Chapter 12

Abigail nervously fidgeted on the doorstep of the plush house of her ex as figures inside moved towards the door. She put her hands in her pockets and waited in the light drizzle. Simon answered it and stared at the wet teenager.

"Come in," he offered and even cracked a wry smile.

She paused briefly and, feeling disarmed by his smile, walked in. "I want to say sorry," she offered, and he gave a little grunt.

"I must be losin' my touch," he told her. "'Cause I ain't had a girl sneak off in the middle of the night before ... especially after sex. Woke up feelin' right depressed."

Abigail's expression changed from apologetic to guilt, and she shrugged. "Yeah. It just felt ... it felt like eet did before."

"Is that bad?"

She sucked in air through her teeth. "Yeah," she muttered. "'Cause it wasn't a 'Ah love you' fuck it was a 'happy birthday' fuck." He gave a grunt, and she bit her lip. "It felt warm and content, and it should'nae 'ave done."

He laughed and put his hand on her waist. "Yer wet, can I put your clothes on t'radiator?" She shook her head, and he gave a little laugh. "OK, I saw you leave. You woke me up as you closed my door," he confessed. "I wasnae upset. I knew."

Abigail gave a dramatic sigh, and he chortled to her. "So, yer'nae upset?"

He gave a wry smile. "No. I followed you. I didn't want you walking back through the town at night on your own." She gulped, and he laughed at her concerned expression. "Just put a dressin' gown on. That wind got everywhere."

"Then why did'nae you... ?"

"Oh Abigail," Simon teased and took her hand. "If you wanted me to walk you home you would've asked." She stood akimbo at the bottom of the stairs glaring at him.

"Exactly. So yer did somet'ing yer knew ah would'nae a-like."

"Yeah, and if you were attacked by a predator in the night you'd have been grateful for me there."

"Ah can look after me-self," she cried, and he nodded.

"I agree. And the nearest thing to a sex predator in this town is you. As you prey on all the young men." Abigail scowled, and he looked at her. "Ya want a drink? And to sit by the fire."

Abigail shook her head. "No. I came to tell you that ah'm movin' as well."

"Oh," he muttered, his face falling. "Not far?"

She shook her head. "In town. Just away from ... well Moira really."

"Lisa told me what you did. Didn't think she would hate you more than she did before."

"Yeah well ... she does. Moving on top of solicitors."

"Who with? Lisa?"

"On mi own," Abigail said firmly. "But, as a friend – and nuttin' more – you can come 'round for a bit."

Simon grunted. "I will," he promised. "To make sure you're safe."

Iain carried down the box down the stairs, tripping over Abigail's shoes at the bottom. He swore, but his daughter appeared within seconds, scooped them up, and then disappeared again.

Even though Abigail was only moving to a "small flat," she still insisted on taking all of her clothes, books and even her own mug. Moira watched on as their shared bedroom was emptied of Abigail's belongings, smiling occasionally but not helping.