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
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
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,
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
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
I am standing in Nonna’s kitchen, desperately trying to avoid looking at either the spot where she died or at my mother, who is currently raging in Italian. Despite my heritage, I have never managed to master much beyond the odd holiday phrase, so I really don’t have a clue about what she is saying to me. My dad popped out for a pint of milk, and it was at that point she started grilling me about what I was going to do about Bread. I am a terrible liar, so I came clean and told her my situation, minus the stuff like sleeping with my boss, his psycho brother and the all-round fucked-up-ness that is my life currently. Needless to say, it was like waving a rag at a bull, and I am now standing here waiting for her to calm down. Which doesn’t seem like it is going to happen anytime soon. “Gina, just shut the hell up, will you?” My dad’s normally quiet voice booms across the room, and we both stare at him, silence descending at last. “Stop for a minute and look at what you are doing to ou
I must have fallen asleep at some point because I am woken by a pounding on the door. Wrapping my gown around myself, I make my way downstairs to find the postman with a registered letter bearing my name. Odd as no one knows yet that I live here. I make my way upstairs and pop the kettle on before ripping open the envelope. The first thing I take in is the Hudson International letterhead, and I find my heart beating a rapid tattoo. It takes me a while to digest the words, and it is not until I see the cheque enclosed for ten thousand pounds that the penny drops. I am being paid off. The thought sends red-hot fury coursing through my veins, and I start to shake. Of course, in black and white it is all very amicable and spelt out as a corporate responsibility as I was out of my probation period, but I am reading between the lines and I know what is happening here. Before I fully comprehend what I am doing, I find myself donning some clothes and pulling on my duffel coat, heading ou
I slowly climb out of the darkness, and the first thing I notice is a steady beeping sound. I can feel crisp sheets and an ache in my wrists. My mind flicks back, and I remember the drinking, the singing, the cutting of my wrists. With a sigh, I realise that I survived, and now I am probably going to be in a world of trouble.Taylor! Shit, pieces start coming back to me, and I am sure that I heard Taylor’s voice. My heart starts to hammer, and the steady beep increases in pace until I hear someone enter the room. Efficient, cool fingers touch my wrists, well, the parts that aren’t bandaged up, and I hear quiet murmurings. I try to open my eyes, but nothing seems to be cooperating. A warm, sluggish feeling creeps up my limbs, and then once again the darkness descends.~*~Beep. Beep. Beep. I want to shout at the fucking alarm for waking me up; I don’t have to be at work until seven, so why did I set it so early? I crack my eyes open, expecting to see my bedroom ceiling, but instead, I
The lobby seems dark in contrast to the bright sunlight outside so it takes a couple of moments for my eyes to adjust and seek out Nicola. “There she is,” I say, tugging Taylor’s hand towards the corner of the room where I see her standing with Genevieve. I am startled by the look of absolute desolation in Genevieve’s eyes. Even when we visited her a couple of days ago, she looked tired, like she had aged ten years, but she still seemed like she was holding it together. Today, though, she appears like she is coming undone. Genevieve’s eyes are rimmed with red and her typically regal posture is stooped as if she is carrying the weight of her grief on her shoulders. Stix doesn’t look much better; in fact, her usual willowy frame seems to be progressing towards gaunt as opposed to merely thin.Muted words are exchanged as Taylor and I envelop them both in hugs. I try to convey my love and sympathy for them both in that small gestu
“Though she be but little, she is fierce!”William Shakespeare,A Midsummer Night's DreamTHE FIRSTOut of the corner of my eye, I watch Taylor as he pulls on the sombre dark grey suit bought especially for the occasion. His expression is pinched and I know today is going to take everything he has to keep it together. Checking my own reflection in the mirror, I smooth the dark fabric over my protruding belly, satisfied that I look presentable before turning to Taylor and holding out his tie.Taking it with a grunt of thanks, he pulls the smooth fabric around his neck. But as he attempts to tie it, he becomes more and more frustrated with his inability to make his hands do what he wants them to do until eventually he pulls it off aggressively and dumps it on the floor in a f
We almost didn’t make it to the courtroom in time, sliding in at the last minute just as the judge was taking the bench. A series of delays which started with flat tires on both our cars, something that raised numerous suspicions that it was somehow engineered, but in the end was solved when Henry’s guys found smashed glass all over the car park from some drunken idiots who had used it as a cut-through. The next stop had been the train station but engineering works from the weekend had overrun and in the end we ended up getting a ride up to London in the surveillance van that normally is in charge of keeping us safe. The irony was not lost on me that if it all goes right today and Hannah is convicted and Richard goes to jail then we will no longer need this van or the team of people dogging our every move.I sit rigidly next to Taylor as we wait with anticipation as the lead juror stands up to deliver the verdict. I can’t help but look across at Hannah,
