Read My Free Halloween Short Stories

 

Did you know that you can read a selection of my short stories here on the blog for free?

And as Halloween is approaching, I thought I'd flag up the five Halloween stories (of the cute, rom-com-style variety rather than the scare-yourself-silly kind) there are for you to enjoy!

Click on the covers below to read.

If you enjoy my short stories and want more. why not subscribe to my newsletter, where I send short stories straight to your inbox? Subscribing is quick, easy and free, plus you'll receive my free ebook quick read, Six Dates, that's only available to subscribers.

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Free Halloween Short Stories

 

Want to get a Halloween fix without scaring yourself silly? I've got five romantic comedy short stories to read this Halloween for FREE.

I love Halloween but I'm a big scaredy cat, so my stories won't have you shoving your laptop in the freezer, but they're cute little rom coms and I hope you enjoy :)

Click on the covers below to read:

If you enjoy my short stories, why not sign up to my newsletter, where I send free short stories straight to your inbox?

More info and sign up here

The Bridesmaid of Frankenstein

 

Elizabeth held her camera out in front of her, adjusting its position slightly before capturing the perfect shot of her sister and her new husband, toasting their marriage with glasses of champagne sparkling with black glitter. Two fat pumpkins sat in front of the couple, the words ‘Mr’ and ‘Mrs’ carved into the flesh, one either side of the cobwebby candelabra that was creating a gothic centrepiece. Caroline and Robert’s Halloween-themed wedding wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but it suited the pair down to the ground and even the groom’s grandmother, who’d been vehemently against the idea since its conception, was enjoying herself. It seemed she’d put aside her misgivings as soon as she’d changed into her witch’s costume that morning. She’d spent the day cackling dramatically (though thankfully not through the vows) and she’d nearly put her back out dancing to the ‘Monster Mash’.

Halloween was already a special date in the Caroline/Robert calendar; they’d known each other all through high school but they were just friends, until five years ago when they met up again at a Halloween party at the local pub. So what better way to mark the occasion? All the guests were decked out in ghoulish costumes: Elizabeth and Caroline’s parents were being Morticia and Gomez for the day, while Robert’s parents, thinking outside the box, had dressed as a Colonel Sanders and chicken combo. The bride had transformed herself into Dr Frankenstein, complete with white lab coat and long, black rubbery gloves, while the groom was her gruesome creation. The prize for scariest costume, however, went to Elizabeth’s Uncle Ernest, who had put aside his usual beer-swilling, brick-laying persona to become Rocky Horror’s Frank-N-Furter, and had somehow stretched his corset over his hairy beer belly. Elizabeth feared she would never be able to unsee that.

‘I'd just like to say a few words,’ Caroline said as she stood, readjusting her bedraggled grey wig. ‘First of all, thank you all for celebrating this special day with us. You’ve all really got in the spirit of our Halloween theme – especially you, Uncle Ernest.’ There was a titter as Ernest attempted to take a bow in the restrictive corset. ‘I’d like to say an extra-big thank you to our parents, who have helped to organise this crazy day. And to my little sister.’ Caroline raised her glass in Elizabeth’s direction. ‘You’re the best sister a girl could ask for and you’re a frightfully brilliant bridesmaid.’ Caroline raised her glass again and addressed the whole room. ‘To friends and family!’

‘To friends and family!’ the room chorused, and Elizabeth grabbed her drink so she could join in the toast.

‘So, you’re Caroline’s little sister.’ A witch (there were several attending the wedding) leaned across the table as Elizabeth slipped her camera into the red and black clutch bag she’d managed to find to match her vampire gown. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you.’

But evidently not my name, Elizabeth thought crossly, but she pushed down the resentment and smiled at the witch. It seemed Elizabeth was forever to be known as ‘Caroline’s little sister’. Everybody knew Caroline, and they couldn’t help being smitten with her exuberance, her sense of humour, her ability to talk to anybody and put them instantly at ease. The teachers loved the studious, arty, sporty Caroline, the perfect all-rounder, and the joy at having the pleasure of teaching her younger sister was always clear on their faces (though Elizabeth was sure that soon waned when they discovered she wasn’t as clever or athletic as Caroline and had little artistic flair). Elizabeth found she was off-limits for boys at school; they either feared being pummelled into the ground by the overprotective Caroline, or they fancied the more mature, more polished sister.

Elizabeth adored Caroline (how could she not?) but she couldn’t help wanting to break free from under her shadow, because even now, all these years later, she was still ‘Caroline’s little sister’. Even when she was wearing a fitted gown, with its black lace and red satin corset, with a tantalising slit to mid-thigh, she was still the baby sister instead of Elizabeth, a woman in her own right.

