Jonathan Posner's Blog, page 3

The River of Fire

The new Mary Fox adventure is cooking nicely – I am getting close to completing the first draft. I’m still planning to get it out in time for Christmas – so watch this space!

Mary’s new adventure, The River of Fire, takes her down through Europe; crossing the Swiss Alps and getting caught up in Florentine politics in 1537. There are more villains for her to battle – including two who are real historical people!

And the erruption of Monte Nuovo in 1538 plays a major role in the climactic scenes…

I’ll be announcing when the pre-order goes live via my newsletter – so if you’re not already on the mailing list, sign up here.

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The Thursday Book Club – Aug 24

The latest edition of The Thursday Book Club was broadcast on 15th August 2024 at 2pm on Phonic FM. Joining host Jonathan Posner was Angie Wooldridge. Click the names to find out more about them, and use the audio bar below to listen to the full show.

We reviewed The Outlaw’s Ransom by Jennifer Ash.

Our discussion was on The first act of a novel – what makes it work?

https://jonathanposnerauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/TBC-Show-12-15-08-24.mp3

The next show is at 2pm on the 19th September. We’ll be reviewing The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams. Read along with us and send us your thoughts on the book – either through the Contact page, or via the Facebook page, and we may well read them out on air.

NEWS

In the News section, we announced books by local authors and local news:

Merchants and Mayors: The Chappell Family in Tudor Exeter by Margaret A. Rice tells the story of two brothers, William and Thomas, and their cousin, John, who each became mayor of Exeter during the 16th century. The launch will be by invitation only, with the current Lord Mayor of Exeter in attendance, at Tuckers Hall, Fore Street Exeter on 12th September. Then there will be two further launch events on the 13th of September also at Tuckers Hall. These will be at 11:30am until 12:30 and 2:00pm until 3:00. The author will give an illustrated talk about the book and will then be available for questions and to sign books. We’re not certain how you get tickets, but it might be that you turn up on the day (but please don’t quote me on this!!)
We have been advised that there are the first two novels in a thriller/suspense trilogy, with a local connection. In Illicit Deception by Jack Lench, Robin Ashurst is the manager of a run-down hotel, who unwittingly gets caught up in a world of espionage, international subterfuge and exposing government secrets. It’s set in a picturesque fishing village on the South Devon coast, and features the cursed French blue diamond necklace once worn by Marie Antoinette of France. There’s also a dangerous terrorist organisation who will stop at nothing to achieve their objectives. Essentially, the book is about people not being who they say they are. If you enjoy that, the second book is called Running Flush . Both books are available on Amazon.
Last month we reviewed Exe on the Beach by local author Suzy Bussell. Her new book came out on 1st August. Called Haunted High Tea and Homicide , it features Mystery, ghosts and gowns. Here’s the blurb: In the charming Regency seaside town of Sidmouth, Devon, Trinity Bishop is thrilled to open her Jane Austen-themed tearoom on the picturesque seafront. However, the grand opening takes a dark turn when a guest is found murdered shortly after the festivities begin. After the chaos, a mysterious package arrives at Trinity’s door containing a ring that uncannily resembles one owned by Jane Austen herself. When Trinity slips it on, five ghosts materialize, bearing a striking resemblance to characters from Austen’s Pride and Prejudice .
With her spectral companions by her side, Trinity delves into the mystery surrounding the murder. They discover the quaint town of Sidmouth harbours many secrets. Can Trinity and her ghostly friends solve the murder and help the ghosts move on to the afterlife?
A quick search on Amazon confirms that’s where you can find it!Flora McGowan has just republished her cozy romantic suspense book set in Sicily Playing With Fire from the ‘Carrie and Keith Mystery’ series (although Keith does not feature in this one!). Originally published in 2020, this second edition has extra content. It’s available from Amazon as well as other outlets.
Gill McEvoy says her recently published book of Poetry, Selected Poems , (published by Hedgehog Press) has been nominated for the T S Eliot award. Congratulations Gill, from all of us at The Thursday Book Club! Selected Poems is available from Amazon. According to Amazon, Selected Poems shows a genius for finding the beauty in the everyday, and a perspective entirely her own. This is a masterful collection of work covering twenty years of the career of a poet that is truly unique.
Retribution! the fourth part of Elizabeth Ducie’s Jones Sisters thrillers series is launching on 1st September. The ebook is available to pre-order now; and she’s also taking orders for signed copies of the paperback.
Framed for murder on the day of her wedding, Charlie Jones is living a nightmare. While her sister, Suzanne, and their friends search for the true killer, Charlie is forced to confront her past: a past she’s kept hidden for more than three decades. Can Charlie save herself without losing everyone she loves. And who is the man in the black jacket?
Full details on Elizabeth’s website: https://elizabethducieauthor.co.uk/book/retribution/A new resource for writers is being launched. Called Writing at the Edge . It’s a collective of authors, journalists and marketing professionals who have built up knowledge and experience of publishing over their writing careers. The aim of the collective is to share this learning and help other authors. It means pushing authors to the edge – and beyond – challenging them to become the best they can be at their craft. So whether you plan to query or to self-publish, Writing at the Edge aims to be an invaluable help and support in your writing journey. There will be a series of FREE webinars, starting on October 3rd with ‘Pitch Perfect.’ Here’s the… er… pitch: A great pitch is essential for a novel. How do you craft a compelling message that will sell your story? How do you pitch your new novel – to agents, to publishers – and of course – to readers?
It’s on Thursday 3 Oct 2024 8:00 PM – 9:00 PM BST. The booking link is here.Here’s a reminder about another book we mentioned in the April news section: Return to Xanthos – a romance, with a twist by John McKenna. It’s set on a fictional and idyllic Greek Island and describes the intertwined lives of the expats and locals. Return to Xanthos is a compelling and unusual love story, with a twist – set amongst the golden beaches, olive groves and pine clad mountains of a stunning Greek Island. It includes a cast of colourful and charismatic characters – and will appeal to fans of the Greek Islands and lovers of romance – who like a sprinkling of spirituality. Find it on Amazon.
Last month we featured a news item about Word Kitchen , a group who organise open mic readings in poetry and prose. They were scheduled to be in the Phoenix Exeter on the 10th September, but this event has been re-scheduled – with the new date yet to be advised.
Exeter City of Literature is holding the Silent Book Club . It’s on Tuesday 20th August at 6pm at the Hourglass Pub. Come with a book and read! More info here.
The day of the show saw the launch of Sharon Cook’s Sewing Sequins on My Straightjacket : a mother’s heartwarming memoir about living through her child having cancer. Find it on Amazon.

