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Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

In the dark, my eyes flicked to the red glare of the digital alarm clock: 2.14 a.m. Shit, shit, shit. I must have fallen asleep.

The next thought drove me bolt upright.

Mum.

Bloody hell.

I fair leaped out of the bed and started scrabbling around on the floor in a desperate search for my clothes. My head connected with the corner of the bedside table and the resultant yelp had Paul sitting bolt upright, patting around on the bed to find me.

‘Sam?’ His voice was groggy, husky and laden with confusion. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Fell asleep. Shit, got to get home.’ I’d got one leg into my knickers, but with my foot caught with the other hole, I was unbalanced, hopping sideways three steps before crashing into the wall at the end of the bed.

‘Christ, woman, you’ll wake the whole building, come back to bed.’ I heard him pat the mattress. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, so I could make out the trail of clothes as they disappeared towards the lounge.

‘Can’t. Gotta go.’ Staccato replies. ‘Mum, shit.’ I followed the trail to my jeans and bra but had to ferret around again to find my shirt and socks. ‘She’ll kill me.’

‘I doubt that. You’re a grown woman, you can do what you like.’

‘You haven’t met my mum. Oh, God,’ I called back. My brain flashed samples of the inevitable conversations and recriminations and I had to shake my head to clear them. I brought the pile of clothes back into the room and perched on the edge of the bed while I attempted to struggle into them. The sock I’d pulled up my foot was way too big, but I stuffed it and my foot into my boot, regardless. ‘Keys, keys, where did I put my car keys?’ I hobbled, one-shoed, back to the bedside table. Not there. Patted my jeans pocket. No, they must have been in the lounge.

‘You’ll have trouble finding them,’ Paul said, with more than a hint of mirth in his voice.

‘Don’t play games. Where are they?’ I’d found the other boot by this stage. And at least the other sock was the right size.

‘Who drove us here, Sam?’

Shit, piss, fuckity fuck. Paul. My car was in its usual possie, a block and a half away from the Highgate Hilton.

‘Shit. I’ll have to get a taxi. Where’s the phone?’ I was pretty sure there was one on his side of the bed.

‘Don’t be so bloody silly. I’ll drop you back, if you must insist on leaving.’