Save Her, page 7
Following Sam into the greeting room, she found him deep in conversation with his mother. As usual, Cecelia had her hand resting on Sam’s arm as they sat on the chaise longue together. At first, Flora had found it sweet that whenever Cecelia was near Sam she was always touching him, needing to be close to him. But then she began to catch the territorial looks she would fling at Flora. She may as well have put up a sign saying, ‘this man belongs to me’. This used to bother Flora and she would find a way of touching Sam as well. They would be locked in a silent battle of possession, finding excuses to touch Sam and divert his attention to them. It became like a game of table tennis and Sam was the ball.
Cecelia had once turned an angry shade of purple when Flora, in an unusual display of bravery fuelled by the three glasses of sherry she had consumed and egged on by Sophie, had taken Sam’s face in her hands and kissed him passionately. From the corner of her eye she saw Cecelia choking on her sherry and excusing herself from the room. Flora had revelled in the glory for a whole thirty seconds, until Cecelia had called them into the dining room and announced that they were having seafood for every course that night. She gave Flora a huge smile, well aware that Flora hated seafood. Over dinner, Cecelia announced to Sam that she had booked the two of them a weekend retreat to a winery for some mother/son bonding time, looking pointedly at Flora to make sure she got the message that she was not invited.
Tonight, Flora realised that the dinner table and chairs had been replaced. Flora marvelled at Cecelia’s display of frivolity: everything was dispensable in her world. She couldn’t imagine how much the last wrought-iron table had cost, let alone this new one that was made of thick glass that glistened in the light.
She felt apprehensive, as always, when she sat down, like she was eating with the queen and was bound to make a fool of herself. It never got any easier being around Sam’s family. She would always be the weed in the flower bed of elegant roses.
Cecelia’s voice penetrated her thoughts. ‘There’s a new bistro opening tomorrow, a close friend’s son. Trained in Paris, don’t you know? I’ve got us the best table in the house. Can you be there for 7pm?’ said Cecelia.
Flora held her breath. Sam coughed and looked down at his plate. Don’t you dare, Samuel Cavendish, she thought.
‘Sorry, Mother. We already have plans tomorrow night.’
‘What plans? Just rearrange them. I’ve already said we will go. This is much more important.’
‘I can’t, Mother. It’s our anniversary.’
‘What anniversary?’
‘Our wedding anniversary.’
‘Ah. Well, what better way to celebrate than at a restaurant with a Michelin star chef? I bet it is much better than what you were going to do. Anyway, it’s not like it’s a special anniversary.’
Flora was not surprised that Cecelia was being so dismissive. She had tried everything in her power to stop the wedding from going ahead. Along with her joyful memories of the day, there would always be the memory of Cecelia’s last-ditch attempt to stop the marriage.
Flora had been sharing a bittersweet moment with Sophie, wishing with all her heart that her mother and father were there. Staring into the mirror intently, like if she stared hard enough she could conjure their image, standing and trying to see their faces either side of her in the mirror.
‘They’ll be watching, Flo. Don’t doubt that,’ said Sophie assuredly.
Relinquishing her melancholia, Flora had focused on the fizz of excitement when she thought about becoming Sam’s wife. Belonging to someone finally. Starting a family of her own. She twirled in her dress, a huge smile on her face. Sophie perched on the bed, her happiness seemed to match Flora’s own.
It had been the perfect moment. Unadulterated, pure happiness. One of those moments that happen so rarely. Where the heart fills up, like it might burst from your chest and your smile is so wide it hurts your face. Her happiness was intense and overwhelming. A feeling that would lodge in her mind forever. The joy of the moment never fading, no matter how much time passed. She had thought nothing could spoil it. That was until Cecelia had burst through the door.
She did not stop to acknowledge Flora’s wedding dress, she only gave Sophie a cursory glance as she strode into the room, a woman on a mission. She sat down on the chaise longue at the end of the bed, regal in a royal-blue dress, her pearl-white hair coiffed to within an inch of its life. Not even a hurricane would dislodge a strand.