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Lights Up! Radio Show

The Lights Up! show on 11th August featured a whole week in just two hours! Well, it had songs with each day of the week in the title, or the artist…

We had songs from Hello Dolly, Elton John, The Rolling Stones, Simon and Garfunkel to name just a few.

Listen again using the bar below:

https://jonathanposnerauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/2024-08-11-Sun-1600.mp3

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The Thursday Book Club – July 24

The latest edition of The Thursday Book Club was broadcast on 18th July 2024 at 2pm on Phonic FM. Joining host Jonathan Posner were Su Bristow and Jason Mann. Click the names to find out more about them, and use the audio bar below to listen to the full show.

 

https://jonathanposnerauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/TBC-Show-11-18-07-24.mp3

We reviewed two books: Saltblood by Francesca de Torres and our book by a local author was Exe on the Beach by Suzy Bussell.

NEWS

In the News section, we announced books by local authors and local news:

Devon author Liz Shakespeare will be attending a number of events this summer to meet her readers and sign copies of her books. Liz has written seven books set in Devon, bringing to life the stories she finds in old newspapers, on gravestones and in parish records. Her most recent book, The Ordeal of Miss Lucy Jones , tells the true story of a 19th century Torrington scandal. Liz will be signing copies of all her books at the charity craft fair at Clovelly Parish Hall on this Saturday, July 20, then at the Clovelly Maritime Festival on Sunday, July 21, the Launceston Show on July 25 and in the Magpie Marquee at the Mid-Devon Show on July 27. In August she will be at a number of events: check the listen-again feature for the full list. In September she will be at the Appledore Book Festival on September 19th.
You can find Liz’s full schedule here.
And if you can’t make it to any of these, you can always get hold of her books or find out more about Liz at www.lizshakespeare.co.uk.Alice Allan’s new book, The Whispering Trees is now out. Exclusive to UK bookshops it has an advance review from none other than Robert Macfarlane who describes it as ‘a terrific book’. It is in stock in half a dozen bookshops already and can be ordered in any others. It is deliberately not being offered on Amazon as a way of helping to support local businesses.
Jonathan recently met up with Rosemary Griggs at the Tuckers Hall in Exeter, as part of the Henry VIII tour in June. Rosemary has two books set in Tudor England, in her Daughters of Devon Series; A Woman of Noble Wit and The Dartington Bride . Both books are available on Amazon.
I was there – I think is by Biku Ghosh. It’s a collection of short stories of lives with dementia, other disabilities and inequalities from around the world. This book has been out for a couple of years, but Biku has asked us to mention it, as all proceeds go to Alzheimer’s Society. “Memory is the diary we all carry with us,” Oscar Wilde wrote. But unlike photography and a written diary, memory does not ‘capture’ the past and sometimes disappears for unknown reasons. “As you get older, three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can’t remember the other two,” said Norman Wisdom. Look for I was there – I think on Amazon.
Word Kitchen is a group who organise open mic readings in poetry and prose. They are pausing their face-to-face events over the summer, and are back in the Phoenix Exeter on the 10th September, then on the 21st September they are in the Brook Kitchen Budleigh Salterton as part of the Budleigh Salterton Literary Festival (see also below). Do come along and listen to great local authors reading from their works. More info is at https://www.wordkitchen.org.uk.
Karen Barrett is releasing her children’s rhyming board book for 0-5 years olds on the 13th August. It’s dedicated to David Attenborough and it’s about an adventurous panda bear who travels around the world learning about animals. This is book one in the series, called The Adventurous Panda visits Asia. There’s also a seek and find element throughout, and a lift the flap feature.
Local festivals coming up:
The Budleigh Salterton Literary Festival runs from Sept 18 to 22. Tickets go on sale to the general public next week (July 22).
https://www.ticketsource.co.uk/budleigh-salterton-literary-festival

The Appledore Book Festival (tickets already available) – runs from Sept 13 to 22.
https://appledorebookfestival.littleboxoffice.com

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The Thursday Book Club – June 24

The latest edition of The Thursday Book Club was broadcast on 20th May June 2024 at 2pm on Phonic FM. Joining host Jonathan Posner was Angela Wooldridge and Keith Rossiter. Click the names to find out more about them, and use the audio bar below to listen to the full show.

 

https://jonathanposnerauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/TBC-Show-10-20-06-24.mp3

 

We reviewed Fifty Minutes by Carla Jenkins

 

NEWS

In the News section, we announced lots of books by local authors and local news:

