Pushing Bailey aside, Karen shoved her feet into her slippers, grabbed the dressing gown and walked along the landing. Pausing outside Sophie’s door, she listened for signs of movement, straining to hear breathing. Please let her be breathing. Don’t let her have choked to death on her own vomit. Karen laid a trembling hand on the door knob. She’d checked a couple of times during her own unsettled night, but it’d been over three hours since her last. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
On her tummy. Light-brown hair messily spread over the pillow and part-covering her face. In the exact position she’d left her. Karen could only hear her own breathing: rapid, shallow bursts of air. Why wasn’t Sophie making a sound? She reached a hand out, hovered it for a while before allowing it to lie gently on her daughter’s back. Warmth touched her fingers. Karen’s shoulders relaxed. Thank goodness.
‘Sophie,’ she whispered. Then more strongly, ‘Sophie.’
Sophie’s body wriggled under Karen’s hand, her eyes opened. Still dark, still unfocused.
‘What’s the matter?’ She wiped the wetness from her mouth with one hand, then turned over and sat up.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Okay,’ she yawned. ‘Tired.’ Her brow knitted as she ran her hand along the side of the bed, up and down the mattress edge against the wall. ‘Have you seen my phone?’
Karen had left it in the kitchen, thrown down on the worktop following several failed attempts to access any messages that might shed some light on the situation.
‘Yeah, it’s downstairs.’
‘Oh.’ Sophie looked perplexed. Her phone never left her side.
‘How did you get home last night?’ Karen thought she’d play it cool. She wanted to hear it from Sophie’s mouth, wanted her to feel bad about causing so much distress.
‘Uh … Taxi?’ She swung her legs around and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning the room. ‘Where’s my handbag?’
‘Sophie.’ Karen’s voice, harsher now. ‘It’s downstairs as well. Look, you didn’t come home by taxi. Don’t you remember how you got back?’
Sophie looked straight ahead, and said nothing for a long time.
‘Must’ve got a lift, then,’ she said finally, looking at Karen. Her face appeared neutral; no sign of guilt, no indication of a sudden recalled memory of the police car.
‘Bloody hell, Sophie.’ Karen crossed her arms firmly.
‘What? I can’t remember, that’s all. I’m home safe, aren’t I?’ Sophie lay down again, pulling the duvet back over her. ‘I’m tired, I need more sleep.’
‘Tough.’ Karen’s face flushed. She’d been gentle enough, now Sophie’s matter-of-fact attitude bristled her. ‘I’ll tell you how you got home, shall I?’
‘Urgh. Please can you leave me alone? I’ll talk to you later.’
Karen stripped the duvet from her. ‘No, Sophie, we’ll talk about it right now.’
‘Fucking hell, Mum.’
‘I can’t believe you don’t remember.’ She lowered her face level with Sophie’s. ‘The police brought you home, Sophie. The police.’ She glared at her, waiting for a response, waiting for ‘I’m sorry, Mum’. But no. She gave nothing. ‘Are you going to say anything? Your dad went mental, you know.’
The smile spreading across Sophie’s face was like a smack in Karen’s. How dare she smile. Was Mike right? Did she think this was funny?
‘Okay, Mum. Enough. I get it. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink, I obviously annoyed you and Dad by coming home late, probably woke you up. I’m sorry. Joke over. But it’s not like you’ve never got drunk, is it? Now can you leave me alone to sleep it off?’ Sophie widened her eyes at Karen, ‘Oh, and don’t give me the tilted head crap, you always do that when you think someone’s lying …’
Karen jerked her head back upright. ‘Are you serious? Enough? I haven’t even started. It’s not a joke. And trust me, we were not laughing last night. You didn’t wake us up in the early hours. You were brought home at ten bloody thirty. How the hell could you have got into such a state so quickly?’ Before Sophie could retort, she added, ‘Maybe that’s why my head’s doing this crap.’ Karen cocked her head again, accentuating the move. She stopped talking, waiting for an explanation.
Despite Karen’s anger, the shock on Sophie’s face set her back. She really didn’t remember the police ride. A knot developed deep inside her stomach. She nudged Sophie across the bed so she could sit on the edge. She took Sophie’s hand in hers.
