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
‘Fine, thanks. I need a small favour. A white lie. I’m going on a date tonight and I don’t want my mother to know. You know how nosy she can be.’
‘What time are you coming round to mine?’ laughed Bryony.
‘Eight-ish.’
‘I’ve got a bottle of Prosecco in the fridge. Where did you meet him, Francesca?’
47
6.00 pm
The Ghoul sat on the bed on which Annie Boyd had spent her final hours chained to the wall and recalled the sound of her crying and begging for mercy, a sound better than music, a longed-for song that needed to be heard again and again.
Laptop open and signed into Pebbles On The Beach, The Ghoul saw that another woman had winked at the fictional man called Geoff Campbell, its latest online incarnation.
Opening the first online profile, The Ghoul didn’t read what she’d written about herself because she was a brunette and looked like she was pushing forty, even though the number 28 jumped from the screen.
An incoming message arrived. Sally Haydn.
Hi Geoff. I’m a single woman looking to meet a caring guy. I love it when I’m being pleased but I love to please you back in return. Perhaps we could talk really soon. xoxo Sally Pretty please lol.
She was desperate and in a hurry and, between the lines, she made suggestive promises that spoke of her need to be rescued from the loneliness.
The Ghoul looked closely at Sally’s profile picture and wondered if the rouge glow of the basement had turned 20:20 vision into deceptive goggles.
The Ghoul wondered if Annie Boyd and Sally Haydn were in some way biologically related and shared the same lowest common denominator. LCD. Lonely. Cunt. Doormat.
The Ghoul skimmed and scanned Sally Haydn’s profile and translated the words into the bones of reality.
Lonely. Looking for love. Eager to meet. Eager to please.
Willing to have sex. Doormat. Pushover. Easy to manipulate.
Exploited in the past. Exploitable in the future. Unintelligent. Unimaginative.
On every level, she came over as the perfect woman.
On closer inspection, the likeness between Annie Boyd and Sally Haydn was astonishing, and demanded an immediate response.
Hi Sally, Thank you so much for getting in touch. I’m glad you’ve opened up this initial dialogue. Reading between the lines, I guess you’d like for us to get to know each other a little better. Say, talk on the phone, maybe. If I’m reading too much into this please forgive me and I wish you all the luck in the world in finding a man who will quite rightly worship the ground you walk upon. I take my hat off to him. xoxo Geoff
Send.
Fresh meat was on its way.
And there was a never-ending supply of it.