‘Can we help you?’ asked Sophie, not one to be intimidated by uncomfortable silences.
‘I’ve come to stop this mockery of a wedding. I can’t see another son of mine trapped into marriage by some two-bit harlot.’
Flora’s mouth fell open in shock. Cecelia’s words knocked the breath from her body.
Sophie leapt to her feet, shoulders pulled back, a look of outrage and shock on her face. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard me. I’ve had enough. We all know what you girls are really after. I will not play these games anymore. Not when it comes to Sam.’
Flora reached out to the chest of drawers for support. She knew that Cecelia did not approve of her, but she had thought she could see that Sam was happy, so she was grudgingly putting up with Sophie and Flora, content to play her games. But to come here, on her wedding day, calling her a money-grabbing harlot… Flora blinked back the tears and bit down on her tongue to control herself.
Sophie replied, ‘I think you need to watch what you say, Cecelia. If I hear you say one more bad word about Flora, I will not be held responsible for my actions.’ Her voice was ice cold.
‘Oh, like I’m scared of you.’ Cecelia laughed and threw her a look of utter disdain.
Sophie had moved towards Cecelia, standing over her, looking fierce. Even though anger was pulsating off her, it did nothing to ruin her beauty. Wrapped in a blush-pink bridesmaid dress, she was elegant and sophisticated with her blonde hair in a chignon. She also looked ten seconds away from punching Cecelia in the face. ‘You should be. You have no idea what I’m capable of.’ Sophie’s voice was low and menacing.
‘Oh shush, you pathetic child.’ Cecelia stood up and walked around Sophie, moving next to Flora. ‘Look, what’s it going to take? We both know you just want the money. I was too slow to stop Greg from making the biggest mistake of his life, but I won’t let that happen again.’ Cecelia opened her clutch bag and pulled out her cheque book and a pen. She looked at Flora expectantly. ‘Go on. Name your price.’
Flora shook her head. ‘I… I love Sam. I don’t want anything.’
‘Oh, come now. Do you really think this relationship is going to last? What can you possibly offer him?’ She sneered at Flora. ‘An orphan with no money or standing. At least she–’ she nodded at Sophie ‘–has a business head and can contribute something of value to the company. But you? You have no ambition, no talent and nothing to offer my son except embarrassment and eventually heartbreak. Now. Name. Your. Price.’
Flora shook her head. Cecelia scribbled on the cheque, ripped it out and thrust it into Flora’s hand. She glanced down and saw the cheque was for five million pounds.
Sophie moved swiftly across the room and placed herself in front of Flora, blocking Cecelia’s view of her. ‘How dare you speak to Flora like that! Sam, rightly so, worships the ground Flora walks on. She is kind, loving and beautiful inside and out. You should be thanking your lucky stars that Sam has someone like her in his life. Do you really think that Flora would marry Sam if she didn’t love him? Why on earth would either of us marry into this family, knowing it meant we had to spend time with you?’ Sophie raised her hand and poked Cecelia in the shoulder to emphasise her point. Then she grabbed her mother-in-law’s arm and marched her towards the door. ‘Now get out of here, you old bat. Go back downstairs, take your seat and use those incredible acting skills of yours to make Sam think you are the happiest you have ever been. You will not spoil this day for Flora.’ She pushed Cecelia again, so hard that the older woman stumbled out into the hallway.
Cecelia looked at them both, ashen-faced and shaking with rage. ‘Well, I–’
‘Get out!’ shouted Sophie. ‘Leave now and we will never speak of this again. I don’t think your precious son would like to hear that you tried to pay off his bride-to-be.’
Cecelia didn’t move.
‘Flora. Where is your phone?’ asked Sophie. Looking around the room, she spotted Flora’s phone on the bed. She picked it up and began to tap on the screen. She started reading out the words she was typing, ‘Hi honey, I’ve got your mum here. Look what she just gave me if I promised not to marry you and leave.’ Sophie turned, snatched the cheque out of Flora’s hand and snapped a picture of it with the phone. She then took a picture of Cecelia, holding the cheque up so they were both in the picture.
