"…I see the problem".
"You do?"
"Yes".
"What do you think it is, Abbey?"
Taking in a deep breath, she leaned back and placed her hands onto her knees.
"It might be mice".
"Oh, dear". Ethel tutted, "we can't be having that".
Abbey shook her head, "yes. I agree, Ethel".
The young woman smiled, finding it amusing how serious Abbey sounded.
And Abbey continued, "it would not be right to hurt them".
"No?" Ethel asked, voice soft and kind. "Well…how do you suppose we do this?"
Biting down on her lip, Abbey looked back at the small shed.
"I suppose…we should just go inside the shed and help them find a new home".
Ethel smiled, "I like that idea, Abbey".
Tilting her head to the side, she soon got onto her feet.
Ethel made a noise and got onto her feet shortly after.
She looked at the younger women, who looked as though she meant business.
But in the gentlest way possible.
"So, are you ready for your trip?"
Abbey hated answering that question.
"I don't like that question".
Ethel gave her a sad sort of smile, "Dick is sure this will be good for you, Abbey".
"I am not ready". She mumbled, "I still have to pack everything. And I'm not even sure where to start. Everything is a mess".
She gave her a quick nod, "calm down, Abbey". Ethel said to her, "you can pack after work tomorrow. You have plenty of time".
Abbey's fingers pressed against her shirt.
As if she was expecting to feel her Jump Wings.
Clearing her throat, she then grabbed the shed handle.
Pulling the door open, Abbey stepped inside.
Ethel's face formed into nerves, "be careful, Abbey". She whispered.
"Of what?" She asked, with a small frown. "The mice are very small. They will fear me".
Abbey stepped into the center of the shed.
It was full of rusty tools.
Most of them were sharp.
She had to be careful. Ethel was right.
Abbey got onto her knees and turned on her flashlight.
She didn't see anything.
But she could hear something.
It was light scratching, coming from behind an old plank of wood.
No wonder Ethel thought mice were inside her shed.
They were trapped and were trying to escape.
Placing the flashlight into her mouth, Abbey grabbed the plank of wood. She moved it to the side, being as quiet and as careful as she could. With the plank leaning against the end of the shed, Abbey saw a small family of mice nestled into the corner.
Taking the flashlight out of her mouth, she looked over at Ethel.
"Can you hand me the box, please?"
"Yeah – here".
As gently as she could, Abbey carefully picked up one mouse at a time.
They made a noise, a tiny squeaking sound, while she gently picked them up and placed them into the box. The baby mice were very small. Abbey thought they would be the most scared. She quickly placed them with their mother. Getting onto her feet, she left the shed and closed the door. Ethel looked inside the box.
"How adorable…little baby mice".
Abbey frowned a little, "yes…very…cute".
Ethel smiled and looked at her, "not your thing, Abbey?"
"Eh – no, not really". She mumbled, "I just want them to be okay".
Still smiling, Ethel nodded.
"Okay, Abbey". She said, "let's find them a new home".
…
Flicking another page from her book, Abbey saw that it was the next chapter.
Grabbing the bookmark, she placed it on the page and closed the book.
The more she thought about it, the worse she felt.
Rubbing her lips together, Abbey looked at Speirs.
Like usual, he was sitting on his armchair.
A glass of brandy in his hand, a book on his lap, with a cigarette on the ashtray.
Why do I have to feel so nervous?
Sighing, Abbey placed the side of her head into her hand, elbow resting on the armrest.
Her eyes stared at the fireplace.
It was too warm to put a fire on, of course.
But she loved the fireplace.
Abbey couldn't wait until they got to use it again.
"Do you think…I am being stupid, sir?"
Speirs wasn't expecting her to say much at all.
Not about their trip, anyway.
Clearing his throat, the man gave his head a shake.
"I don't".
"I have the right to feel nervous?"
"Yes".
Abbey bobbed her head, with a thoughtful look.
Speirs took another drink of his brandy.
His eyes landing on the side of her face.
He even felt a little nervous too.
And he wondered if admitting that to her, would help Abbey.
Clearing his throat again, it caused Abbey to blink out of her deep thoughts.
"We don't have to stay the full week-"
"I thought it would have been him". She cut him off quietly.
Speirs frowned, "who?"
Abbey gave her head a tiny shake.
"Do you think he doesn't want to be my friend anymore?"
He leaned forwards, "again…who?"
Rubbing her lips together, she let out a long breath.
"Lieb".
"Oh". Speirs mumbled, "I just – maybe he doesn't 'wanna see anyone. No one's heard from Tab either, Abbey".
Biting her lip, Abbey sat up.
Her hands clasped together, landing neatly on her lap.
"I understand". She mumbled, "if seeing me, or anyone else…it might cause him pain". Abbey frowned a little, "we never talk about it".
"No". Speirs muttered, "we don't – won't do us any good".
Wouldn't it?
Abbey still held a lot of guilt.
She could feel it, lying in the pit of her stomach.
But she never mentioned it.
…
The night was going to turn into a depressing one.
So, the veterans wondered into their local night club.
Both had work the next morning.
It wouldn't be the first time they turned up hungover.
After a few shots of whiskey, Abbey felt better.
But after a few more, the world turned back into a brighter place. Music was blaring around her; people were dancing, and girls were swinging. Everyone was having a good time. But the club lightened up even more, when an old favorite came on;
"sing, sing, sing!"
"Get up!"
It was a shock, when Speirs suddenly grabbed her hand.
Soon, Abbey was on the dancefloor.
Looking around her, people were going crazy.