‘Why were you on your own? Where were your friends?’
‘I … I’m not sure. I don’t remember.’
‘Try. Please. It’s important.’
‘Why?’
‘You have to ask? You were found wandering around on your own, in a drunken state near the roundabout on the main road going out of town. Then, when they brought you back, you rattled on and on about Amy, talking utter rubbish – kept saying something about how you didn’t know she wanted to be Amy …’
‘That’s odd,’ Sophie lowered her head. ‘I don’t understand—’
‘No. Neither do I. Why had you left your friends? Or had they left you, like usual?’
‘Oh, don’t start, Mum,’ she withdrew her hand from Karen’s. ‘Let me think about this. I can’t …’ She rubbed her hands over her face. ‘I’m too tired, I need to sleep.’
Karen sat a while longer, staring at Sophie. She’d had the feeling last night there was more to this than being drunk.
Now she was sure of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Has the drunken mess surfaced?’ Mike raised his eyes fleetingly from his iPad as Karen entered the kitchen, returning them immediately to whatever was more interesting. On his days off, if he wasn’t watching TV or in the office, he had his head buried in his beloved iPad. Karen wished she’d never bought it for him.
‘I went in and woke her.’ Karen passed by him to get to the kettle. She touched its side, then flicked the switch. ‘You want a coffee?’
No answer.
‘Mike,’ she shouted, ‘you want a coffee?’
‘Uh, no. Not long had one.’ He placed the iPad on the breakfast bar. ‘What did she have to say for herself? Any explanations?’
‘She can’t remember any of it—’
‘Oh, of course not,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Should’ve known she’d deny all knowledge.’
‘No, I don’t think it’s like that, she really didn’t seem to remember.’
‘Don’t be so damned gullible.’ He snorted – an annoying habit he’d developed when belittling what Karen said. ‘She knew she’d be in trouble, so she’s taking the easy way out with this “I can’t remember” bull.’ He waved his arm dramatically. ‘It doesn’t wash with me.’ He got up, pushing the bar stool back. The screeching made Karen wince.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to find out what exactly went on last night.’ He was already at the kitchen door.
‘No, don’t. She’s not up to it, you’ll get nothing from her.’
He swung around to face Karen. ‘I’ll do what I see fit. She was out of order. She needs to know the trouble she caused, and what she put you through.’
‘She didn’t really put—’
‘Enough.’ He scowled. ‘Stop sticking up for her. She was in the wrong, she has to learn there are consequences.’ He disappeared up the stairs.
Standing, stirring her coffee, Karen considered how this was going to play out. He’d have a go at Sophie, she’d throw a strop, Mike would then blame Karen for Sophie’s reaction; her shortcomings were always laid at Karen’s door, and then he’d be unbearable for about a week before he finally realised he’d overreacted and apologise. She sighed and took a sip of the coffee, hoping it might quell the growing nausea. Mug in hand, she crept to the bottom of the stairs. No shouting. She raised her eyebrows. Unusual. She stayed there for a while, listening intently. Only muted voices.
Sophie’s door opened. Karen scuttled back to the k
itchen, spilling hot liquid as she went. Damn. Hearing his footing on the stairs, she quickly seated herself at the breakfast bar. ‘Well?’ She looked to him as he walked in.
‘You’re right.’
Karen almost dropped her mug. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She really has no clue about last night, Karen.’ He plonked heavily on the stool opposite her. ‘Why? I don’t understand how she could get ratted to the degree she has no memory of anything past seven o’clock. That’s not good. Not good at all.’ He rubbed his forefinger along his bottom lip.
Karen’s hairs prickled on her arms. The niggling worry in her gut grew into an intense knot. She hadn’t checked her phone. Had Liz texted her back? She got up and ran to the bedroom. Retrieving the phone, she stabbed at the screen to access her messages. Her heart jolted. Liz had replied a few hours ago. Amy didn’t come home last night. She isn’t answering her mobile, does Sophie know where she is? Liz xx
Running back downstairs, Karen burst into the kitchen and thrust the phone in front of Mike’s face.
