Saving Sophie: A compulsively twisty psychological thriller that will keep you gripped to the very last page. Sam Carrington
target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_cdd199fd-b8a3-5403-942e-d0d5331214ce">CHAPTER FIVE
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 whatever 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