The line went dead. At last, Abbie let her hand and the handset fall from her ear to her lap. There it lay between the book that had been so cherished by her little sister and the note left by Bobby. Three symbols of three key people in her life. Sister, father-figure, lover.
Symbols of everything she had lost and could never reclaim.
Forty-Five
Abbie King was not who she once was.
As a teenager, over the space of a couple of years, the viler components of humanity had ripped from Abbie everything that made her who she was. The group of older teenagers who had drugged and raped her had taken her sense of security, and safety, before, in quick succession, she lost her brother, her baby, and her sister. Her brother was still alive, but it wasn't the same. They had always been close. He had always protected her, and, of course, it was his attempts to protect her that had led to his imprisonment. Abbie hated her parents and had left home following Violet's murder. After that, the dreams began. At first, Abbie didn't understand them. They drove her into isolation, made a girl who had once been happy and sociable a miserable hermit.
Ben had saved her. After giving her purpose and strength, Abbie was happy to agree to his demand that she live a life of solitude. That was existence for her anyway, but Ben's version of isolation came with financial security and a support network that allowed her to save lives.
That lost young woman had shed the identity of her birth and taken the moniker of Abbie King. With this new identity, she had been happy.
Only a couple of months ago, Abbie had entered yet another new town and met Bobby. A month after that, she had met Alice Rayner and her children. Everything had changed. Solitude was no longer enough. She never wanted to stop being Abbie King, to quit saving lives. But she did want to supplement her duty with a life of her own.
Bobby's note remained in Abbie's pocket. Earlier, she had guessed Bobby would never give her an ultimatum, as Ben had. This note was proof. Too kind to ask Abbie to surrender her duty to protect their relationship, Bobby had made the decision for her. Rather than back her into a corner, he decided to cut ties and disappear. Abbie would never see him again.
The note had the potential to return Abbie to a life of isolation. Ben's final call might have broken her or turned her into an avenging angel who, while consumed by misery, would go hunting for Ben, would try to destroy him.
But no. Abbie King was not who she once was. These devastating setbacks would not destroy her, and she would not let the grief consume her.
Abbie had been in the car for hours. The moment she stopped, she withdrew The Stand and held it close. She told her sister she loved her and promised silently she would do the hardest thing of all.
She would take these latest setbacks in her stride and push forward in building a life. She would not allow grief and loss to close her down.
Not this time.
Abbie returned The Stand to the pillowcase and put the pillowcase in her bag. Following her house's destruction, that bag now contained everything she owned. It wasn't much, but Abbie had never been into possessions.
Leaving the car, locking the door, Abbie felt some trepidation as she made her way up the drive. But she was determined to be strong. Determined to be the new Abbie King.
At the home's entrance, she refused to hesitate. She knocked on the hardwood door and stepped back, waiting.
Five seconds passed, then Abbie heard footsteps from the hall inside. The door opened, and a woman who had recently turned sixty stood in the soft glow of the hall.
There was a beat, then Alice Rayner broke into a smile.
"Abagail," she said, "you can't need a lawyer already. I'm afraid Ariana's had a bit to drink."
Abbie opened her mouth to ask the question she needed to ask. To say what she needed to say. When she tried, she found herself unable to speak. For years, she had been used to keeping in control of every situation. She rarely asked for anything, and when she did, it was usually a weapon or for a body to be removed from a crime scene. She avoided personal situations.
On the doorstep, her mouth flapped like a goldfish.
Alice rolled her eyes.
"I ever meet your mother, I'll give her a piece of my mind," she said. "Come on. Come in."
There was to be no choice. Alice grabbed Abbie's arm and dragged her into the hall, closing the door behind them. Linking arms with the younger woman, Alice led the way past the living room and towards the kitchen. As she went, she pointed up the stairs.
"We thought you could have the same room as last time, but you know we have a few empties, so you can take your pick. You know I make big breakfasts, and we always keep the fridge well-stocked, but if you need anything else, at any time, you only need ask. Oh, and of course, I've written down the wifi password."
They were in the kitchen now, Alice leading them towards the door into the bar of the large home, but Abbie stopped before they could go in.
"I don't... I don't understand." She felt stupid—like a small child.
"Your house burned down," said Alice, as though this explained everything.
"I was going to stay in a hotel," said Abbie. "I was just going to ask if you didn't mind me staying local, popping round on occasion."
Alice smiled. "Sweetheart, do you want to stay in a hotel?"
Abbie hesitated. "Well, no, of course, it wouldn't be my preference, but—"
"Well, shut up then, and come this way."
Abbie bristled. She was the dismissive one, not the dismissed. As Alice opened the door to the bar and stepped through, Abbie followed.
"Listen, I just saying I don't want to