‘I told you not to text her, Karen.’
‘Really? You’re going to have a go about that now? Have you read it? Shit. Sophie was going on about Amy last night, and now Amy is missing.’
‘She’s not really missing, is she?’ His tone was sarcastic, one reserved for the innocent ignorance of a child. ‘She probably just stayed at a friend’s last night and is sleeping off a hangover. Like Sophie!’
It was a valid point. He was probably right. But why did she have a nervous feeling, a worming thread of fear branching throughout her belly? How could she tell Liz that Sophie had no memory of the night, and had no idea where Amy was?
She re-read the message and then replied.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sophie
Why couldn’t she piece the night together? Sophie sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, eyes shut tightly, willing the memories to come to her. Pre-drinks at Amy’s – she remembered that. There’d been six of them, the usual girl group: her, Amy, Erin, Becks, Alice and Rosie. Then some of the boys joined them – Dan, Jack and Tom – about half an hour before they planned on going into town. They’d done the shots, encouraged the girls, too. Sophie had at least three, but that was after the wine. She hadn’t finished the bottle though; she remembered the wine had tasted off. It was still a lot to consume in a few hours, she guessed. But she’d drunk far more in the past and had never forgotten an entire evening. Hazy, maybe – but not a complete blank.
Her head hurt. A piercing staccato pain right behind her eyes. She rubbed at them, hoping to relieve it. It didn’t work. Covering her head with the duvet, she sank back into the pillow and let her eyelids fall. They felt so heavy. Ugh. Why did she drink those shots? They’d clearly pushed her over the edge.
The morning’s conversation she’d had with her parents played over in her mind. How can you be brought home by the police and not have any recollection of it? It didn’t make sense that she was found, on her own, near the roundabout. It was within walking distance of the nightclub. Had she been there? They never went to the club much before midnight, though. Her dad was going to question her for days. How could she tell him what she didn’t know? Her only hope was that her friends could fill the gaps.
Her phone. She was bound to have a million texts by now. Where was it again? Oh, no. Downstairs. She raised herself into a sitting position and in what seemed like slow motion – her brain strangely disjointed from her body – made her way through the house. She didn’t particularly want to face her parents, but she could hear their voices in the kitchen, so if she wanted her phone, she’d have to. It wasn’t like she could sneak in without being seen, not the way she was moving.
Her mum flew from her seat as she walked in. ‘Amy didn’t return home last night.’
Her dad sighed, his head lolled back.
‘I’m just going to check to see what messages I have. I’m sure she probably stayed at someone else’s.’ Sophie swiped at the mobile screen.
‘That’s what I’ve been telling her,’ her dad said, shaking his head.
Sophie’s pulse increased as she scanned the dozens of messages. Tom had sent four. Are you OK, babe? Where’s you at? I’m worried, can’t find you. And the final one – Amy said Erin called you a taxi and they bundled you in it to go home, haha! Seriously tho, hope your feeling ok. She scrolled through some others to see if Erin had messaged. She hadn’t. She’d probably turned her phone off due to all the group message notifications driving her mad. Sophie looked up; her mum and dad were staring at her, waiting for her to give them answers. What should she tell them? She’d been put in a taxi to go home? Then how come she had been found on the other side of Coleton, the opposite direction to home? Great. More interrogation. She took some deep breaths. Her head throbbed: the characteristic post-drinking dehydration pain twisting together with a growing anxiety. She gave herself a moment before speaking.
‘Tom’s messages say that Amy and Erin put me in a taxi to come home.’ The urge to retreat to her bedroom was huge, but she couldn’t avoid her mother’s eyes. They seemed dull, almost black, and below them dark circles made her look ill, haunted. Frowning, deep wrinkles were appearing in her forehead. Her mother looked older today, drawn. Her usual bouncy, curly hair hung about her shoulders in lank, lifeless chunks. She guessed her mother’s worse-than-usual appearance was her fault. She must’ve been up all night worrying.
‘So, why didn’t the taxi bring you home?’ Her mum’s voice was shaky.
