Save Her, page 3
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 shoes,’ mused Sophie. ‘Are you ever going to get rid of them?’
Flora looked at her in mock horror. ‘I love these shoes. How dare you!’ They smiled at each other and Flora’s heart warmed. It was at times like this that she felt the bond between them like a physical tether. But her eyes fell once more on Sophie’s shoulders. The imprint of Greg’s hands branded on her skin.
‘I’ve never seen him that angry, Soph. I was really scared. And he shouldn’t have hurt you like that.’
‘I told you, he didn’t hurt me. It looks worse than it is.’ She tickled Flora’s feet in her shoe, trying to lighten the mood. ‘You are making a mountain out of a molehill, my dear Flo.’
Her tone was jovial, she was trying to close down further discussion but Flora ignored her. ‘But what did you do that annoyed him?’
Sophie looked down, ashamed. ‘I made an important business decision without approving it through him. I thought it would be okay but then it ended up losing us a lot of money.’
For reasons Flora would never understand, Sophie had joined the Cavendish empire willingly. She happily took their money and seemed to enjoy the status and power that came with being a Cavendish. Cecelia didn’t approve of Sophie any more than she did of Flora, but she was less vocal with her distaste because she knew Sophie was an equal match for her as a verbal sparring partner. Instead of the vicious barbs Flora was bequeathed, Cecelia would try to take advantage of Alistair being Sophie’s boss.
Sophie had confided in Flora in those early days that Cecelia and Alistair had been relentless in trying to get her fired. Cecelia had even gone as far as hiring people to try and trick her into making dodgy deals or sell company secrets. And Alistair spent his time setting her impossible tasks. But Sophie was every bit the shrewd businesswoman that Cecelia was. Every ploy Cecelia attempted Sophie had already anticipated.
‘But that doesn’t give him the right to hurt you. No matter what you had done.’
Sophie sat up, her hands on Flora’s legs and looking her straight in the eye. There was a flicker of annoyance in her crystal blue eyes. ‘Flora, I will say it one last time. It looked worse than it was. Greg would never hurt me.’
But though Flora let it go, she still wondered who Sophie was trying to convince. They had spent so many of their formative years protecting each other that perhaps she was being oversensitive.
Sophie sat back in the bath and resumed playing with Flora’s shoe. ‘Have you spoken to Linda yet?’
Flora sighed. She could feel tears rising in her throat. Why was she so emotional lately? It was a knee-jerk reaction now every time she thought of Ethan and Linda. It was a catch-22 situation that had her moral compass spinning in useless circles. Her heart was desperate to help Ethan. She wanted nothing more than to say yes. But she couldn’t do that because it wouldn’t stop there. It would be impossible for her to say no to the next child who couldn’t afford to attend. It would open the floodgates and ultimately result in the closure of the centre. ‘No. I keep putting it off. You know what I’m like. But I’ll do it tomorrow.’
Sophie raised her eyebrows. ‘You know it is the right thing to do. Unless you take up Sam’s offer to invest? Expand the centre?’
Flora narrowed her eyes at Sophie. Her hackles raised the way they always did when this topic came up.
Sophie raised her hands up in defence. ‘Hey, I’m just playing devil’s advocate. I know how you feel about the money situation.’
Flora immediately backed down, placated. The well-worn tirade she was about to launch at Sophie dying on her lips. Sam could never understand why Flora wouldn’t embrace the family money. As much as reasonably possible she resisted taking a single penny. In the early days, Sam hadn’t taken her seriously. But when Sam bought her a new car, she took it back. When he bought her fancy clothes, she donated them to charity. Eventually, he realised that extravagance and Flora were like chalk and cheese. She liked to think she got this moral stubborn streak from her parents. They had lived frugally and given what they could to charity. They never wanted more than what they needed to get by and that was how Flora wanted to live. An evil voice in her head reminded her that her principles regarding the Cavendish money were also preventing her helping Linda.
