Deep Water Mark Ayre (inspirational books for students txt) 📖

"It's nothing," said Abbie. "There's nothing wrong."

"You should look in a mirror."

"What?"

But she did as Tony suggested, glancing across the room. The heat of the shower had left an unnatural pink glow on her skin, as though she might be radioactive. Though she felt no discomfort, it looked sore, bordering on painful.

"I'm getting dressed," she said. "Please leave."

"You've been naked in front of me before."

"Oh yeah, and that gives you permission to see me naked whenever you want, right? Such a male response."

She might have slapped him the way he stood back and looked away. It took him a few seconds to recover.

"I'm not like that, and I thought you knew it," he said. "I didn't mean to imply... I would never... like I said, I'm just worried. If it's what Ollie said—“

"It's nothing. Didn't I say that?"

"But if it was what Ollie said—“

"Which it wasn't."

“—I wouldn't worry about it. It doesn't mean anything. It was a slip of the tongue. Happens all the time, especially with young people. You must have had it when you were in school? Kids calling teachers mum or dad. Everyone laughs, but they get it doesn't mean anything. It's the same with Ollie, and to be honest, it's not surprising. You treated him more like a mother than Angel ever—“

"Tony," Abbie snapped. "Stop it. Just shut up."

"I'm only trying—“

"I know what you're trying, and it's getting on my nerves. I knew sleeping with you was a mistake."

With her words and her tone, she'd slapped him again.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's the point; it wasn't supposed to mean anything. It was just sex. We were both in a bad place, we needed a distraction, but that's the problem with people like you. You have a bit of fun, and immediately your brain starts twisting it, telling you it means more. Well, it doesn't mean more, Tony. It doesn't mean anything, and neither do you. I've a job to do. I'm a bodyguard tonight, and you're nothing more than the son of my client. That's it, and tomorrow I'll be gone. We won't ever have to see each other again, and thank God for that."

Abbie was breathing heavily, her head beginning to pound. Tony looked to be on the verge of tears.

There was silence, and into that silence, Abbie poured self-loathing. Her skin was starting to hurt from the shower, but it was nothing compared to the internal pain.

"Tony..." She was unsure if she was going to try make amends or tell him to get lost. In the end, it didn't matter.

"You're not the only one who needs to get ready for tonight," he said. "I'll leave you to it."

Wiping his eyes, he stormed past her to the door, stopping halfway through.

"Oh, and it's message received, by the way," he said, turning back. "Loud and clear."

And with that, he was gone.

After dressing, Abbie released an almost silent scream of frustration and kicked her phone beneath the bed. Both actions made her feel better, if only marginally.

She went downstairs and poured herself a glass of water. She could hear movement upstairs where Ollie, Tony, and Alice were getting ready. Alone in the kitchen, Abbie fought the urge to flee for good.

She needed out. It was as though some force had sucked the oxygen from the house, and if she didn't escape, she would collapse and die. The pull of the front door was strong. Incredibly strong. But she was here to save Alice. With every minute that passed, the danger grew closer. For the next six and a half hours, she couldn't leave Alice's close proximity. Not for anything. Not until she was sure the danger had passed. Or she died.

Fighting the front door's gravitational pull, Abbie refilled her glass, from which she had drank half, and dragged heavy feet to the bar. Alice hadn't replaced the key behind the bar, but neither had she locked the balcony door. Abbie released herself into the blessed cold air of the coming night.

There was the sun, fat and deep orange. Half-hidden by the sea, it looked like God was dipping a biscuit into tea. The view was more stunning than ever. Abbie strode past metal furniture until her toes once more poked over the edge of the cliff. Until she was watching the sea smashing against the rocks below.

One day of fun, wrapped in the warmth of a family's love. It couldn't do any harm. That was what she'd told herself. What she'd forced herself to believe. She had enjoyed the various games, but it was okay. Throughout, she was sure she would still be happy to walk once it was done. There would be no lasting emotional damage.

Then Ollie said, Mum.

Abbie hadn't grabbed her heart, though someone had surely stabbed her with a blade.

Not wanting to upset Ollie, Abbie had smiled at him, said it was okay. She was sure her face was smooth, unreadable, as her mind raced and her stomach churned.

Because that was how she'd been treating him. As a mother treats a son. Only when he said it did she realise. That word (mum) transported Abbie back to that falling-apart sofa in her childhood home's living room, stroking the considerable bump that stretched her elasticated waistband to its limit. The baby kicked. It hurt, but Abbie loved it. He or she would soon be here. Despite her mother's negativity and disgust, Abbie couldn't wait.

Days before Abbie's due date, her baby was taken. A couple of years later, she lost Violet and responded by turning in on herself. When Ben found her years after and told her she would never be able to have a family, she had cried, but it hadn't been hard to accept, had it? Because Abbie believed, deep down, her chance at a happy family had been stolen with her baby. Violet's death had murdered hopes of any happiness. Therefore, it was a privilege to save other families. To enable them to keep enjoying the gift fate and the cruelty of