Save Her, Abigail Osborne [ebook reader for surface pro txt] 📗

and she caught sight of some black fur. Flora screamed and fell back onto the floor.

Sam’s feet thudded on the stairs and he skidded into the room. His shirt was undone and he was only in his boxers. ‘What’s wrong?’

Flora couldn’t speak. She dragged herself back until she hit the skirting board, trying to put as much distance between herself and the armchair as possible. With a shaky hand, she pointed.

Sam moved around the armchair and reeled back when the smell hit him. ‘Oh god. What is that?’ He pushed the armchair further out of the way, revealing a large black rat, stiff as a board and obviously dead.

Flora ran from the room. She waited in the relative safety of their bedroom.

Eventually, Sam came upstairs to find her. ‘I got rid of it.’

‘What’s your reasonable explanation for that?’ she asked, sarcasm lacing her words.

He sat on the bed next to her, rubbing his face with his hand. ‘Well, the poor thing obviously got trapped in the house and died. Maybe from natural causes.’

Flora looked at him, incredulous. ‘A rat just happens to die in our house on the same day as all our furniture got moved around?’

‘Maybe the furniture moving dislodged it from where it had died. Not everything is a conspiracy against you, Flora. I know you are sensitive right now. But seriously.’ He must have seen the hurt in her expression, because he leaned over to her and stroked her face, his voice gentler. ‘Look, the most obvious explanation is normally the right one. It obviously was in the house already and died here. We just happened to find it today. Come on, why don’t you get some sleep. You look shattered.’

Flora’s mind was racing. There was no way she would sleep now. Was Sam right? Or was the campaign to scare her stepping up a gear? Was it Cecelia? Questions spun in an endless vortex in her mind. Sam mistook her silence as an agreement and he eased her into the bed, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly. ‘Everything is going to be fine, sweetie. Don’t worry.’ She fell asleep to the feel of his fingers running through her hair.

15

In her memory, her parents’ house used to stand proud and tall. It had stood out for all the right reasons, the tallest and biggest house on the street. It was also the first house that greeted you when turning onto Trelawney Close. In her parents’ day, most of the street parties and celebrations were held in their spacious front garden with all the neighbours invited. It used to be the envy of everyone on the street but now it screamed of neglect, like the embarrassing relative no one wants to admit to knowing. The front door was a faded green, flecks of paint peeling off, a panel of glass replaced with a square of cardboard. The lawn that was once bordered by bursts of colour was now an unattractive jungle of weeds and bracken. The house appeared smaller to Flora, like it had shrunk itself in embarrassment.

The inside of the house had not fared much better under her aunt’s reign. Pauline’s disregard for her sister was reflected in the way she had treated the house. It was stripped bare and scratches, stains and holes littered the walls.

The competing smells of tobacco and alcohol assailed Flora’s nostrils. But she closed her mind to that and focused on what she knew this house could be. This way she could refill the house with the images of how it had been when she was younger and her parents were alive. She made her way through the hallway, her mind replacing the holes in the walls with pictures that her mother had drawn and her father insisted had to be displayed.

The echoes of her parents’ laughter followed her through the house as she walked into the living room that had once housed an ostentatious yellow sofa that clashed with the deep blue walls. She could picture her parents sitting there, arms around each other, beaming at her. Flora swallowed the lump in her throat and took some steadying breaths.

Sophie’s arms came around her from behind. She always had a sixth sense when it came to Flora’s feelings. ‘Maybe this isn’t the right thing to do, Flo. Isn’t it going to be too painful to live here surrounded by memories and thoughts of what could have been?’

It had been a difficult decision that had kept her awake for many nights. But it was the fury towards her aunt – a fury matched only by that she had for the hit-and-run driver who had left her parents on the side of the road to die – that had finally convinced Flora she was going to live in that house. Flora had always considered herself a glass half-full kind of person. Whenever she discussed her past, she would finish by stating that everything she had been through had led her to the best things in her life. That she wouldn’t have met Sophie or Sam if she had not been forced to stand on her own two feet. But she was struggling to retain that positive attitude when she considered her aunt’s betrayal. Too much of her future had been stolen from her.

To counteract this, she had an unshakeable need to restore the house to the happy, family home it used to be, in honour of her parents. She had been gloriously content here before their car accident. It was only right that she take back some of what had been stolen from her.

Another compelling reason was that she could finally escape from Cecelia. Surprisingly, Sam had taken little convincing. He may not see how his mother treated Flora, but he was by no means under the thumb. Sam had a sensitivity she had always been told did not exist in men. Whilst he was not expressive with his feelings, the fact he did not mind uprooting his life to move