Chapter 9

"What were ye doing?" A stern voice cried, and the woman helped Abigail to her feet. "What were ye up to? Silly lass. Nearly got yourself killed." Abigail swayed slightly as she stood on her feet and the woman parked Abigail on a garden wall.

"I'm fine," Abigail muttered, but the woman told her to stay there while she parked the car out of the middle of the road, and then escorted the teenage girl some stairs for a "cup of tea."

Abigail's foot hurt, and her ankle was sore. She walked up the flight of steps and was seated in a chair of the large office while the woman – who had introduced herself as "Margaret" - made her a drink. "We better have a look at that ankle, Abigail," she told her as she passed her a cup of tea.

The girl didn't flinch as the woman knelt down beside her and Abigail took off her shoes and then her socks. "How do you my name is Abigail?"

Margaret chortled. "Everyone knows you, young lady." Her voice dropped slightly as she turned over the ankle in her hand. "Your brother used to work for me. And I know your father very well. As well as your mother," Abigail blinked as the woman studied her ankle. "It's bruised," she told her.

"How do you know my father?"

"He is the Sergeant for the town. I am a solicitor, work it out," Margaret told her a little dismissively and licked her lips, getting up and washing her hands in the tiny kitchen adjacent to the office. "Bit of ice and that'll be fine. So, what were you doing haring down the road, trying to get yourself killed?"

Abigail shook her head. "Been fighting with Moira ... my sister."

"I know Moira."

Abigail sniffed and licked her lips. "She got me sacked from my café job 'cause she wants to work there, so I ummm ... well I messed around with her boyfriend." Margaret gulped and tutted, shaking her head, and Abigail's face fell slightly. "I know ... but she 'ates me." Abigail took a deep breath and Margaret looked at her.

"You have a lot of your mother," she muttered. "She was..." There was a sigh and the solicitor turned around a picked up a bundle of papers, opening a drawer to her right. "It's not good to use sex as a weapon."

Abigail nodded. "I know." Margaret snorted.

"Then why did you?" Abigail buried herself behind her drink and just hummed. Margaret smiled as she filed the first file away, and then the second on a different drawer. "Moira's no angel, we know that," she told her but licked her lips as she took another sip of her drink. She passed a file over to the desk and looked at Abigail. "Put that it the top drawer under "Parkinson, please love."

Abigail filed the folder and got passed another one, and another. Margaret returned to her seat, behind her desk and picked up some papers. "Give me twenty minutes and'll give you a lift home," she promised. "Just got a file to prepare for tomorrow." Abigail nodded and picked up the empty cup, taking it to the sink to rinse. Margaret appeared busy, and she would happily have walked home as her ankle wasn't that sore, but the sound of rain against the glass made her change her mind.

She returned to room to see Margaret in front of a photocopier, copying a big pile of papers. "Ah'll do that," Abigail offered and held out her hand. Margaret looked at it and thanked her after a moment's thought.

"All of them," she told her and returned to her seat to cross through text in red pen. Abigail was a little nervous with the photocopier; she had only used a handful of times at school, but it whirred into action and the light shone across the room as it scanned the pages. Abigail sorted the copied papers out, straightening them and putting them on Margaret's desk as she looked up. "All done?"

"Ummm ... yeah, think so." She looked back at the photocopier and removed the last source page from the machine. "Yeah," she muttered and Margaret smiled.

"Let's take you home." Margaret passed Abigail her coat, and needlessly helped her to her feet.

"I dain't have a home no more," she muttered, and Margaret snorted.

"Yer parents. Ah know them well, and they'll be angry ... disappointed mebbe ... but you'd still 'ave an 'ome. Let's get ya home."

"Thanks," Abigail murmured and she waited as Margaret locked her office and then the stairwell at the bottom of the steps. She unlocked her car – a sporty little hatchback and Abigail climbed in; it was a lot newer than any other car she had been in.

"What are you doing for a job?" Margaret asked and Abigail shrugged. "I own that practice, there's another solicitor who works there. We need a new office assistant," she offered. "I'd be happy to give you a try for the week."

"Office assistant?"

Margaret looked at her as she started the car. "Filing, cleaning, making cups of tea, running errands." Margaret pulled out into the empty road and let her comment hang in the air. "I'd pay four hundred and forty a month, plus lunches. If it works out."

Abigail took a deep breath. "Wow! Yeah, I'd love to."

"You can start Monday," Margaret offered. "Just to see." Abigail nodded, and Margaret smiled at her. "Your brother was very good as an office junior, mind. Let's hope you're just as sharp, eh?"

Abigail didn't know what to say!

Moira absented herself from the room the moment Abigail entered. "I've said I'm sorry," she wailed as her big sister pushed past her, knocking her into the wall. "Ah said..."

Shona groaned. "Why did you do it Abigail?"

The teenager shrugged at her mother. "She got me sacked and ah just..."

Her father turned around in his chair. "Yoo need a damn good hiding, young lady." Abigail nodded and stared at the floor. "She's yer sister, yer don't mess 'round like that."

