Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dear Reader …
- Also by Robert Muchamore
- PART ONE
- Walter J Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- PART TWO
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- Walter J. Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- PART FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
- Discover more books and sign up to the Robert Muchamore mailing list at muchamore.com
- Have you read KILLER T?
- 1 SLASHED RUBBER
- 2 NOT HARRY POTTER
She hadn’t been allowed social media at the Freeman Unit, so this was her first post in seven months. Within seconds, there were fifty comments.
Welcome home Georgia!
Big love. Fight the power!
Thought you’d quit Insta! Good 2CU back.
Cute toes, I want to lick them!
Georgia was sick of stuff she’d worn over and over at the Freeman Unit and rummaged excitedly through a vinyl bag brought to the house by her dad. She went for a flower-print dress she’d forgotten she owned, but there was no sign of the white pumps she thought would go with it.
‘Georgia, boiled eggs,’ her nan shouted up the stairs.
‘Look at you,’ John said proudly, lowering a newspaper as Georgia stepped barefoot into her nan’s kitchen. It was sunny outside, but the blinds were down because of the press. ‘It’s months since I’ve seen you in anything but a hoodie.’
Georgia gave her dad a kiss. ‘Any idea where my white pumps ended up?’
‘I grabbed one bag of stuff,’ John explained. ‘I haven’t shifted the lease on the drone workshop, so I put our furniture and stuff in there, sooner than pay for storage.’
Georgia got a blast of nostalgia as her nan served up toast cut into soldiers and two soft-boiled in Peter Rabbit egg cups.
‘You used to use these when you looked after me in school holidays,’ Georgia said fondly as she tapped the shell.
The TV news was on, with the volume turned down, but the Bank Seven had been knocked out by an earthquake and a dead actress.
‘What’s the plan for today?’ Georgia’s nan asked, pouring her granddaughter tea from a pot. ‘I’ll need someone to drive me to Sainsbury’s.’
‘I wondered about a private tutor,’ John said, nodding at Georgia. ‘You’ve missed a ton of school, but you’re bright enough to catch up and take some of your GCSEs in the autumn …
‘That won’t be cheap,’ Georgia pointed out, resenting reality’s intrusion into breakfast nostalgia. ‘I’m going to take that meeting Jane set up with the publisher.’
‘Jane who?’ Georgia’s nan asked suspiciously.
‘Wendy’s wife,’ Georgia explained, then urgently gobbled an egg soldier that was about to drip on her dress. ‘Wendy and her wife, Jane, run Socialist News Network and their publicity business together. But Jane’s been in charge, with Wendy in prison.’
‘I’d rather you made a clean break with those people,’ John said.
Georgia tutted. ‘What does those people mean?’
‘Lefties,’ John snorted. ‘People who turned my daughter into a terrorist …’
Georgia didn’t want a breakfast row and kept calm.
‘As a matter of fact, me and Zac brought Wendy into the drone plot. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have just spent six months in prison.’