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Rehearsal he was going to have to convince her otherwise。 She was wearing no make…up； and her ash…blonde hair needed a wash。
〃What are you doing here？〃 he asked； as she closed the door behind her。
〃Unfinished business；〃 she said。
〃Listen。。 。 I've got something to tell you。 。
God； this was going to be messy。 〃We've found a replacement； in the show。〃 She looked at him blankly。 He hurried on； tripping over his own words； 〃We thought you were out of mission； I mean； not permanently； but； you know； for the opening at least。 。 。〃
〃Don't worry；〃 she said。 His jaw dropped a little。 〃Don't worry？〃 〃What's it to me？〃
〃You said you came back to finish…； He stopped。 She was unbuttoning the top of her dress。
She's not serious； he thought； she can't be serious。 Sex？ Now？
〃I've done a lot of thinking in the last few hours；〃 she said as she shimmied the crumpled dress over her hips； let it fall； and stepped out of it。 She was wearing a white bra； which she tried； unsuccessfully； to unhook。 〃I've decided I don't care about the theatre。 Help me； will you？〃 She turned round and presented her back to him。 Automatically he unhooked the bra； not really analysing whether he wanted this or not。 It seemed to be a fait acpli。 She'd e back to finish what they'd been interrupted doing； simple as that。 And despite the bizarre noises she was making in the back of her throat； and the glassy look in her eyes； she was still an attractive woman。 She turned again； and Galloway stared at the fullness of her breasts； paler than he'd remembered them； but lovely。 His trousers were being unfortably tight； and her performance was only worsening his situation； the way she was grinding her hips like the rawest of Soho strippers； running her hands between her legs。
〃Don't worry about me；〃 she said。 〃I've made up my mind。 All I really want。 。 。〃 She put her hands； so recently at her groin； on his face。 They were icy cold。
〃All I really want is you。 I can't have sex and the stage There es a time in everyone's life when decisions have to be made。〃 She licked her lips。 There was no film of moisture left on her mouth when her tongue had passed over it。
〃The accident made me think； made me analyse what it is I really care about。 And frankly…〃 She was unbuckling his belt。 〃…I don't give a shit…〃 Now the zip。
〃…about this； or any other fucking play。〃 His trousers fell down。
〃…I'll show you what I care about。〃 She reached into his briefs； and clasped him。 Her cold hand somehow made the touch sexier。 He laughed； closing his eyes as she pulled his briefs down to the middle of his thigh and knelt at his feet。
She was as expert as ever； her throat open like a drain。 Her mouth was somewhat drier than usual； her tongue scouring him； but the sensations drove him wild。 It was so good； he scarcely noticed the ease with which she devoured him； taking him deeper than she'd ever managed previously； using every trick she knew to goad him higher and higher。 Slow and deep； then picking up speed until he almost came； then slowing again until the need passed。 He was pletely at her mercy。
He opened his eyes to watch her at work。 She was skewering herself upon him； face in rapture。
〃God；〃 he gasped； 〃that is so good。 Oh yes； oh yes。〃 Her face didn't even flicker in response to his words； she just continued to work at him soundlessly。 She wasn't making her usual noises； the small grunts of satisfaction； the heavy breathing through the nose。 She just ate his flesh in absolute silence。
He held his breath a moment； while an idea was born in his belly。 The bobbing head bobbed on； eyes closed； lips clamped around his member； utterly engrossed。 Half a minute passed； a minute； a minute and a half。 And now his belly was full of terrors。
She wasn't breathing。 She was giving this matchless blow…job because she wasn't stopping； even for a moment； to inhale or exhale。
Calloway felt his body go rigid； while his erection wilted in her throat。 She didn't falter in her labour； the relentless pumping continued at his groin even as his mind formed the unthinkable thought： She's dead。
She has me in her mouth； in her cold mouth； and she's dead。 That's why she'd e back； got up off her mortuary slab and e back。 She was eager to finish what she'd started； no longer caring about the play； or her usurper。 It was this act she valued； this act alone。 She'd chosen to perform it for eternity。
Galloway could do nothing with the realization but stare down like a damn fool while this corpse gave him head。
Then it seemed she sensed his horror。 She opened her eyes and looked up at him。 How could he ever have mistaken that dead stare for life？ Gently； she withdrew his shrunken manhood from between her lips。
〃What is it？〃 she asked； her fluting voice still affecting life。
〃You。 。 。 you're not。 。 。 breathing。〃 Her face fell。 She let him go。
〃Oh darling；〃 she said； letting all pretence to life disappear； 〃I'm not so good at playing the part； am I？〃 Her voice was a ghost's voice： thin； forlorn。 Her skin； which he had thought so flatteringly pale was； on second view； a waxen white。
〃You are dead？〃 he said。
〃I'm afraid so。 Two hours ago： in my sleep。 But I had to e； Terry； so much unfinished business。 I made my choice。 You should be flattered。 You are flattered； aren't you？〃 She stood up and reached into her handbag； which she'd left beside the mirror。 Galloway looked at the door； trying to make his limbs work； but they were inert。 Besides； he had his trousers round his ankles。 Two steps and he'd fall flat on his face。
She turned back on him； with something silver and sharp in her hand。 Try as he might； he couldn't get a focus on it。 But whatever it was； she meant it for him。
Since the building of the new Crematorium in 1934； one humiliation had e after another for the cemetery。 The tombs had been raided for lead coffin…linings； the stones overturned and smashed； it was fouled by dogs and graffiti。 Very few mourners now came to tend the graves。 The generations had dwindled； and the small number of people who might still have had a loved one buried there were too infirm to risk the throttled walkways； or too tender to bear looking at such vandalism。
It had not always been so。 There were illustrious and influential families interred behind the marble fa？ades of the Victorian mausoleums。 Founder fathers； local industrialists and dignitaries； any and all who had done the town proud by their efforts。 The body of the actress Constantia Lichfield had been buried here （'Until the Day Break and the Shadows Flee Away'）； though her grave was almost unique in the attention some secret admirer still paid to it。
Nobody was watching that night； it was too bitter for lovers。 Nobody saw Charlotte Hancock open the door of her sepulchre； with the beating wings of pigeons applauding her vigour as she shambled out to meet the moon。 Her husband Gerard was with her； he less fresh than she； having been dead thirteen years longer。 Joseph Jardine； en famille； was not far behind the Hancocks； as was Marriott Fletcher； and Anne Snell； and the Peacock Brothers； the list went on and on。 In one corner； Alfred Crawshaw （Captain in the 17th Lancers）； was helping his lovely wife Emma from the rot of their bed。 Everywhere faces pressed at the cracks of the tomb lids…was that not Kezia Reynolds with her child； who'd lived just a day； in her arms？ and Martin van de Linde （the Memory of the Just is Blessed） whose wife had never been found； Rosa and Selina Goldfinch： upstanding women both； and Thomas Jerrey； and…Too many names to mention。 Too many states of decay to describe。 Sufficient to say they rose： their burial finery fly born； their faces stripped of all but the foundation of beauty。 Still they came； swinging open the back gate of the cemetery and threading their way across the wasteland towards the Elysium。 In the distance； the sound of traffic。 Above； a jet roared in to land。 One of the Peacock brothers； staring up at the winking giant as it passed over； missed his footing and fell on his face； shattering his jaw。 They picked him up fondly； and escorted him on his way。 There was no harm done； and what would a R