Save Her, page 14
Flora opened the door to the BMW and Sophie was hit with a blast of cold air that took her breath away. ‘Sorry! Sorry!’
‘You look tired.’
‘Oh, thanks. Hello to you too.’
Sophie didn’t laugh: the dark circles under Flora’s eyes and the redness around her eyes worried her. ‘Did you sleep at all last night?’
‘Not really. I just couldn’t settle, I just kept feeling like there were worms on me every time I closed my eyes.’ Flora wiped at her face as if brushing off a phantom worm. ‘It was awful. I haven’t had a night like that since–’ Flora stopped and looked down at her lap. ‘Since Prague,’ she continued quietly, looking steadfastly at her lap and fiddling with a tassel of her cream scarf.
The first time either of them had left the country was supposed to be the best time of their lives. Sophie had persuaded her boss at the shop she worked at in the evenings that everyone deserved a Christmas bonus and she insisted on spending the money on a holiday for the two of them. She even got enough money for their passports.
They had settled on Prague, seduced by promises of magical river cruises and snow-capped buildings with quaint little pubs and restaurants. Plus, Ryanair had a sale on flights which gave them money left over for spending when they were there. Flora had been shaking by the time they got there. The security at the airport had traumatised her. Sophie had laughed at Flora’s face: she looked so guilty going through, like she was expecting to be arrested any minute. But the minute they landed in Prague, they had dumped their suitcases in their Airbnb and almost ran into the city centre.
It was just before Christmas and Wenceslas Square was alive with festive spirit so an explosion of colour assaulted their eyes. Every building was adorned with fairy lights. Golden lights twinkled in the night sky. The artificial lights bathed the tall buildings and enhanced their majesty. The smell of charcoal and chocolate was thick in the air. There were people everywhere bustling between the different stalls, but there was not a miserable face in sight. Sophie had to drag Flora away from a collection of hand-painted Christmas baubles after fifteen minutes of her standing there awe-struck.
They repelled the cold with a cup of velvety smooth hot chocolate and soaked up the gorgeous scenery around them. When they reached the Christmas tree near the famous clock, they both stopped and stared. There were no words, only pure joy as they watched the tree’s light display matched to the Christmas song from Home Alone. It was magical.
That first night was perfect. The next day even better. They walked five miles to a cat café. Then they did the traditional tourist stuff, walking over Charles Bridge. Flora had once read a book called A Year and a Day which included a legend that if you touched a specific part of the bridge and made a wish, it would come true a year and a day later. Flora had waited patiently, but Sophie refused. She already had everything she needed.
There wasn’t an inch of Prague they didn’t explore. They walked for miles, stopping to look at the John Lennon wall and all the padlocks on the bridge. They left an engraved padlock on Charles Bridge inscribed with the words Sophie and Flora 2009. Everything was perfect until they stopped at a bar to try some chocolate beer. Sophie relenting on her lifelong drinking ban to try a sip. It was disgusting and not worth the extortionate price.
No matter how many times she revisited the moment in her head, she never figured out exactly why she had needed to follow Flora to the bathroom. Sophie was supposed to be watching their drinks at their table, but she had been compelled to follow Flora.
What she had found would forever haunt her memories. At first, she could not process what she was seeing. A greasy, brown-haired man was pushing Flora up against the wall in the corridor leading to the bathrooms. One hand was restraining Flora’s neck, pinning her to the wall. The other was roaming around trying to undo her trousers. ‘Last Christmas’ was blasting out from the speakers in the pub, drowning out Flora’s pleas for help. She was scratching at the man’s hand, trying to break free. Without thinking, Sophie turned and ran back to the bar. Her heart thudding in her chest, she could barely breathe.
Spotting an empty pint glass, she grabbed it and raced back to Flora. Flora’s top was now ripped, and the man was gyrating against her. His clothes were dirty and stained, his hair dishevelled and matted. Tears streamed down Flora’s face, her eyes closed against the terror of what was happening.
Without thinking about what she was going to do, Sophie brought the glass down on the man’s head. All of her strength went into her swing and he crumpled to the floor. She looked at the glass, it was mottled with blood. In her shock, she let go and watched as it bounced onto the floor and rolled away, fleeing the scene.
Flora slid down the wall hyperventilating and rubbing her neck.
Sophie stepped over the man and pulled Flora to her. ‘It’s okay,’ she soothed, rocking Flora gently. Her fury at the man was unbridled. If she wasn’t holding Flora together, she would have turned around and kicked the man until he no longer resembled a human being. Any minute, someone would come around the bar and down the corridor. She didn’t want to have to explain what had happened. Who knows what the law was in this country? They needed to leave. Gathering Flora up, she helped her to her feet, and they walked quickly out of the pub, stopping to grab their coats on the way.
Back at their flat. Flora fell to pieces. Her neck was a violent shade of red and she kept clawing at it as if the man’s hand was still there. They didn’t leave the apartment again until their flight home the next day.
