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

a strategic move if she was trying to instigate a long conversation as they all knew that Flora could wax lyrical about the centre. She began to tell them about a quiet girl who had not spoken a word her whole life, but who, it turned out, was an incredibly talented singer. She wouldn’t talk to anyone but could sing with the most beautiful, angelic voice. It was her way of communicating. Flora’s eyes welled up once more as she recalled the haunting beauty of the girl’s voice and the look on her parents’ faces when they walked in to see their daughter, singing, communicating for the first time.

Greg interrupted Flora mid-flow. ‘Why don’t you do that, Soph?’ It was blatantly obvious from his glazed eyes that he had not really been listening.

Sophie looked up at him with a confused expression.

‘Help people instead of being so selfishhh and money-grabbing.’ His words slurred together thanks to the copious amount of wine he’d consumed. Unspoken words were flying between Greg and Sophie as they stared at each other. Flora felt indignant. Greg was the most materialistic person she had ever met. When had he ever helped someone? She opened her mouth to speak but Sam put his arm on hers and shook his head.

Sophie jumped up. ‘I think that is our cue to leave. Someone has had a little too much to drink.’ Like a whirlwind she ushered Greg to the door and supported him as he stumbled across the driveway back to their own house.

Flora had to take a deep breath before she could put her hands in the water to rinse the plates to make them ready for the dishwasher. Just the feel of water on her skin caused her pulse to race. Her throat would close as if she was drowning in that swimming pool all over again.

Showering was even worse. Usually she would spend hours luxuriating in the powerful spray of the shower, letting the warm water wrap around her like a warm hug. Now she was in and out as quickly as possible. The first few times had left her a quivering wreck on the floor. Not that she would admit this to Sam.

‘Sam, can you bring in the rest of the plates so I can put them in the washing machine.’

He came through chuckling, plates already in hand. ‘It’s a good job I know you. I think you mean dishwasher.’

She pretended to whip him with a towel. ‘Don’t be mean! You know I always get them mixed up.’

Sam carried on bringing the rest of the pots into the kitchen, stopping to kiss her when they passed. It was a task he had eventually gotten used to once she had moved in and fired his housekeeper. It was bad enough that they had four bedrooms and four bathrooms just for the two of them. They did not need a housekeeper as well.

‘I wonder what’s got into Greg. Do you think I should have a word with him?’ Sam asked.

‘It might be a good idea,’ replied Flora, loading up the dishwasher, ‘I’ve noticed a lot of tension between them lately. I’m really worried.’

‘Hasn’t Sophie said something to you?’

‘No, I think she’s probably not wanted to burden me when I’ve been so stressed,’ replied Flora. But that was going to change. She would talk to Sophie later. She would welcome the distraction from feeling like someone was trying to make her think she was crazy. She would instead focus on making sure that Sophie was okay.

Moving out of Sam’s arms, she went over to the living room window, intending to shut the blind. Darkness had blanketed the world, the street lights battling to keep it at bay. In the beam of one of the lights she saw a shadow flicker. Was that someone standing, watching the house? Stumbling into the armchair in her haste, she dashed into the hallway and outside. There was nothing there. The street was silent apart from the occasional hoot of an owl. Nothing moved, as if the street was holding its breath. The cold pierced her skin and she shivered. But whether it was from cold or the fear she wasn’t sure.

22

It was the hole in his sock that started it. Greg’s hairy big toe was peeking through the hole and Sophie couldn’t stand it.

‘You need to throw those socks out,’ she said, barely concealing the disgust in her voice.

He didn’t even look up at her.

After how he spoke to her in front of Sam and Flora last night, he should be grovelling for her forgiveness. She continued to stare at his big toe, and it seemed to magnify under her scrutiny. The curly hairs on it revolted her. The more she looked at it the angrier she became. When they had first met, she had been seduced by Greg’s effortless sophistication. His Calvin Klein suit was impeccable, he was well-groomed and took pride in his appearance.

Fast-forward five years and she was sat staring at him as he lay spreadeagled on the sofa, dishevelled, shirt mucky and half the buttons undone with a great big hole in his sock. She felt conned. A fierce anger began to bubble within the pit of her stomach. Her body was shaking, and she wanted to scream.

The frayed edges of the sock burned into her retinas. It was like the hole in the sock represented his contempt for her. When had he stopped respecting her? Hadn’t she proven to him time and time again she was an equal in every way? Her life was not meant to be like this. He had promised her a life of excitement and power; not one where she would be sitting in an armchair reading a magazine on a Sunday night, with her unkempt husband barely exchanging a word. Her feeling of impotence at how her life had turned out forced her into action.

She stood up.

Greg didn’t seem to notice.

‘Take. Off. Those. Socks.’ Her voice was icy cold.

He didn’t even seem