‘He won’t believe you.’ The quiver in her voice betrayed her doubt.
‘But, Cecelia, why else would you write Flora a cheque for five million pounds?’
Cecelia looked at Flora, the hatred emanating from her was almost tangible. ‘You will regret this,’ she spat at her and then finally she turned and left.
Flora would have sunk to the floor, but Sophie was there, holding her up and making soothing noises. ‘Do not let that woman win, Flora. Nothing that makes us happy comes easy. You can’t have the light without the darkness. If we don’t have to struggle how can we appreciate happiness? You love Sam. Sam loves you. Cecelia is just an irritating spider. She looks scary but at the end of the day, she’s just an insignificant pest and you can easily stamp on her.’ Sophie released Flora and straightened her veil. Stroking her face, she looked Flora in the eyes. ‘You look so beautiful.’
Flora smiled and swallowed back her tears.
‘Please don’t let that woman ruin this day for you,’ begged Sophie.
‘I won’t.’ Flora took a deep breath and tried to settle her emotions and return to the feeling she had before Cecelia came into the room.
Sophie took her hands. ‘Flora, you’re getting married.’ Her smile lit up her face. She pulled Flora around in circles. ‘Flora’s getting married, Flora’s getting married.’
Flora laughed as they jumped around the room. She felt like they were twelve years old again.
‘That’s better.’ Sophie tucked an escaped hair back behind Flora’s ear. She looked almost as happy as Flora felt.
‘Thank you. For what you said to Cecelia.’
‘Ah don’t worry about it. Stupid bitch. Now, we aren’t wasting any more time on her.’
‘I love you, Soph.’
Sophie turned away and moved across the room to get Flora’s wedding shoes, but not before Flora saw tears in her friend’s eyes.
Sophie returned, shoes in hand. ‘Love you too. Now let’s get these on.’
Alistair’s voice cut through Flora’s memories. ‘Cecelia darling, you remember what it is like to be young and in love. Leave them to do their own thing.’
Cecelia threw Alistair a furious look. It was nice to see her mad at someone else for a change. Then she turned to Sam, defeated. ‘Fine. I’ll just have to try and find two other people to go. It’s very short notice, though.’
Flora glanced at Alistair, intending to give him a grateful smile but he was staring into space like he’d never even spoken. He often tuned out of the room, like he was bored and would rather be anywhere else. She found it uncomfortable to be around Alistair. He was too mercurial for her liking. His ability to turn on and off his charismatic personality like a computer was unnerving. At least Cecelia was transparent in her dislike of Flora. Alistair was so capricious that she did not know how he really felt about anything, especially her. He would either be the life and soul of dinner or he’d be lost in a reverie so deep he often forgot to eat.
‘Sorry, Mother. We’ll go another time if you like, just the four of us.’
‘Or maybe just you and I could go for lunch?’
‘Sure.’
Cecelia beamed and stole a sly look at Flora who let her have her small victory. She no longer worried about Cecelia meeting up with Sam alone. After this many years she had yet to do any damage to their relationship. She was sure that Cecelia would be bending his ear about them moving away, after her unsuccessful conversation with Flora she would most likely be plotting another way to stop them from moving.
‘How are the plans for the move coming along?’ asked Alistair, suddenly coming alive again.
Cecelia looked as though she wanted to throw her plate in his face. ‘Darling, they aren’t even a hundred per cent sure they are moving yet. They may change their minds.’
‘Mother.’ Sam reached for her hand and smiled at her. ‘You know that we are moving.’ He turned to his father and answered his question. ‘We’re just waiting on the renovations and then we can move in. Flora’s aunt left it in bad shape, so it needed a lot doing.’
‘How are you dealing with your aunt’s passing, Flora? It must be a really difficult time for you. The last member of your family gone.’