It had taken many months for Flora to ‘deal’ with what happened to her. They had never talked about it again. Just day by day, Flora returned to her normal self. Sophie wanted to talk about it. Sometimes she could still hear the sickening thud of the glass against the man’s head. But she would not cause Flora suffering by forcing her to relive one of the most traumatic moments of her life. After all, Flora was the one who had been violated in the worst possible way. Even though he had not got far, he had still made her feel powerless and terrified. Just the thought that it could have happened was as traumatic as the action itself.
Sophie had squashed her need to talk and was slowly getting better at locking away the whole thing. It went on a shelf in her mind, where the other secrets were stored, locked in boxes that would shake and jump around as the contents fought to be released from their prison.
‘I can imagine. Do you want to talk about it?’ asked Sophie, hoping that this was the moment she would finally get to expunge the ghost of the man from her mind and hear the vindication she so desperately needed.
‘No. I don’t ever want to think about that again.’ Flora shuddered and looked out of the window. ‘Shall we go, then?’
Inside, Sophie screamed with disappointment. She glanced in the rear-view mirror to ensure that her face was devoid of emotion. She boxed up her feelings and all the words she had been planning to say and put it back up on the shelf with all the other boxes. She was getting quite the collection.
Flora spent the whole of the journey and dinner talking about their new house. Sophie tried to seem interested but inside, she was still trying to ignore the shaking boxes in the recesses of her mind. She was emotionally drained. The fight with Greg before she had left was ferocious. It was hard trying to keep control, prevent things from escalating, and it was getting harder to predict his moods and his actions. Her whole life was exhausting.
Trying to shake off her negativity, she focused on Flora and attempted to absorb some of her positivity. But even this did not help. Flora had no idea what was really going on. She lived in a fantasy world; and her bad mood made her less forgiving. After all, they were both in danger because of her stupid decisions. Thanks to Flora, Sophie was working tirelessly behind the scenes to fix everything, trying to guarantee their safety.
Flora seemed to sense Sophie’s mood as she took her hand and squeezed it. The feel of her friend’s affection melted away the dark clouds that were consuming her. Flora was like the sun that way. Her sensitivity and kindness could light up the world when it felt oppressive and dark. Sophie smiled and squeezed Flora’s hand back.
‘You are my best friend, Soph. Spending time with you, it’s like you’re my reset button. Everything builds up and feels overwhelming. Then I spend time with you and it all goes away.’
Sophie flushed with pleasure, blinking away the tears that pricked her eyes. ‘Stop being so slushy. I don’t remember you saying such nice things to me when I accidentally lost your S Club 7 CD all those years ago.’
‘Oh god. Do you remember all those routines we used to perform to my parents to S Club 7. Mortifying.’
‘For you maybe. I happen to be a great dancer.’ Sophie began to wave her hands above her head, dancing to imaginary music.
They spent the rest of the night reminiscing about their childhood, then their university days.
Not for the first time, she felt guilty that she had engineered the direction that their lives had taken, they had been broke; but they had been safe. Now, they had the real possibility of their lives crumbling around them.
Sophie leaned over the table to smooth back the errant bit of hair that always fell in front of Flora’s face and tucked it behind her ear. Flora sniggered as usual, used to the gesture and amused that Sophie couldn’t cope with unruly hair. Flora’s laughter was a balm to her soul. It made her all the more determined to ensure that her friend laughed like that for the rest of her life. It was the least she deserved and she would do whatever it took.
30
Justin was running around the room naked. Typically, he was a quiet, shy boy which was why it had caught Flora by surprise when she looked over to find him naked in the corner of the room, scratching at his skin. He saw her move towards him and began to run around in circles. As he was younger and faster than her, she was struggling to catch him.
‘No, too itchy. No clothes.’
Many people with autism find their senses are easily overwhelmed, and a common trigger is clothing. Certain types of material can overload the senses and cause considerable distress and anxiety. Justin ran towards the clothes he’d piled on the floor, swiping a bottle of paint from the side as he went. Before Flora could reach him, the clothes were doused in a startling blue paint. In soothing tones, Flora eventually convinced him to come into the back room where she had some clothes that would not itch him. Justin’s parents insisted he wore Ralph Lauren polo T-shirts despite the fact he could not tolerate the fabric. She had tried to broach the subject sensitively, but it had fallen on deaf ears. They were the type of people that could afford to buy a whole shop full of Ralph Lauren polo shirts and so they just replaced the ones Justin destroyed.
She could not decide if it was a relief or not when the day was over. She was sporting a scratch down the side of her face and her arms ached from holding Alicia tightly to her to calm her down when she began to lash out at everything around her. It was not her fault: having autism meant that Alicia perceived the world differently, and the sound of one of the other girls dropping a cup on the laminate flooring had overwhelmed her. Instead of crying, or withdrawing like some of the children, Alicia would become angry and violent as she struggled to regulate her emotions. But Flora had managed to calm her down and only received a scratch in the process. She had experienced a lot worse. Besides, it had distracted her from thinking about Cecelia.
She had told Sam over the phone about the worms. Not having seen it, it was obvious he could not understand the gravity of it and how awful it was to wake up to find worms on her body. It was like he thought of it like a practical joke. She tried to explain to him, make him see the reality of the situation.
