Evil for Evil Read Online Free PDF

flowers growing by her feet, cupping one tenderly in her fingers. ‘I love harebells. Witches’ bells – that was the old name. Hares are witches’ familiars, you know, and they were meant to ring to warn them if the fox was around.’
    ‘Mmm.’ Christie tried not to wince. ‘I’m off to the pub. Fancy coming?’
    Oh God, she’d done it again. ‘You know what they’re like,’ Lissa said, blue eyes tragically reproachful.
    ‘Mmm,’ Christie murmured again. ‘Well, see you later.’
    Yes, she knew what they were like. A few poisonous characters holding a grudge, and the rest absorbed in their own lives and indifferent to strangers. But once you’d hung out for a bit theregulars were mostly friendly, and during the summer there were all the holidaymakers too. If she was still here come the winter, she couldn’t quite see herself walking along to socialise with the bizarrely awful Derek, but towards the weekend even now there was usually quite a jolly crowd. Matt and Lissa were making a big mistake in cutting themselves off, even if neither of them was exactly sociable.
    As Christie reached the Smugglers, a group of young men appeared from the opposite direction. They were in high spirits, one with a helium balloon tied to his wrist, wearing a T-shirt with messages scribbled on it, mostly obscene.
    They arrived just as she did, but the one in front stepped back to usher her ahead of them. He was seriously fit – big and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped dark hair and brown eyes. Christie smiled a thank you.
    The pub was quite full now and Georgia was being kept busy, but when she caught sight of Christie’s new acquaintance she called, ‘Andy! Didn’t know you were around. Come and give us a kiss, then.’
    Andy, grinning, obliged. ‘I’ve borrowed the family caravan for a weekend with some of my mates. Can you do us a jug of beer?’
    ‘Course I can, my love. Having a party?’ She began pulling pints into a large jug.
    ‘Wake, more like. This guy’s getting married.’ Andy jerked a thumb at his sheepish-looking friend.
    ‘Should be you, by rights. Your mum and dad were saying you needed to find a nice girl and get settled.’
    ‘Plenty time for that. I’m still young …’
    Georgia wiped off the jug and set it down. ‘Getting older all the time, petal. Still, make the most of it.’
    ‘Trust me.’ Andy winked, then noticed Christie was standingpatiently beside the bar. ‘Oops, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This young lady was ahead of us, Georgia.’
    ‘Sorry, dear,’ Georgia echoed. ‘What’s it to be?’
    Christie saw ‘Andy’ was looking at her properly for the first time. ‘Put it on my slate, Georgia,’ he said. ‘An apology for queue-jumping.’
    He had a great smile. Christie smiled too. ‘No need. But … oh, just a Becks, thanks.’
    ‘Cheers!’ he said, pouring out beer for himself and passing the jug to one of his friends, but he didn’t rejoin the group. They introduced themselves: he was Andy Macdonald, from Kirkluce, and his mates, after sidelong looks and some pointed remarks, settled at the end of the bar, with a bit of good-natured jostling.
    Then the bomb went off. Christie screamed, a piercing, full-blooded scream, looked wildly about her, then dived under the nearest table with her hands round her head. An absolute silence fell.
    Then Andy’s arms were round her. ‘It’s all right, Christie, it’s all right. One of these idiots just burst Dave’s balloon, that’s all.’
    Half dazed, she sat up, then felt a hot tide of embarrassment flood right through her, turning her face puce. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Oh God! How humiliating.’
    Conversations began again, with sympathetic murmurs and glances. Some people had obviously seen the TV programme, though Andy clearly hadn’t. As he helped her up, her face still aflame, one of his friends who looked almost as uncomfortable as Christie felt came to apologise for bursting the balloon.
    ‘Sorry’ seemed