Page 7 of Save You

“Goodness me, no!” he chuckles, blushing with a vibrant red glow on his cheeks. “I know how important that is for two people in love. I wish you all the best for tomorrow!” He hands the bottle over, then nods to me as soon as Oliver turns his back on him.

Oliver walks over to me with a salacious grin and a determination in his step that has me sweating down my back. For all I know, he’s about to consummate our fast-approaching nuptials right now. Time may have already run out for me. I take in a deep breath as he rubs his knuckles softly against my cheek, an action that ignites a shudder through my entire body. If he notices my nervous reaction to his touch, he pretends not to; instead, he moves in closer to kiss me. It’s long, slow, and with plenty of tongue action on his part. My heart rate picks up when he grips my backside and causes me to gasp with a slight squeak. Oliver, who appears to enjoy this reaction from me, takes it as a good sign and begins to walk me back toward the bed, where I end up falling with him on top of me.

Nudging my legs open, he sinks between them and presses his arousal against my core, which seems to fold in on itself, as if to say, ‘Not open for business!’ Of course, I don’t think Oliver would take any note of a sign, even if it was physically there to try and block him. His movements across my body are rapid and animalistic, giving away just how much he’s been waiting to do this. His hands move up to the inside of my skirt, grabbing at flesh before he hits the lacey outline of my knickers. He pinches my skin as he clutches hold of the straps at the side, getting ready to pull them down, or apart; what’s the difference? I brace myself, closing my eyes tightly for the impending torture that is about to befall me. This is where it all ends!

Just as he pulls tightly, causing the fabric to burn against my hips, someone from behind us clears their throat loudly and unapologetically. Oliver stops dead on top of me, opening his eyes to look into mine with a mixture of irritation and disappointment.

“Oliver, darling,” purrs an older lady, who looks remarkably like Oliver. She is stood confidently in the doorway and is dressed immaculately in what looks like head-to-toe designer labels. Her silver hair is whipped up into a flawless chignon, and her make-up is pristine. She looks as though an artist has stood before her and applied their very own form of airbrushing.

She studies our rather compromising position on the bed, causing me to blush with shame, even though it was far from my choice to be lodged underneath Oliver’s hard and heavy body. When I look up at Oliver with wide eyes and a slight tremble in my fingers, I find him smiling at me. He then slowly removes himself and stands upright, now facing the woman who is still staring at me lying on the bed. To my utter horror, I see him adjust his erection without an ounce of subtlety, before walking over to the lady and kissing her on the cheek. She manages to pull her staring eyes away from me, then pushes out her cheek with a gushing smile for my fiancé. She looks at him like he hung the moon and the stars all for her. However, within seconds, she is back to gawking at me like I’m the queen’s jewels that have been put on display just for her.

“My word, Oliver, is this her?” she asks, smiling at me in a friendly enough manner.

As I timidly rise to stand before them both, I pull at my school uniform, probably still blushing enough to stop traffic. I cannot help but rub nervously at my arm, for her reaction to me is off-putting. In this house, I have no idea if she is friend or foe.

“She’s exquisite, just like Rosalie was. Of course, I’ve only seen photographs, but…well, it’s amazing!” She claps her hands together before bringing them up to her mouth in what looks like a pleasant surprise.

“Mother, this is Beth,” he says, gesturing to me from where they are both standing. “Beth, this is my mother, Amanda Lawrence.”

I sort of smile, giggle nervously, and wave, all before saying hello. To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether to curtsey, bow, hold out my hand, or offer to draw blood. So, instead, I fall into a sort of floppy hand flap.

“Oh dear,” she says back toward him, “we shall have to do something about that!”

I almost drop my mouth open in anger over her insinuation that I’m akin to a dog that needs training, even to simply say hello to somebody. However, I rein in my inner monologue of mostly expletives, and convince the words to stay inside of my head.

“Beth, my darling, come over here, let me look at you properly!” she says with outstretched arms and a quick pace over to me.