‘It was lovely to meet you,’ Elizabeth said after the witch had chewed her ear off for a good twenty minutes. It turned out the witch was Robert’s aunt and she had many, many tales to tell about her nephew. Elizabeth couldn’t wait to tease her new brother-in-law about his childhood Barbie collection, but first she needed a champagne top-up.

‘There you are.’ Caroline grasped hold of Elizabeth’s hand en route to the bar. ‘There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Do you remember me telling you about that guy from work?’

William, the tall, extremely handsome IT manager? Yes, Elizabeth could recall that conversation, and she’d been looking forward to meeting him. One of the best parts of being a wedding guest when you were in your mid-twenties and very much single was the potential to meet new people. And William was even more gorgeous than her sister had described.

‘William, I’d like you to meet Elizabeth.’ Caroline pushed Elizabeth, who was rather agog at the Adonis in front of her, forward slightly. Who knew a zombie could be so damn hot?

‘Hi.’ William’s smile was faltering as his eyes flicked from Caroline to Elizabeth and back again. He quite clearly didn’t have a clue who she was.

‘Elizabeth is my little sister.’

‘Ah! Yes!’ William’s smile was full and genuine now he was up to speed. ‘Hello, Caroline’s little sister.’

Oh, for goodness sake.

Elizabeth held back a sigh and plastered on a smile. ‘Hi, William. Lovely to meet you. I was actually just on my way to the bar, but maybe we could chat later?’

Caroline was frowning as Elizabeth backed away, but she wasn’t about to waste her time on a bloke who either couldn’t remember her name five seconds after they were introduced or, worse, couldn’t be bothered to use it. No chance. She’d been ‘Caroline’s little sister’ for too long. It was time to spread her vampire wings and remind people she had her own unique identity. She’d grab a drink and then she’d –

‘Whoa!’ Her arms flailed as she was met by a solid mass. A couple of hands reached out to steady her and she laughed away her embarrassment.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said to the werewolf she’d reversed into. ‘Wasn’t looking where I was going.’

‘No worries.’ He gave a little shrug before his head tilted to one side, his eyes narrowing as he observed Elizabeth. ‘You’re Caroline’s little sister, aren’t you?’

Elizabeth fought to keep her smile in place. Here we go again. ‘Yes, I am.’

He nodded, looking pretty pleased with himself. ‘I went to school with Caroline and Robert. I thought I recognised you.’

But you didn’t, Elizabeth thought. Not quite.

 ‘Come and dance with us!’ Caroline called as she whizzed by, pointing frantically at William, who was just ahead of her.

‘I should…’ Elizabeth indicated the dance floor, which was filling up at Caroline’s insistence. There was no party quite like a Caroline party.

The werewolf nodded. ‘I’ll maybe see you later? It’s Elizabeth, right?’

She paused, the smile slipping from her face, but it was due to shock rather than annoyance this time, and her jaw started to drop.

‘You were a year below us,’ he said, and Elizabeth nodded, her jaw still somewhere near the floor. She peered at the werewolf but it was hard to tell who he was under the grey face paint and fake fur.

You’re Elizabeth.

‘Don’t worry,’ the werewolf said as Elizabeth continued to peer at him. ‘You probably wouldn’t recognise me even without the costume.’ He scratched behind his ear (his real ear, not the furry ones on top of his head). ‘I was too shy to talk to girls at school. Especially the prettiest ones.’

Elizabeth laughed when he winked at her. She couldn’t help it, it bubbled up out of nowhere. ‘You seem to have grown out of it.’

The werewolf gave a slow nod, as though musing the statement. ‘I guess I have.’ His eyes wandered down the vampire costume to the flash of thigh. ‘And I see you’ve grown out of pigtails and fluffy backpacks.’

She pressed a hand to her mouth to stop another giggle in its tracks. She’d loved that fluffy backpack and had thought she was the epitome of cool whenever she used it.

‘You really do remember me.’ Elizabeth felt the corners of her lips pull up into a smile. He remembered her. Elizabeth, the girl with the pink, fluffy backpack. The girl in her own right. Right now, to the werewolf at least, she wasn’t just the bridesmaid of Frankenstein.

‘Just how sharp are those claws?’ She indicated the rubbery tips at the end of the werewolf’s furry gloves. He held them up, a bemused smile on his face.

‘Not very. Why?’

She took him by the paw and led him towards the dance floor just as the intro to Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ started.

‘Because I’d like to dance with you, and I don’t want you to snag my dress.’

7 Halloween Activities for Wusses

One of my favourite things about autumn is Halloween (you can see some of the other things I love about the season here) but I'm a massive wimp. I don't do blood or gore or scary films. I don't read scary stories (the last scary book I read was a Point Horror book, back in the mid 90s. It scared the crap out of me and I never picked up another. Embarrassingly true story).

