Beatrice Laus Novels & Stories

And he’d bundled his findings into a collegiate folder in preparation for the inevitable phone call from his fellow Newshounds. But until this time there was just Elmo, three chords and the beautiful noise from the amplifier. It was to be some time before he found this kind of peace again. *** ‘Keep still, Beatrice Beecham,’ Patience fussed. ‘You’ll end up looking like a Panda.’ Beatrice sat on Patience’s bed allowing her friend to apply a liberal amount of eye shadow to her upper lid. ‘Let’s get this right,’ Beatrice said carefully. ‘You’re saying Lucas’ behaviour last night can be put down to . . . cheese?’

But instead, that voice hit me like ice water poured down my spine. "Well, well. Sleeping Beauty finally wakes." I froze. Every muscle in me locked tight. I knew that voice. I'd hated that voice since I was seventeen. Beatrice. She glided into the room, perfectly polished, her heels clicking softly against the tile. Her smirk was sharp enough to cut glass. "Two weeks," she drawled, crossing her arms as her eyes roamed over me. "That's how long you've been out. Quite the little nap, Lauren. Or should I say…" Her head tilted, mock sympathy dripping from every word. "…Zara."