Once we’re face to face, I notice we are nearly the same height, though, with her looking the way she does, I feel about two feet tall. She takes hold of my hands, each in one of hers, and looks me up and down, as though silently assessing me while forming her own judgments. Her smile never falters, but it doesn’t make me feel any less uncomfortable.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Lawrence,” I say with a tremble in my voice. I bet this is the wrong way to greet someone like her. However, I have no clue as to how these people expect you to treat future in-laws.

“Please, darling, call me Amanda. I am to be your mother-in-law after all!” She walks us over to the bathroom before turning me to look at her again. “I shall take you under my wing and we shall be great friends!” I’ll bet! “Now, into the shower with you, but leave your hair dry. We must make you look worthy of my son for your wedding rehearsal tonight. Oliver, darling?” she calls over to him as he watches our little interaction with quiet amusement. “Please adjust yourself; you know I would like you to keep things traditional. I trust everything was all clear from the doctor?”

He smiles smugly before nodding, “Of course, Mother.” She beams back at me like I’m somewhat more valuable. If only they knew!

“Good girl, my darling!” She leans in to kiss me on each cheek, creeping me out just as her son. “My darling boy will take good care of you tomorrow night, won’t you, Oliver?”

This sounds like more of an order than a question. Not that it matters, it’s still beyond repulsive for a mother to be talking about such a thing with her son, especially in front of his betrothed.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he grins, this time whilst looking at me, “I will give Beth exactly what she needs. I’m looking forward to it!”

“I bet you are! Now run along and get yourself ready,” she laughs as she shoos him off with her hand. Once the doors click closed, she turns to me eerily quickly. “I’ve heard my son is an excellent lover,” she informs me with a wink, then pushes me into the bathroom where I silently die of humiliation under the shower. I’ve always known this setup was beyond disturbing, but that little conversation was enough to make me vomit.

Chapter 3

Southampton, England, 1972

Rosalie

When we arrive at the hospital, there are very few lights on, and a mild panic begins to set in. I’m tired, exhausted, in fact, and have no money, no knowledge of where the hell I am, and no one to turn to. I take in deep breaths to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, which is to look for somewhere hidden, and vaguely out of the brunt of the storm that is still whirling noisily around outside. I preserve the small amount of heat I have by waiting for the very last person to get off the bus, desperately trying to keep myself dry for as long as possible. The lump of my wedding rings digs into my heel where I had stored them for safekeeping. Although I should get a pretty price when I come to sell them, I don’t know where to go for something like that at the moment. So, for tonight, they are about as helpful as the paper bag of basic belongings I have, still attached firmly inside of my hand.

When the old lady with her shopping bags finally steps off into the night, I take in a deep breath and ready myself to thank the driver. I shall then have to face my fate of sleeping in the middle of the storm with only a concrete shelter to cover me. Tom has been fascinating to sit with during our journey here, always chatting and pointing out new places that might be of interest to me. From the greetings he received from all the passengers, he seems to be well-connected and very much liked. Whenever a new person mounted the bus, he always had a personal greeting and a youthful grin for them. To be honest, he’s a bit of a flirt. However, it seemed to only make him that more endearing. I frequently giggled over his ability to make women of any age glow bright red.

“Well, goodbye, Tom, and thank you once again.” I hold out my hand to shake in thanks, but he just looks at it with a pensive brow. His reaction and refusal to take it have me looking at it to see if it is dirty. When I do, I almost curse myself. I forgot that people outside of Mayfield aren’t accustomed to seeing a hand that is covered in burns. It must look repulsive to normal people. Carl had placed his cigar to it when I told him I was too tired to ‘suck him off’ one night. It was not proper for a Mayfield wife to refuse her husband, so he had punished me before taking me so roughly, I had bled for three days after. Even the doctor had cautiously advised him to go easier on me. However, all that did was embarrass Carl, so, once the doctor had left, he slapped me and said never to humiliate him in front of others again.

Blushing over the state of my hand, together with the memory of that night, I quickly draw it back by awkwardly tucking a piece of loose hair behind my ear.

“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Tom asks quietly, with all trace of his usual humor and fun, completely absent from his face. “You’re running from something…or someone?”

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