Summer at Sea Glass Cove is the new book from local author Jenny Kane. Marine archaeologist Lauren Sunshine is used to life on the go. Her suitcase is always packed ready to explore the country’s underwater heritage so when a Tudor shipwreck is found off the Dorset coast, she is thrilled to be leading the excavation team. Philippa Silver, ‘Phil’ to the folk of Sea Glass Cove, has devoted her life to the Museum by the Sea. But funding is tight, and despite subletting half of the museum to her best friend Jules’s sea glass shop, she fears for the museum’s future. Phil hopes the wreck discovery could bring more visitors, but there’s a problem – the museum’s too small to house its treasures. Thankfully, new friend Lauren seems as determined as she is to save the museum. But, when Phil’s brother Ollie catches Lauren’s eye, she begins to wonder if she has more than one reason to be interested in life at Sea Glass Cove….
It’s the newest heart-warming and uplifting book from Jenny Kane – a perfect read for Summer 2024!Di Castle has two books to tell us about. The first is Red House to Exodus , her memoir of growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, which comes out in September. The second is a novel called Sharing the Silence – about a hearing girl growing up with a deaf sister. We don’t currently have details as to when this comes out.
The Old Tin Can by Bryan J Mason which we mentioned last month is now out. It is the first in a new black comedy crime series based in Belfast during the Troubles. The cover says, ‘Not all murders are political. Some are personal.’ Described as ‘explosively witty’ it’s launching this week in Bristol and in Belfast in July. You can order on Amazon.
Steve Marson’s debut novel is out now on Amazon. This is The Girl On The Tram ; a cosy mystery crime tale based in Exeter and inspired by a real event. It’s 1910. Carrie Grey witnesses a fatal tram crash and, with the help of Sherlock Holmes’ voice in her head, decides to investigate. Meanwhile, two police detectives are also on the case, when a second tram crashes. Coincidence? Carrie thinks not.
The South Hams Author’s Network has an Open Mic Event on Wednesday 26th June from 7pm to 9pm. There’ll be prose and poetry readings of up to 10 minutes each. So if you’re keen to hear new writing by local authors, come along to the Imperial Inn, Ivybridge. It’s free, so get down there!
Here’s one we mentioned in April, originally planned for a July launch. But the good news is that the launch was brought forward so it’s out now. It’s Exe on the Beach and it’s book 6 in the Lockwood and Darrow Mysteries by Suzy Bussell. When a celebrity chef from Exmouth mysteriously disappears, private investigators Lockwood and Darrow are discreetly enlisted to investigate, keeping a step ahead of the relentless press. Though the chef’s known mental health struggles hint at a possible explanation, as the duo delve deeper, they unearth a tangled web of secrets that suggest a far darker narrative. The quest for truth threatens to have wide-ranging implications, placing them in the crosshairs of the town’s most dangerous secrets. The pair must work swiftly to expose the truth before the town’s underbelly consumes them. It’s available on Amazon.
Leslie Leggett has been in touch. Leslie owns indie bookstore First Draft Books in Bovey Tracey, and yesterday there was a local authors’ reading event called The Devon Anthology. Five local authors each read from one of their recent releases. These were Madeline Dyer, Rosemary Griggs (who Jonathan saw on Saturday at Tuckers Hall talking about Tudor costume), Alison Huntingford from the South Hams Authors Network (who we have interviewed on this programme), Abigail Yardimci, whose book Murder at the Pirate Festival we featured back in April, and E.I. Parr. If you went along to that event, I hope you had a good time. Leslie Leggett promises to keep us updated on author news from the shop going forward – visits, signings, talks, releases, etc. First Draft Books is an independent bookshop for curious readers, based in Bovey Tracey & popping up around South Devon. Through their shop & events, they support discovery, exploration & connection through the joy of reading. First Draft Books is an independent bookshop for curious readers, based in Bovey Tracey & popping up around South Devon. Through their shop & events, they support discovery, exploration & connection through the joy of reading.
On the subject of Open Mic events, Jonathan read at one himself at the Phoenix Arts Centre in Exeter on Tuesday 11th. One of the other readers was a local author called Richard Frost. Richard has two novellas published and available on Amazon or from his website. These are Looking to Move On and Living the Difference from his Eastwood Story series. These two novellas are stories of hope over adversity. With a third book on the way, they are written partly with the reader in mind. Richard says that sometimes it’s helpful to reflect on our own lives in relation to fiction – and of course poets and novelists have done that for years. His website is at richardfrostauthor.com.
The Dark Taal by Dean G. E. Matthews is an enthralling, engaging, adventure set in a world of magic, and bizarre magical creatures. Now with a new cover, and a new added chapter, the book will excite and intrigue all those who love fantasy/fiction, and leave the reader on the edge of their seats as they discover an ordinary family drawn into a titanic conflict not of their choosing.
Eclipse is a new anthology of short and flash fiction stories – set mainly in the West Country, by Tony Rea, Anne Thomson and John McKenna. It’s available on Amazon and in the Ivybridge bookshop.
The Call of the Nightingale is a historical fiction novel by Kathryn Barnett. Alice is a typist living with her dying mother in the 1950s. Her sheltered upbringing is no match when Cupid comes calling and she and her new boss, Behrooz Azadi fall in love. They throw convention to the wind and marry, just before her mother sadly passes away. Alone except for her husband, Alice must follow him when he is called to return to his native Persia, later to become Iran. By this time Alice is a mother at the tender age of nineteen, stepping into an unknown world steeped in history and where females should be subservient to their husbands. Against a backdrop of political unrest and intrigue which involves her own husband’s family, Alice must somehow fight for her own personal freedom, for the right to bring up her four daughters in a way that will enable them to move forward in a fast changing and frightening Iran. At times, this means striking out for women’s rights and later clashing with her own daughters when they embrace Islam. Will Alice be able to accept and embrace the changes her now beloved Iran is facing? Will bending be enough before something breaks? The eBook is available to buy now on Amazon, and the paperback comes out on 28th June.
Explore the mysteries of mortality in D is for Death , as Sophie Duffy takes you on an unforgettable alphabetical journey through life’s ultimate enigma. From accidents and bodies to contagion and ghosts, each letter unveils a new facet of our shared human experience with death. Reflect on the impact of climate change, explore the significance of war and ponder the mysteries that defy explanation. Learn the secrets of the ancient yew tree and celebrate death’s place in cultures around the world. D is for Death is not just a book: it’s a captivating and thought-provoking adventure that challenges perceptions and leaves you with a profound appreciation for the one certainty that binds us all – the journey from A to Z, where death becomes a quirky guide through life’s mysteries.
The Exeter Writers Short Story prize winning stories are up on the Exeter Writers website. Check them out (they’re very good) at https://www.exeterwriters.org.uk/ .

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The Thursday Book Club – May 16

The latest edition of The Thursday Book Club was broadcast on 16th May2024 at 2pm on Phonic FM. Joining host Jonathan Posner was Cathie Hartigan and Keith Rossiter. Click the names to find out more about them, and use the audio bar below to listen to the full show.

https://jonathanposnerauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/TBC-Show-9-16-05-24.mp3

 

Send your review of Fifty Minutes to jo******@jo******************.com by 20th June

 

NEWS

In the News section, we announced lots of books by local authors:

Carla Jenkins’ debut novel, Fifty Minutes, will be published by Hachette as one of their key titles in May 2024, with her second novel due for publication the year after.

Here’s the description:
Therapy was meant to solve her problems, not make them worse…

Smart twenty-year-old Dani is desperate to overcome her eating disorder, leave her dead-end job and return to her hard-won place at university. Using her limited earnings, she decides to start seeing a psychotherapist.

Richard Goode is educated, sophisticated and worldly – everything Dani aspires to be. As he intuitively unpicks her self-loathing, Dani assumes the fantasies she’s developing about him live only in her head. That is, until things take a shocking turn…

Descending into a maelstrom of twisted desire, manipulation and mistrust, the power struggle between Dani and Richard escalates until she’s forced to make a decision that might finally give her the freedom she deserves.

Billed as a ‘thrilling, page-turning debut novel perfect for Summer’, Fifty Minutes is out today!

South Hams – East Prawle to Bantham – A Swim, Walk & History Guide by Simon Tozer came out on April 19th. This is Simon’s personal guide to the South Hams Coastline between East Prawle and Bantham. The guide gives you more information on the area; the history, the legends, the swims, the walks and even a poem for each.

Swim – Where are the best places to swim? What are the currents like? How busy does it get? Is the water likely to be polluted?

Walk – how do I get there? Is there a good walk I can enjoy and what are the details?

History – Read about ancient hillforts, smugglers, shipwrecks, WWII outposts and how the area became popular with tourists.

More information about Simon and his books is at devonauthor.co.uk.

Talking of walking in the South west, It’s no Danube: Walking the Tamara Coast to Coast Way by Cheryl Dummer has just been published. It recounts the tales and trials of a seven day through-hike of the eighty seven mile Tamara Coast to Coast Way, as the river Tamar weaves in and out of Devon and Cornwall. With humour, poignancy, and honesty, the author follows both the meanders of the Tamar, from its estuary to its source … and the wanderings of her own mind.

