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Chapter 117

Chapter 117

She slid the key into the lock and turned it briskly, pushing the door open. Sheila Watson had been warned that the press might cause problems, but hadn't expected so many journalists to be camped out on their doorstep, waiting for mother and daughter to return from hospital, like vultures circling a wounded animal. Grasping her fragile daughter by the arm, Sheila had batted them aside, handing out a few choice words as she shepherded Naomi towards the front door. As they hurried inside, Sheila turned on the press pack once more, offering a parting shot:

‘You've got five minutes to clear off or I'll do you all for trespass. Got that?'

Shutting the door firmly, Sheila ushered her daughter into the living room, settling her down on the sofa. Almost immediately, Sheila's phone started trilling, the doorbell app singing out its familiar melody, but she turned it off quickly, killing the intrusion, before crossing to the living room and closing the curtains. Out of the corner of her eye, Sheila saw her daughter flinch, clearly troubled by being plunged into darkness, so she hurried over to the doorway, punching on the ceiling lights, before switching on a couple of table lamps. It was overkill so early in the morning, but she could see it helped Naomi relax, so as far as Sheila was concerned, these lights could remain on night and day. Anything to make her precious daughter feel safe.

Seating herself next to Naomi, Sheila was quick to break the silence, determined to keep the mood upbeat.

‘So, work have told me I can take off as long as I need. That's nice, isn't it?'

Naomi managed a wan smile, but seemed pleased.

‘Which means that it's just the two of us. We can hunker down here, watch crap TV and slob about. Doesn't get any better than that, does it?'

Another smile and a brief nod of the head, the effort of which seemed to cost Naomi, who was still very weak.

‘I've got all your favourites,' Sheila continued warmly, gesturing to the array of treats on the coffee table. ‘Chocolate Hobnobs, Jammie Dodgers, Jaffa Cakes. We're going to eat ourselves fat and I for one am going to enjoy doing so. Fancy something now …?'

She picked up the plate offering, her a Mini Roll.

Looking apologetic, Naomi replied, ‘Maybe later. I don't feel very hungry.'

Her voice was still cracked and reedy, her throat nastily inflamed following her ordeal. The sound was so pathetic, so fragile, it broke Sheila's heart, but she refused to buckle, keeping up her cheerful patter.

‘No problem at all. We've got all the time in the world, love.'

Never had these words been more true. Sheila was so grateful, so relieved to have her little girl home again that she intended to make the most of every second together. No opportunity would be wasted or spurned, they would seize life by the scruff of the neck now, them against the world. Despite her anguish, despite her sorrow, Sheila was resolved to be zealous in pursuit of happiness, to embrace the future with confidence. Naomi, however, didn't seem to share her zeal, turning to her mother now with an uncertain, tearful expression.

‘I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through …'

Naomi had clearly been building up to this, feeling she needed to speak, but Sheila wouldn't accept any apologies from her daughter.

‘You've nothing to apologize for, my love,' Sheila replied forcefully, pulling her daughter into a hug. ‘You're the one who's suffered, not me …'

Unbidden, images of Naomi's ordeal, of that horrible cell, of that disgusting man, arrowed their way into Sheila's brain, but she pushed them angrily away. What Naomi had been through beggared belief, it was like a living nightmare, and Sheila refused to go there.

‘All that's in the past,' she continued assertively. ‘We've wiped the slate clean – the arguments, Darren, the whole lot. None of it matters. To be honest, it never did. Whatever we said to each other, whatever we did, all I ever wanted was this . You and me together, in our little house, safe and sound …'

Her words hit home, Naomi's gaze taking in the familiar contours of their pristine living room, the bunch of freshly picked forget-me-nots gracing the mantelpiece, before collapsing into her mother's embrace and sobbing deeply. For Sheila this afforded some relief, her daughter relaxing, letting her defences drop as she finally realized that she was safe, that her nightmare was over. Pulling her closer still, Sheila entwined her fingers with her daughter's, locking them together.

‘For better or worse, this is it now, love. I've got you back. I've got you home. And I'm never ever going to let you go again. You're stuck with me now, kid …'

Unexpectedly, Naomi laughed through her tears, nodding contentedly as her tears gradually subsided. Sheila said nothing, exhausted but deeply relieved, cherishing their togetherness once more. Squeezing her daughter's hand, she felt their eternity rings touch each other, as they remained locked together in an embrace of pure love.

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