Chapter 10

Abigail was nervous as she rang the bell on the door to the solicitors. "Come in," she heard shouted and she nervously pushed open the door and walked up the stairs to the second floor; it was above a large newsagents, and she was smiled at by the middle aged woman. "This is Jake, my legal partner."

"Partner?"

"Work partners," she told her. Jake was at least ten years younger than Margaret and had short black hair on top of a grinning face and a stocky body.

"Hey, no more filing," he said with a gleeful look at Abigail. "It's 'orrible." Margaret smiled, and she shook her head and showed Abigail around their small office. The main office consisted of three desks, with a computer on a spare desk and next to Margaret. A separate consultation room was private and accessible from the front of the solicitor's office.

Abigail was told to sit at the front of the office, greet people as they came in, make drinks in the small kitchen, do filing, photocopying and type up letters.

It was basic secretarial work, and the sort she felt she could do easily, and the best bit was that it paid more money that the café; she almost felt like thanking Moira for getting her sacked, but that was one bridge too far!

Abigail put the cup of tea on the desk in front of the middle-aged woman who passed her a handwritten letter in return. "Type that up for me, love," she asked. Abigail nodded and walked over to the terminal in the corner of the room and loaded up "WinWord." She had used it a few times at school, but the last fortnight had seen her improve her typing skills considerably as she typed several letters for her bosses.

Margaret glanced over as the girl loaded the computer and took a sip of her drink, reaching into a drawer and passing a small envelope to her. "Wages," she told her with a smile. "Pay you every fortnight, love. You've earned it."

Abigail thanked her. "What ya doin' at weekend?" Jake asked her as she returned to him a letter about outstanding rent on a tenancy.

Abigail shrugged. "I dunno. Get away from Moira," she muttered. "Simon might take me up the coast." Jake gave a grin.

"Ya keep talking 'bout him."

Margaret laughed at her colleague. "Ya ne'er talk 'bout your ex." Abigail gave him a look, and he sipped at his glass of water.

"No," he mused. "She's a bi..." Margaret coughed and glared at her legal partner.

"Moira's been a b ... ahhem," Abigail told him with a smile.

"You did a nasty thing," Margaret told her.

"Ah know," she replied with a resigned tone to her voice. "I did something without thinking. Ah didnae want to hurt her like this. Ah mightn't like her, but she's still me sister. But she just hates me now and I hate being at 'ome."

"Move out," Jake said with a flourish. "Hey, Margaret. What about that flat upstairs, you ain't got a tenant and..."

"No," Margaret blurted out with a panicked look on her face. "No she's ... well..."

"I am seventeen," Abigail told her with a scowl.

"Ah well. It's just. It's a one bedroom flat, no telly and..."

"Sounds perfect," Jake told her.

Margaret took a deep breath. "I don't think your ma and pa will be happy with the idea. Certainly not that flat.

"They'll be fine," Abigail muttered. "Can I see it? Would I be able to afford it?" The phone went before Margaret could answer it, and Jake took the key from behind Margaret's desk as she frantically gestured for him not to.

"I'll show you," he told her and opened the door to the office into a small hallway and then up a flight of stairs in front of them that lead back on top of the solicitor's office. "It's been up for a few weeks, but it's quite reasonably priced." He unlocked the wooden front door and walked into the room; the lounge was dated, as were all the rooms and there was a slight musty smell.

Jake opened the windows and showed her the flowery bedroom, the greyish-green bathroom, the small kitchen and where the battered vacuum cleaner was kept. "She can take it out ya wages," he offered. "Forty five pounds a week and t'at includes the leccy bill 'cause our office is on the same meter. Just rates and food."

Abigail sniffed as she ran her hands over the sofa and looked around the room. "My own bedroom," she mused. "And away from ... Can I think about it?"

"Sure. It's a big step moving out for the first time." He smiled at Abigail's face – a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "But it might be what you need. I moved to University when I was seventeen, and it was great.

"Ah'll think 'bout it," Abigail told him.