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
‘I don’t like animals, Edgar. A dog bit me when I was five. A horse kicked me when I was seven. Therefore I do not like animals. This is literal. This is logical. The body is a machine, sinew, muscle, bone. Like the animals who walk in here and are carted off in various juicy cuts. There is nothing to be sorry for. There is nothing to fear. I told this to Mr MacArthur, Dad’s boss, when he interviewed me for the apprenticeship. He told me I was unlike sentimental people of my own age and shook hands with me immediately on the deal.’
Wren looked around the staff restaurant and asked, ‘Why?’
‘Why what, Wren?’
‘Why does everyone who works here have tattoos?’
‘Not everyone who works here has tattoos. You don’t have tattoos, do you?’
‘Do you have one, Edgar?’
‘Just the one. For my mother. She’s dead and gone.’
‘My mother died also. It was an awful cancerous thing, Edgar McKee. But it doesn’t mean I have to tattoo me.’
Edgar saw something melt in Wren. He held up a fist and bumped his knuckles into the flesh and bone of Wren’s clenched hand.
He laughed and Wren smiled back at him.
‘Are you going to be with me all day, Edgar?’
‘I’ve got to slip off to make a phone call later this morning.’ Edgar saw tension flash through Wren’s face. ‘But I’m going to tell your father just how well you’re doing, and just how clever you are.’
Wren beamed with happiness.
‘I’ve got some time off booked this afternoon. I don’t think you should be left alone in the abattoir. I’ve got to go on a message. I’ll speak to your father. I’ll drop you off at home after I’ve been on my message. You live in Gateacre, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Would you like to come with me for the ride? How does that sound?’
‘Sounds great. Thanks, Edgar. What car?’
Wren peeled and bent a Cheese Straw, and popped it into his mouth, mashing the food between his teeth on the same side of his mouth as he had chewed the first ham sandwich. Edgar had no doubt the second Cheese Straw would be devoured on the other side.
‘Not a car, Wren. A white van. It’s nice to sit up high and look down on the tops of people’s heads. Eat up, Wren. Soon we have to go back to work.’
Edgar leaned closer into Wren and whispered, ‘Wren, I need to know everything there is to know about Captain Cyclone. Who are the good guys?’
‘The good guys are the enemies of the enemy agents,’ said Wren.
‘Damn it to hell, I knew it!’ replied Edgar. ‘Tell me more. Tell me everything there is to know, Wren!’
Edgar watched a light go on inside Wren and it caused his eyes to shine.