Free Taunting the Dead by Mel Sherratt

‘you’ll always be a selfish bitch. There’s no way back for you, my darling.’
    The chill in his voice matched the foreboding she felt as he turned and walked away.
    Steph rested her head on the worktop again, this time too stunned to move. That was the side of Terry that she didn’t like. Most of the time she had the put-up-with-Steph-no-matter-what-she-did Terry. Sometimes, like today, Terry showed a glimpse of the man behind the reputation.
    But fuelled by the drink, complacency took over. Fuck him, she thought. He was always spouting off that he’d had enough of her, that he was going to do something about it if she didn’t buck her ideas up. Didn’t he realise that by now she knew they were empty threats?
    He’d come around. He always did.
     

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Allie fastened the strap on her shoe, stood upright and gave herself a final once-over in the full length mirror. Realising her sexual allure, she pouted before grinning, loving how the new dress made her feel. She went downstairs, putting out of her mind the thought that she was making so much more of an effort than she would normally do for such an occasion as this.
    ‘Wow, you look hot!’ Mark whistled his appreciation when he saw her. He took her hand and kissed it lightly, and then placed it on the bulge forming in his crotch. ‘You look that hot!’
    Mark was wearing the black suit that she loved, thin lapels and trouser legs reminding her of the fashions when they’d first met. Along with it, he wore the lilac shirt she’d bought for him that morning, black tie fastened in a perfect knot.
    ‘You don’t look so bad yourself. The suit, I mean.’ Smiling, Allie pulled her hand away before walking off. But Mark pulled her into his arms.
    ‘You don’t expect me to waste it, do you?’ he complained.
    ‘You can keep it in your pants for now, Mister.’ Allie gave him a quick kiss. ‘I am not making a mess of my make-up purely to satisfy your needs.’
    He slipped a hand up her skirt. ‘Dick tease.’
    She slapped it away playfully. A horn beeped.
    ‘Saved by the hoot.’ She bit his bottom lip playfully. ‘But hold that thought for later. Come on.’
    Following Mark out into the dark, she caught a whiff of his aftershave and, as he held open the car door, she recalled the night that they’d met. They’d been dancing around each other in Valentino’s nightclub, she with a group of her friends, he with a bunch of his. After a few up-tempo beats, the music had changed and a somewhat-worse-for-wear Mark had grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his arms. A few dances had turned into a few dates. A few dates had turned into a few more and their relationship had grown from strength to strength. Recently returned from university and not at all liking the fact that she was back at home with her parents, Allie had jumped at the chance to move in with Mark. He’d had a small terraced house in Green Street, not far from where she worked at the social services office. Life had been perfect for twenty-one-year-old Allie and not even what had happened to Karen had marred their relationship. If anything it had made it stronger, more reassuring and, well, right.
    The Moathouse hotel was situated on the site of the former National Garden Festival Park, now a retail area for the city. Allie loved pulling up outside its grand entrance: it made her feel stupidly regal. And this time of year, both inside and out looked particularly special. A huge Christmas tree sparkled in the reception area, decorations blowing slightly as the doors opened to the outside every few moments.
    The chatter of people out for a good time could be heard as Allie and Mark made their way through and into the reception venue. Christmas carols played in the background. Helium balloons bounced around like marionette puppets in the centre of every table, catching the eyes of some of the younger guests. A net attached to the ceiling was full of many more. Red table