Monday, 10 December 2018

We All Fall Down - blog tour



BLOG TOUR

We All Fall Down – Cynthia Clark


About the author

Cynthia Clark was born and brought up in Malta, where she graduated in Communications and went to work for a daily newspaper. She has since lived in the US, where she worked as a writer in online business journals. She and her husband now live in the States with their twin daughters.


Follow Cynthia:
Twitter handle: @cynthiaNYC
Facebook: @clarkcyn

About the book

Many years ago orphans Bea, her brother Sebastian, Helen, Sandra and John lived together in a home, with their carer Miriam. But Miriam didn’t care at all. If you asked the children, they would have said that Miriam hated them. And it’s no fun living with someone who hates you, so the children decided to do something about it… Then a terrible accident changed everything, and the children were ripped apart from each other.

Many years ago Ronnie Moss made a mistake he can never take back, no matter how much he wishes he could, so instead he runs for his life. But he can’t run forever.

Many years later the secrets of the past are finally being revealed, and nothing will ever be the same again.

Cynthia Clark has written a breathtaking suspense novel for all fans of B. A. Paris and Sophie Hannah.


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EXTRACT

Bea closed her eyes. When she opened them, Sebastian was looking right at her. He bobbed his head slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. She knew this was the moment she’d been waiting for, the opportunity that she had to snatch. She nodded back. Quickly, he removed his sweater and bent down to the ground.
Knowing that she didn’t have one moment to waste, Bea put her hand into her schoolbag. Her forefinger slid into the small slit in the lining. With care she pulled out a small bag, holding her breath as she tiptoed towards the head of the table and leaned forward, emptying the bag into Miriam’s waiting bowl.
Sebastian coughed. Once. Twice. Three times. Bea gingerly picked up the spoon and mixed the powder into the gluggy oatmeal.
‘What are you waiting for?’ There was a sharp edge to Miriam’s voice. Bea stepped back and Sebastian bent over and sopped the oatmeal with his favourite jersey.
Miriam turned round and focused back on Bea. ‘Get out of my sight.’ The words were music to Bea’s ears. The beating was over, thanks to Sebastian. She started walking towards the door, aware of the pain radiating from her bottom. Sitting down was going to be excruciating. As it always was.
She was close to the door. In two steps she’d be outside, away from her, at least for now. But suddenly her arm was yanked backwards and she was forced to turn round. Miriam was glaring at her, her eyes narrowed. ‘Did you touch my bowl?’
Bea’s eyes searched the table, the faces of the other children, sitting with their heads bent, not making a sound. Sebastian, still wiping the floor with his woollen sweater. And then she looked at where Miriam was pointing. The spoon was in the bowl instead of resting on the napkin, where it had been.
‘No, I wouldn’t dare,’ she responded. It was the truth. Nobody dared. Until they had to. Until they had no choice but to take action to save themselves from the continuous abuse, the constant fear.
‘Who touched my bowl?’ Miriam’s hand was still wrapped round Bea’s arm, her nails digging into her flesh through the thin fabric of the third-hand blazer. She turned and looked up and down the table. Nobody spoke. They barely dared to breathe.
Dragging Bea with her, Miriam marched towards the table. She took out the spoon and touched it to her lips. ‘You put something in here. You’re trying to poison me, aren’t you? Who was it?’
She glared at them, looking at each one for long seconds, searching their faces. But nobody spoke.
The clock chimed, breaking the silence. ‘Don’t think you’ve got away with this. I’m going to find out who is trying to kill me. And if nobody comes forward, then you’re all going to pay.’ She motioned towards the table: ‘Now, clean up this mess.’ Turning towards Bea, she screamed, ‘You, wait outside.’
The cold air hit her still-wet hairline, diverting her attention from the pain of the beating. Rubbing her sleeve over her temples, she dried them as best she could before walking behind the van, trying to get cover from the whipping wind. The door was open, but she didn’t dare go against Miriam’s orders and take shelter inside. Nothing good would come out of that.
The minutes ticked by endlessly. Bea wrapped her arms across her chest, trying to keep herself warm. She paced to and fro next to the van, hoping that the movement would help her warm up. Her teeth chattered as she shivered uncontrollably. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable time, the door opened and the other children started filing out, slowly getting in the van. They glanced at her, their eyes soft with pity. She felt her arm being squeezed and looked up. John smiled at her. ‘You did good,’ he whispered. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Get in the van,’ Miriam roared at Bea.
Careful not to let her bag bounce against her aching bottom, Bea climbed the two steps into the van. It was still terribly cold, but at least the wind was no longer whipping. She found a seat and lowered herself gingerly onto it, scrunching her face in pain as her bottom hit the hard vinyl.
A hand reached out and covered hers, squeezing slightly. Sebastian was looking straight ahead, his chin raised, his jaw set. ‘You’ll get her next time,’ he whispered, his lips barely moving. She squeezed his hand back, thankful for his intervention this morning, even though the diversion didn’t lead to the desired results.
The van rumbled as Miriam turned the key in the ignition. They were off. Soon they would be in school and for a few hours Bea wouldn’t have to worry about Miriam. She could focus on learning all that she could, making sure that she continued paving her way out of this horrible situation she was in.
Huddling next to Sebastian in the van, Bea could still not relax. As the van meandered through the streets, she wondered what punishment Miriam would concoct, what would be awaiting them when they got back to the house this evening. ‘Do you think she’ll call the police?’ she whispered to Sebastian.
‘Shhh.’ His hand tightened over hers. ‘She wouldn’t dare, don’t worry about it.’
He was probably right. Miriam would never risk drawing attention to herself. She’d be too scared one of the children would say something about the way she treated them. Or that the police would notice a bruise too many, or the children’s too-thin frames.
‘What if she finds it?’ she muttered.
Sebastian said nothing. She looked at her brother and saw him staring straight ahead, his face immobile, his mouth set in a thin line.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he finally said.
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