A Is for Abigail Read Free Page A

Soon, the track petered out but Abigail knew exactly where she was heading. She let Sam off the lead and he trotted ahead, occasionally stopping to sniff something irresistible.
    Branches swept at her face, and the canopy overhead largely blocked out the spring sunshine. Her footsteps fell silently on the rotting leaf litter. Then the trees thinned out and she was at the clearing where the gypsies camped. Apart from the remains of a bonfire in the centre, with weak wisps of smoke still curling from the charcoal, there was no sign of life. She noticed a tree with the initials CD gouged out, but it didn’t look freshly carved.
    No vans. No vehicles. No people. No dogs. No Bufniță.
    No question. The gypsies had moved on.
    Abigail kicked a tree trunk with in frustration.
    “Bufniță! Where are you?”
    No answer.
    “Bufniță! You broke your promise!”
    Her voice rang through the woods but there was no reply.
    How could I be so stupid? Did I really hand over my expensive watch to a complete stranger? To a gypsy woman, no less? And for what?
    “Come on, Sam,” she said, her heart heavy. “Let’s go. We’ll take a walk to the police station and have a word with Stan. Report my watch stolen.”
    She looked around for Sam. He was a particularly obedient dog, not given to ignoring commands. He had been trained as a guide dog for the blind, but he hadn’t quite made the grade.
    “Sam?”
    It was a rare occurrence, but this time he refused to come to her call.
    “Sam! Come on!”
    Silence. Nothing stirred. Abigail squeezed her eyes shut in exasperation and concentrated, listening.
    Then she heard something. A noise coming from her right. Not the noise of a dog snuffling through undergrowth, but a tiny whimper, almost a mewling.
    Oh no! The gypsies have abandoned a puppy!
    She swung round in the direction of the tiny sniffle and spotted Sam. He was sitting quietly beside a small bush at the edge of the clearing, his tail sweeping the ground as he looked at her.
    She approached the bush carefully, and peered round it.
    “Sam, what have you got there?”
    What she saw turned her bones to liquid and her heart nearly beat out of her chest.
    “Ohhh…”
    In a straw moses basket lay a baby.
    Not trusting her own eyes, she squeezed them tight, then opened them again.
    The baby was still there.
    Abigail drew in a long breath, then crouched beside the basket. She touched the baby’s rosy cheek with the back of one tentative finger. The baby fluttered its golden eyelashes but didn’t wake.
    The basket looked new, as did the lacy white coverlet tucked around the baby. The baby’s face was clean and beautiful, flushed by sleep.
    “This is it,” she whispered. “This is the treasure worth more than all the gold in the world. This is the gift Bufniță promised.”
    Legs shaking, she sat crosslegged beside the basket, never tearing her eyes from the baby’s face.
    “Who are you?” she whispered. “You don’t look like a gypsy baby. Did they steal you? Is your mother looking for you?”
    The baby waved a tiny fist in sleep but didn’t open its eyes.
    Except what she’d learned from having nieces and nephews, Abigail didn’t know a lot about babies. She knew this one wasn’t very old. Maybe a few weeks? As her heart thudded, she knew she had to pick up the basket, with its precious, tiny occupant, and do the right thing. She had to take it to the police station.
    A little distance away something caught her eye. A bag. She leaned over and grabbed it, pulling it towards herself. She fumbled with the fastenings, curious to see what it held.
    Like the basket, it looked new. It was one of those cleverly designed bags that opened out into a changing mat. And it had pockets stuffed full of all manner of baby items: bottles, formula, talcum powder, nappy cream, nappies, a pacifier and a teething ring. Everything was brand new, unused.
    It’s almost like a baby starter pack! she thought. I think I was meant to find the baby and