Abby Ch. 01

"If you would like a drink, Jack won't mind bringing it to you here. It's a lot more comfortable than the Bar." The problem was resolved so simply and diplomatically, allowing Abby a choice, but at the same time indicating that her presence in the Bar might discomfort the other customers.

Jack brought the Whisky and water she had ordered and lingered awhile asking if she had enjoyed her meal. He was as relieved as his wife to learn that Abby had indeed enjoyed the meal, but that the quantities had defeated her. He went on to again ask about her family. Abby was happy to talk, as after all this was partially the reason she had come to the area.

"I was an only child, and as far as I know there are no cousins, aunts, and uncles whatever. Mum was vague about her past, and even after her death I was not able to find much to help. There was no personal correspondence, Solicitors letters or anything like that. I found an old passport, and all that told me was that she was born near South Molton." Jack mused.

"And your name is Tregonney. Was that your Mother's name as well?" Abby nodded her head in confirmation. "Tregonney.... Tregonney, wait a minute." and he disappeared round to the other side of the bar. He was back in a minute dragging an embarrassed man with him. "This is Will." Will nodded his head.

"Evening Miss," he muttered.

Jack went on. "Will has lived around here for getting on thirty years, if any one knows something it will be him, apart from Sam, Sam Perry, whose been here all his life."

Will perked up because his local knowledge was being sought. "The only one who knows more than Sam is his missus, who knows everything, can't even turn over in bed without 'er knowing."

Jack turned to Will. "This is Miss Tregonney, who thinks her family may have once lived here about."

Will didn't need to think long. "Tregonney, why that could be the Tregonney who was Stationmaster, hang on I'll tell you his name, what was it now? Yes," he exclaimed with pride, "it was Tom, yes that was him Tom Tregonney, mind you I didn't know him, I didn't come here until nineteen sixty eight, but I heard his wife had died, and I believe there was a daughter." He shook his head in puzzlement. "Don't know what happened to her." Will finished his little speech with a broad smile on his face, pleased that he could recall these details so quickly. Abby was elated, her grandfather, it had to be her grandfather, and he had been the stationmaster! No wonder she had felt an affinity for the place. She knew then that she would go back to the station tomorrow, to explore more, and see the place that her Grandfather had worked, and possibly where her Mum had spent time as a little girl.

Jack ushered Will away, and returned straight away. "You have just given them all something to talk about. They'll be dredging their memories now. Come tomorrow evening and you could have enough to write a book. Do you think that Tom Tregonney is related?" Abby nodded.

"Yes it has to be, as Mary said it's not a common name. He could be my grandfather" She thought for a moment. "Please tell Will thanks for me, and do you think I could buy him a drink? She rummaged in her bag, and came up with a five-pound note, which she proffered to Jack.

"Put your money away, I'll give Will another pint, even though he's had enough already, and charge it to your Bill. If they thought you was buying drinks for anyone who could tell you something about your family, they would be making up stories from now until Mid-Summer."

Abby sat with her thoughts for a while, and drank a little. Eventually she picked up the book she had brought down with her and settled down to read. A quiet but firm 'ahem' startled her and looking up she saw Will peering round from the Bar. He lifted a pint glass, and nodded his head in thanks, Abby smiled at him and he withdrew, flustered. The book proved difficult, as she couldn't concentrate, and when she found herself reading the same page for the third time, gave it up. Mary came to join her at her usual bustling pace, and for once sat down.

"It's memory lane round there. Jack's ears are flapping like he'll take off in a minute. Lumme, they say women talk, they've never heard this bunch, mind you a lot of it's quite fanciful, but that's country folk for you, a good tale can always be improved with a bit of embroidery. By the way you have been adopted. Jack says you think this Tregonney could be your grandfather. That makes you as good as a local." Abby had to smile; it gave her a good feeling in a way, as she had never really belonged anywhere before. She said as much to Mary.

"Mary I've been here for what? Six hours. It's silly, I know, but I feel at home already. Probably because for the first time I know where my family came from, I know it was years ago, but I have found out something about me, and who I am."

Mary regarded her guest with affection, and patted her arm. "I reckon you'll find out a lot more before too long." She got up and seeing that Abby's glass was empty asked if she would like another. Deciding that she may not sleep too easily tonight Abby thought she would have another. Mary brought this for her and also brought a glass of Sherry for herself. "Jack's coping easily tonight; so if you don't mind I'll sit awhile with you." Abby was happy to have her company, and they sat chatting comfortably, Mary in the manner of most women asking innocuous questions that filled in her knowledge of what Abby did for a living, was there a special man in her life, where she lived, and could eventually give a fairly accurate guess as to how well off she was. She would be shocked later when she realised that she had seriously underestimated that aspect. Mary, being a woman, was now convinced that fate had brought Abby to this valley for a purpose; she was also fairly sure what that purpose was.

Abby for her part was quietly pleased with herself when she eventually retired to bed. Not just because she had found a link to her family; her logical brain told her that it was only a possibility, but her emotions crying out for sustenance would not admit anything but that it was a fact: The other reason for satisfaction was that for the first time she could recall in many years she had spent a whole evening in company, talking easily about everything and anything, and it had been simply done, none of the uncomfortable pauses as she searched for something to say, no asking fatuous questions to maintain a conversation. It all happened so naturally and easily. What was different this time? Why, here, was she relaxed and to an extent outgoing? Whatever the reason it didn't matter, the evening had been enjoyable and Abby retired to bed with a sense of accomplishment.

To be continued.