Shaking her head, Abbey tried to pull away.
"No!" Speirs refused, with a grin. "Come on – just this once!"
Pulling a face, she sighed.
"I do not like you very much right now, sir!"
Speirs didn't care.
He was drunk and happy.
"I don't feel bad about that!" He yelled, over the music.
That song was almost nine minutes long.
Speirs led them into this fast step.
Abbey found it difficult to keep up with him.
She was tripping over and standing on his toes.
Speirs grabbed her waist and spun her around.
She let out a yelp and grabbed his shoulders.
"What are you doing?!" Abbey exclaimed.
"It's fun-"
"it's not that fun!"
Though, Abbey did end up saying that with a smile.
Speirs smiled back and put her back on her feet again, "see?! It's fun!"
Not wanting to trip over again, her hands remained on his shoulders.
Fingers itching towards the back of his neck.
Speirs still had a hold of her waist.
The pair of them weren't dancing anymore.
Abbey sighed, "I don't like the dancefloor!"
Giving her a small smile, Speirs nodded.
"Okay…let's get more drunk!"
Grinning now, Abbey let go of his shoulders.
"Race you to the bar, sir!"
Letting out a laugh, he followed after her.
Of course, Abbey was the first to reach the bar.
And she was still smiling.
He liked seeing her smile.
…
Thankfully, the following day went by quickly.
Abbey was pulling down the blinds and turning off the main lights.
Mr. Adamson was still stacking the shelves with more books.
He had his lamp on, which sat up on a table by him.
"You do not want me to stay, Mr. Adamson?"
"No". He gave her a kind smile, "have a good trip, Abbey".
"I will try".
"Lock the front door". He told her, "I'll use the backdoor".
Giving him a nod, Abbey flipped over the sign to "closed", on the door and left the bookstore. She locked the door behind her and placed the key into her pocket.
It wasn't a long walk home.
Though, Mr. Adamson's bookstore was slightly out of town.
They didn't get a lot of customers because of this. But he'd never move his store and he'd never shut it down. Mr. Adamson loved that store. It was his reward, after working so hard to get it.
Abbey loved working there.
Winters got her that job, after stumbling across it one day.
He explained to Mr. Adamson Abbey's love for books and stories.
Mr. Adamson hired her on the spot, when they met the very next day.
Twenty minutes of walking later, Abbey entered the house.
From there, she quickly made the dinner and had it ready by the time Speirs got home from work. The pair of them ate and talked about their day. Then came the subject of packing, which Abbey dreaded. She'd need to make a start on it, it would take her hours.
"It doesn't have to be perfect". Speirs reminded her, "just clothes, alright?"
She wanted to get it over with.
Abbey left the table and headed up the stairs.
Reaching under her bed, she pulled out her bag and unzipped it.
Placing it onto her bed, she then walked over to the wardrobe and started to bring out some trousers, shirts and a couple of jumpers. So far, things were going fine. Everything was neat and tucked inside the bag perfectly.
It's not good enough.
Biting her lip, Abbey unpacked everything and started again.
And again.
…again.
Soon enough, she was standing in the room, with clothes scattered across the floor.
Taking in a deep breath, her hand hovered by her ear.
"Sir". She called out.
Not even ten seconds later, Speirs walked into her room.
Giving her a tiny smile, he closed the door.
Abbey looked down at the mess, she gave her head a shake.
"It's not – it can't be right".
"It can". Speirs told her, "like I said, it doesn't have to be perfect".
She closed her eyes.
And took in another deep breath.
"Yes". She mumbled, "it does".
Speirs reached down and picked up a few items of clothing.
Abbey opened her eyes and watched him.
She didn't do anything for a few moments, she simply watched.
He didn't look panicked.
Not like she felt.
Two hours.
Abbey had tried to pack for two hours, before she called for Speirs.
She didn't understand why it was like this sometimes.
But he didn't seem to mind.
It reminded of her of the night she packed before going to America.
She and her mum had spent half the night packing.
Abbey got annoyed; Helen cried.
A lump got lodged in her throat, when Abbey thought back to that memory. She tried to swallow it back and sat down on the edge of her bed, with a little sigh. She was horrible to her mum. Abbey still felt guilty about the way she acted towards her parents.
She missed the attachment she had with her mum.
Especially on nights where she had to pack.
Speirs looked over at her, when he found her to be far too quiet.
His eyebrows twitched, forming a little frown.
Abbey's head was bowed, she was staring at her hands.
Speirs didn't think she'd start talking.
But like always, she was always surprising him.
"I am afraid".
He expected that. And he could understand why she might be afraid.
However, he was wrong.
Abbey swallowed again.
"I am starting to forget what…".
She stopped talking.
There was a small pause, while Abbey took back her composure.
"What her voice sounded like".
It could only mean her mother.
Speirs felt something pull at his heart. He couldn't imagine it. Especially for a young adult. So many things, so many memories and moments, her parents would never see or share with Abbey. Speirs wondered if she thought about them often. He felt guilty for not asking. But she was difficult to read, her face was often so impassive and blank. Except when she smiled. But even in that moment, while she feared of not remembering her mother, you'd have thought Abbey was thinking about something normal or boring she had saw that day.
Speirs sat down next to her.
"What's something she said often?" He asked her, very quietly.
Abbey closed her eyes.
"She would often say…are you okay, sweetheart?"
His lips created a sad smile.
Nodding, Speirs wrapped his arm around her.
"Let's think about that". He murmured softly, "we'll pack later".
Leaning into his side, Abbey tried to remember her mum's voice.