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

the stone walls. ‘Dammit, Sophie. I don’t even know who you are anymore.’

Flora tried to peer around the corner but whipped her head back, worried they would see her.

‘Greg, please!’ cried Sophie.

Unable to help herself, Flora peeked her head around the corner of the house again just in time to see Sophie lay what seemed like a placatory hand on Greg’s arm. Greg ripped her hand off him, throwing it from him like her touch had burned him. Anger rippled from him and he appeared to grow even larger. He grabbed Sophie by her shoulders pushed her until her back hit the wall behind her. Flora heard the breath leave Sophie’s lungs and the thud of her head meeting stone. He towered menacingly over Sophie and brought his head down, his face inches from hers. Flora’s terror matched the fear on Sophie’s face. She saw spittle leave his mouth as he spat words she could not distinguish into Sophie’s face. She saw Sophie’s lips move but could not hear a sound. The next moment, Greg let out a cry of anger and he pulled back his hand clenched into a fist. Flora saw the colour drain from Sophie’s face, and cringe away. She was about to rush to Sophie’s side when Greg’s fist hit the wall right next to Sophie’s head. He lowered his hand to his side, a trickle of blood on his knuckles. His whole body vibrated with anger. Flora turned away, her breath coming in rasps, and indecision flickering through her. What should she do? Her instinct was to intervene, but something stopped her. She cursed her cowardice.

Taking a deep breath, strengthening her resolve, Flora moved around the corner, determined to give Greg a piece of her mind. But Greg had gone. Sophie was slumped on the floor, picking at the skin around her fingers, eyes unfocused. Desperate to comfort her friend, Flora did not see the ornamental plant pot in front of her. She heard the crash before she registered what she had done. Soil and white hydrangeas spilt across the floor interspersed with shards of the gold-leaf plant pot. Sophie’s head snapped to attention.

‘Oh no. What am I going to do?’ A wave of nausea swept through her, Sophie and Greg’s fight momentarily forgotten. Flora leant against the wall, legs weak. She had once seen Cecelia scream for a whole hour when a waiter had spilt a drink on the floor. Once again, Flora had just handed Cecelia more ammunition.

As if summoned by thoughts alone, Cecelia came gliding around the corner. ‘My hydrangeas!’ she cried, hands on her face, tears springing to her eyes as she took in the sea of dirt, flowers and broken vase in front of her. Flora felt the gaze of curious guests, saw them inching closer to get a good view. Drawn like vultures by Cecelia’s shriek, by the possibility of drama that could feed the gossip mill for weeks.

‘I am so sorry, Cecelia,’ said Sophie, stepping in front of Flora, blocking her from view. ‘I was rushing to get myself one of those wonderful crème brûlées you told me about, and I didn’t look where I was going. Oh, please say you’ll forgive me. I couldn’t bear it if we were to fall out.’ Sophie reached forward and clutched Cecelia’s hands in hers. She had raised her voice, ensuring everyone in the immediate vicinity could hear her desperate plea for forgiveness. The crowd and Flora watched with bated breath.

Cecelia looked behind her to see the hungry crowd waiting in anticipation. Her desire to yell at Sophie warring with her need to avoid becoming the latest gossip. Had they been alone there is no doubt she would have been scathing and tried to take advantage of the opportunity to belittle Sophie. But with Sophie apparently distraught with guilt in front of her guests, to be seen to be anything but forgiving would have ruined her precious image.

Taking advantage of Cecelia’s indecision, Sophie grabbed Flora’s arm and dragged her away from the danger zone. Shouting behind her that she would send someone to pick up the pieces and have the vase replaced. They wound their way through the corridors until they sought refuge in one of the guest bathrooms upstairs. The room was more like a spa than a bathroom, with a waterbed to rest on when you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to use the walk-in rainfall shower or the opulent roll-top bath.

Flora opened her mouth to thank Sophie for taking the blame when her eyes processed the violent red marks on Sophie’s arms. ‘What the hell?’

Sophie looked confused. ‘Er, I just saved you from a roasting from the Dragon Lady. You’re welcome, by the way.’

‘Sophie, your arms.’ Flora stroked the fiery red marks that looked so vivid against her friend’s pale white skin.

At first, Sophie closed her eyes, seeming to take comfort from the physical contact. But then she knocked Flora’s hand away and moved to sit on the lip of the bath. ‘Stop worrying. It was just a little argument that got a bit heated. We will be fine tomorrow.’ Sophie wouldn’t look at her.

‘But your arms.’

‘I bruise easily. Stop overreacting.’ Sophie took a deep breath in and then looked at her. ‘It was nothing. Honest. Just a silly fight. I did something that annoyed him, that’s all. It was completely my fault.’

Flora was not mollified. She walked over and got into the bath and pulled Sophie in with her. Sophie let out a surprised laugh as she fell backwards. The sound echoed around the room and made Flora feel a little better. The bath was so big that they could sit at opposite ends of the bath facing each other and their legs only just met in the middle. Sophie pulled Flora closer so that their legs interlocked. She fiddled with the bow on Flora’s shoe – her Primark shoes that she had once told Cecelia had been handmade by a designer.

‘I remember when you got these