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THE SIXTEENTH pt2
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Thirty Days THE SEVENTEENTH
I am standing in the beautiful orangery that is the focal point of Taylor’s grandmother’s house, feeling like a complete outsider. Granted, everyone has been perfectly charming, but I can feel the question marks in their eyes burning holes into my back. “Ignore them. They are a complete waste of space.” A charming voice startles me as a slim arm slips through mine. I turn my head to find myself staring into a pair of dark chocolate eyes so similar to Taylor’s that I can only conclude that they belong to his little sister. “Nicola?” I ask, the tremble in my voice evident. Taylor went off to get a drink five minutes ago, and I have been feeling exposed ever since. Just having Nicola by my side instantly relaxes me, and I offer her a grateful smile for rescuing me. “Yup, the baby sister. And you are Abby.” The last bit is not a question, but a statement. “I am so glad to finally meet you. Taylor has told me so much about you.” My curiosity is piqued at the excitement in Nicola’s voice
Thirty Days THE SEVENTEENTH pt2
The rest of the afternoon flies by as I get to know Nicola better and am introduced to a number of cousins, aunts and uncles whose names I forget almost instantly. Like Genevieve, they are all very welcoming, and I am grateful that there is none of the hostility that I experienced with Taylor’s parents. Richard’s absence has been noted, and a few people question his whereabouts, but I am simply grateful that he is not there. The idea of seeing him again makes my skin crawl. The party is winding down, and I excuse myself to use the toilet before we leave. As I make my way to the guest cloakroom, I take in the beautiful surroundings that is Genevieve’s home. Although completely different in personality from Nonna’s, I get the same sense of calm and comfort that I always used to get when I visited her flat. The walls are covered in pictures of family, including more recent ones of Taylor and Nicola in some exotic destination, which I can only suppose is from one of his sourcing trips to
Thirty Days THE EIGHTEENTH
I wake up alone, which is not unusual, but the feeling of dread that I fell asleep with has only intensified after a restless night of vivid dreams. The apartment feels empty, almost musty, in Taylor’s absence, and there is something else I just can’t pin down. A sadness that seems to have seeped into the walls. My phone tells me that eight o’clock is fast approaching, and I need to get my butt out of bed soon or I am going to be late for work. My head is filled with the memories of Genevieve’s party and my confrontation with Richard, which I have yet to tell Taylor about. I sigh out loud and promise myself that I will bring it up with Taylor as soon as I see him; if I don’t tell him, I can’t think what the consequences will be. Despite the warmth of the apartment, I feel chilled to the bone and find myself dressing accordingly, wrapping up in some dark-grey cord skinny jeans and a black cashmere cowl neck jumper over a grey silk long-sleeve T-shirt. The choice of colours reflects m
Thirty Days THE EIGHTEENTH pt2
I make it as far as the ladies’ toilets before I am overcome by my emotions. I lock myself in a stall and let the tears course down, doing my best to remain silent. After a few minutes, I hear the bathroom door open and footsteps approach as I hold my breath, hoping no one will notice me in here. “Abby, I know you are in here,” Taylor’s voice rings out, and I shrink back, knowing that talking to Taylor now is the last thing I need. “Abby, please…talk to me…” His voice, while not pleading, is not as harsh as it was in the meeting. “What do you want, Taylor?” I can’t help the bitterness that oozes out. “You couldn’t have given me some warning about this, like—I don’t know—last night? I can’t help but think there is more going on than simply a change in company direction.” Taylor lets out a sigh, and I hold my breath as I wait for his response. When he finally speaks, his voice is stiff, as if he is trying to hold back. “Look, Abby, all this, you and me, it is clear to me now that i
Thirty Days THE NINETEENTH
I raise myself off the cold floor to find my limbs stiff and aching, mirroring the state of my heart. The sun is only just rising, so I make myself get in the shower in an attempt to soap away some of the tension in my shoulders. The warm water is soothing, and part of me wishes I could just stay in this tiny cubicle and forget the rest of the world. Eventually, the water turns cold, and I jump out, drying myself briskly before pulling on an old faded pair of jeans, a bulky hooded sweatshirt and my trusty Converse trainers that seem to have made their way back. I look at the beautiful black cashmere coat that Taylor bought me but immediately snub it in favour of my duffel coat. It may be worn and old, but at least it was bought and paid for by me. When I am finally ready to leave, I take a look around, knowing in my soul that this is the last time I will step foot in my flat. I admire the effort that Taylor, or rather, Mrs Harris, made in restoring my flat into a home, and under any o
Thirty Days THE NINETEENTH pt2
I step into the bakery, and the first thing I notice is the amazing smell. My stomach growls, reminding me that I have been neglecting it of late. As I glance around, I take in the large counter and the wooden shelves running along the back, filled with different loaves. A couple of large wicker baskets hold fresh rolls ready for people to pick and place in the paper bags hanging up. It is carb heaven and I am loving it. A trim lady in her early fifties, wrapped in a pinny, steps forward, and I realise I recognise her from Nonna’s funeral. She was one of the many who came up to me offering their condolences, and I remember wondering who she was. “Hello, Abby. It is nice to meet you finally under different circumstances. I am Beatrice, but all my friends call me Bea.” She holds out her hand, and when I take it, she draws me into a hug. Despite my earlier reservations, I find myself warming to Bea immediately as she takes my arm and starts chatting excitedly about the shop and Nonna,
Thirty Days THE TWENTIETH
At some point I must have slept because I wake with a start in the early hours of the morning. I realise the faint noise I hear must be Andreas starting up for the morning, so I lie in bed listening to the sounds, feeling less alone. When it is clear that I am not going to be able to go back to sleep, I get up and make a coffee. I am tired but antsy, so I do what I always do when my life spirals out of control: I bake. Muffins are my friend this morning, so I find myself making several batches. I know I make mean apple and cinnamon muffins, but this morning I go further, adding lemon and poppy seed, carrot and pecan and savoury bran to my repertoire. I also make a couple of chocolate fudge cakes to take down to Bea and Andreas later as a thank you for helping me settle in. Time flies and I realise that it is five to seven, so I put a selection of muffins on a plate and wander down to the back of the shop. The door is just being unlocked by Bea, so she ushers me in, chatting at a hundr
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FIRST – TWENTY-THIRD
I am an ice queen on the inside. I have perfected the art of preventing everything and everyone from seeing the inner me, which is ugly and black and numb. On the outside, I smile and chat to customers, make small talk with Bea and Andreas, and do my best to take in everything that I am being taught. But when I am alone, the cracks have started to show. Baking is not even helping now. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat, and I know the dark shadows under my eyes are getting harder and harder to disguise, no matter how much concealer I layer on. I am avoiding Michelle’s calls because I know if I talk to her, I will finally break. The rest of the week has been a testament to my determination not to end up in a ball sobbing over a man, and on some level, I feel a misplaced sense of pride that I have managed to achieve just that. Saturday is the busiest day of the week for Bread, and I am witnessing it first-hand as I help out Bea and Lorna, our Saturday girl. The same age as I am, Lorna is d
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