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would be a good start, and maybe in a week or two she could consider returning to work.  Everything in her plan seemed do-able and achievable, but one obstacle she knew lay in her path: how to get her mum to go home.
    Yes, Abbie was grateful for all her mum’s support and just for being there, more grateful than she could ever express, but now it was time to be alone and to face the new and challenging world on her own.
     
    Abbie looked around and became aware that she was the only one on top of the hill, so she decided to jog back down the path.  It was steep and needed care, the ground loose and uncertain in places. She felt capable of tackling it and set off at a steady pace.  Each jolt from the uneven path sent a pain up her thighs, and she thought that she might lose her footing, but after a few minutes she had descended the hillside and arrived at the bottom where the track joined a road. Again, she felt a good sense of achievement. Her breathing was laboured and deep, her cheeks felt flushed and tingling in the morning air. Once on the road she walked briskly again.
    When Abbie arrived back home, her mother was already in the kitchen boiling the kettle, and she looked at her anxiously.
    “There you are!  Is everything alright?  You’ve been gone a while.”
    Abbie noticed that it was now 8.50 am, and that she’d been gone much longer than she’d expected.
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you” replied Abbie. “I felt like going out when I woke up, so I went for a walk and it was lovely and fresh in the morning air. I went up the hill to the war memorial it’s a great view.   I got us some breakfast on the way home from the bakery - fresh croissants.  Pass the butter, I’m starving”
    Rose smiled, and saw a flicker of the old Abbie coming back. “Great, I’ll make some coffee,” replied Rose.
    Over the next half-hour they ate, drank fresh coffee and chatted like they had always done.  There was no humour between them but that was comfortable for both of them, it was like they had always chatted - with warmth and affection, neither of them displaying a hint of sadness.
    Abbie explained her decision to her mother and her plan to start to get things sorted out.
    “I’ll help anyway possible, you only have to ask, I’m sure Peter’s parents would also.”
    “I know,” Abbie began “but some things I have to start myself.”
     
    That morning, for the first time in two weeks, Abbie turned on the PC and drafted a general letter explaining the circumstances of Peter’s death, each copy to include a death certificate. When she looked at this legal piece of paper for the first time, she felt a rising sense of apprehension and panic: her stomach knotted, and the adrenaline made her heart pound in her chest so much that she felt nauseous, and had to go and get a glass of water.
     
    The copies of the letters she produced each had a gap so she could hand-write any relevant account or policy numbers, and she printed enough copies for the bank, mortgage and insurance companies.  Strangely then Abbie felt mentally exhausted and that her concentration was waning so she decided she had done enough for one day, and asked her mum to check the letters.  Once this had been done, they were placed in envelopes ready for posting, and thus the new plan had begun to evolve.
    For the rest of the day Abbie didn’t do much, she simply wandered the house unable to settle. At three in the afternoon her mum announced that she would make some tea, and that she would like to speak to Abbie about something important; her tone of her voice alarmed Abbie somewhat.
    When they sat down with their steaming mugs, Rose began to speak and took hold of her daughter’s hand.
    “You know Love, there is something I have to mention, and there will never be a good time to do it.  I don’t want to upset you but there is another important job to consider, one that we have not yet spoken about, something we have to do.”
    Abbie