Torment Read Online Free Page A

embarrassment.” She nodded towards Patricia who was now watching events unfold.
    “That’s all right. Don’t worry about it. You certainly haven’t caused me any.”
    As she disappeared out into the street, the brief smile he gave her dissolved into an expression of concern.
     

 
    4
     
     
    Gillian Ramsey replaced the telephone handset on the cradle and stared blankly into the space in front of her desk. She was baffled. No, more than that, she was worried. In all the time since her mother died nearly ten years ago, she’d always spoken to her younger sister at least twice a week. Last Wednesday everything sounded normal. Susan had been so excited at the prospect of starting her university course in a few weeks. Gillian was pleased for her. If anyone deserved some luck it was Susan.
    Now, not only could Gillian not get a response from Susan’s land line or mobile, despite leaving a couple of messages on each, but their father’s nursing home confirmed that she hadn’t been to see him all weekend. And that was something she had done religiously since they’d moved him in. Something was wrong, Gillian could sense it. There was nothing for it, she would have to go round to Susan’s flat and check for herself. Gillian’s mind darted around as if in a pinball machine. Susan could be ill … but surely not ill enough not to be able to let her know. That means she must be seriously ill. She could be lying in that lonely flat unable to get help. She might have been there for days. She might even have been …
    “Gill, have you finished those returns yet?” a voice on the edge of her awareness was saying. Before she could reply, the voice went on, “I said, have you finished those returns yet? Mr Adams needs them for this afternoon’s management meeting.” It was Sally Dobson, the director’s PA.
    Gillian looked up into Sally’s face then down onto her desk and began rummaging through some paperwork in several files. “Yes,” she finally responded. “I’ve just got to finalise the projections and I’m done. I’ll …” At that point, her phone rang. “I’ll bring them along in half-an-hour.” She picked up the receiver.
    “Make it twenty minutes,” Sally said before flouncing off.
    Gillian grimaced behind her disappearing back, drawing a chuckle from a colleague at a work station opposite.
    “Gill? Are you there?” came a disembodied female voice from the handset.
    “Sorry about that,” Gillian said, “Can I help you?”
    “Gill, it’s me, Alison.”
    “Oh, Alison, hi.” Gillian lowered her voice significantly. “Sorry, I was just in the middle of something with Miss Frosty-Knickers here.”
    “You sound busy.”
    “Just got to get something finished before lunch.”
    “So, not too busy for a bit of lunch and a gossip, then?”
    “Well … no,” Gillian hesitated. “Actually, there’s something I could do with your opinion on.”
    “Sounds interesting.”
    “It may be something and nothing but I’m a bit worried about …” Gillian broke off as Sally came back through the office door. “Look, I’ll see you in Garcia’s at half twelve. Got to go, see you then.” Gillian hurriedly put down the phone and busied herself with paperwork as Sally passed by, a scowl on her face.
     
    Garcia’s was one of a new breed of trendy wine bars that seemed to have sprung up on every High Street in the land. Situated just off the Bullring, its interior boasted plenty of polished wood, stainless steel and etched glass which gave an almost clinical feel to the place. This was in sharp contrast to the cosy, smoky, town-centre pub it had once been in a previous incarnation.
    The bar was buzzing with the incessant chatter of a score of conversations as a broad spectrum of clientele exchanged all the news, gossip and scandal of the day. Alison Hewitt took her dry white wine spritzer from the bar and found a circular table that had been fixed around one of the retained cast iron columns when the