Save Her by Abigail Osborne (i can read books .txt) 📕

you just write a reference for me to help me get a gun? It would be interesting to see their reactions to that. She could always obtain one illegally. But who did she know that she could approach without it getting back to the family?

It was when she was signing out that she saw Roger in the back office. He appeared to be putting away a camp bed. He sleeps here? She doubted that it was his love of shooting that kept him sleeping on a worn-out camp bed. Times were tough judging by the peeling paint on the walls and the missing ‘G’ from the large sign on the front of the building. What he needed was an injection of cash. The idea percolated in her mind and she realised that the answer to her problem of how to get a gun had just landed in her lap.

There went that lovely lady fate again, guiding her way by throwing the opportunities she needed into her path. Sophie pulled back her shoulders and puffed out her chest, activating business-mode. An hour later, she walked out of the firing range with one less page in her chequebook but a black, shiny new gun in her rucksack. It made her feel powerful, ready for the battle ahead. The Cavendish family had no idea what they were dealing with. By the time Greg saw the cheque clear to ‘Manchester Gun Range’, it would be too late.

Her phone beeped as she placed her bag in the car. She was in such a good mood, her spirits lifted even higher when she saw it was a text message from Flora. The smile soon dropped from her face when she saw what it said.

Emergency. Get to the centre now.

37

The police had left but instead of feeling comforted, Flora felt more vulnerable than ever. Now that they had actually called the police the danger was more tangible.

Flora’s stomach rumbled, announcing its disgust that she had not eaten. Sam had nipped out to pick up a Chinese. She wished she’d asked him to order the banquet for four because she was starving. It was impossible to settle in the house anymore. She felt like an easy target when she was alone and couldn’t shake the sense that someone was watching her.

Flora got up from the sofa but sat straight back down again: walking wasn’t so easy due to the cuts on her knees. The day had been a disaster from the minute she had left the house. Gridlocked traffic had her crawling all the way into the city centre. Eventually, she’d parked at the car park closest to the centre and joined the throng of people traversing the city centre streets. She was already visualising the lesson she would be delivering, mentally checking the supplies in her inventory.

A shoulder came from nowhere and rammed into her, sending her sprawling into the road. Car horns blared and she heard squealing brakes. Her knees took the brunt of the impact. Her hands stung where pebbles of tarmac had embedded themselves in her skin. Her breath came raggedly and she was frozen to the spot. Car horns continued to blare, the noise almost bursting her ear drums. Her mind was blank, she didn’t know what to do. The pain in her shins became more prominent. Flora could hear the crunch of tyres on tarmac near her head as they manoeuvred around her. The smell of burning rubber filled her nostrils. Still she could not move. Shock had turned her to stone.

The feel of soft papery skin on her face made her jump. An elderly woman was looking down at her, watery blue eyes filled with concern, her face pockmarked with age spots. She tugged at Flora trying to get her out of the road. ‘Are you all right, dear. Can you hear me? You need to get out of the road.’

‘Y… yes.’ Flora leaned on the lady, who was surprisingly strong considering she was around five feet tall and looked like a sharp breeze would knock her over.

‘The youth of today. Bloody rotters, the lot of them. Come on, dear, let’s get out of the road before we both get hit by a car.’

Flora looked around and saw the cars coming towards them were only managing to narrowly avoid her. Another car horn blared and an angry white man in a business suit put down his window and gave them the finger accompanied by some choice words. Gingerly, she moved back on to the pavement, wincing as her stinging knees protested. They walked until they were out of the stream of pedestrians into a shop doorway.

‘What can I do to help, love? Can I call someone? That was a nasty fall.’

‘No. I’ll be fine. I’m only a few minutes away from where I work. I’ll go there and clean myself up.’ She took some deep, bracing breaths.

‘We should really call the police, you know. I didn’t get a good look at him, they all wear hoods these days. But they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. The hooligans.’

In that moment, Flora realised that she no longer had her bag. She looked around and opened her mouth to say something when the lady pulled it off her shoulder and offered it to her. ‘Here’s your bag, love. You dropped it when you fell.’

Flora shouldered the bag and thanked the woman heartily and gave her a quick, awkward hug. ‘You’re so kind. Thank you for helping me.’

‘Nonsense. Do you need me to walk with you?’

‘No. I’ll be fine. Thank you again, though. You’ve been so kind.’ Flora straightened up and swallowed back the pain in her knees and tried her best to look fine. She walked away from the woman and tried not to think about what could have happened if the cars hadn’t stopped. She felt the eyes of the elderly lady follow her until she turned around the corner, out of sight.

After two cups of Charlotte’s