Читать книгу Saving Sophie: A compulsively twisty psychological thriller that will keep you gripped to the very last page - Sam Carrington, Sam Carrington - Страница 9

The chinking of plates and jingling of cutlery infiltrated Karen’s sleep. What time was it? The Sunday bells rang out from the church in the distance, the deep clanging tones coming and going as the wind carried them. She used to find the sound relaxing, reassuring even. Lately, though, it had become an irritation, a reminder of how long she’d lived in Ambrook. Moving from town ten years ago to gain the solitude that the tiny Devon village offered had seemed a good idea at the time. They hadn’t been able to afford any of the idyllic chocolate-box cottages, having to settle for the more modern, less striking semi-detached house instead. But the views of Dartmoor had made up for that. Now, even that didn’t interest her. She’d left it too late to move again, though, her current circumstances wouldn’t allow it.

Beside her, tiny tapping noises on the floor made her open her eyes. A heavy weight landed on her legs. Bailey scrambled to her face and planted his good morning kisses. She gave his belly a half-hearted rub. Then she bolted up to a sitting position. She turned to Mike’s side of the bed. Empty. He was the one crashing about in the kitchen. A glance at the alarm clock told her it was 8.45 a.m. Why hadn’t he got her up?

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.