Abby Ch. 11

Reading Mr. Brasher's summary had helped Abby understand her grandfather's work, but also had raised many other questions. Not so much as about his life and work, she realised that was something she could never fully appreciate, but more about the line itself. She wanted to put substance to the places about which she had read. It occurred to her that James' suggestion that riding along the old track-bed would provide a much better viewpoint to appreciate the valley and the line in that context. She determined to ask him at the earliest opportunity. In addition she would like to know what happened to the other people mentioned, Reg Purvess, Alfred Anson, and Bob Fairworthy. Perhaps she could ask Sam again, although she felt he would probably be heartily sick of her questions by now.

That evening Sam and Mavis didn't come into the Combe Inn, Mary explained that they had gone to Molton to visit Mavis's sister, who was not that well. James did however, and although he made a show of talking to everybody, he gradually made his way along the bar to Abby, who forsaking the Lounge had occupied a corner and was talking to Jack and Mary, whenever he was not pulling pints, and she was not darting off here and there. When James arrived at Abby's side, Jack and Mary both found work to do at the other end of the bar. Well in truth Mary found work for them both, almost dragging Jack away; she was beside herself with glee, it was rare that James came in two nights running, and the thought of phoning Mavis to report this added to her delight. Of course she wouldn't just come out with it, this was gossip to be savoured, and teased out of her, all the while frustrating Mavis who as ever would want to come straight to the point. Eventually Mary's curiosity got the better of her, and taking advantage of the fact that James' glass was in need of re-filling, she moved down to where they were talking.

She was disappointed in that the conversation revolved around little more than the rain that had deluged the valley that day. Mary reached over and indicated James' mug.

"Yes please, Mary, would you like another drink?" He enquired of Abby.

"Thanks, can I have a Vodka and Tonic?"

"And a Vodka and Tonic for Abby." he repeated the order to Mary, who, in order that she could overhear as much of their conversation without appearing rude, pulled James' pint, and poured Abby's vodka as slowly as she could, and was delighted to hear, when Abby asked if she could take up James' offer of riding along the track bed. "Of course," he replied, "although I did wonder if riding Jason for the first time, might not have put you off." He grinned.

Abby had felt some muscle strain from the saddle, but she was damned if she would admit it to James. "Not at all, I quite enjoyed the experience, and I think that you were right when you said, riding the old line will be much more informative than driving, or even walking." Abby deliberately deferred to his superior knowledge, something that she had rarely done with any man before, but an innate feminine instinct told her that this was the right thing to do. James nodded, pleased that his advice had been accepted. Mary was aware of what Abby had done, and inwardly congratulated her.

James of course did not realise that the flattery had been a little false, and accepted the comment as a true admission of his good judgement. "Well, when would you like to do it, I'm afraid that tomorrow is out, I have to go to Taunton, but Friday would be fine, if that suits you?" Friday would suit Abby well; it would give her an extra twenty-four hours to recover from the slight saddle soreness that yesterday's outing had left her with.

Mary had been listening and felt that she could offer something. "As you will probably be out for most of the day, would you like me to put up some sandwiches and a flask?"

Abby looked at James for guidance. "Will we be out that long?"

He thought they would. "There's no point in hurrying, and there is a lot to see, so I think yes, we will be out for most of the day."

Abby turned to Mary. "That would be very kind of you, Mary. Are you sure it's no bother?" Mary was aghast at the suggestion that a few sandwiches and a flask of tea; would be a bother, although her mind was already working on a suitable menu. Bother? This was grist to her mill.

Later in her room, Abby thought that perhaps she should write to Mr. Brasher, thanking him for the information he had sent. She had brought her Lap Top computer with her, and normally would have emailed, but she doubted that Mr. Brasher had even heard of the Internet, much less having an Email address. Heaving a sigh, she drew out the few sheets of writing paper she possessed and began to write. She chuckled gently to herself; this place really had got to her, now she was communicating just as her grandfather had done way back in the forties and fifties.

Abby drove into Paverton the next day, to post the letter, and also to drop in on Toni. Timing her visit right, she was just in time to catch Toni on her way for morning coffee. Toni was delighted and grabbing Abby's arm, hurried her across the road to the Café. "Now bring me up to date, have you learned anything new?" Abby once more had to go through the story of her resignation, leaving out details of the financial nature of her severance, and telling Toni all about Mr. Brasher's story, including the background of the valley railway. Toni laughed upon hearing the accurate history. "So much for the Librarian's history." She commented. "And how are you getting on with James Comberford."

The question came out of the blue, and took Abby by surprise. "How do you mean? Getting on with James."

Toni's eyes twinkled. "Well you did say before, that you had talked to him once or twice, and word has reached what passes for society in these parts that James has become friendly with someone new to the area, and you referred to him simply as James, which would indicate a little more than a passing acquaintance."

Abby's face blushed a bit, and she smiled. "I suppose that we have struck up a friendship."

Toni laughed triumphantly. "I knew it. And of course you have put one or two noses out of joint. But are you sure it is just a friendship?"

