Taunting the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

mug from underneath her nose.
    ‘Hey!’ Kirstie protested. ‘That’s mine. Make your fucking own.’
    ‘Do another one, Kirst, for your old mum,’ Steph slurped noisily. ‘I’m parched.’
    ‘What’s wrong with you? You look like fucking death warmed up.’
    ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’
    ‘Whatever.’
    Steph shook her head trying to rid herself of its fuzziness. She lit another cigarette and threw the lighter onto the black granite worktop, sucking in hard and then blowing the smoke out noisily into the room. As it cleared in front of her, through the window she noticed ice still formed in patches on the lawn and the greyness of the clouds and wished she’d stayed in bed. At least the family room was tidier than she’d left it last night. It looked like she wouldn’t have to sit on the settee while Jeanie cleaned around her again.
    ‘Has he gone?’ said Kirstie.
    Steph gasped and froze. The smoke trapped inside her lungs made her cough. Through watery eyes, she looked at Kirstie for signs that she suspected something. As far as she knew she’d kept her affair close to her chest.
    ‘Has who gone?’ she asked as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
    ‘Dad. He tried to wake you up twice.’
    ‘Oh.’ Thank fuck for that. ‘Yes, I heard him screech off earlier, in a bit of a mad panic about something, no doubt. Did he say why?’
    ‘Did he say why what?’
    ‘Did he say why he tried to wake me twice?’
    ‘Nope.’
    Steph sighed with relief. It was looking like she’d got away with it. She was never going to let that happen again – ever. There was too much to lose. She took another drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke out noisily again.
    Kirstie looked up from underneath a heavy black fringe. ‘Do you have to do that in here? It’s fucking disgusting.’
    ‘Oh, come on, Miss Holier than Thou.’ Steph took another long drag and blew the smoke in Kirstie’s direction. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t pulled it out of my mouth, the amount you steal from me.’
    Kirstie pulled a face. ‘I hope I don’t look like that when I’m smoking.’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Like a puckered-up old witch. You have wrinkles on your crow’s feet.’
    Steph glared at her daughter. ‘You’re such a bitch.’
    ‘Yeah, well I’m turning out to be exactly like my mother, aren’t I?’ Then, in a moment’s breath, her tone was sweetness and light. ‘Have you got twenty quid I can have? I need a sub until my allowance at the weekend.’
    ‘Not even a please?’
    ‘Don’t know the meaning of the word.’
    ‘I’m not made of money!’
    ‘You’re not made of money at all. It’s all down to my dad. Look, I –’
    ‘You should try making some of your own.’ Steph leered at her pointedly. ‘You could make a small fortune. Men would love your scrawny ass, especially in that skirt. It’s far too frigging short.’
    Kirstie stared back wide-eyed. ‘I’m no fucking slag!’ she declared.
    ‘Different to what I’ve heard.’ From the tears welling in her daughter’s eyes, Steph knew she’d touched a nerve.
    ‘You’re such a nasty cow.’
    ‘Takes one to know one.’
    ‘And you’re an embarrassment.’ Kirstie slid down from the stool. ‘Look, can I have the money or what?’
    ‘No, you can’t.’
    ‘Fine! I fucking hate you, do you know that? You can stick your shitting money. I don’t want it.’
    Kirstie stormed out of the room. Steph followed close on her heel and grabbed a handful of her hair before she could leg it up the stairs. She twirled her round with so much force that Kirstie landed in the middle of her chest.
    ‘You ungrateful little bitch,’ she raged. ‘Take a look around this place. Do you think you would have got this without me? Your dad didn’t do it all by himself. Do you hear? Do you fucking HEAR?’
    ‘And what part did you play in the money-making?’ Kirstie’s voice was defiant.
    ‘Haven’t you heard of the saying, “Behind every successful man,