Chapter 11

“I thought so,” Rosie said.

Abruptly, she stood up, the chair falling away.

“Agatha!” she shouted. “Agatha! Happy New Year!”

Madeline felt herself petrify, felt her body turn rigid, all colour draining from her face, leaving only the artifice of her hastily applied festive makeup.

She felt the approach of the girl behind her, felt hands on her shoulders, and the sudden warmth of breath close to her cheek as Agatha kissed her warmly, drunkenly.

“Happy new year, guys,” came the greeting, her voice rich and warm and unexpected, boyish still, perhaps, but not masculine.

She felt her cheeks flush red, felt the need suddenly to puke. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the other girl was gone.

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