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

She didn’t remember that. Was that why no one wanted to be her friend at school? Because she smelt like a boy’s bathroom? She couldn’t imagine there was enough soap in the world to erase the potent smell of urine currently damaging her nose lining, making her want to gag.

Flora was reluctantly waiting in the car. Sophie had seen her guilt written all over her face and was shamelessly using it to ensure that Flora did as she was told. It was the only way the plan would succeed. Flora was too emotional. Until they were away from Manchester, she couldn’t take any chances.

The spare key lay under the pot of a long-dead plant, shrivelled and black, surrounded by cigarette butts. It took several attempts to open the door as it was blocked by piles of junk mail that her mother was too lazy to put in the bin. The flat smelled like a run-down pub, a foul mixture of cigarette smoke, alcohol and a hint of vomit. Putting her sleeve over her nose, she tried to focus on the smell of her Chanel perfume. The carpet was covered by months and months of takeaway cartons and empty beer bottles.

It was hard to walk without making a noise, but she need not have worried. A herd of elephants would not wake Lily. She was lying prostrate on the floor, her yellow-stained dress bunched up around her armpits exposing her body. Sophie could just see a white thong peeking out between her mother’s buttocks. She still clutched a can of Stella in her hand. Sophie kicked at her mother’s bare foot, confirming what she already knew: her mother was passed out drunk. Letting fireworks off next to her head would not wake her.

Seeing her mother in this state, Sophie felt nothing but pity. There used to be ball of rage in the pit of her stomach that flared to life every time she laid eyes on her mother. But now, with the benefit of age, Sophie knew that Lily had a sickness, albeit one she appeared to have no desire to fight, instead choosing to relish in it. Almost all of her memories were tainted by Lily and her alcoholism. But staring down at her mother now, looking vulnerable and almost childlike in her slumber, she began to recall that there were some good times.

When Lily used to wake up from her binges, she would either be like an angry bull or full of remorse. Sophie had lived for those brief episodes of guilt, when Lily seemed to remember that she was a mother and that she had responsibilities. She would grab blankets from their rooms, and they would spend hours snuggling together on the sofa. On the rare occasion that Lily had any money left, she would pop to the off-licence and then come back and make them both a fry-up.

She didn’t know if Lily was technically still drunk during these times, but it was the only glimpse she ever got of what she thought was her real mother, the mother she could have been without the alcohol. It was the only time Lily would wrap her arms around her, and Sophie would feel that mother–daughter bond everyone talked about. For a few precious moments, she would feel loved and not the burden that her mother would remind her she was when drunk.

For a couple of hours, she would enjoy the loving and affectionate relationship with her mother that the children at her school took for granted. But these moments were so scarce among the episodes of neglect and drunken rage that she had begun to think she had imagined them. She thought of them now as she gently moved her mother into the recovery position and then laid a blanket over her, tucking it around her to keep out the frost of the night. If tradition was anything to go by, the heating was not on as her mother preferred to use alcohol to keep her warm.

As she rose, she spotted the car keys on the floor, partly covered by a McDonald’s takeaway bag. She would have been here all night trying to find them, but fate once again had shined on her and her act of kindness meant she had found the keys. It had been a slight gamble. There was always the risk that Lily would have been out in the car or sold it for more cash. But she knew Lily enjoyed being one of the few in the block that could afford a car, even if she barely spent money on fuel for it. She preferred to put her money to better use lining the pockets of the George and Dragon down the road.

But Sophie was grateful: it was the only way to get a different car. She needed a car that would not attract attention. Something the Cavendish family would not know to track. She needed to be long gone and nowhere near her BMW. Her only worry was that she should really be disposing of her car, burning it as she had Flora’s house. Or hoped she had: she’d relied on Google to help her set the fire. That was an impulsive decision; maybe she should have waited to see if it actually worked. Too late now.

She stared at her phone for a long time before she finally sent the message to Alistair. This was it, the final stage of the plan.

I’m ready to make a deal. Meet me at the Basilwood Estate.

With any luck, this would be the last time she would ever see his wrinkly old manipulative face again and she and Flora would finally be safe.

59

The buzz of the alcohol had well and truly worn off. All the benefits of drinking had evaporated, leaving Flora with a raging headache and increasing sense of trepidation. Was this really happening? Was she really about to leave her husband and the life she had built for herself and run off into the