Sophie must have noticed the internal strife within Flora as she changed the subject once more. ‘So, when do I get to visit the new house? I need to pick out my room.’
Flora looked up at Sophie in surprise. So far, they had avoided talking about the move. But it seemed Sophie was fed up with treading on eggshells and it was a relief to talk about it. By bringing it up this way, Flora hoped Sophie was saying she was okay with her moving away. She knew that Sophie loved living next door to her. But this house they were moving to wasn’t just any house. It was the house her parents had lived in. She took a deep breath and began to fill Sophie in on everything she should have told her months ago.
8
Flora had been with Cecelia when she got the news that her aunt had passed away and that she was the sole beneficiary in her will.
Cecelia was sitting at the breakfast bar in Sam’s house. She had never called it her house and still thought of it as Sam’s house though she had lived there nearly five years. Cecelia had helped herself to a satsuma from the fruit bowl. ‘I much prefer the ones with the seeds. But then, I suppose not everyone has a distinguished pallet. Honestly, the rubbish people eat these days.’ She placed the orange back in the bowl like it was rotten.
It had now gotten to the stage that almost every word that Cecelia said poured fuel onto the already volcano-like rage that boiled within Flora. When she looked in the mirror, she was surprised she couldn’t see the flashes of orange lava glowing as it flowed through her veins. Her hatred for this woman was becoming part of her DNA. But she ignored the anger and kept it buried deep within, for Sam’s sake.
Cecelia was dressed impeccably in a black skirt and matching suit jacket with pearls gleaming at her neck, and her hair styled in her trademark chignon.
Flora imagined picking up the oranges in front of her and throwing them at Cecelia’s head. She could see in her mind’s eye Cecelia running from the house whilst she hurled oranges at her, some of them meeting their mark so that bursts of sticky citrus juice coated Cecelia’s clothes, strands of her perfect white hair falling chaotically around her face.
Flora’s fingers inched towards the fruit bowl, intoxicated by the tantalising daydream of a dishevelled Cecelia. The sound of the post falling onto the mat caused her to jump guiltily, and she quickly left the room to grab the letters, ignoring Cecelia’s complaints that ‘a Cavendish lady should not be getting the post. The help should be getting the post.’ Cecelia still hadn’t come to terms with the fact Flora had insisted that Sam get rid of his housekeeper if he wanted her to move in.
Cecelia – presumably fed up of not getting a reaction from Flora – left without saying goodbye. But Flora hadn’t even noticed. Her hands trembled as she had opened the letter stamped with the ‘Lucas & Jones Solicitors’. It was printed on thick, expensive paper. Official letters always made her nervous. Like when she drove past a police car, her heart would quicken even though she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Dear Mrs. Cavendish,
It is with regret, that I am writing to inform you of the passing of your aunt, Pauline Sanderson. As the executor of your aunt’s will and as you are the only living relative of Ms. Sanderson I am writing to you to request an appointment at your earliest convenience to discuss some important matters in more depth. Please respond to this letter or call the number provided as soon as possible.
Our deepest condolences for your loss.
Yours sincerely
James Lucas
Senior Partner, Lucas & Jones Solicitors, LLB
A momentary sadness consumed Flora. Her last and only blood relative was now gone. She wasn’t surprised that no one had told her. She was sixteen the last time she had seen or spoken to Pauline. But then memories of her childhood rose up and poured cold water on any sparks of sadness she might have felt.
The day of her parents’ death, she had been taken to the hospital by a police car and introduced to a stranger who said she was her mother’s sister Pauline. She informed Flora that they were going to live together in her parents’ home, which had been left to Pauline in the will. ‘It’ll be such fun’. But the smile she gave Flora had made her shiver.
It did not take long for Flora to realise that all the malice and evil missing from her mother’s character had been given to Pauline. Pauline’s rancour towards her sister was evident from the first day she moved in. Everything that belonged to her mother was either sent to the tip or shoved away in the attic. The house was altered beyond recognition.