So without the fear-factor, what do I actually like about Halloween? I thought I'd share 7 fun activities you can do this Halloween if you're a scaredy cat just like me.

 

 

 

Carve a Pumpkin

 

 

Confession: I don't actually carve our pumpkin. It's my husband's job because it's pretty gross and smelly. But I do love a Jack o' Lantern and nothing screams Halloween more than a carved pumpkin with a flickering tealight (if we pop the pumpkin outside to encourage more trick or treaters - in a non child snatcher type of way - I always use a battery-operated tealight. Safety first!)

 

 

 

 

 

Listen to Fun Halloween Music

 

 

Useless fact: Monster Mash is my favourite Halloween song.

 

We pop Andrew Gold's Halloween Howls on when we decorate the living room or do Halloween activities (and yes, Monster Mash is on there). You could also make a playlist on Spotify for free.

 

 

 

Get Crafty or Bake-y

 

  

I love getting crafty at Halloween. If you're crafting with kids, simple things like loo roll mummies are great. They're quick and easy and you can pop treats in there too if you'd like. Paper plate monster masks are also a nice activity - it can be as messy or creative as you'd like!

 

 

I also get crafty with the trick or treat sweets, giving ordinary sweets a spooktacular makeover.

 

 

I try to make something different each year, but I liked the brown paper packets so much a couple of years ago that I'm going to do something similar this year too.

 

 

If, like me, you're not much of a baker, you can keep it simple by making spider cupcakes. All you have to do is cover the tops of your cakes (which you can even buy pre-made if you want to keep it reeeeeally simple) with white icing sugar and add a spider design using chocolate buttons for bodies and piped melted chocolate for the legs.

 

 

 

 

Watch Hocus Pocus

 

 

Like I said earlier, I don't do blood, gore or crapping my pants watching horror films of any kind. But you can't go wrong with family-friendly Hocus Pocus. Other scaredy-cat Halloween films include Bedknobs and Broomsticks, The Addams Family, Casper, Monsters, Inc and The Wizard of Oz (but not Return to Oz. I watched it once, when I was little, and those changing heads were terrifying).

 

 

 

Read a Halloween-themed Romantic Comedy

 

 

Or write one, which is something I love to do. There aren't any scares in my Halloween short stories, guaranteed. You can find a selection of short stories by clicking here and if you're a newsletter subscriber, there'll be a brand new Halloween short story dropping into your inbox soon! If you haven't subscribed and you would like to, click here

 

 

 

Decorate the House

 

 

Making your own decorations can be fun, or you can buy loads of cute (or mildly scary) decorations for your house. I like to put gel stickers in the window so trick or treaters know we're celebrating the day and can come and knock on our door (please. I've gone to a lot of effort making treats).

 

Top Tip: You don't have to bother dusting in the run up to Halloween - it all adds to the effect ;)

 

 

 

Go Trick or Treating

 

 

You're probably going to need a kid for this one. If you don't have one of your own, borrow one (with permission, obv), pop a costume on and off you go collecting treats!

 

Our dog, Luna goes trick or treating with my husband and our girls (I stay behind to give out the treats at our house). And she even gets dressed up too. As you can see from the photos, she loves us for this. She doesn't hate the costumes. Not. One. Bit.

 

 

 

So, that's my list of 7 things to do at Halloween if you're a big wuss like me. I hope you have a fun Halloween, however you spend the day :)

Free Halloween Romantic Comedy Short Stories

With Halloween just around the corner, I thought I would flag up three of my Halloween-themed short stories, which you can read here on the blog. And if you enjoy them, why not subscribe to my newsletter and receive my brand new Halloween short story, The Bridesmaid of Frankenstein for free?

To read the stories, simply click on the covers below:



Happy Halloween!

It's one of my favourite times of year! I love, love, LOVE Halloween and have been busy making little paper sweets packets for the trick or treaters. I'm looking forward to giving them out tonight and am always disappointed if we don't get many kids knocking.

I also love writing Halloween short stories (although they're always fun, rom-com-style as I'm not one for scary Halloween stuff). I haven't had time to write one this year, but you can have a read of my previous stories by clicking on the following links:

The Ghost of Halloween Past

Pumpkin Pie at The Green Teapot

The Staircase [flash fiction]

Trick or Treat

*     *     *     *

I'd love to know how you'll be spending Halloween. Do you love it? Hate it? Somewhere in the middle? Let us know in the comments below!

However you're spending Halloween, I hope you have a great evening :)

Short Story: The Ghost of Halloween Past

Molly had never felt so ridiculous. Or perhaps she had; what about the time her best friend revealed Molly’s crush on Carl Brown and he’d laughed in their faces? Or the time she’d accidentally flashed her knickers at a bus full of pensioners on their way to a crown green bowling competition? Or – well, you get the picture. Molly had been humiliated in the past, but that didn’t take away the pain of the image facing her in the mirror.