‘Sam, don’t you realise that for someone to have put worms in my bed whilst I was sleeping. They must have been in the house. They were standing over me whilst I slept.’ Tears choked her and no amount of reassurance from Sam that they would get to the bottom of it would stem her fear. It didn’t help that her constant anxiety was chasing away any chance of sleeping through the night.
Despite her decision not to let Cecelia get her down, as much as she told herself that she could handle whatever her mother-in-law threw at her, Flora was freaked out. She was on edge all the time, as if waiting for Cecelia’s next move. Flora had not voiced this to Sam. There was no point. He would not entertain the idea that his mother was behind any of this. But didn’t he see that she was the only one who would want to drive a wedge between them; that his mother was the only one evil enough to try and torment her?
Taking a deep breath, Flora tried to regain some of her determination from last night. I will not let Cecelia win, she thought, repeating this over and over like a mantra whilst she set to cleaning up.
Clearing up the mess left from the class was one of her favourite parts of the job. It gave her a chance to spend time looking at the creations of the children. Today, Andre had created a picture of his dog using different coloured materials. At the moment, Andre was non-verbal, and his parents weren’t even sure how much he could understand. She could not wait to show his mother, Sandra, this picture when it was finished. Across the top, he had written ‘Max’ in large spidery writing. His first word. Swiping the tears from her eyes she continued around the room, collecting up the work and moving them carefully to the storage cupboards that lined one of the walls. Each class had a cupboard where she could store their projects until the following week.
Giving the room a last once-over, she checked for anything she could have missed. Something twinkled on the floor under one of the tables. Climbing under the table, she reached out and found it was a silver chain. She held it up to the light. Recognition stole her breath away. She stared at the silver necklace, stunned. Hanging from the silver chain was a heart-shaped pendant. It was just possible to see the ‘R’ engraved on the front of the heart. The ‘R’ stood for Rebecca. Her mother. With trembling hands, she lowered the heart onto the palm of her hand, gently caressing the ‘R’. She did not know how long she sat on the floor. Tears welled from deep inside and coursed down her face.
During her bouts of insomnia, caused by the anxiety she had been through in the last week, she would stare at her parents’ faces on Sam’s canvas, trying to focus on them instead of her turbulent emotions. On the canvas, it was possible to see every detail of her mother’s necklace. It was an exact match for the one she was holding in her hand. The only reason she knew it wasn’t her mother’s was that this one was newer and shinier, whereas her mother’s had been tarnished with scratches as she had worn it every day without fail.
Flora remembered asking the social worker who came to see her shortly after her parents’ death where her mum’s necklace was, as she would have been wearing it in the accident. She never took it off. Eventually, the harassed social worker had looked into it. ‘I’m sorry, dear, it seems it got destroyed along with everything else when your parents’ car caught fire after the accident.’
It was only then that Flora turned the necklace around. On the back, a word had been crudely scratched into the silver surface. ‘Flora’.
31
The weather was awful. October was no longer her favourite month anymore, Sophie decided as she opened her door and was instantly slapped in the face with droplets of cold rain. It had been relentless all day and it made her mood plummet. The wind and rain battered her fiercely as she crossed the car park and entered the garden centre. It was only Flora she loved enough to leave the house for in this torrential weather.
Sophie preferred to eat in more sophisticated establishments, but Flora would insist on living off her meagre wage from the centre which meant she could not afford to dine anywhere expensive. A meal at Sophie and Greg’s favourite restaurant would probably amount to the same as Flora earned in a month. She could not understand why Flora would not want to treat herself every once in a while. Did she not remember all the times they would share a 99p cone of chips from the local chippy because that was the only place they could to afford to eat? To be fair, those chips had tasted like luxury compared to their staple diet of pasta and rice. Still, the breakfast was quite nice here so she would tolerate it. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for Flora.
Sophie spotted Flora sitting at one of the tables in the café. Once again, Flora was holding the necklace in her hands, absent-mindedly rubbing at it with her fingers. She was still wearing the same cream jumper and blue jeans she’d had on last night, albeit more creased. Her face was gaunt, her cheekbones seemed more prominent than usual. When she looked up at Sophie, her thin smile no longer met her eyes, which were dull and expressionless. Her pale skin made the dark circles under her eyes all the more pronounced and her eyelids were swollen and puffy. She looked more like the Flora Sophie had known as a child, the one still reeling from her parents’ death. But it was completely understandable: seeing a locket that looked exactly like your late mother’s would disturb even the strongest of people.
Yesterday she had received a gibberish voicemail from a distraught Flora. Sophie had raced straight over to find her in the kitchen drinking a glass of red wine. The bottle was already half empty and she spied another one in the recycling. A necklace was on the table and Flora explained that it was just like the one her mother used to wear. Her voice was robotic, like she was devoid of emotion. After finishing the whole bottle of wine, Flora had cried herself to sleep in Sophie’s arms, the grief of losing her parents as fresh as ever. Sam hovering in the background as useful as a chocolate fireguard.
Sophie took a deep breath and sat down at the café table. She tried to ready herself for another conversation that would just go around in circles. Who knew that my mother wore this locket, Sophie? Why was the locket on the floor in my centre? How did it get there?
