – but just totally misplaced on this occasion.

After a while, being submerged in the warm water of the bath had made Abbie very warm; her skin tingled and all her limbs were heavy and relaxed. The 11 pm news came on the radio and she decided it was time for bed; she stood in the shadowy candle light the bathroom drying herself with a large towel as the water drained away.

Once all her skin was dry, she stood naked and took her time using body lotion, gently massaging it into her skin, which had an immediate cooling effect.  First, she massaged her legs and then her arms, her abdomen and finally her breasts. As she was rubbing in the cooling fluid, she glanced up at the large oval mirror on the opposite wall; as the bathroom door was ajar it gave her a view of the upstairs landing and its unusual occupant.

Totally shocked and disbelieving, Abbie looked away, trying not to scream and to gather her thoughts.  She continued to massage the lotion into her body, desperately trying to stay calm, her nakedness now of no significance to her.

She took a deep breath and slowly blinked, and as she moved she cast a glance back into the mirror; there it was in the shadows and the half-light, staring at her. She was sure it was the same creature she had seen in the shadows downstairs a few hours earlier on the chair, and she realised then that it had not been her imagination.

What do I do?

Abbie had now glanced at this thing twice in the mirror, so she moved away from it to gather her thoughts, but something inside her wanted to look again, as she couldn’t really believe what was happening. 

Her heart was pounding and she was almost breathless with fear. She moved into a position in the bathroom that allowed her to look into her small make-up mirror and then to look at the reflection of the large mirror behind her. By carefully positioning herself, she could therefore see an image out of the bathroom door without looking at it directly.

The creature was no more than three or four feet tall.  It looked like a human male with short arms and legs, and was naked, its skin tough like tanned leather. Its muscular frame implied great strength and she noticed its hands were large and powerful, with crooked fingers and long nails. It seemed to sweat although remaining completely still, but then something else caught her eye. She saw low down between its stumpy legs was a large engorged erect penis, standing out from its body at a high angle; it was gnarled like an old piece of wood, and  it seemed to be dripping some sort of seminal fluid.

She felt her wet hair drip on her shoulders as she reached behind her and pulled the bathroom light cord, and the overhead light and the extractor fan came to life noisily.

Abbie again looked in the mirror, but now there was nothing.

She put the hall light on, then the bedroom light, there was nothing to be seen; she checked the other bedroom but again there was nothing, it was empty as it should be.  Back in her room, she looked under the bed and checked the wardrobes - nothing.

Abbie went down the stairs slowly.  Despite her nakedness, her whole body felt hot.

From the bottom of the stairs she could see the kitchen was empty.  She opened the lounge door and put the light on; again nothing at all, except her bag, coat and jumper still on the chair. She checked every space and possible hiding place, but there was nothing in her house. She checked all the doors and windows; they remained locked and there was no sign of any forced entry.

Had she imagined this?  Was she really deluded, her mind playing games again? Yet here she was, walking naked around her house at eleven o’clock at night looking for some sort of goblin.

Abbie went back upstairs and looked at the landing: there was no collection of things piled together here that she could have mistaken for a creature in the shadows.

Then she noticed there was something on the carpet; she bent down and looked closely, near where she thought that the creature had been standing, and saw a patch of creamy-coloured fluid on the floor.  Then she remembered that she’d seen its erect, dripping penis. 

Abbie put on her dressing gown and got into bed, covering herself again with Peter’s dressing gown.  She inhaled deeply and as she did so, his smell seemed to comfort her. Leaving every light on in the house, she lay in bed bewildered, confused and frightened.

That night sleep came to Abbie only in short spells. She woke early and felt cold, so got up to put on the central heating. The hum of the gas boiler was soothing but it was impossible to go back to sleep.

When the house felt warm, Abbie went downstairs and made tea and porridge, taking them back to bed on a tray.  Somehow it seemed this cosy, warm room was protecting from the unknown. Part of her brain wanted to believe that she hadn’t seen anything at all; it had all been her imagination, tricks of her mind in the darkness. But part of her was curious, wanting to question the almost unmentionable, unbelievable idea that she had actually seen something, a presence, something evil.

Despite being tired, Abbie wanted to run.  She knew when she was running and moving swiftly across the ground that she was in her element; it was a time when her mind felt free, and her spirit light, and she wanted that feeling more than anything.

She decided that she would drive back to the country park and run the flat path again; she knew it would be quiet as it was early in the morning and outside looked cold. She wrapped up well, putting on a few extra layers.  During the short drive, the inside of the car kept misting up and she had to use her gloved hand to wipe the screen to be able to see out.

As she drove, she thought about astral projection and that maybe this other dimension to her world could provide answers to the recent mysterious events that she had experienced. She recalled how quite a few times she had been sure she’d seen something out of the corner of her eye, and the very scary sensations around her in the woods.  It made no sense at all.  Then there was what she might have seen the previous night.  Were all these events related she wondered?