Free All Fall Down: A gripping psychological thriller with a twist that will take your breath away by Tom Bale Page B

with—’
    ‘Devil worshippers, though!’
    ‘But it probably isn’t true. There’s always stupid rumours—’
    ‘Are you calling her sister a liar?’ Paige snapped.
    ‘You’d better not.’ Amber’s eyes were cold. ‘She got it from a news paper, okay? There was a thing like it a few years ago. Some people got hold of this girl – I think she was special needs or something – and they like knew her a bit, enough to get her to trust them.’ She glanced at Paige, and they gave a matching snort of laughter. ‘So they took her prisoner, and just. . . did what they wanted to her.’
    ‘You’re kidding! Like, what sort of. . .?’
    ‘Anything,’ Amber said. ‘ Every thing.’
    ‘Ooh.’ Paige shivered, wriggling her whole body with excitement.

    S ome passing boys provided a welcome interruption. Georgia didn’t care who they were or whether they noticed her. She drank her coffee, grimacing with every swallow, and then became aware of a familiar, creeping discomfort.
    She was being stared at.
    She checked over her shoulder; Amber and Paige had decided to play it cool, so the boys were tapping on the glass to get their attention. But that wasn’t it.
    Turning back, she realised that someone was using the reflections in the mirror beside her. It was a woman sitting at the table behind Amber and Paige; she averted her eyes as soon as Georgia looked that way, but there was no doubt she’d been studying her.
    Georgia gave it a minute, then glanced back. The woman was concentrating on her phone in a way that seemed fake, somehow. Sure enough, she took a quick peek to see if Georgia was still watching, then went back to her phone.
    She was quite old, perhaps thirty or more, with a thin face and short, spiky brown hair. Not pretty, but not ugly, either – she had fine cheekbones and clear, pale skin. She was wearing a dark blue t-shirt, and she had a half-sleeve tattoo on her left arm: some kind of dark, dense Celtic pattern that Georgia couldn’t help envying a little. You don’t mess with a woman who’s done that to her body.
    So why is she spying on me?
    As she tuned back into the conversation, Amber was saying, ‘. . . the tiniest dick in the world’, and Paige burst out laughing, but Georgia couldn’t join in.
    Shit, is the woman a reporter?
    Amber had asked a question; Georgia registered the word ‘brother’ but that was all. Then Paige said, ‘Oh yeah, she so fancies him.’
    ‘What?’ Georgia asked. The woman in the mirror looked up again.
    ‘You do, don’t you?’ Amber clasped her hands over her chest and sang, lightly, ‘ Oh, Evan, my beautiful brother, Evan !’
    ‘Shut up,’ Georgia growled, but that only made it worse.
    ‘She wants to fuck him,’ Paige declared, and Amber nodded, still singing: ‘ Evan, take my cherry – ’cos no one else is gonna want it !’
    Georgia just glared at the table top, waiting for them to get bored.
    ‘Be honest,’ Paige said softly. ‘You did admit it. Hannah told me.’
    Georgia’s head snapped up. Hannah was supposed to be a real friend; she was always saying how fake and two-faced Paige was. . .
    Amber twisted the knife: ‘You told her he’s the hottest guy you know.’
    ‘That is so disgusting,’ Paige declared. ‘Your own brother.’
    ‘I didn’t say that,’ Georgia shouted, ‘and if Hannah said I did, then she’s lying, and anyway he’s not even my brother, so shut up!’
    That brought silence. Frowns. Confusion.
    Georgia felt the blood drain from her face. Her skin crawled. It felt like the whole café was listening.
    ‘What do you mean?’ Paige asked quietly.
    ‘Nothing.’ Georgia jumped up, almost knocking her chair over. ‘You’re fucking bitches and I hate you!’
    Customers and staff alike were staring at her as she stormed out, among them the woman with the spiky hair. The expression on her face was hard to read, but it might have been amusement: probably gloating at her misery.
    Georgia hurried away, feeling sick