For some reason, Flora had a sense that Alistair’s sympathy was insincere. Her knee-jerk reply was to say that she hoped her aunt rotted in hell, but she did not think it was an appropriate response. ‘I’m a little sad, but we weren’t close. I’m just so looking forward to living in my parents’ home again. It’s going to be amazing.’
Cecelia raised her eyebrows and tutted. ‘Well, who knows what the future holds. Apart from dessert.’ Cecelia clicked her fingers and like magic Reginald appeared out of thin air like a genie and began to clear the dinner plates.
Sam excused himself to use the bathroom and Flora was left with Alistair and Cecelia, neither of whom were looking at her. Alistair had his hands steepled together, his head resting on the fingertips, his face vacant and expressionless once more. Flora hated silence, it made her feel like the room was closing in on her. Words bubbled up inside her fighting to escape. She tried to fight the compulsion, but she wasn’t strong enough: the empty silence of the room was excruciating. It felt like there were ants climbing up her legs and someone had told her not to move. It got too much, and the words broke through. Stupid, idiotic words.
‘Cecelia, I could show you the new house if you would like?’ What? Why would you say that? Desperation to break the silence had obviously scrambled her brain.
Cecelia’s face broke out into a sinister smile, there was no warmth in her face. She leaned closer to Flora from her position at the top of the table. ‘I think you’ll find I will never be setting foot in that house. And neither will my son. If it’s the last thing I do.’
Her tone was so menacing that Flora felt a frisson of fear descend her spine. Flora looked at Alistair, hoping he had heard what Cecelia had said and would interfere. He was looking at them both with a broad smile on his face. Like the whole situation amused him. He stood up and left the table, quietly chuckling to himself as he went. Flora did not dare to look at Cecelia, she wished with all her heart that Sophie would appear out of nowhere like Reginald. But Sophie was not there, and Flora could feel Cecelia’s gaze burning into her, raising the hairs on her neck. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway which became louder with each second, filling up the silence as she waited for her husband to come back and rescue her from her evil mother-in-law.
13
It made Sophie’s skin itch to know that Flora was at a Friday Night Dinner without her. Sam took his obligation to attend these dinners as seriously as a blood oath. Being the apple of his mother’s eye had caused him to place a disproportionate amount of importance on the traditions she tried to create. Not being his mother’s favourite, Greg found it perfectly acceptable to shun the dinner when he was offered something better. Tonight, he was at a football game, best seats in the house apparently.
Sophie had gone to order a pizza and found all her cards had been taken from her purse, replaced by a scribbled note from Greg that read, ‘ha ha’. The irony that Flora had had her cards taken and replaced by someone and now she had had hers confiscated by her husband was not lost on her.
Sitting on the sofa, she flicked through the latest issue of Vogue. Her subscription was just another way of confirming that she had ‘made it’, she was not really interested in the pretentious twaddle they peddled. She couldn’t focus, distracted by a gut feeling that Flora needed her. Cecelia was a vicious viper and Sam had his head in the clouds: he wouldn’t be able to help Flora. He wouldn’t stop Flora from taking Cecelia’s words personally. Flora’s sensitivity was endearing but it made her an easy target for Cecelia.
But it was Alistair Sophie was more worried about. She tried to take heart in the fact he had never shown much interest in Flora, at least not in the way he had begun to take interest in her.
The door burst open. She started. The magazine slipped from her fingers as Greg all but fell into the room, the stench of alcohol joining him. He held himself up using the back of the sofa. Sophie stood up, warily moving away, trying to judge what type of drunk he was this time.
Before Flora had announced they were moving, she had been keeping everything under control. But things were starting to get out of hand, including Greg.
‘Hello, bitch,’ he said. A wolfish smile playing on his face. Ah, he was a nasty drunk tonight. A throb of fear pulsed through her. It was so hard to deal with him when he was in this mood. She may be able to outsmart him but she would never be physically stronger than him. He was blocking the exit. This was probably the first and last time that she would wish that they had gone to Friday Night Dinner.
Greg charged at her. ‘I should never have married you!’ he roared.