"She maybe my sister, but she's always 'ated me. She's..."

Iain got up from his chair and pushed his daughter against the wall. "Yer seventeen noo, yer respec' yer sister and t'is family." He sniffed and held up his hand causing Abigail to close her eyes and expecting to be hit, but Shona got up and put her arm on Iain's. "Moira's yer sister," he cried.

Abigail gulped and looked straight at her father as he released his grip on her shoulder and she backed away. "Abigail," her mother called. "Ahh sit da-rn dear." The teenager blinked and wiped her eyes as her mother coaxed her to the sofa, before getting her to tearfully recount the day.

Shona listened, but Iain kept interrupting her to chastise his teenage daughter in an aggressive tone. The mother glared at her husband. "Let 'er speak," she barked. "Ya made a fair few mistakes in yer past as well." Iain's expression changed, and Abigail winced.

"It's not nice," he replied, and she glared at him.

"She's me wee lass," Shona spat back. "Ah she's a silly gal but yer no angel, love." He gulped and withered under the stare of his wife. She rubbed her hand on the back of Abigail's. "Ah'll sort out Moira," she promised.

"She 'ates me," Abigail told her with tears in her eyes. "She 'ates me."

"She doesn't," Shona soothed.

"Ah doo," Moira said from the doorway. "Ah want 'er to dae." Abigail turned in time to see Moira in her coat and shoes, shut the door to the lounge and walk calmly out to the street.

Shona looked at her husband. "Go after 'er," Shona cried. "Deal with 'er." Iain was already getting up and strode out of the room.

"I didnae want tae cause t'is trouble," Abigail cried and was pulled towards the open arms of a motherly embrace. "Ah just wanted a job an' she spoilt it."

Abigail put on her best dress and did a twirl in the mirror in the hallway. "Dirty bitch," Moira muttered as she stormed past her.

"Moira, I'm sorry."

"'oo is it? Some twelve year old payin' you or some desperate old man." Abigail ignored her. "Ya had a weird taste in boyfriends. That Simon, 'es a nasty..."

"It's Quentin," Abigail told her coldly. "E's taking me out. Said I wasn't fat like you." Abigail spat coldly at Moira raised her hand to strike her sister, but Abigail pushed her out of the way.

"Ah 'ate you," Moira cried, and Abigail shrugged.

"I 'ate you too," she replied. "So does Quentin." She watched as a tear rolled down Moira's cheek and the elder sister backed away. "He was telling me after we screw'd in tae woods."

Moira sniffed back a few tears and shook her head. Abigail felt guilty again but why did Moira have to make her so angry?

The walk to Simon's house on the warm Summer's day was not an unpleasant one. She carried with her an overnight bag, just in case, and Simon lived on a large detached house on the edge of the little riverside town, nearest to the seaside estuary. He was waiting for her on the small wall that lined their front garden and the accountant's son opened the side gate.

Abigail looked at the giant white canopy in the garden and then at her ex-boyfriend. "So that's a marquee?"

"Yeah. Well Mum's out. Dad's workin' in his study. Said we could 'ave music and stuff on." She passed him a small present from her bag.

"Happy birthday," she told him and kissed him on the cheek. "For later." He raised his eyebrows. "Who's coming?"

He strode over to the marquee and pulled Abigail over to him. "Me ... I 'ope."

"Is June here then?"

"Oh, and I've invited Alistair. But he said you ain't to go near him."

Abigail laughed. "Ah dain't need to." He glanced down at her bag, and she shrugged. "I kinda want to give ya a treat though."

"Ya stayin' the night?"

"I might do. If I'm invited t'at is."

"I'll check with June," he teased. "See what she thinks." They were interrupted by the sounds of a bunch of Simon's friends coming up the garden and then Lisa screeching towards her best friend.

Simon put some pop music on, followed by some dance music while Simon provided several cans of alcohol and an assortment of unhealthy snacks. His Dad appeared to grab some drinks and offered Lisa a dance, which caused howls of amusement as the shy girl blushed when she became the centre of attention.

The banter was good natured, and Abigail played football with some of the boys briefly as well as danced with a number of her classmates. She got teased on her reputation, but Abigail didn't mind.

One of her class, a pretty girl called Mary, bounced over to Simon, kissing him on the cheek and telling him that she had to go home early. "It's from us all. Happy birthday," she screeched as she gave him the gift. "Ya so manly now." She rubbed her hands over his chest and giggled.

Abigail groaned; she didn't like to see "other girls" be so flirtatious with her ex-boyfriend, it was always her job. She scowled and whispered to a few of the girls who disappeared at the back of the marquee and walked over to her other ex-boyfriend present at the party.

Abigail pulled Alistair by the hand and he shook it free. "Leave me aloon," he begged but Abigail kissed him on the lips, grabbed his hand again and pulled him towards her and then pushed him up the garden to a dozen trees near the boundary. "What dya want?"