The Winter Foundlings by Kate Rhodes Read Free Book Online

asked.
    ‘Nothing. You’re staring, that’s all.’
    ‘I’m considering your offer.’
    ‘It’s a beer, not a marriage proposal.’
    ‘One thing leads to another.’ The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. ‘Go on then, twist my arm.’
    He waited beside me at the bar while I bought a round, which was disconcerting. It had been months since I’d flirted with anyone.
    ‘Did anyone tell you about Jon Evans?’ he asked. When I shook my head, his smile vanished. ‘He’s a therapist. He was at the Laurels last year, working with Kinsella.’
    ‘What happened to him?’
    ‘Gorski found him locked in his office, talking to himself. He hasn’t worked since his breakdown.’
    ‘Jesus. I need another drink.’
    His face gave nothing away. ‘Are you renting locally?’
    ‘Just round the corner, Ivy Cottage.’
    ‘I know the place. It’s been vacant for years; the locals say it’s haunted.’
    ‘Thanks for sharing that with me. My house is ghost-ridden and my predecessor went crazy. Got any more good news?’
    He looked amused. ‘You don’t seem the type to scare easily.’
    Jensen turned away to carry drinks back to the table, leaving me wondering why he’d tried so hard to unnerve me. The noise level in the pub had risen by a few decibels, Bruno Mars thumping in the background, the Northwood crowd yelling just to be heard. The place had a pressure-cooker atmosphere. If it got any wilder they’d be dancing on the tables, necking tequila straight from the bottle. I was about to pick up the tray of drinks when I spotted the TV above the bar. The picture must have been high definition, because I noticed new details when Ella Williams’s picture appeared. There was a red daisy on her hairclip, almost hidden by ringlets, a rash of freckles scattered across her nose. I stood by the bar and studied her gap-toothed smile until she disappeared.

7
    It could be a nightmare, but it never stops. It’s worse than the ones that seized her when her mother died. And it can’t be a dream, because pain is shooting through her feet and hands. Sitting on the metal floor, Ella rubs warmth back into her toes, but it only lasts a few seconds. It drains away when she stands up, every muscle twitching with cold.
    Night-time scares her most. She’s never known complete darkness before. At home the glow from the streetlights sifts through her thin curtains, but tonight the dark is absolute. It settles around her, locking the chill deep under her skin. Her eyes hunt for a speck of light. It’s tempting to lie down on the freezing metal and let the dark claim her. But then she’ll end up like Sarah, all her strength gone, struggling to breathe. Ella keeps hoping that the man has taken Sarah back to her family. Soon she’ll look pretty again, like the pictures in the newsagent’s window.
    Her mouth feels like it’s full of dust. It’s been ages since she drank anything. The man opened the door and threw in a can of lemonade, and she swallowed the liquid in a few quick gulps, bubbles stinging her throat. Since then there’s been nothing. She imagines the man standing there, and anger makes her lash out. Her hand grazes across the metal, leaving a trail of wetness. Drops of water are running down her skin. She kneels beside the wall, blindly collecting droplets with her tongue, the liquid sour and peppery. It takes an hour to swallow a few mouthfuls, but at least her lips feel comfortable again. She sits cross-legged, massaging warmth back into her feet. It’s important not to give in to sleep. Her sister needs her. Suzanne is six years older, but she relies on Ella to keep her calm. She carries on rubbing the heat back into her toes, until her skin begins to burn.

8
    My eyes felt too big for their sockets when I stepped onto the train at Charndale Station the next morning. I kept them closed as the carriage rattled through Berkshire, and by Paddington they were recovering. I knocked back a smoothie from a juice bar when I