Murder on the French Riviera by Helena Dixon comes out on 28th This is book 16 of the Miss Underhay Mysteries – so if you’re a fan of a cozy murder mystery beneath the palm trees, this is definitely one to check out.
Late spring, 1936. As Kitty Underhay steps onto the sun-drenched station platform in Nice, on orders from Whitehall to track down a missing man, she hopes there will still be time to lie by the pool, preferably with a cocktail in hand. But when she and her husband Matt take a brief evening stroll, instead of finding a perfect croissant, they stumble across a body…

Jo’s Hidden Secret by Emma-Louise James came out on April 26th. This is a true life story about Jo, who as a seven year-old, was racing after her older sister when she fell and cracked her head on a railway sleeper. From that moment on, her world and the world of all those around her changed. The fall had caused her to develop epilepsy.
Jo tells us her story – how she coped as a child and how it has affected her as an adult. Jo’s Hidden Secret is essential reading for anyone who wants to go deeper in trying to understand what it is like for someone with such a multiplicity of problems. Emma-Louise has written this not only as a way to cope herself, but to bring hope to other people going through similar traumas. Helping others and winning their appreciation is her best medicine. She has found a way though the darkness and she wants others to find it too.

Author Karen Barrett has recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to help publish her illustrated children’s book, The Adventurous Panda Bear Visits Asia. This is a children’s soft-learning board book about a brave and curious panda bear who visits Asia to learn about tigers, rhinos, orangutans, slow lorises, red pandas, and snub-nosed monkeys. The Adventurous Panda Bear was created as a symbol of curiosity, courage, and kindness, to encourage; a love of learning, trying new things, and a future in which we live in harmony with nature. It was inspired by Karen’s many cosy nights watching David Attenborough documentaries with her children. Her dream is that this book and its future collection will inspire, educate, and empower the next generation of David Attenboroughs!
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/karen-barrett/the-adventurous-panda-bear-visits-asia

The Girl With The Imagination Of Wizards by Gary Miles came out last month. Aimed at 14-18 year-olds, this is a story about the imagination, where dream has become entangled with reality.

The Old Tin Can by Bryan J Mason comes out on May 30th. It is the first in a new black comedy crime series based in Belfast during the Troubles. The cover says, ‘Not all murders are political. Some are personal.’ You can pre-order on Amazon.

Festival News

Ilminster Literary Festival – May 30 to June 6;

Clevedon LitFest – June 5 to 9;

Falmouth Fringe Book Festival – Oct 18 to 20;

Bridport Literary Festival – Nov 3 to 9.

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The Foreman’s Other Diary

Day 3

The men are quiet now. Panic has faded, replaced by acceptance of a long wait. But we have faith we will be saved. We work as teams, searching for escape; rationing out the emergency supplies; sorting out the sanitation. We try to keep too busy to think. But when we rest, the scene replays in many minds: a crack of stone, a groan of splitting timbers, a warning shout, far too late, and then the roar of falling rocks. The cloud of dust choked our nostrils and we were blind for many hours. The noise seemed eternal, although it lasted just seconds. A deep silence followed, until José started wailing. Such bad luck that his first day’s work might well be his last.

 

My darling Sofia, I cannot bear the thought that we parted in such a way. In the three days I’ve been trapped here, my anger has cooled in the darkness but still I struggle to understand. Why do you want me to give up this job that makes me what I am? You were proud of your Mario when he first became foreman. ‘My Mario is so good to the men,’ you would say. So why should I stop while I still have the strength to earn money to feed my family?

 

Day 10

All thirty-three men are healthy, although their spirits fail at times. There’s been no sign that rescue is possible. Is anyone even looking for us? Some talk about the company’s safety record: too many accidents, too many deaths. Why were there no ladders in the ventilation shafts? But it’s my duty to keep them strong. Today we made a shrine in one of the passageways. Some of the men scoff; but others need a place to pray. Young José spends a lot of time in there.

 

Dearest Sofia, do you think badly of me? When I reached the corner that day, after we argued, I looked back as always, but for the first time, you were not there to wave me on my way and I realised I had not kissed you goodbye. Maybe you’re tired of me, of this body, no longer as straight and tall as when we met. Do you regret the years you’ve spent with me, washing my soiled clothes, watching me sleep in the chair by the fire each night? I wish I could talk to you and be sure you still love me.   

 

Day 17

The humming which has been with us for days finally became a roar today as the drill from the surface broke through. There were tears, there was laughter; hope returned to our little band, two days after the rations finally ran out. We had a service at the shrine and thanked the Virgin Mary for keeping us safe this long. We gave José the honour of writing the note we taped to the drill bit. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile since we left the surface.

 

Sofia, my love, it is killing me: the thought that you are so close and yet we cannot touch. I imagine you waiting with the other women, your arms crossed, holding yourself tightly against the cool of the dawn and your fear. Or are you there at all? Has your anger turned you against me? My darling, I would give anything to be back with you, watching the sun go down over the Atacama Desert as we did when we were young. It seems so long ago.

 

Day 40

As the wait continues, our health suffers: toothache, irritations of the eye; a case of pneumonia. We are all skinny, dirty, shirtless and unshaven in the heat and humidity.  But the tedium is worse. The excitement of the drill appearing, more than a month ago, has now waned. Even the joy of the rosaries from His Holiness has dimmed. Someone pointed out today that Our Blessed Lord only spent forty days and nights in the desert. They tell us we could be here another month at least. José has been running backgammon tournaments to pass the hours away.

 

Dearest Sofia, I’m so tired. I have to be strong for the men; they look to me to give them comfort and tell them it’ll be alright. But all I really want to do is crawl into your arms and weep, and sleep. What joy I felt to get your letter and to know our silly fight is forgiven and forgotten. It gives me strength to whisper that you could be right, as so many times you have been.

 

Day 65

The capsule is here. Our plans are made. God willing, tomorrow we will leave our underground prison and return to our homes once more. The sick will go first, and then one by one, the rest according to the lots they drew. I will go last, like the captain of a ship, not sinking but rising to the surface, and carrying the Virgin’s statue. José refused to join the draw. He insists he will go just before me; keeping me company to the end. He will make a fine leader, that young man.

 

Sofia, my darling, there’s just a few hours left until I hold you in my arms once more. And tomorrow I’ll be sixty-five. I’ve never cared about birthdays, since I was a child, but you always make a fuss of mine, the children’s and your own. We will party this year like never before; and there will be thirty-two other guests of honour. I do not know what your gift to me will be, but this time I have a gift for you. I’ve worked here in the dark, since my father took me down the copper mine when I was just fifteen. This is not an old man’s life. It’s time I came back into the light and began to live my life with you, my love. 

