Read Online The Hornbeam Tree by Susan Lewis - Free Book Online Page A

her head and cried, ‘
Getting drunk!
’
    The others cheered and clapped, Deepest Blue went on the CD, and Bacardi Breezers were whisked from the fridge.
    ‘So, was that cool, or what?’ Allison demanded, linking Molly’s arm and pulling her down on to one of the sofas.
    ‘Totally amazing,’ Molly responded, actually thinking it was, though still relieved to be dressed.
    ‘I told you, Cecily’s like, wild,’ Allison went on. ‘She made it all up herself. I mean, she got some of the stuff online, you know, from Lilith web sites and places, but the whole ceremony thing, you know, with the oil and chants and stuff, that’s totally hers.’
    ‘We’ve just got to get you up to speed with the steps now,’ Cecily told her, ‘because we’re all on Step Three. So, have you ever kissed a boy?’
    Molly kept her eyes down and nodded.
    ‘So that’s Step One taken care of,’ Allison declared. ‘Step Two’s kissing with tongues. Have you ever done that?’
    Since Molly had already confessed she hadn’t, she could only shake her head.
    ‘No big deal,’ Allison told her. ‘I reckon she can do two and three together, don’t you?’ she said to the others.
    ‘So what’s Step Three?’ Molly asked.
    They all started to giggle. ‘It is like so out there,’ Allison informed her. ‘You are going to just die when we tell you.’

Chapter Three
    THE FOLLOWING DAY Katie was standing in the back car park of Chippenham station, watching the train pull away to continue its journey to Bristol. She checked her watch. Yes, this was definitely the train Michelle had insisted she’d be on, but no more than a handful of people had got off, and none of them was Michelle.
    With a bitter, disappointed sigh she unlocked her old Fiesta and slid into the driver’s seat, unable to stop herself remembering the last time this had happened, when Michelle had failed to turn up for their mother’s funeral because, apparently, a bunch of total strangers in Mogadishu had needed her. So Katie could only wonder what insurmountable obstacle had thrown itself in her path this time to prevent her from being on that train.
    As she turned out of the station slip road the Westinghouse traffic was already clogging up the one-way system, and there, right behind her, all of a sudden, was white-van man, that peril of the English roads, whom she’d happily force to slam into the back of her car if she could be bothered with the insurance hassle that came with it. Anyway, at least she hadn’t gone to too much trouble for dinner, just a roast-in-the-bag chicken from Sainsbury’s and a bottle of mediumly expensive white wine. The spare room was made up, of course, and she’d put some fresh flowers in a vase to brighten it up a bit. She’d even ironed the sheets before putting them on the bed, something she never did for herself and Molly.
    Deciding to switch on the news, she hit the button, then almost had second thoughts when she realized it wouldn’t surprise her to discover Michelle was in the headlines, for it was the kind of thing her sister usually managed to pull off without too much effort. Thanks to her earlier fame as an actress, people hadn’t quite forgotten who she was yet, so maybe that was the cause of her delay, she was still up there at Heathrow, filling the press in on how many babies she’d managed to save since the last time she was in overprivileged, don’t-know-where-we’re-well-off England, and how many hungry mouths she’d helped feed while the British were wasting enough every week to feed several African nations for an entire year.
    The lead news story turned out to be more on the debacle in Iraq, a situation that fascinated and infuriated Katie, for she loathed the hawkish elements of the US regime that had somehow dragged Britain into this, and she still couldn’t believe the gullibility of half the American people who just weren’t getting that they’d been sold a lemon. Next on the agenda was the story of two