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
‘Who’s been buying you flowers?’
So this was James’ surprise.
‘Don’t just stand there, Francesca. Open them.’
Francesca’s mother got to her feet and headed towards the door. ‘Meal’ll be on the table soon. Who are they from?’
The most wonderful, caring man, with a kind and warm voice, who makes my heart go faster and fills me with wild hope, she thought.
‘Oh, I don’t know, Mum…’
‘There’s a letter for you. Postman brought it this morning.’
Folding back the flaps on the top of the box, Francesca felt a wave of butterflies rise up inside her.
Handle With Care.
She looked inside the box and saw a wall of vivid red.
Fragile.
Francesca plunged both hands either side of the roses, felt and heard the crinkle of the cellophane in which the flowers were wrapped.
Keep upright.
She held the roses up to the light, felt the glory of the multiple shades of red and drank in their sweet fragrance.
Propped up against the box, she saw an envelope. She leaned the flowers against the armchair and opening the envelope, she slid out a colour photograph, taken sideways and at an angle, of a man with dark, collar-length hair and a beautiful, intelligent face. He smiled into the empty space before him and she placed herself in it, absorbing the loving look and wondering how ecstatic she would feel if this was more than a fantasy.
She picked up the remote and pressed mute to silence the police sirens that screamed from the television set and threatened to spoil an almost perfect moment.
In the moment she silenced the television, her iPhone sang from her bag. She fumbled in the bag and, taking the iPhone out, connected.
‘Did you like your surprise, Francesca?’
‘James, I can’t tell you how much I love the roses. Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.’
‘How about yes?’
‘Yes? To?’
‘Yes you’ll meet up with me sooner than Friday.’
Francesca laughed and looked at his picture. ‘Yes. I’d love to.’ She wanted to press him for a time and place tomorrow, not too early so she had a chance to do her hair and make-up and nails, so she could look her very best. Instead, she said, ‘Your picture came in the post.’
‘So you can recognise me when we meet for the first time. We have something to celebrate.’
‘Go on?’
‘My client and her child, they’re staying in the country. I won the case.’
Time froze and the world fell away from her.
‘Are you OK, Francesca?’
‘I’m so happy it went your way in court today.’
‘Francesca, I have to go now. I’m meeting with a client. I’ll be in touch. Enjoy the flowers.’