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

Flora to see that Sam was just as bad as the rest of them. But she couldn’t bring herself to trample Flora’s happiness. The whole situation made her so angry she could barely breathe. She clutched at the sink, trying to regain control. Why could Flora not wake up and realise what was going on? Her naïveté was going to make Sophie the bad guy, the one who stole her future; when in fact Sophie was the one trying to ensure she had a future.

Taking some deep breaths, Sophie looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Anger had reddened her face and she stared into her ice-blue eyes and watched until her colour faded back to its normal pale shade. Returning to the garden, she felt the chilly wind wrapping around her. The sun was out but it was no protection against the arctic breeze whipping at her, trying to penetrate her clothes, to steal her body heat. Her coffee cup was by her chair, but it barely had any residual heat left to protect her hands from the biting cold. She clutched it to her anyway.

‘How did it go with Linda?’ Sophie asked.

The whole situation fascinated Sophie. In her world, she had to make twenty ruthless decisions before breakfast. She had lost count of the number of people she had told that they would not receive an investment, knowing that this would likely mean that they would lose not only their livelihood but also their homes. Yes, it was sad, but she had not worked her way up from nothing to lose it all by giving it away. Sophie could not see why Flora did not take the Cavendishes’s money and use it to her advantage. It was the only benefit of actually being a Cavendish. With the sort of money that they had, Flora could open a chain of centres and there would be no need to be wracked with guilt the way she was.

Flora blushed scarlet red and could not meet Sophie’s eyes. ‘I took the coward’s way out and called her on her mobile. She didn’t answer so I left a voicemail.’

Inside Sophie was laughing. Oh, Flora. This was her all over. She could not bear to let people down or hurt their feelings. But her thoughts sobered when it suddenly occurred to her that Flora did not mind letting her down or hurting her feelings.

‘She’s tried calling me back, but I haven’t answered. Soph, I’m such a coward.’ Flora covered her face with her hands.

Taking pity on her, Sophie asked, ‘Do you want me to talk to her? I can lie and say I’m your business partner?’

‘Would you? That would be amazing. You are so much better at things like this than me.’ Flora beamed at Sophie. It was the type of smile that reminded Sophie that the sacrifices she had made and the danger she was about to face were worth it.

Getting Linda’s number from Flora’s phone, Sophie called and organised to meet with her later that afternoon. She didn’t tell Flora that Linda’s voice was eager and that she obviously believed it was good news. They spent the rest of the time before Sophie had to leave discussing Flora’s cards going missing. It seemed such a trivial thing, but the more they talked about it the more freaked out Flora was becoming. It was a relief to see the rose-tinted glasses with which her friend viewed the Cavendish family slipping away. But as Sophie drove up the motorway on her way to meet Linda to have the conversation Flora was unable to have, she pounded the accelerator and brake, venting her anger that the Cavendish family were responsible for causing Flora pain. She pictured the fear and confusion on her face when she found her purse returned to normal. How dare they do this to her? The speedometer was creeping towards 100 miles per hour and she was driving almost as fast as the thoughts racing in her mind.

17

The October half-term was over. Next week, the children Flora supported would be reduced to coming to see her during weekends or evenings as they had to go back to school. For many of her children, this meant going back to a place that did not understand them, where they were belittled and teased relentlessly. Many of the teachers had no patience or empathy and would discipline them before attempting to actually comprehend their autism. It also meant that Flora would have a wonderful reduction in her workload. Only the most severely autistic children would continue to come during the day as they were usually home-schooled or just flat-out refused to go to school. Meaning Flora would have more free time to spend sorting the renovations on the new house. The sooner they could move in the better.

The impending new term was making the classes today particularly challenging. Six-year-old Jeremy, a scrawny boy with curly black hair had become overwhelmed by the girl he was sat next to. Megan, who had a cold, kept sniffing and Jeremy, unable to cope with the repetitive sound, had tipped a pot of red paint over Megan’s head and screamed at her to shut up. His meltdown was infectious and disturbed the other children in the class, and it had taken Flora a while to calm everyone down. Eventually she had called Jeremy’s parents. She had just cleaned up the last of the red paint from the floor, when Charlotte came over to her.

Charlotte was a brown-haired angel sent from heaven. The same thought went through Flora’s mind each time she laid eyes on her. Charlotte had a friendly face, lovely green eyes that – on the rare occasion she looked at you – sparkled with intelligence. Before Charlotte had come to work for Flora, she used to hate the back office at the centre and it hated her. Things would move of their own accord, just to spite her. And no matter how neatly she tidied