‘You look fabulous, I promise.’ Molly’s best friend joined her at the mirror, leaning towards the pane and attacking a smudge of green lipstick with a damp fingertip.

‘You know I haven’t trusted a word you’ve said since the Carl Brown incident.’ Molly pulled at the high neckline of her costume but there wasn’t much give in the fabric. So not only did she look like a complete knobhead, she had the added of bonus of being slowly strangled at the same time.

‘That was years ago.’ Rose pouted at herself in the mirror, shifting her head from left to right in search of any more imperfections. ‘We were ten!’

‘Still.’ Molly elbowed Rose out of the way so she could take another unobstructed look at herself in the mirror. A whimper escaped her lips when she caught sight of the full horror before her again. ‘I can’t go to the party like this! I can’t!’

‘Will you relax?’ Taking Molly by the elbow, Rose guided her friend to the bed and sat her down. ‘It’s a party. It’s supposed to be fun.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. Look at you.’ Molly waved a hand in the general direction of Rose, unable to look directly at her friend in her sexy witch costume. Rose was clad in a tight, black dress that barely reached her thighs, black and green striped stockings and cute, heeled ankle boots. Her shoulders were covered by a black cape adorned with twinkling green sequins while a matching hat perched on her head at a jaunty angle.

‘And look at me!’ Molly jumped to her feet and jabbed an accusing finger at the mirror. ‘I’m a sodding lobster!’

Rose pressed her green lips together and dropped her gaze to the toes of her boots, examining a non-existent scuff. ‘You look fine. Honestly.’ She coughed to disguise a giggle. ‘Besides, it’s your own fault for leaving your costume until the last minute. Was there really nothing better?’

See, this was why Molly didn’t a trust a word that came out of her best friend’s mouth. It had started when Rose had assured Molly that Carl Brown absolutely fancied her but was too shy to ask her to be his girlfriend and it had continued right up until Rose had claimed Molly looked fabulous in her lobster costume. Because she didn’t look fabulous. She didn’t even look fine. She looked like a lobster, pure and simple.

‘Do you think I’d have dressed up like this.’ Molly thrust another finger towards the mirror. ‘If I’d had a choice? This was it.’

There was only one fancy dress shop in Woodgate, which had turned out to be a popular choice for the hordes of local students attending Halloween parties that evening. Molly had dashed to the shop far too late after work and was left with the choice of the lobster costume or a carrier bag.

Molly would have opted for carrier bag if it had fit.

‘It really does look ok.’ Rose had changed her tune from fabulous, which she’d claimed only minutes earlier. By the time the party started, Molly would be passable at best. ‘It’s cute.’

Molly observed her image in the mirror. It was not cute. The lobster costume consisted of a red, heavily padded onesie with an oversized hood that fell over Molly’s eyebrows, almost blocking her view. Huge, padded eyes had been stitched onto the hood while two long red tentacle-like strips dangled to her chin.

‘The red face paint may be overkill though,’ Rose mused.

‘You think?’ Molly flopped back down onto the bed. She couldn’t go to the party, not like this.

‘If you hurry up, you’ll have time to wash it off.’

‘That won’t solve the problem of the ridiculous costume,’ Molly said but she took herself off to the bathroom anyway. She returned ten minutes later, her face not only red from vigorous scrubbing but from the stubborn face paint that refused to budge more than a couple of shades. Now Molly’s face was a patchwork of red and pink.

Marvellous.

‘It won’t come off.’

‘I gathered that.’ Rose didn’t even bother to hide her smirk. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Nothing.’ Molly struggled to reach the costume’s zip at the back. ‘I’m going to take this damn thing off and I’m going to get into my pyjamas and forget all about the stupid party.’

‘You can’t miss the party.’ Rose grabbed Molly’s scrabbling hands and hitched the zip back up. ‘It’s your party. And your guests will be arriving any minute now.’

Yet another reason not to trust a word that wafted out of her best friend’s mouth. A Halloween party was a fantastic idea, she’d claimed when Molly suggested it. Why not make it a fancy dress party?

Rose somehow coaxed Molly out of her bedroom. They’d tried to salvage Molly’s face by applying more red face paint (Molly had to concede that it had looked better all one colour) but there hadn’t been enough left over for full coverage and they’d merely ended up adding another shade of red to the rosy palette. But, as Rose continued to point out, it was too late to cancel the party. Molly would just have to suck it up and get out there.