 

© Elizabeth Ducie 2024. All Rights Reserved.

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One Summer – a free short story

The strong sunshine streamed in from the French windows at one end of the hospital ward, giving it a bright, airy feeling.

The young duty nurse had just finished taking a patient’s temperature and writing it up on his chart, when there was a gentle knock on the French window. She turned. A man was standing there, silhouetted against the strong sunlight. She could see he was wearing a white coat, but that was all she could see.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes.” The voice was warm and friendly. “Is this the recovery ward for GI surgery? I’ve got an endoscopy follow-up. A Mr Phillips?”

“Third bed from the end.”

The man entered, walked past her, then turned back. “Thanks, Nurse…?”

“Davies. Natalia Davies.”

“Dr Warden.” He studied her a moment, then gave a boyish smile that lit up his face. “But you can call me Mike.”

She looked him up and down. She put him in his mid 20’s – newly qualified, and with all the charm that came from youthful confidence rather than experience.

“I’m sure ‘Dr Warden’ is just fine,” she answered, putting just a touch of frost on the edge of her voice. He might be tall, broad-shouldered with bright blue eyes, floppy blond hair and big smile, but she wasn’t the kind of girl to allow such familiarity on a first meeting.

“Mr Phillips, was it? Third bed from the end?” He was still smiling at her, with an added look of slight concern.

She suddenly became aware she had been staring up at him for maybe a bit too long.

“Mr Phillips. Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

She turned with the most annoying squeak of her shoe that she could manage and marched down the ward to the kitchen area, where she busied herself rearranging teabags until she saw him out of the corner of her eye leaving through the French windows.

She made a cup of tea for Mr Phillips – extra milky and not too hot, after his gastroscopy. He was sitting up in bed; a small man in his late forties, balding with a moustache. Natalia had decided he looked like a typical accountant, although she’d not actually asked him.

“There you are, Mr Phillips. Nice cuppa.”

“Thank-you Nurse.”

Natalia put the tea down on the bedside table and perched on the bed for a moment. “Everything all right with the new doctor?” she asked, casually.

“Yes, he says I have a mild Barrett’s Oesophagus – but not to worry.”

“That’s fine then.”

“But he did seem a bit preoccupied. He kept calling me Mr Davies.

Natalia smiled. “He probably had a lot on his mind,” she said.

“Yes. Probably.” Mr Phillips looked up at her, concern showing in his eyes. “What’s Barrett’s Oesophagus?”

“It’s just a mild scarring of your gullet” she said reassuringly. “If Dr Warden isn’t worried, you shouldn’t be, either.”

“Oh good.” He took a swig of his tea, put it down and settled back into the pillow with his eyes closed. “If it’s good enough for Barrett, it’s good enough for me.” He opened his eyes and fixed her with a small smile. “Thanks Nurse.”

“No problem.” She checked his bedding was properly tucked in and that he had a glass of water by the bed, then turned and walked straight into Dr Mike Warden.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Just how long have you been standing there?”

“Only a moment.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“I guessed.”

“Sneaking up on me.”

“Yes.” He stopped, and looked unsure what to say next. “I thought I’d pop back… I wanted to ask you… something…”

“Ask me what?”

“Well, the thing is…”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr Phillips lean forward to catch what Mike was going to say, as did Mr Harrison and Mr Patel, the two men in the beds on either side.

Mike cleared his throat. “I know we’ve only just met, but we’re colleagues, and as we’re going to be working together I was wondering if you’d like… to have a drink with me tonight?” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, gave a small smile and suddenly looked rather vulnerable, like a puppy hoping for a treat. “If you’re not too busy that is?”

“Dr Warden…” she began rather sternly, preparing to come out with something about him being too forward; they had indeed ‘only just met’ and actually, as work colleagues, they couldn’t possibly do such a thing – when she heard a cough from Mr Phillips and glanced round Mike’s shoulder.

Mr Phillips did seem to have heard everything and was staring at her wide eyed, clearly horrified that she was going to say ‘no’. He was mouthing ‘go on!’ at her.

Natalia turned slowly and looked at Mr Harrison. He was making a small movement with his hands that could only be a sign to accept.

Her gaze moved to Mr Patel on the other side. He was raising his eyes to the ceiling and shaking his head in exasperation.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Mr Phillips, Mr Harrison and Mr Patel all smiled and clapped their hands.

Later that evening, as the deep orange sun was lengthening the shadows across West London, Natalia walked out onto the terrace of a pub overlooking the Thames. She half expected that Mike would not be waiting for her, that maybe the whole thing had been a put-up job by her fellow nurses – but then she saw him sitting at the far end of the terrace, holding a pint as he watched four middle-aged men battling upstream in a long, slim rowing boat.

She sat down next to him. “Dr Warden.”

“Nurse Davies.”

He pointed at the rowers in their boat and she watched a moment as they struggled up the river. “The bow man is squaring his blade too late. Number two is over-reaching. Three is out of time.” He paused. “The stroke man’s OK, though.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s not a total disaster, then. At least one of them is OK.”

He laughed. “Yes, well, at least one of them is OK. So that’s all right then.” He looked into her eyes and became serious. “Look, I hope you don’t think I’m usually this forward; asking you for a drink when we’d only just met? It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“When I saw you rearranging the teabags…”

“Oh”

“…I thought I have to get to know a girl who takes such care in her job.” He looked even more serious. “I mean, if we’re going to be colleagues, we need to know how we both tick, and you seemed so concerned about the teabags…”

“I didn’t think you saw,” said Natalia. “And anyway, what am I to make of a man who sneaks up on people and scares the heck out of them?”

The strain of holding his serious face seemed to get too much for Mike and he laughed out loud.

“Be prepared. That’s what my old Scout master used to say.”

“You were a scout?”

“Sure.”

“All scabby knees and tousled hair?”

“Probably.”

“And wonky woggle?”

“Definitely.” He paused a moment. “And I used to hunt rabbits in the woods. Just me and my trusty catapult.”

“Did the rabbits make it?”

“Without exception. My aim was appalling.”

“Lucky for the rabbits.”

“Indeed.”

“Should have been better prepared.”

“Sure.”

There was a silence. Another rowing boat went past and they watched it go.

“All OK,” said Mike, reassuringly, as the rowers’ blades went in and out of the water. “Good timing, squaring early, fast hands.”

“I’m so pleased.”

“You need to be kept informed,” he said.

“And thirsty,” she observed, with a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to be kept thirsty?”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, jumping up. “I haven’t got you a drink! You were distracting me with all your chatter about rowers! What are you having?”