"Don't read anything into that." Replied Abby shaking her head. "Although I am going to be around for a month or two, I shall have to earn a living, and that is something I can't do in Combe Lyney; so eventually I shall be leaving. There's no future for me here." She paused, and feminine curiosity overcame her. "Anyway whose noses have I put out of joint?"

"There are some who had hopes in that direction." Toni said mysteriously.

"Not you surely, Toni?"

"Oh good God no, I want to get out of this place, not get myself mired in, and we know that James will never leave here now." Again. The emphasis on the 'now'. Abby was determined to get to the bottom of this.

"That's the second time I have heard that said. Is there a story there?"

Toni looked at her in surprise. "Well you know he was in the Army, don't you?"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, he was in the Parachute Regiment. Went through the Falklands War, and got himself Decorated. He came back, and resigned his commission. From what I can gather, he doesn't like travelling further than Taunton now. I don't know what happened to him out there, but something obviously did."

Without thought Abby muttered. "Oh poor James." Toni kept her thoughts to herself, upon hearing the comment. Whatever Abby said her feelings were perhaps a little more than just friendship.

Abby drove back to Combe Lyney, knowing that she had not told the truth. She did not need to earn a living; she needed to earn a Life. Combe Lyney was seducing her. The location, the people, and more than those; as if they weren't enough, her roots were beguiling her to stay. She discounted James as a reason. He was charming, amusing, and good company, but Abby had managed to get through without a man as part of her life. She had some occasional adventures, which were mildly diverting, but they had never been more than that, perhaps because she had never committed totally in her mind to the relationships. Consequently her life had been one of hard work, coupled with a detached observation. She was part of life, but never affected by it. Here for the first time that attitude was changing. She was conceiving a love for the valley, and the people who lived here. They accepted her and involved her in their community, without asking for favours or help. Without thinking she drove straight through the village and along to the old station. Unconsciously she had become used to this place as somewhere she could think, perhaps hoping that her grandfather's ghost would still be around to help her deliberations.

Abby would have been amused to realise that others had noticed this behaviour, and approved. Mavis and Mary had discussed this, after Sam had reported her frequent visits to the site. "The girl needs somewhere to think." Said Mavis, "and where better than the place her mother grew up. Leave her be, is what I say, and let her make her decisions in peace." This was, of course, supreme irony coming from Mavis who was determined that Abby should assume a place in the village that she Mavis had elected for her, a situation that at this moment had never entered Abby's head.

Mary without guile had pointed out to Mavis, "yes that's alright, as long as she makes her mind up the way you think it ought to be." Mavis nodded, unaffected by the sarcasm.

The station exerted its usual calming influence over Abby. She wandered the platform allowing the tranquillity of the place to wash over her. The very peace that she sought here, ostensibly to help her deliberations, was subtly influencing those deliberations. The ambience of the place was diluting any sense of freewill that she erroneously believed was hers. Although Abby didn't realise or recognise the fact, Combe Lyney station was not the right environment for the decisions she was tussling with; so that when she left to return to the Inn, Abby still believed that she had a choice, unaware that the insidious atmosphere had worked on her emotions. Only later would she realise that. Collecting Mr. Brasher's papers from her room, she made her way outside to sit at one of the tables and continue reading.

Mary appeared after some twenty minutes with a tray of tea. "I've got some nice scones and cream if you would like." She offered.

Abby laughed delightedly. "If I eat as much as you seem to want me to eat, that poor horse will not be able to carry me tomorrow."

Mary laughed too. "Don't you believe it Girl. Look at you, there's hardly anything of you." She went on, "if I was your mother..." There she stopped abruptly, realising that this was an area that could upset Abby.

Abby understood immediately, and put Mary at ease. "If you were my mother you would be telling me that I don't eat enough to keep body and soul together, and that you hadn't slaved all day to put good food on the table, and have me turn my nose up at it." Her voice changed, "I miss mum, but the hurt has gone, and it's nice to have someone like you who worries about me in the same way that she would have." Mary's eyes nearly filled with tears at the compliment.

She turned away, saying. "I'll get another cup; I could do with a cup of tea myself."

When she returned she had her emotions under control. Abby took charge and poured tea for them both, and then asked the question that had been lurking around her mind for some time now. "Mary I have known for years that I was illegitimate, and have never concerned myself about it. But coming here and learning so much about my family prompts a question that I never thought I would ask. Do you know, or do you think Mavis and Sam would know, who my father was?" Mary was silent for a moment. She, Sam and Mavis had more than once talked about the possibility of Abby asking this question, and Mavis had elected herself spokeswoman if Abby were to ask.

For Mary the answer was easy. "I can't help you Love, you know that Jack and I only took over the Pub fifteen years ago. You had best talk to Mavis." Abby nodded her head. Mary went on. "It was thirty-five years ago, if no-body at the time knew that your Mum was pregnant, why would they have reason to suspect there was a man involved?"

Abby nodded again. "I think you are trying to prepare me for disappointment."

Mary shook her head sadly. "Sometimes finding out the truth could be the disappointment."

