Hollow Earth Read Online Free PDF

Malcolm had chided. ‘They’re just babies. They don’t have a clue what you’re saying to them.’
    He had then reached across to the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and grabbed an orange.
    ‘What are you doing?’ Sandie had asked.
    ‘An experiment. Something harmless.’
    Malcolm had placed the orange on the roll of paper in front of the twins. ‘Em, Mattie, can you draw Daddy a picture of this orange?’
    ‘They’re too young, Malcolm,’ Sandie had said. ‘Most of us can’t animate until we’re close to nine or ten.’
    At first nothing had happened. The children hadn’t moved, and the orange had remained an orange. Then Em had begun to draw. She had drawn an orange that looked like a square with legs, and Matt’s orange, although mostly round, had a pointy top and a tail.
    The real orange had remained a real orange.
    Until, that is, Em had grabbed her chewed pink crayon and begun to colour Matt’s pointy orange thing, and Matt, not liking what Em was doing to his creation, had snatched the pink crayon from her and begun to scribble across all the parts that Em had coloured.
    Within seconds, the orange had exploded, showering wet slivers of pulp all over the twins.
    Sandie stared in exhaustion at her two children standing anxiously in the mews courtyard in front of her. Matt was wearing a frayed concert T-shirt – the only thing of Malcolm’s that she’d kept. He’d been wearing it for most of the year. His black hair was too long and curled loosely at his neck, and his blue eyes challenged her at every opportunity. Em was a softer version of her brother, with the same colouring. The twins were both of average height for their age, although Matt was a little taller than his sister after a spring growth spurt.
    Sandie pulled out her phone and made another call. The news on the other end made her gasp.
    ‘Okay,’ she said, whirling back to the twins. ‘We need to leave London, but I have something I must do before we go. Can you please promise me some co-operation?’ She eyed them both. ‘And no more drawing?’
    ‘We promise,’ answered Em.
    Matt grabbed his sketchbook and shoved it deep into his backpack.
    That’ll have to do for now , thought Sandie.
    They jogged out of the courtyard to the far end of Raphael Terrace. Looking behind them as they ran, Matt and Em noted the big black car still blocking one side of the street in front of the Kitten house, and a police car with flashing lights blocking the other side. A small crowd of curious neighbours mingled on the pavement.
    When the three of them were away from Raphael Terrace and far enough along Kensington High Street, they slowed to a smart walk, trying not to call attention to themselves as they headed to the Underground.
    ‘Why didn’t we just take Violet and Anthea’s car?’ asked Matt.
    ‘They’d have expected that. We’ll be safer on the Tube. If there are lots of people, they won’t try to hurt us.’
    ‘But why do they want to hurt us?’ asked Em.
    ‘Because you two are very special children—’
    ‘Every mum says her children are special,’ Matt interrupted, stubbornly ignoring the extraordinary differences between them and other children.
    The high street was a cacophony of city noises – angry car horns, screaming brakes from buses, a construction crew drilling the pavement, music blaring from a bustling boutique, a troubled musician on a saxophone, and the all-encompassing din of afternoon shoppers and curious tourists. Sandie let the sounds of the city mask her mumbled and inadequate response to her son. Explanations, rehearsed or not, would have to wait a little longer.
    She manoeuvred the twins through the traffic to the entrance of the station.
    ‘Where are you taking us?’ growled Matt.
    ‘We’re going to Scotland to stay with your grandfather.’
    Matt stopped dead in the middle of the rush of people charging up and down the stairs to the Tube. Em looked at her mum in shock.
    ‘ Grandfather? ’ said