—0—

The car in front of Natalia’s Ford finally moved a few feet forward, giving some small hope that the evening traffic jam might be starting to clear. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus again on driving and trying to dismiss the vivid memory of meeting Mike that first time in the pub in the summer.

She let out the clutch and the little car crept forward, just as the car in front stopped again. Whoever called it the ‘rush hour’ had clearly never tried to get home to Hammersmith on a wet Wednesday evening in September.

She could see that none of the cars in front were moving – the jam was solid. With a sigh she switched off her engine.

The memories of the summer came crowding back…

…she and Mike cycling together in the bright sunshine for a Saturday breakfast at a cafe by Eton Bridge; sitting outside with the many middle-aged cyclists dressed in over-tight lycra, and thinking how great Mike looked in his old khaki shorts and torn t-shirt…

…meeting Mike’s parents and realising that his father was the silver-haired old charmer that Mike would one day become – and giggling with his mother over old photo albums showing Mike as a toddler, as a schoolboy and as a gangly teenager…

…sitting in the corner of the pub watching Mike and his rowing mates singing drinking songs and seeing the over made-up blonde at the bar following him ceaselessly with adoring eyes – and thinking ‘sorry, dear, he’s all mine…’

…lying in bed stroking his head as he lay asleep on her chest, watching the rise and fall of his ribs as he breathed – and loving him; loving him with all her heart, with all her body, with all her soul…

The car behind her beeped his horn.

A space had opened up in front – one car-length; two at the most. She glanced in the mirror and could see an elderly man with a red face mouthing at her and making a rude gesture with his hand. She started her engine and crept forward to fill the space in front, then glanced in the mirror again. The man now had his eyes raised and his hands spread wide, presumably in some form of ironic congratulation that she knew how to drive, then he moved forward as well. Natalia sighed. The man seemed to be living proof that normal, sane people can turn into brainless morons when faced with a traffic jam. Always assuming of course, that he was a normal, sane person in the first place.

The traffic cleared again, and this time it kept moving, even if slowly.

Eventually she got round the Hammersmith roundabout and was soon reversing into her space outside the imposing and rather austere block of flats where she lived.

She let herself into the flat and kicked off her shoes, then padded into the kitchen. She opened the fridge door and peered in for half a minute without really being aware of what she was looking for. She closed the fridge and tried the food cupboard instead. This revealed an old tin of rice pudding, which she ate with an open pot of marmalade, dipping the spoon alternately into each to mix things up a bit, while curled up on the sofa in front of a film she’d seen a thousand times before. Then she changed into an old t-shirt and climbed into bed.

But she didn’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep. Like most nights she just sat up in bed, clasping her knees to her chest, staring at the wall, and despite her best efforts, her mind once again played out those final, terrible scenes of a few weeks ago.

…noticing that Mike was late to work one morning, but thinking he must have overslept…

…the grapevine whisper around the wards that one of the doctors had had a bad accident on the motorway and had been rushed to A&E…

…running down endless corridors with a sick dread in her stomach that it could only be Mike…

…the howl of agony as she saw him stretched out on a body board with his head held between two stiff blocks, immobile and unconscious…

…the hours spent holding his hand and talking to him, begging him, willing him, ordering him – to wake up and smile at her with his bright, heart-warming, life-affirming smile…

…hugging his mother as they shared the vigil over his silent, still body, with only the sound of his breath rasping past the tube in his nose and the reassuring beep of the monitor telling them that he was still alive, and that while the monitor was beeping there was still hope; that he could open his eyes at any second…

…and then…

…and then the cold still night when she sat alone with him and heard the laboured breathing get even slower, and the beep of the monitor falter, and as she stood to look at him, the sound she had dreaded the most – the sound of the monitor beep becoming one continuous, final, terrible tone…

…then a confused jumble of sights and sounds – doctors and nurses rushing in; defibrillators thumping; voices shouting – and in the middle, that still, quiet body that once had loved her, now unresponsive, unfeeling, and gone forever…

—0—

Natalia struggled out of bed and peered through the curtains at the autumn sky. It was as grey and overcast as the last few mornings had been.

She showered, dressed and breakfasted, all on autopilot.

She had just grabbed her keys and phone from the hall table and was about to leave, when suddenly the flat began to spin and shake as if it was in the middle of a violent earthquake.

Natalia grabbed at the hall table to try and steady herself, but missed completely and found herself falling to the floor.

For a moment she lay on her side watching the legs of the hall table spinning like a cooling fan, then she took a deep breath and struggled to her feet.

This was ridiculous – earthquakes don’t happen in Hammersmith…

She grabbed again at the table and this time managed to hang on.

But the table felt totally solid and stable under her hands. It was only when she looked at it, it seemed to be moving.

Which meant it wasn’t an earthquake at all – it was her.

This realisation brought on a massive wave of nausea.

She just made it to the loo before she was violently sick. Hunched over the bowl, she retched again and again until she was totally and utterly empty.

Just how out-of-date had that rice pudding been?

Or maybe…?

Frantically she wrenched open the bathroom cabinet and found the pregnancy testing kit she’d once bought in a panic but in the end didn’t use…

—0—

Half an hour later, Natalia was sitting on the loo, still staring open-mouthed at the little blue line.

Such a little blue line.

But a little blue line that meant Mike wasn’t gone completely.

She shook her head in wonder. A little blue line that meant a part of him was still alive and was now growing inside her.

A gap suddenly opened up in the grey clouds, sending down a bright beam of sunlight that lit up the trees outside her bathroom window in a riot of warm, golden, autumn colours.

The post One Summer – a free short story appeared first on Jonathan Posner.

The Thursday Book Club – Apr 24

The latest edition of The Thursday Book Club was broadcast on 18th April 2024 at 2pm on Phonic FM. Joining host Jonathan Posner was Cathie Hartigan and Jason Mann. Click the names to find out more about them, and use the audio bar below to listen to the full show.

https://jonathanposnerauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/TBC-Show-8-18-04-24.mp3

 

 

Jonathan interviewed Alison Huntingford, author and organiser of the South Hams Author Network.

Since the interview, Alison has also given us a heads up on some upcoming events she is involved with:

23rd April 10.30 – 11.30 am
Talk on the historical background to ‘dance a fearful jig’ at Budleigh Salterton library. Free entry and refreshments included.

25th April 12.00 – 2pm
Exploring your family history workshop at the Palace Theatre, Paignton. This is an ideal beginners guide to genealogy. Tickets £15

18th May, 10.30- 11 am
A short talk and readings (30 mins at 10.30am) plus Alison will be running a stall all day at the ‘authors convention’, Paignton Library. Free entry

10th June, 2pm
Alison will be giving a talk on her book, Dance A Fearful Jig. At the Tavistock Wharf, price tbc

19th June,.30pm
Alison will be giving a short reading (5 mins) from Dance A Fearful Jig, at First Draft Books, Bovey Tracey. Free entry.

