Chapters (156)
- A DATE WITH DEATH
- Also by Mark Roberts
- A Date With Death
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- The Past
- 1977
- Day OneWednesday, 1st December 2021CatoptrophobiaFear of mirrors
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- The Past
- 1979
- Day TwoThursday, 2nd December 2021OneirophobiaFear of dreams
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- The Past
- 1980
- Day ThreeFriday, 3rd December 2021MonophobiaFear of being alone
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- The Past
- 1982
- Day FourSaturday, 4th December 2021ThanatophobiaFear of Death
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- About the Author
- An Invitation from the Publisher
She pictured the two front bedroom windows of Fran’s house and imagined a light going on and Fran appearing, not looking out but closing both curtains, on the many nights she’d sat outside on Druid’s Cross Road, watching, watching.
What are you smiling for, Fran?
Norma revisited the same fantasy that played out in her head when she sat outside Fran’s house in every kind of weather. She pictured her sitting on the bed and taking her top off, the sound of bathwater running a few doors away. Fran slipping out of her skirt, both thumbs hooking on to the sides of her thong, standing and stepping out of her clothes on the carpet. Smiling in the mirror as she unclasped her bra, her rosebud nipples puckering on a cold winter’s night.
Tears rolled down Norma’s face and she felt the weight of them pressing down on her bad skin and ugly, ugly face, the depth of the hurt Fran had caused her kicking in with full force, as the cruel music of her self-defeating fantasy cackled in her ears.
‘Why did you do it, Fran?’
Norma heard brokenness in her voice where only moments earlier she had listened to the deep defiance and anger that burned inside her. The hurt Fran caused was deeper and harsher than all the others who had betrayed her put together.
‘If you only knew how much I totally love you, Fran. But you don’t. You’re a good person really, the best, but you’re young and you’ve been totally foolish.’
Norma fell silent and remembered the nights she’d watched the front door of Fran’s house opening and Fran’s mother putting out an empty milk bottle, and the fear of being caught, wondering what would happen if her mother just marched over the road and confronted her, called for the police and sparked a scandal in which Norma would be cast as both central villain and laughing stock.
Time dissolved.
She was no longer driving. Instead, she stared ahead at the dark sands of Crosby Beach where Iron Men gazed at the water of the Irish Sea, but all was blurred by the haze of tears and the throbbing inside her head.
‘I love you, Fran. But you’re a bitch.’
She turned the key in the ignition.
‘How could you?’
Her tyres screeched as she performed a three-point turn and headed back towards Liverpool.
‘How could you?’ she screamed at the windscreen, her fists pounding the steering wheel.
The Past
1980
It was the same routine every lunchtime during the holidays and the days she wasn’t well enough to escape the house and go to school.