My eyes closed as my chest ached. My free hand came up to rub over my bruised and battered heart. I had known. A part of me had known something was going to go wrong. It was just one of those days.
I just didn't expect Mum to be the thing that went wrong.
"Rosie, is everything okay?"
Richie's hand rested comfortingly on my shoulder as the scent of his aftershave wrapped around me. I gasped in a breath as if his touch had given me permission to breathe again. Too much was happening too fast. My chest heaved as I struggled against the raging river of emotions within me. The slight comfort from his touch barely cut through the panic starting to build within me.
There were few words a person ever wanted to hear. And I just heard them.
Croakily I asked, "What was that?" My fingers tightened around the phone as I swallowed past the dryness in my mouth. "What did you just say?"
Richie's hand squeezed my shoulder comfortingly as a panicked torrent of words rushed down the phone line once more.
"I'm so sorry, I only went to put the bins out. When I came back inside, I realised she was gone." The young carer said with a gasp. I could hear the tears in her voice.
My knees wobbled, my body lurching to the side. Richie hastily grasped my hand and pulled me into his arms to stop me from tumbling on to the floor. I barely noticed.
Gone? She couldn't be gone. I wasn't ready. My hand pressed over my mouth in an attempt to hold back the sob. How could this have happened?
"The other door was open and she wasn't in her chair. I've checked all over the house and she wasn't there."
"Oh thank god," I muttered into my palm, my frantic heart hammering within my chest.
Even as I struggled to focus on her words, my mind grasped on to one very small fact. She's still here. Pure relief swept through my body.
She's alive.
A mixture of adrenaline and something undefinable swept through my body in a terrifying cocktail that my stomach twisting uncomfortably. A part of me wanted to yell down the phone. The fear was quickly turning into something ugly – something I didn't like.
Yet, I couldn't.
It would be so easy to place the blame on her. So easy. But how could she have known why I always closed and locked the door every time I left the house? How could she have known to hide the keys because, while my mum tended to remain passively in her chair, sometimes her adventurous spirit shone through?
The truth was, I had seen this coming.
How many times had I caught Mum just before she disappeared through the front door, my keys in hand? Too many to count. There were too many close calls.
The apologetic babble continued down the phone for several more seconds.
"Stop."
She continued.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I barked. "Stop talking."
The words cut off abruptly and I enjoyed the brief moment of quiet. I drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
"Now, this is not your fault. This could have happened to any of us." I soothed. "I need you to remain calm."
A sob sounded in my ear. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."
My throat grew tight. "I know." Blinking rapidly, I forced back my own tears as I asked, "How long has she been gone?"
"Um, fifteen minutes. Tanya has gone to find her but we don't know which direction she went in. Tanya gave me her phone to call you. She's still got her personal phone on her. "
YOU ARE READING
The Secrets She Kept
General FictionEvelyn and Rosie had always been close. They were not just mother and daughter; they were best friends. At least, they were until disease stole away the woman Evelyn had once been. After an incident forces Rosie's hand, she soon comes to realise the...