There was also a discussion on:
Writing dialogue that rings true

In the News section, we announced lots of books by local authors:

1. Brixham Pirate Festival is the inspiration for a new tale of intrigue and skulduggery by local author, Abigail Yardimci. Abigail, who lives in the Devon harbour village, will be at this year’s event to launch her cosy crime novel to visitors to the popular event. Inspired by a chance comment by Abigail’s 12 year old son at the previous year’s festival, Murder at the Pirate Festival tells the story of a local girl who investigates the mysterious death of one of her friends while celebrating the pirate festival at the fictitious seaside town of Berryport. The book is released on 2nd May, while the official book launch takes place at Brixham Pirate Festival on the harbour Quay on 4th – 6th May, where Abigail will be meeting readers and signing first-edition copies of the book.

2. Exe on the Beach (Lockwood and Darrow Mysteries Book 6) by Suzy Bussell launches 25th July. When a celebrity chef from Exmouth mysteriously disappears, private investigators Lockwood and Darrow are discreetly enlisted to investigate, keeping a step ahead of the relentless press. Though the chef’s known mental health struggles hint at a possible explanation, as the duo delve deeper, they unearth a tangled web of secrets that suggest a far darker narrative.

3. Narcissus by Maria Donovan is in an anthology called Botanicals edited by Emma Timpany, with illustrations by Sarah Galerie. Like Maria, both are from the South West (although there are stories from around the world). It’s published by The History Press. The book came out on 4 April. There’s a launch on Thursday 2 May 6pm in the Falmouth Bookseller.

4. Kathleen by Amanda Jones was coincidentally launched during Storm Kathleen, and shows us a truly feisty woman in Kathleen. Living with disability is not easy. Staying alive with hope and joy as well as the pain is possible. A harsh life is yet beautiful, as the prose, poems and pictures show in this little volume. Available from the Bridgetown Café bookshop.

5. The Angel Downstairs, the seventh novel by Kathy Shuker, comes out on 26th April. It’s 1992 and Eric Dechansay is a successful artist living on the left bank of the Seine in Paris. He throws the best parties and tells the best stories. But when his past comes back to haunt him, where does the truth end and the lie begin? And then there’s the piano player. Who is he anyway? This poignant, suspenseful, sometimes funny and always compelling novel is the third of the Dechansay Bright mysteries, each of which is a standalone story. Available from most major online retailers in paperback and ebook. Kathy will be doing a book signing at the Harbour Bookshop, Kingsbridge on Saturday, 27th April from 11 to 12 o’clock and says she will happily chat about all things books!

6. This is not a new launch, but here’s a local memoir featuring secrets, scandal and survival by a South West author. Always in the Dark by Diane Harding is available on Amazon in eBook and paperback. Look out for an interview with Diane in the June issue of Somerset Life.

7. Here’s one that got missed last month (apologies). It’s Puffball Paradox by Chip Tolson which published on March 17th. It’s a tale of giant puffballs on Exmoor and in the mountains of Kyoto, Japan. We didn’t read out the full blurb on the show, but sufficient to say, it ends with the line… ‘Then the puffballs take their revenge…’

8. This one launched on 17th April. It’s Reunion Safari: A life-changing Holiday by Caro Ayre. This is an African Adventure. Sandra Harriman is planning a special safari for Martin’s friends who are coming to Ol Essakut Wildlife Conservancy for a 20th Reunion. A terrorist attack in Nairobi interferes with her plans as Martin goes off to cover the story.
The arriving guest all have secrets from their partners. Will these be revealed before they head home? Or will the behaviour of a troubled teenager spoil everything?

9. Sarah Scally’s book, It Started With a Shoe, launched on April 4th. It’s the second in a series called The Happy Wanderers – and apparently the radio play of the first book was played on Phonic back in 2014! Can Phoebe’s life get any worse? Single mum Phoebe Ellis is having a bad time; her boss is acting weirdly and now she’s been passed over for a promotion again. On top of that, her car is on its last legs, the credit card company is after a payment and she almost ruined her favourite shoes. On the plus side she has just met Mike, her ‘shoe saviour’ and together with the ‘Happy Wanderers’ Phoebe decides to uncover exactly what her boss is up to. But will she find out before everything crashes down around her?

10. Liz Shakespeare’s seventh book The Ordeal of Miss Lucy Jones (set in Devon) is being launched at the Plough Arts Centre in Torrington on April 25th.

Jason also read out details of upcoming Festivals:

Bournemouth Writing Festival – 26 to 28 AprilHay Festival, Hay-on-Wye – May 23 to June 2Cambridge Literary Festival (wonderful list of authors) – 17 to 21 April

Plus the deadlines for some big writing competitions coming up:

Bridport (May 31)Bath (May 31)I Am In Print (May 28)Cheshire (May 1).

The next show will be on 16th May at 2pm UK time. Don’t forget to read the featured novel with us and let us know your thoughts. It’s Always in the Dark by Diane Harding.

The post The Thursday Book Club – Apr 24 appeared first on Jonathan Posner.

A Windsor Tail

She was, quite simply, the most stunning creature I have ever set eyes on. I spotted her sitting on the other side of Osborne Road by the little playground, as I was trotting back from the centre of town towards my home near the park.

It was her eyes, twinkling like stars in the light of the streetlamps, that first attracted my attention. Then it was the way she tilted her head coquettishly, looking directly at me as if daring me to respond, then looking away as if wholly unconcerned.

Naturally I had to make her acquaintance. Affecting my most casual manner, I stepped out to cross the road. A screech of tyres made me look up, and I nearly froze as a car came roaring down Osborne Road towards me. Acting on instinct I bolted across the road, and just made it as the car whistled past. Of course he was going far too fast – but I really should have checked. The little vixen on the other side was making me careless.

I gathered myself and stopped beside her.

“Good evening, madam,” I said pleasantly, as if I had not just had a brush with death. “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of seeing you in Windsor before.” I gave a little bow of my head, to show I was a true gentleman. In doing so I caught a whiff of her and stopped in surprise. It was a most strange scent – a rich combination of smoky spices and strong meats. I bowed my head again. “You have me at a disadvantage, madam… I don’t know your name or where you’re from…?”

“I’m Zusia,” she said. Her accent was unknown to me – but most intriguing.

“Alfred, at your service madam.” I looked at her again. Close up she was even more stunning than from a distance.

“You’re from Windsor?” I prompted.

“No,” she answered, much to my surprise. “I come from the other city – the one across the big road with many cars, like the one that would have crushed you just now.”