Molly’s flat had been transformed into a ghoulish wonderland with flickering black candles lining the mantelpiece and giving off an eerie glow. Cobwebs – of the shop-bought variety and not through lack of cleaning – adorned every surface while rubbery spiders and snakes peeked out of crevices. A cauldron in the kitchen contained green punch and the table was full of macabre treats; sandwiches and wraps shaped like witches fingers, mummified mini rolls and pumpkin-themed cupcakes. Molly had put a lot of time, thought and effort into the Halloween party – if only a tiny fraction had been spent on her costume.

‘Shall I put the music on?’ Rose slotted her iphone into the docking station. Rose’s contribution to the party – apart from adding some glamour and further enhancing Molly’s humiliation – had been to put together a playlist of haunting tunes and party hits.

‘I suppose we have to have music,’ Molly mumbled. Despite the weeks of planning, she’d lost all enthusiasm for the party. ‘Do you think we need the lamps? It’ll look spookier with just the candles.’

‘It’ll look almost pitch black with just the candles.’ Rose turned to Molly and raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what was going through her friend’s mind. ‘Creating atmosphere is one thing. Causing your guests to fall over and injure themselves is another.’

‘Fine.’ Molly snatched her hand away from the lamp’s switch. Dread swirled in her stomach beneath the padding as the sound of the doorbell – now a witch’s cackle thanks to the Halloween-themed one she’d bought – filled the room. This was it.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Rose called as Molly dragged herself to the door. ‘Sam’s moved back so I invited him to the party. I hope that’s ok?’

Sam was coming to the party? While she looked like a deformed Tellytubby? Could this party get any worse?

Yes, yes it could, as Molly discovered when she opened the door and her boss waltzed into the room.

‘Molly! Look at you!’ Molly’s boss jabbed a finger into the padding on the lobster’s torso. ‘I almost didn’t recognise you in there.’ Molly hadn’t actually invited him to the party (why would she?) but he’d taken it upon himself to turn up after hearing her discussing her plans with the colleagues she had invited. ‘Let me take your photo. It’ll look great on our website. Make us look like the fun firm we are!’

‘No, no thank you.’ Molly pushed her boss’s phone away as he attempted to take a snap. ‘Oh, look. There goes the doorbell again.’ Pushing her boss in the direction of Rose, Molly went to answer the door, hoping it wouldn’t be Sam this time. The last time Molly had seen Rose’s brother had been over a decade ago and she didn’t want their reunion to take place while she looked like an imbecile.

The guests started to pile into the flat, each one – thankfully – not Sam. Molly busied herself, making sure her guests’ glasses were full and the food on the table was replenished. As she chatted away to her friends, family and workmates, she started to forget about the lobster costume and her patchy face. Besides, she wasn’t the only one sporting a bad costume; someone had come as wheelie bin by removing the wheels and the bottom and climbing inside it.

‘Nice costume.’

Molly was in the kitchen, adding more vodka to the green punch, when she heard the voice behind her. She turned to see a ghost leaning against the fridge. Not an actual ghost, obviously. And not a particularly imaginative one either. Whoever was in the costume had simply cut two eye-holes out of a bed sheet and draped it over themselves.

‘Thanks. I was going for total moron.’ Molly struck a pose. ‘Do you think I achieved it?’

The ghost lifted his hands up and shook his head beneath the sheet. ‘Hey, don’t talk to me about bad costumes. At least you haven’t wrecked your bedding.’

Molly knew that voice. It made her face redden further beneath the face paint. ‘Sam?’

The ghost nodded. ‘Afraid so.’

Molly resisted the urge to throw herself into Sam’s ghostly arms and demand to know where he’d been for the past ten years. Because she knew where he’d been, thanks to Rose’s regular updates.

‘Long time no see,’ she said as casually as she could. ‘When did you get back?’

‘Yesterday.’

Yesterday? He’d been here all that time and she hadn’t known? ‘How long are you back for?’

‘To quote a Take That song,’ Sam said and Molly could hear the amusement in his voice. ‘I’m back for good.’

Molly and Rose had been huge fans of Take That. In fact, they’d cried when they’d split up back in the nineties. And Sam had witnessed their tears, which he’d found hilarious.

‘Oh.’ What else could Molly say? She’d been madly in love with her best friend’s brother throughout her teenage years – secretly, due to Rose’s inability to keep her gob shut and because there are rules to be followed with regards to this sort of thing. Of course Molly had flouted these rules when she’d kissed Sam during his farewell party before he left for Canada for a year. A year had passed, then two and three until a decade later saw no return of Sam Jenson.

‘Are you back on your own or…’ Or have you got a girlfriend stashed under that sheet? Perhaps a wife and a couple of kids? Although surely Rose would have mentioned those.

‘I’m on my own.’ Again, there was a hint of amusement in Sam’s voice. ‘Rose tells me you’re single.’

