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Abby started. “I don’t… I didn’t…” She’d not thought of any of these details.
“It’s alright,” said Scott. “Rachel spoke with me about her wishes. I know who to call.”
Abby stared at him. Scott squeezed her shoulder. “I have it all written down.”
He offered to walk the doctor out, leaving Abby alone with her mum. She went to the bed and sat beside her mother. Her world had shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. The abrupt severing of the bond she’d shared with her mum left her in a state of profound shock.
A chilling numbness enveloped her, a protective guard to momentarily shield her from the overwhelming torrent of grief. Her limbs felt heavy, as if anchored to the cruel ground of reality, refusing to acknowledge the weight of the absence that now echoed in the silent spaces around her.
She should keep busy. There were things that needed to be done, and it was up to her to do them. Abby went in search of Scott and the list of her mother’s wishes. She’d like to know which funeral home to call, and if she’d wanted to be buried or cremated. Abby was sure Rachel would have chosen cremation. She wanted to be certain.
In the living room, Scott sat between his mum and dad. He was crying and his parents had their arms around him, consoling him. It felt like a private moment, a family moment. One that didn’t include her.
Backing away, glanced outside and saw Zep in the distance. Rachel had made him promise to take her home. What else had she asked of him? Abby wanted to know how her mother wanted to depart this world, how she wanted her departure acknowledged. It seemed everyone knew, but her.
Abby went through the laundry to get to the deck, so as not to disturb Scott and his parents. It was mid-morning, but there was a distinct chill in the air. Autumn had well and truly taken hold of the season.
Zep was on the phone, and the conversation looked intense. Still, she thought he might cut the call short if she wanted to speak with him. She started in his direction, only to be cut off by Dodge.
“He’s busy at the moment.” The usual gruff edge to his voice was softer. His snarl seemed less extreme as well.
“I just wanted to ask him something.” Her own bite was lacking.
“Sorry, Abby, it’ll have to wait.”
She nodded, pulling the jacket she’d thrown on this morning around her. She headed back to the house, and with no one else to talk to, went back to sit with her mother.
As the shock began to loosen its grip, waves of raw emotion crashed over Abby, releasing a storm of guttural sobs that seemed to emanate from the depths of her soul. Tears, hot and unrelenting, blurred her vision and left her breathless.
She felt completely, and utterly alone. Scott had his family, even Zep had his goddamn club. Demi and Flynn were in Brisbane. There was no one for her. The stark reality of a future without her mother, the person who had been her anchor and guiding light, cut through Abby's defences, unravelling any sense of stability.
By late afternoon,the funeral home had collected Rachel, and Abby had read through her list of instructions. She’d showered and brushed her hair. Trish had folded up the blankets and placed them in the bedroom they’d all slept in last night. Scott had been making quiet phone calls, and soon a steady stream of people had made their way into their home.
As if by magic, an array of food appeared on her dining table. A veritable assortment of savouries and desserts. Trish and Henry made endless cups of tea and coffee, while bottles of wine were opened and glasses poured.
Abby moved through the house, speaking to those who wanted to express their sympathies, like a ghost in her own life, caught in the undertow of her own grief. Nothing much was said about the police presence. People assumed it had to do with Rachel’s house getting blown up. Whispers about the tall man with the handlebar moustache being Abby’s father abounded. Nobody asked her to confirm or deny.
Zep and Dodge tried to keep a low profile, but she could tell they were uncomfortable with the amount of people in the house. Abby doubted it had anything to do with their status as criminals. There was something they weren’t telling her. At this point in time, she didn’t much care.
“Abby! Oh, darling, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Jenny and her daughter, Holly, were standing in front of her. “I just can’t believe this, it was only last week I was having coffee with Rachel. Do you remember?”
Abby nodded, vaguely recalling a tidal wave of wedding photos.
“It’s just the saddest thing.” Jenny dabbed at her eyes.
“Your mum was such a nice person,” said Holly.
“Yes,” said Abby.
“May I offer either of you ladies a tea or coffee?”
Abby smiled weakly at Trish. Before she left to make Jenny and Holly a cup of tea, she threw Abby another lifeline.
“I think Scott was looking for you.”
She excused herself and went in search of Scott. Abby found him deep in conversation with Emma from the coffee shop, and her husband, Brett. He wasn’t looking for her. Although grateful to have been freed from Jenny and Holly’s collective sympathies, it stung that Scott wasn’t by her side.
The kitchen bench top offered her respite in the form of wine. About five bottles sat open and someone had thoughtfully left a dozen glasses ready to be filled. Abby poured herself a glass of pinot gris, and took a grateful swallow.
