Free Abbie's Gift by M. R. THOMAS Page A

hands; she was genuinely lost for words.  She felt choked with sudden emotion but also, somehow just looking at Paul Stokes, she knew that she didn’t have to say anything, that a nod was enough.
    She put the cheque on the table and reached for her mug, her whole arm trembling under its weight as she lifted it to her mouth. She needed two hands to support it without spilling it.
    Lesley Whittle then produced a small pack of papers and handed it to Abbie.
    “Under the circumstances’” she began “you continue to have full entitlement to our private health plan and Employee Assistance service.  You were already covered but it will continue for you till you reach your retirement age”.
    “Thank you, I had no idea”. Abbie’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke.
    “The Employee Assistance service is there for you if you need any support, advice or guidance on any matter at all. You call the number and give the policy number and they will put you in contact with appropriate professionals who can help - legal, financial advice, anything like that.  Also, just so you are aware, there is a confidential counselling service you can use, initially telephone then face-to-face if necessary. Overall we find it’s a good, comprehensive benefit for employees and their families, and it’s totally free for you. If at any time you wish to talk, these people can help.  Depending on where you are, NHS waiting times can be very long, so these people can help when you want it, just so you are aware”.
    “Thanks”, said Abbie again, “I really appreciate all of this”.
    The rest of the conversation was focused on Peter.  He’d worked for the firm for 4 years, and would be missed, Paul said.  Paul himself had met him only once previously, and Lesley not at all, as she was new to the company, based in their main office, and Peter had usually been located in the southern office. They spoke highly of him and his ability, he had been well-liked by everyone. They mentioned that several of his office colleagues had attended the funeral, and that everyone who had known him would miss him greatly.
    For some reason, Abbie felt that these were just platitudes, pleasantries they felt they had to say but didn’t really mean.
    Would he really be missed in 3 or 4 months, in years to come? No, forgotten, she thought, eventually people would say ‘Peter who?’  Only those very close ever remember.
     
    After Paul and Lesley had left, both giving firm handshakes of reassurance, Abbie sat and stared at the cheque.  She realised she was in a way getting rich from Peter’s death, and this thought made her feel very uncomfortable;  however it was said, or described, it was completely true.
    Although it had not come through yet, there would also be life insurance that would pay off the mortgage, and now this unexpected huge cash amount. She didn’t like it; although she was very grateful, it did feel somehow very wrong to her that, financially, he was worth more dead than alive.
     
    Within a few minutes of her visitors’ departure, Abbie was changed and heading out for her run.  The day was overcast, but quite humid again, the colours still changing as autumn continued its inexorable progress towards winter.
    Once in the park Abbie quickened her pace and she felt to her surprise physically quite strong, her limbs seemed to be up to the job. Her breathing was regular and steady, so she tried to clear all her thoughts and erase the meeting from her mind, and especially all thoughts of financially benefiting from Peter’s death.
    Benefiting, being better off, what stupid phrases she thought; being better off would be having Peter alive, she would be better off with him, never without him.
    After her circuit of the park, Abbie felt the fatigue begin to take hold as she approached the entrance gate; her legs no longer felt fresh, but at least her breathing wasn’t too laboured. She decided she hadn’t finished so she headed off in the