Read Bloodline for Free Online

promised it would be done last night,’ Thorne said. ‘Then first thing this morning.’
    Louise lay back on the pillow with her eyes closed. She looked exhausted. ‘Two hours ago they said I was next in.’
    â€˜It’s bloody ridiculous,’ Thorne said.
    The nurse consulted her paperwork again, nodding when she found an explanation. ‘Yes, well, we had someone come in with a badly broken arm, I’m afraid, so—’
    â€˜A broken arm ?’
    The nurse looked at Thorne as though he were simple. ‘He was in a considerable amount of pain.’
    Thorne returned the look, then pointed at Louise. ‘You think she’s enjoying herself?’
    Â 
    Â 
    Alex was stuffing a last piece of toast into her mouth when Greg came into the kitchen. He nodded, still tucking in his shirt. She grunted, waved, and went back to the story she’d been reading in the Guardian .
    â€˜Hope you’ve left some bread,’ Greg said, flicking on the kettle. He heard another grunt as he walked to the bread-bin, then a mumbled request for an apology as he moved to the fridge. ‘Oh, right, as if you would have scoffed it all . . .’ He scanned the inside of the fridge, looking in vain for a yoghurt he knew had been there the day before. Kieron, the flatmate who had moved out at the end of the previous year, had a habit of polishing off the last of the communal bread, milk or whatever, as well as eating stuff that had never been his in the first place. Now Alex was shaping up to be almost as bad. But Greg was more inclined to forgive his own sister, and she did leave the bathroom smelling a lot nicer than Kieron had done.
    She pushed the paper away when he finally brought over his tea and toast and sat down. ‘You’re going in early.’
    â€˜Twelve o’clock lecture,’ Greg said. ‘Henry the sodding second. And it’s not really what the rest of the world would call early.’
    â€˜Feels early enough to me.’
    â€˜What time did you get in?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Alex said. ‘Not stupidly late. But a bunch of us ended up in some place in Islington where they were necking these lethal-looking vodka shots.’
    â€˜ They were necking?’
    Alex grinned. ‘Fair enough, I necked a few.’ She pointed as Greg shook his head and slurped his tea. ‘You can’t get all big brother-ish, matey. Not with some of the things you get up to.’
    Greg blushed, which annoyed him, then he got even more annoyed when Alex giggled knowingly and he blushed some more. ‘Look, you’ve only been here two weeks, that’s all I’m saying.’ He cut her off when she opened her mouth. ‘And don’t tell me to “chillax” or whatever. You’re not twelve.’
    â€˜I’m making friends,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, you need to pace yourself. Oh yeah, and maybe do some work .’ He struck his chest theatrically. ‘I know, mental idea . . .’
    â€˜Like you said, I’ve only been here two weeks.’ She reached across, tried and failed to grab a piece of his toast. ‘And, you know . . . it’s drama . It’s not like there’s a lot of work to do.’
    â€˜How thrilled was the old man when you got a place here? When you told him you were moving in with me?’
    She shrugged.
    â€˜And how pissed off would he be if he knew you were caning it every other night?’
    Just when it looked as though Alex was about to shout, or storm off, she produced the same butter-wouldn’t-melt smile she’d been turning on for eighteen years. ‘You’re just jealous because you got lumbered with a proper course, with proper lectures,’ she said. ‘Henry the sodding second.’
    â€˜Dull as fucking ditchwater,’ he said.
    They both laughed, and she made another, more successful grab for the toast. Greg called her a sneaky bitch. Alex called him a