Abby looked up sharply at her. "Do you know Mary? That is very profound. But nonetheless I shall have to ask Mavis at the first opportunity." She went on, "when I was young I imagined all sorts of reasons why I didn't have a dad, I invented stories for myself about him, that he was for instance an explorer, lost in some unfathomable Jungle, or working secretly for the security of the nation. I didn't feel deprived, just a little different. As I grew up I realised that not having a father was one of those things, that never having, I didn't miss. It wasn't important, and I haven't thought about it for years, until coming down here and discovering that I did have a family, that mum had had a mother and father. Whilst you know that biologically that must be, its only when you put a face to a vague concept that it becomes real. If mum ran away because she was pregnant, then it follows that my father must have been from this area."

Mary shook her head. "No Love, in those days the West Country was one of the main holiday regions in the country, plenty of tourists, far more than now, coming here from all over the country." Abby sat quietly absorbing the truth of Mary's argument.

But not wishing to let the conversation get too depressing her innate sense of fun re-emerged. "You mean I could be the result of a holiday fumble?" Mary was shocked, until she noted the grin on Abby's face. Relieved that Abby could still find humour she relaxed.

Abby then changed the subject. "Now, what are you putting in the packed lunch tomorrow? Jam sandwiches and a bottle of water would do me." The laughter was back in her voice.

Mary laughed too. "No nothing like that, I thought a few dry biscuits, and possible a bit of hard cheese. That will do fine as long as you cut the furry bits off." The gloom had lifted as suddenly as it descended before. With their mood restored to its normal good-humoured balance the conversation moved on until Mary, having finished her tea, decided that the kitchen required her attention once more. Abby resumed her reading.

That evening brought a message from James, who had popped in on his return from Taunton. He would pick her up at eight o' clock the following morning. The message also contained the injunction 'wear comfortable'. Abby's enquiries of Mary brought a blush to both their faces. "You will spend a long day in the saddle; don't wear anything too tight around the hips and bottom." Was Mary's interpretation of the instruction? Abby's giggle said it all, realising that James was trying in the most genteel way to spare her embarrassment later. Mary also added some advice of her own. "Don't drink too much this evening or tomorrow morning; you can't duck behind a hedge as James can." Abby's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, there was definitely humour in this surreal situation. This she thought was definitely a date with a difference. Then the thought struck her, was this a Date? The few dates that she had were often never repeated, or ended up with pressure for Abby to be more 'friendly' than she wished to. She doubted that this would be the case tomorrow. Her musing was interrupted by the arrival of Sam, who insisted that he was going to buy Abby a drink for a change. Abby asked for a Vodka and Tonic, reckoning that a short drink would comply with Mary's advice.

Sam knew about Abby's ride tomorrow with James, and invited her to call in at the farm, which wasn't far off the track. "Mavis will want to kill the fatted calf, and lay on a full spread for you, so I won't tell her you may be coming by. That way I shall be the only one to suffer afterwards, for not letting her know that you may call. I'll leave it up to you." Abby thanked him, and asked how they would find the farm? Sam laughed. "Oh Mr. James knows the way, don't worry." She realised that of course James would know, and felt quite stupid for a moment.

They chatted for a while, until Sam suddenly said. "I almost forgot. I think I may have found out where Reg Purvess is living. I believe that he's in Cullompton." Abby heard this information with mixed feelings, one of which was trepidation. She was aware from the conversations she had with Sam and Mavis that Reg and her mother were what could be called friends; and to Abby he could be a suspect for paternity. Sam noticed the expression on her face, and forewarned by Mary who had telephoned Mavis that afternoon, could read Abby's thoughts. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I know what you are thinking, the answers definitely no. That is of course if you haven't dyed your hair." Confused, Abby looked at him. He smiled. "Reg was a real Carrot top, and nine times out of ten, children will inherit that colour. Are you red underneath that blonde hair of yours?"

She relaxed. "Sam can you read me that well?"

He shook his head. "No Love, but we knew that it was only a matter of time before you would start wondering. Mavis has racked her brains, and can't think of anyone who was close enough to your Mum. But I'll tell you one thing, it wasn't a casual affair; your Mum wasn't like that. Whoever he was, he meant something to her." Abby was grateful for the kind words, and impulsively kissed Sam on the cheek. Sam of course turned the bright red that was his usual reaction to gestures of affection.

Mary chuckled delightedly, as she walked back down the Bar, wiping her hands on a towel. "Sam you will just have to get used to being a sex object."

Abby's mind churned the somewhat peculiarity of Reg's hair. "Isn't it unusual for a man from this area to have red hair?" She asked Sam.

He shook his head. "There were quite a few Scots shepherds came down here in the middle eighteen hundreds when they were establishing large scale sheep farming on the Moor. It wasn't too successful. Some went back, some stayed, intermarried, and made new lives for themselves. You'll come across a few Scottish names, and colouring from time to time."

Abby excused herself about half past nine. An early night would be useful if the following day was to be quite long, and she wanted to review some of Mr. Brasher's' notes. His history was far more complete than the little book that Toni had given her, and Abby wanted it fresh in her mind for the expedition tomorrow.

To be continued