‘Did she?’ Of course she did. The Carl Brown incident was proof of Rose’s indiscretion. ‘I haven’t always been single. Only for a year.’ It was actually closer to two, but Sam didn’t need to know that. As long as he knew she hadn’t been pining for him all these years.

Sam laughed, the sound muffled by the sheet. ‘I didn’t think you’d been saving yourself for me all these years.’

But she had saved herself for Sam. At least for the first couple of years and angry tears sprang to her eyes as she thought about her poor, battered eighteen-year-old heart as it waited for him to return.

‘Hey.’ Sam whipped off the sheet and dashed across the kitchen, stooping to look directly into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘It’s ok.’ Molly sidestepped Sam, adding another drop of vodka to the punch – why not? – before screwing the lid back on. ‘It’s just that kiss meant a lot to me. Back then.’

‘It meant a lot to me too.’

‘Did it?’ Because it hadn’t felt that way. ‘Why did you leave then?’

Sam took the bottle out of her hand and placed it on the counter before taking her hands in his. ‘I had no idea you liked me until that night and by then it was too late. I’d been offered the job and signed the contract. I had an apartment waiting for me. And let’s not forget I was a nineteen-year-old lad. We all know teenage lads are stupid.’

‘But ten years.’ Molly snatched her hands away from Sam’s and attempted to fold her arms across her chest. Which was a difficult task with all the padding of her costume.

‘I know. I’m an idiot. But I thought you’d have forgotten about me within a couple of weeks. I had no idea that…’

‘That I was in love with you?’ Molly filled in when Sam seemed unable to finish his sentence.

‘That you felt the same way that I did.’

Sam reached for hands again and this time she didn’t snatch them away. When he kissed her, she forgot all about the flat full of people enjoying her Halloween party just a few steps away. She even managed to forget about the hideous lobster costume and the shocking face paint.

‘What are we going to say to Rose?’ Molly asked, trying not to giggle when she saw the pink tinge around Sam’s mouth.

‘You’re going to say thank you,’ Rose announced from the kitchen doorway.

‘Thank you?’

‘You’re welcome.’ Rose stepped fully into the kitchen and grabbed a cupcake from the table.

‘No, I mean thank you for what?’

Rose scooped a chunk of frosting from the cupcake and popped it into her mouth. ‘For playing Cupid and bringing you two – finally – together.’

‘You knew I liked Sam?’

Rose rolled her eyes. ‘Duh. Of course. It was so obvious.’

‘So why wait all this time?’

Rose scooped another helping of frosting. ‘Because you told me to never ever interfere in your love life ever again after the Carl Brown thing.’

Molly had said words to that effect after the humiliating Carl Brown incident.

‘Then why did you tell me to get my butt back home and tell Molly how I feel?’ Sam asked. Molly was shocked. He’d come back to England for her?

‘Because it’s been ten bloody years, guys!’ Rose threw her hands up in the air. A blob of orange frosting flew across the room and plopped into the green punch. ‘I’ve followed the rules for long enough. Some rules are made for breaking.’

Yes, Molly thought. Some rules were made for breaking. Like hooking up with your best friend’s brother.

‘Thank you, Rose.’

‘You’re welcome. The two of you are clearly made for each other.’ Rose scooped up Sam’s abandoned sheet and tossed it towards her brother. ‘You both have completely crap taste in Halloween costumes.’

If you enjoyed The Ghost of Halloween Past, why not try one of my full-length novels? Find them here

Short Story: Pumpkin Pie at The Green Teapot

It was strange being back in the village after so long. Not much had changed – a lick of paint here, a single-storey extension there. But Jack had changed. She wasn’t the silly love-struck teenager that had left ten years ago, weeping her way to the train station, sobbing her way to Leeds to embark on a brand new life away from her parents and boyfriend Tom. It wasn’t as though she was leaving Tom behind; he was going away himself, even further afield than Jack, and they’d made the sensible, grown up decision to temporarily break up.  

Jack soon came to the conclusion that being a grown up sucked.

She missed Tom terribly and took to stalking the postman on the off-chance that Tom would break their no-contact rule (another stupidly mature decision) and send her a letter or even a hastily scribbled postcard. When she received nothing (not even a Christmas card – good old Tom, sticking to the rules), Jack drew comfort from the fact that the break-up wouldn’t last forever. They’d meet up again when they had their degrees and they would live happily ever after.

Except it hadn’t quite worked out like that.

Jack tightened the belt around her coat, cocooning herself against the bitter late October chill as she wandered into the heart of the village. The Green was just as she’d left it; neat and cheerful with an array of pretty shops and the red telephone box (yes, they still had one of those), shiny and bright against the gloom. No, she wasn’t the love-struck teenager that had left Hartfield Hill behind. If only! She’d give anything to go back to that age of naivety, where the worst thing that could ever happen was parting with your boyfriend, where she had never experienced true heartbreak and Tyler Aspen wasn’t even on her radar. When the dream of reuniting with Tom was still very much alive, before Tom landed himself his dream job – in Queensland – and Jack found Tyler.

