English donuts were different than American. There was less variety, which was disappointing. But many of them involved custard and/or cream which Abby thought, as a plus.
While Mrs. Truman poured her coffee, Abby selected a long donut, split lengthwise and piped along the split with mixture of cream and custard and dropped to her couch. One of Mrs. Truman’s dogs jumped up beside her and sat panting and staring at Abby’s donut.
The whole time, Abby felt Jenny’s eyes on her.
When she settled, Jenny impatiently demanded, “Start with the blood.”
“Well,” Abby began, not knowing how to say what she had to say without them thinking she was insane.
“Spit it out, Abigail, we don’t have all day,” Mrs. Truman asked then bit into a sugar-coated jam donut, consuming at least a quarter in one bite.
“I was shoved into a mirror by a ghost,” Abby blurted.
Jenny gasped.
Mrs. Truman snapped, “What?” but since her mouth was full, bits of donut flew out.
Abby took in a breath and explained, “Cash’s family owns Penmort Castle. It’s said to be haunted and I’m here, just barely, to tell you that is most definitely true.”
Jenny shot out of her chair and leaned toward Abby. “I knew this would happen. I told you.”
Mrs. Truman swallowed and decreed, “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“There is!” Jenny shouted, clearly beside herself.
“Is not!” Mrs. Truman shouted back, never really needing a reason to raise her voice.
“Trust me, Mrs. Truman, I would have been fighting your corner but I saw her. I knew what she was. I could see through her. She was there, she was real, she was angry and she shoved me,” Abby told her and looked up at Jenny. “Then my hand went through the mirror, I cut myself, slipped, banged my head on the basin and went unconscious.”
“Oh God,” Jenny breathed and collapsed back in her chair.
“What does Fraser say about this?” Mrs. Truman asked.
“I haven’t told him the ghost part,” Abby admitted.
“Well I can see why not considering if you did he’d rightly think you were mad,” Mrs. Truman retorted.
Abby turned her body to face the older woman. “Honest, I wish it wasn’t true. But I’m telling you, Mrs. Truman, she’s real and she means to hurt me,” Abby’s eyes moved to Jenny. “And, in less than two weeks from now, I’m supposed to go back there for the anniversary celebrations and stay there, overnight.”
“You can’t do it,” Jenny told her immediately.
“I know!” Abby agreed. “But I can’t not do it either, Cash would be –”
“You have to get rid of her,” Mrs. Truman butted in and both women’s eyes moved to her.
“Get rid of her?” Jenny asked.
Mrs. Truman waved her donut in the air. “Yes, get rid of her.”
“Who?” Abby queried.
“The ghost!” Mrs. Truman replied with severe impatience.
“How’s she going to do that?” Jenny enquired.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Truman admitted, “but we’ll sort something out.” Then she took another bite of her donut and calmly chewed.
It wasn’t lost on Abby that Mrs. Truman said “we’ll”.
Abby decided not to fight it, she wouldn’t win. It seemed post-dinner-party that Mrs. Truman had decided to become a fixture in Abby’s life.
Abby had to admit she didn’t mind in the slightest.
“I don’t think it’s that easy to get rid of a ghost,” Abby told the older woman.
“I didn’t say it’d be easy,” Mrs. Truman noted, waving the remains of her donut again. “I just said we’d sort something out.” She leaned forward and took a sip of coffee before sitting back and saying, “I know a few people. I’ll make some calls.”
Abby couldn’t imagine what kind of calls she’d make to find someone to get rid of a ghost but she didn’t have time to ask, Jenny spoke.
“Are you okay, your arm, that is?”
Abby nodded. “Yes, Cash found me in the bathroom and carried me to a couch. He cleaned me up and then demanded that the paramedics look me over before he’d even let me sit up. I had a little headache this morning but mostly head and arm are both fine.”
“He’s a good boy,” Mrs. Truman muttered but Jenny was watching Abby closely and Abby knew why.
Abby took a bite of her donut and assured Jenny, mouth full, “It’s all good.”
“You’re being smart?” Jenny asked.
“Yes,” Abby kind of lied.
She wasn’t sure she was being smart but she was trying to be.
Mrs. Truman was looking between the both of them then she enquired, “Is there something I should know?”
Abby answered with another mini-fib, “No, just that Cash and I made up.”
Mrs. Truman made a “pah” noise and then stated, “Of course you did. The papers all say he’s very bright. Anyone who’s bright wouldn’t let a good thing like you slip through his fingers because of a silly quarrel.”
Abby was processing her feelings at getting a compliment from Mrs. Truman when the bell on the door clanked.
“Who’s that?” Abby asked the room at large.
“How should we know?” Mrs. Truman asked back.
Abby dropped her half-eaten donut on the tray and walked to the front door, three yapping spaniels at her heels.
She opened it and a tall, good-looking young man she’d never seen in her life was standing outside.
“Abigail Butler?” he asked.
“Yes,” Abby answered.
“I’m Simon. Mr. Fraser asked me to come and see about your plumbing,” he announced then shoved inside through Abby and the dogs and he closed the door.
“Um,” Abby started, staring at him, unable to take in what he said or his forward behaviour, “someone is already seeing to it.”
Simon had walked through the vestibule, the dogs who he was gamely ignoring dancing at his heels and he was standing in the hall.
“Yes that was mentioned,” Simon told her. “I’m here to make certain the job gets finished to Mr. Fraser’s standards and look into the rest of the system.”
Abby wasn’t certain, but it felt like her blood pressure was rising.
“That isn’t necessary,” she told Simon as she noticed both Jenny and Mrs. Truman had come to the door of the living room to watch. “I’ve got everything under control.”