I have just pulled out a tray of brownies that I have been experimenting with when my phone rings. I consider ignoring it but when I see that it is Taylor calling I quickly put the tray down and pick up my phone. Taylor was in court today for the closing arguments today, but I had decided to give it a miss; I just couldn’t face hearing any more lies about me and having to run the gauntlet with the press whose numbers seemed to have increased exponentially over the last few days.“Abs,” Taylor says before I even have a chance to say hello. “Abs, they have finished up their closing arguments.”“Who?” I ask quickly trying to figure out if I should be worried or not.“Both sides,” Taylor replies sounding slightly exasperated at my confusion.“Wow, that was quick. I thought it would go on for a while. At least until late this evening,” I reply.“We thought
My mum appears at the top of the stairs and looks down at me, “Oh for heaven’s sake, Abby. Stop yelling. This is your surprise,” she says sweeping her hand across to the girl standing quietly in the doorframe. “This is Victoria. She always comes away with us when we do our shoots abroad; she is the only one I trust with my skin and you know how I am about that,” Mum says giving me a look. “Plus she gives the most incredible massages so I told her about you and thought that she could give you a bit of a pampering session today.”I love my mother to bits and her gesture is so incredibly kind, but I rather wish she would have given me a little bit of warning so I could have actually washed my hair or shaved my legs or something so that I don’t feel like the sloth I am currently am. “That sounds lovely, Mum,” I say through slightly gritted teeth before turning to Victoria. “Come on up but please excuse th
“You look like crap, darling,” my mum says, not mincing her words as she surveys my appearance.“Thanks. I love you too,” I mumble back as I let my mum in the front door. She follows me up the stairs and I am conscious that, despite the fact that it is gone ten in the morning, I am still in my pyjamas.“Seriously, darling,” she says as I lead her towards the kitchen, “You have great big bags under your eyes and you look like you have barely slept in days.”“I was asleep by seven yesterday but then after midnight, Bean decided to start doing her acrobatics. I was up every hour to pee so I am knackered, Mum.” I let out a sigh as I pop the kettle on, pulling down some china mugs and getting out the teapot.“Have you been taking your vitamins?” Mum asks looking concerned.“Like clockwork,” I respond. “I just can’t seem to get my mind to w
“So the last time I saw you, Abby, I asked you to think about what makes you happy. I know you have had a lot going on but I wanted to see if you had any thoughts on your task.”I look at David and truthfully I want to smack him. “To be perfectly honest, David, it hasn’t exactly been high on my priority list. Seriously at this point, I would just settle for Richard and Hannah locked up very far away from me. But I know that isn’t the answer you are looking for.”“I know things are tough for you at the moment, Abby. But in a couple of weeks, all of this is going to be over, no matter what the verdict is. And you are going to be asking yourself these questions. You are always so focused on making everyone else happy that you need to start thinking about what you find fulfilling.” David sits there tapping his pen irritatingly on his notepad.I let out a sigh. “I like making people happy. It mak
By the time we slip back into our seats in the courtroom, the jury is just being led back in. Taylor wraps an arm around my shoulders, a comforting gesture that makes me relax a little. I watch as Emelia makes some notes as Hannah is led back into the witness box. For the first time, Hannah looks slightly nervous but when she spots Taylor and me, her gaze turns bitter.Emelia stands up and I find my heart beginning to race, almost as if I am the one getting up to question Hannah myself. “Miss Fisher, would you agree that you have spent the entire morning telling a pack of lies to the courtroom?” Emelia asks, her tone pleasant and light as if she had just asked her whether or not she had enjoyed her lunch.“Absolutely not,” Hannah replies, her tone aggressive. I watch as the tension radiates off her body, her unease written all over her face.Emelia begins by going over Hannah’s testimony that stated that she had no knowl
Today is the day; Hannah is going to be on the witness stand. My stomach churns every time I think of it. Taylor tried to dissuade me from attending, but I put my foot down this time. I need to look Hannah in the eye when she gets up and lies in court.I was so nervous the first time I walked into the courtroom to testify that I hadn’t taken much notice of my surroundings. But as I find my seat behind the large bench of barristers and solicitors for the Prosecution I take a good look around me. A large coat of arms sits above the judge’s chair which along with the dark wooden panelling gives the room an austere feel. We are still waiting for the judge to arrive, but I guess that it won’t be long as I see the far door open and the jurors are led in.It all feels a little surreal, like I am watching an episode of Law & Order: UK, as the judge enters and then finally Hannah is brought to the witness stand. I watch as she stands and makes her