Jack’s fingers moved to her left hand, brushing against the empty space where her wedding band had once nestled, though admittedly not for very long. Marrying Tyler had been a massive error in judgement. Tyler was handsome with a cheeky-chappy charm, but he was also lazy and irresponsible and it transpired that he couldn’t keep his little pal in his trousers for more than a few days. He was indiscriminate and indiscreet in his unfaithfulness and in the end he couldn’t even be bothered to apologise for the man he was. So here Jack was, less than eighteen months after saying ‘I do’, licking her wounds and trying to fathom why she had ever said yes to Tyler’s proposal in the first place. Yes, she’d loved him, but had he ever truly been The One?

Jack shoved her hands deep into her pockets and, head down against the harsh wind, she made her way across The Green, pausing outside her aunt’s tearoom. The large window had steamed up as the delicious smells of baking wafted into the cool air. The Green Teapot was Jack’s favourite place in the village – possibly her favourite place in the whole world – with its cosy interior and delightful cakes and biscuits. The Green Teapot was a happy place. A warm place where people gathered to chat, to reminisce, to celebrate. Jack had spent many wonderful hours in the place, either nestled in a corner with her books, a bun or apple pie taking away the sting of homework, or chatting with her friends after school, imagining they were oh-so-sophisticated and just a little bit like Carrie Bradshaw.

She felt a blanket of ease envelop her as she pushed open the door and stepped inside, the old memories rushing to the surface, replacing the more recent bitter ones. She felt at home, comforted by the familiar surroundings and she found that she was grinning as she stepped over the threshold.

‘Jacqueline! You’re here!’ Jack’s aunt flew from behind the counter, throwing her arms around her in a bone-snapping hug. ‘Your mum said you were coming to stay. How long are you here for?’

‘I’m not sure. A while, maybe.’ Jack spoke into her aunt’s hair, enjoying the warmth of the embrace. ‘At least until we’ve sold the house.’

‘How are you, love?’ Enid pulled away and cupped Jack’s face with a cool hand. ‘You’re looking thin. It’ll be the stress of the divorce. You need feeding up. Go and sit down and I’ll bring you something over. What would you like? I made a batch of sticky pecan buns. They used to be your favourite.’

Imitating the old Bisto ads, Jack sniffed the air, her stomach growling in appreciation. ‘What’s that I can smell?’

‘Pumpkin pies. They’re still in the oven but they’ll be ready soon. We’re having a competition for Halloween.’ Enid indicated behind them, where the tables were occupied by eager youngsters and their parents. Each table held a large pumpkin and kid-friendly tools. Jack’s eye was immediately drawn to the table in the centre of the room, where a little boy sat, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the pumpkin in front of him. Next to him, eyes boring into Jack’s, was Tom.

‘Hey, Jack.’ Tom was on his feet, eyes crinkled as a welcoming smile lit up his face. He bundled Jack into a tight hug without hesitation, almost lifting her onto her tiptoes in his eagerness.

‘You’re back then.’ Tom had settled in Australia the last Jack had heard. Why hadn’t her mother told her he was back in the village?

‘I missed the gloomy weather.’ Tom grinned at Jack and she felt her eyes pool with tears, which was a pain as she’d been doing so well and hadn’t cried for almost twelve hours – her personal best in recent months. ‘Hey, are you ok?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just so good to see you. And Aunty Enid.’ Jack swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘So you’re back for good then?’

‘Yep. Moved back a few months ago.’ He looked down at the small boy, who had toddled away from the table and was tugging at Tom’s jumper. He had the same white-blond hair that Tom had once had as a child before it darkened into the dirty blond it now was, though the boy’s lips were much fuller and his nose wider. Perhaps he’d inherited those features from his mother.

‘What’s up, little buddy?’ Tom hoisted the child onto his hip, tousling his white-blond hair.

‘Finished.’ The boy pointed back at the table, at the pumpkin with its jagged triangle eyes and crooked mouth.

‘That. Is. Amazing.’ Tom gave the boy’s hair another rub. ‘We are definitely going to win and Mummy is going to be so proud of you. Shall we take a photo to show her when she gets home from work?’