‘I don’t know. I really don’t remember anything about a taxi. Well, anything about anything actually.’ Sophie put her head in her hands.
‘What about Amy? Any texts from her?’
‘Just the one,’ she lied, ‘similar to Tom’s. Hoping I’m okay and she’d talk to me tomorrow.’ Why had she said that? Stupid, but she really wanted them off her back.
‘Text her now, Sophie. Liz is worried.’
‘If she isn’t returning Liz’s texts she isn’t likely to reply to mine. She’ll be sleeping it off. I’m sure she’ll contact her after lunch.’
‘It’s pointless,’ her dad offered, ‘you know what they’re like after a night out drinking, Karen. And don’t even get me started on the fact you shouldn’t be drinking at all, Sophie.’
The jingling caused them all to jump.
‘Who’s that?’ her mum asked.
‘Give me a chance.’ Sophie fumbled with the phone. She could feel expectant eyes on her. She took her time reading it, then looked up. ‘It’s Maxi, from Anderson’s. She wasn’t even with us. She’s just checking if it’s my work or college week.’ She felt the weight of their disappointment. ‘Sorry.’
The room was still, the gentle swishing of water hitting against the dishwasher door a rhythmic comfort. Sophie wanted to escape the kitchen to her room. She edged towards the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Back to bed, Mum. I’m knackered.’
‘Really? When you don’t even know where your friend is? Aren’t you bothered? I think you should look on Facebook, see if she’s posted anything—’
‘NO. Listen, will you? She’ll be at someone’s house—’
‘Not just to see where she is, I want to know what taxi firm Erin used, I want to know what time they supposedly put you in it.’
‘What’s that meant to mean – supposedly?’
‘Well, I find it very odd that they said they put you in a taxi but it never brought you home. Either they are lying or something happened in the taxi. I want to know which it is.’
‘Why would they lie? Honestly, Mum, you’re so annoying.’ Sophie turned and went out the door.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ her mum shouted after her, ‘because they are rubbish friends and are covering their backs.’ She followed Sophie, continuing her one-sided rant. ‘They left you and now, rather than take any flak, they’ve put together some cock-and-bull story, knowing you were so out of it you’d believe whateve
r they said.’
Sophie carried on into her bedroom without replying. She slammed the door and collapsed on the bed. The room spun. She closed her eyes. She didn’t know what to think. Was her mum right? Had she been abandoned by her friends who had then concocted some story? She couldn’t see it. Okay, so they’d got separated a few times during nights out in the past, but it was never as bad as her mum made out. It’d only been because they’d got drunk and wandered off to chat to other people and not been able to find each other again. Not answering their mobiles was common, it was loud in pubs. Her mum didn’t get that, and if Sophie had to hear another ‘it wasn’t like that in my day’ story, she’d vomit.
No, she believed Erin had called a taxi, she’d always watched her back, even during their school days. It’d always been Erin who was the sensible one and Sophie trusted her completely. How had she ended up the other end of town, though? She replayed the evening again from the time she arrived at Amy’s. It was useless. She could only recall up to the point where they’d left the house to walk into town. They were all together then, definitely.
Her phone vibrated. She grabbed it, praying it was Amy.
Dan. Bless him. He always looked out for her. A shame she didn’t fancy him, everything else about him was perfect. Too perfect. Not bad-boy enough for her taste.
Morning gorgeous, how’s your head? XX
Despite her banging brain and the stressful events that morning, she smiled. She tapped a reply.
Not great, hun. What happened last night?
She waited, watching the screen, praying for him to give an answer to end this mystery.
You were well wasted, love. You wanted to go home after just 2 pubs! Light weight ;-) xx
Okay, now she was getting somewhere. If she’d wanted to go home, then she must’ve felt terrible. She knew her limits, and when she surpassed them, she always left – went home. Always. So, she had got in a taxi, like Tom had said. This threw up new, more difficult questions. Questions she didn’t want to face at the moment. Shit. Her mum would have a field day. She’d be on to the police, making accusations about the taxi driver. It was inevitable; her job had made her believe the worst of everyone.
Saving Sophie Page 2