It was as though Pauline was on a personal mission to remove every trace of her sister. That included Flora. As soon as Flora was sixteen, she was unceremoniously evicted. A note was Sellotaped onto a pile of bin bags filled with her belongings. ‘Time to stand on your own two feet.’
The day after she received the solicitor’s letter, Flora found herself sitting in a respectable office, with a glass table and a friendly, professional man staring at her with concern. James Lucas had had to call in his receptionist to bring Flora a glass of water because she looked like she may faint or be sick.
Flora had stood up and looked out of the window, shocked that her aunt hated her that much that she wished to leave her entire estate to the ‘British Arachnological Society’. A charity for spiders for heaven’s sake. But Mr Lucas wasn’t done.
‘It was only when finalising the details of your aunt’s estate that I discovered that 5 Trelawney Close was actually part of a trust and could not be considered part of your aunt’s estate. This is why I have called you here today. According to your parents’ will, the house was to be held in a trust, with your aunt and her late husband named as trustees, until you turned eighteen.’
At this, Flora had staggered backwards, her legs also in shock lost their primary function of holding her up and she felt herself collapse. As the ground rushed towards her, Mr Lucas jumped to his feet and pushed her into a seat before she could fall to the floor. The receptionist thrust the glass of water into Flora’s shaking hands and stalked back out the room, oblivious to the bomb that had just gone off in Flora’s mind. That her entire childhood had been shaped by the lie of one woman. She didn’t seem to care what Flora had suffered since her parents’ death and that she was just uncovering the extent of her aunt’s deception.
In stilted sentences, Flora informed Mr Lucas that her aunt had neglected her duties as trustee and instead told Flora that she was the sole beneficiary of her parents’ will. Flora was tempted to ask where her aunt was buried so she could dig her up and kill her again.
9
‘She did what!’ Sophie’s head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. She couldn’t process what she was hearing. Rage was building within her and she wanted to lash out at something.
‘I know. I couldn’t believe it either.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me straight away?’
Flora looked down again, her face colouring. ‘I’m sorry. I know I should have said. I just knew you would be upset that we were moving, and I didn’t know how to tell you.’
Sophie’s heart winced. It made her desperately sad that Flora had kept this from her. After everything they had been through, after everything Sophie had done, it was like a knife in the back to find out Flora had been keeping secrets from her. She looked away, it was hard to cleanse her face of frustration and emotion.
‘Flora?’ Sam’s head poked around the door. He was dressed in a blue suit that complemented his eyes. But there was no doubt that Greg was the more handsome out of the two. Sam was too gentle, and it oozed from every pore. Whereas Greg was authoritative and intelligent, you instantly respected him as soon as you saw him.
‘Why are you both sat in the bath?’ He looked bewildered. Sophie and Flora giggled.
‘Hiding.’ Flora chuckled.
‘From who?’ questioned Sam.
‘Why from your delightful mother of course,’ replied Sophie.
The skin around Sam’s eyes tightened. Flora always beat around the bush when complaining about Cecelia to Sam, but Sophie had no qualms with voicing what she thought of his mother, a tendency Sam hated. She couldn’t understand it. Unlike Sam, Greg knew exactly what his mother was like and how she treated Sophie. The difference was he did not actually care. After their first meeting, when Sophie had informed him that his mother was downright rude and disrespectful towards her and she was not having it, Greg had just laughed and told her it was character building. ‘If she’s rude to you, be rude back.’ Although, not exactly supportive, at least he wasn’t an ostrich like Sam.
‘Flora, come on. Get out of the bath. Let’s go and get a drink.’
Flora clambered out of the bath with all the grace of a three-legged donkey. Sophie laughed. Before she had time to get up, Sam had whisked Flora from the room leaving Sophie alone.
With no desire to re-join the party, she wandered around the house. It still marvelled her that it had so many corridors and rooms. It had been named Cavendish Manor because when built it was fancier than a normal house with its Romanesque pillars. But over time, wings had been added until it resembled more of a castle.