So Tom had done the settling down and having kids thing. No wonder her mother had kept quiet about his return. Tom’s obvious happiness was like rubbing salt into Jack’s gaping wound. She gave a wobbly sort of smile as Tom and the boy headed back to the table to take the photo. The boy posed in front of the pumpkin, his lips wide in a toothy grin as Tom captured the moment on his phone. Good for him. Tom deserved to be happy. He was a good man who had always had a big heart. Jack should have found herself someone like Tom instead of waste-of-space Tyler. Or perhaps she should have fought harder for Tom and moved to the other side of the world with him. How different would her life have been if she’d been braver? If she’d married Tom instead of Tyler? Would they have had a sweet blond-haired boy by now too? Jack certainly wouldn’t be sleeping in her childhood bedroom, crying herself to sleep and worrying about the future, that was for sure. But it was too late. You couldn’t go back, could you?

‘Pumpkin pies are ready!’ Enid had disappeared into the kitchen but she returned now, brandishing a tray of individual pies fresh from the oven.

‘Would you like to join us?’ Tom asked as he helped himself to a pumpkin pie for himself and the child.

‘I’d love to.’ What harm could it do? Catching up with an old friend was a normal, healthy thing to do. It shouldn’t matter that she had once loved this man in the way only an impassioned teenage girl could. That he had been her first love. That she had imagined they would spend an eternity together in a blissful summery existence. Those images had long since fizzled out – about the same time she had ceased trailing the postman – and had been replaced with other, equally unrealistic daydreams.

‘So who is this then?’ Jack sat at the table, trying not to look directly at the pumpkin. It was rather sinister up close. Instead, she focused on the little boy, whose mouth and jumper were already scattered with pastry crumbs.

‘I’m Max.’ Crumbs pelted out of the boy’s mouth, raining down on the table. Tom quickly gathered them into the palm of his hand and deposited them into Max’s empty pie case, apologising profusely.

Jack gave a wave of her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse happen to me than a shower of crumbs.’

Tom’s head tilted to one side, his eyes softening. ‘I heard about your separation.’

News – or gossip – still travelled fast around these parts then. ‘It’s stepped up a gear, I’m afraid. You’re looking at a soon-to-be divorced woman.’ How sad was that? She wasn’t even thirty yet and she’d already clocked up a failed marriage.

‘I’m sorry.’ Tom reached across the table and took Jack’s hand in his. The contact was so familiar, Jack could have been transported back a decade. She could have been sitting in The Green Teapot with a sticky pecan bun, a stack of books and butterflies in her tummy as Tom assured her she wouldn’t fail her A Levels in a spectacular fashion.

Tom’s sympathetic grimace lifted into a boyish smile. ‘You know, I always thought we’d end up getting married and living happily ever after.’

Jack laughed, the sound alien after so much recent misery. ‘Me too.’ Tom squeezed Jack’s hand, their eyes meeting over the freaky-looking pumpkin, but the moment was broken when Max, having shoved three-quarters of a pumpkin pie into his mouth, started to gag. Tom’s hand was snatched away as he leapt into action, grabbing fistfuls of napkins while Jack went in search of juice. When she returned, the pie had been removed from a sheepish-looking Max and he drank thirstily from the proffered glass.

‘Sorry about that.’ Tom looked equally as sheepish as the boy.

‘Don’t worry about it. Really.’ Jack smiled down at him, a feeling of nostalgia almost making her join in the gagging. ‘I should be getting back to Mum’s. I only popped in to say hello to Aunty Enid.’

‘Can’t you stay? Just for a few more minutes?’ Tom reached out, but Jack moved her hand away. Seeing Tom had dredged up all her old feelings and reminded her of all those happy times they’d shared, their promises and the plans they’d made for life post university. Plans that had never happened. It was too much to bear on top of everything else.

‘We’ll be lighting the pumpkins in a few minutes,’ Enid piped up from behind Jack. ‘You can help judge. They all look so wonderful I can’t decide on my own.’

So Jack stayed. Just for a few minutes, she told herself. She would judge the pumpkin competition and then she would go home and put Tom to the back of her mind, where he belonged with all things labelled ‘The Past’. The pumpkins were lined up in the window of the tea shop, fat candles flickering inside as everyone gathered outside to witness their hard work in all its glory.

‘Do you think we’ll win, Uncle Tom?’ Max asked. They were lined up on The Green awaiting the results, noses already pink from the cold.

Uncle Tom? ‘You’re not Max’s dad?’

Tom shook his head. ‘You remember my sister, Pam?’ Of course Jack remembered little Pam. She’d followed them around the village, making smooching noises at them and generally being a pain in the arse. ‘Max is her little boy. I don’t have any children.’

‘Oh. I see.’ So Tom hadn’t done the settling down and having kids thing after all.

‘Shall we announce the winner then?’ Enid asked from the front. Tom took hold of Max’s little hand, giving it a good-luck squeeze and ignoring the slight stickiness. Turning to Jack, he took her hand too. And this time she didn’t pull away.

I hope you enjoyed Pumpkin Pie at The Green Teapot. You can find my full-length novels here