If that was sarcasm, it was wasted on me. “Slough?” I exclaimed. “You come from the other side of the motorway – from Slough?”

I have to admit I was shocked. She may have been stunning, but Slough was a long way from this side of Windsor, and I don’t, as a rule, countenance sharing my territory with foxes from Slough. I felt my tail moving like an angry python behind me, and my ears come forward menacingly. “This is Windsor, madam,” I growled, my whiskers bristling. “We don’t hold with foxes from Slough.”

“Well then, be on your way Mr. Alfred,” she said in a small voice. “Leave me alone.”

“I will. Good night to you, Zusia,” I said. “I trust you have a good journey back to Slough.”

I half turned away, expecting her to get up and head in the opposite direction, but she stayed put. I turned back, to see that she still hadn’t moved.

“It’s a long way back to Slough, madam,” I said, putting a kindly but firm note to my voice, to show that I was prepared to defend my territory, even if she was drop-dead gorgeous. “I suggest you start now.”

She stared back at me with her big eyes, and I could see she was trembling.

“What is it?” I asked, concerned. Then I shook my head to clear the thought. No doubt this was some Slough trickery just to get my sympathy. I turned and pointed my nose down Osborne Road. “It’s that way. Off you go.”

She made no move.

“Really, madam,” I said, in what I hoped was a reasonable voice, but was again tinged with a warning growl, “you are off your territory. Please go.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

She shook her head and I could see she was trembling even more. Then in a flash I understood what the problem was.

“By the Great Fox’s tail, you’re lost, aren’t you?”

She nodded.

“But it’s no problem!” I yapped. “It’s really very simple.” She gave a small shake of her head and looked at me with her big brown eyes. “Look,” I said, my tail now wagging like a ridiculous dog, “You go up Osborne Road till you get to the mini roundabout, straight on up Goslar Way – you have to keep to the verge or track along the gardens behind it – then through the underpass – or over the roundabout at this time of night – and up onto the Relief Road. Then cut down onto the fields once you’re over the river, and it’s straight all the way past the Jubilee River and under the motorway to Slough!”

She still looked very unsure.

“You can’t miss it – and do you know the best thing?” She shook her head. “The best thing is you come out near McDonalds – and I can tell you, what you find in those bins is worthy of the Great Fox himself – juicy bits of meat, crispy yellow chips, deep, red sauce and bread that just melts in your mouth…” I found myself licking my teeth and almost drooling in front of her. “Hmm. Yes, well, it’s delicious and well worth a nose around…”

“So you have been to Slough, then?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, ahh, yes, well just as far as McDonalds. Not into the town itself, of course.”

“Of course not.”

“No, wouldn’t go there. Off my territory…”

She licked her paw thoughtfully, then looked slowly up at me. “You want for me to go?”

“I think it’s for the best.”

“But right now I am lost, and I cannot remember how I got here or the way back.”

“You must remember how you got here?”

“No, one of those car things nearly hit me too, and I just ran and ran. When I stopped running, I found myself here.”

I sighed. I should have seen this coming. After all, what should a Windsor gentleman do? “Madam,” I said, “Would you like me to take you home?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh yes, please,” she said. I had the feeling that this what she had wanted all along; what she had been leading me towards like a soft-headed little cub…

“Right,” I said, with as much authority as I could muster. “Off we go, then.”

She got to her feet and arched her back like a cat. I found myself growling appreciatively in the back of my throat at the way that magnificent body moved.

“Hrmph. Yes, well, best be off then.”

She nodded and we set off, side by side, tails in the air.

“I must ask you to keep up with me,” I said as we trotted up Osborne Road.

“Of course,” she answered.

We came up to the Princess Margaret Hospital. “Interesting things in the bins there,” I commented. “I’m not sure what they are, but very interesting.”

“Edible?”

“Not really. I tried something that smelled good, but turned out it was just dry white fluff. I had to sick it back up.”

“Sometimes anything is food when you’re hungry.”

“Not this stuff, believe me…” I came to a sudden halt. “Ahh – Is that it? Are you, by any chance – hungry?”

She stopped also, turning those big brown eyes on me. “I have not eaten for three days.”

“By the paws of the Great Fox!” I exclaimed. “Then we must find you something soon!”

I considered my options and decided we should try some of the restaurants on St. Leonards Road. The bins at the back could often yield rich pickings at that time of night. She would be able to feast herself full – and thank me as her generous host. “Follow me!” I said, and with that happy thought I started off along the pavement.

“Where are we going?” she demanded, catching up with me.

“You’ll see,” I answered as we trotted along, both our tails again standing bolt upright.

Suddenly I halted again. A worrying thought had struck me. She clattered to a stop also, her claws scrabbling on the hard pavement.

I looked her up and down as I considered my words carefully.

“Look, Zusia, you’ll need to follow my lead when we get there.”

“Why?” Her tail dropped suddenly, like the King’s flag coming down at Windsor Castle.

“There are certain rules and regulations to eating out in Windsor. Certain ways of behaving that I would not expect a Slough fox to know about.”

“You think I have no manners?”

Looking back now, I think I might possibly have missed the slight warning growl coming from the back of her throat.

“No it’s not that – it’s just – well, we have a way of doing things in Windsor you may not be aware of.”

“Yet you come to Slough to eat at our McDonalds. And do you bring your ‘manners’ to our side of the motorway, Mr Alfred?”

Once again I might not have picked up the sarcasm. “Of course,” I answered. “Windsor foxes always behave properly, even if they find themselves in Slough.”

“Well, I shall find myself in Slough, Mr Alfred, and I trust never to find you there.”

With a small shake of her tail, she turned, then looked back at me, her big eyes like two dark, overflowing pools in the overhead lights. “You may think we are nothing in Slough, but I can assure you we have our manners, too. Good bye, Mr Alfred, and enjoy your superior Windsor life.”

Then as I stood there, she turned away again and ran away up the road.

I watched her go in stunned silence, until a car came round the corner. It must have spooked her, and she disappeared into the bushes.

I found myself washing my paws as I thought through her amazing behaviour.

How typical of a Slough fox to be so ungrateful! I would have brought her to such food as she could only dream of, and shown her all the way to her home – yet she had run off without any thought as to the nobility of my gesture. Well, she could find her own food, and her own way home, and good luck to her!

Bright headlights came round the corner, and I noticed the driver was alone in the car. Almost instinctively I ran across the road just in front of him, making sure I was easily seen. It’s always fun to give these late-night single motorists a tale to tell about the urban fox that crossed the road as bold as brass right in the middle of Windsor – especially as the motorist is likely not to be believed.

So why did Zusia not believe me, when I said there are Windsor ways of behaving? By the paws of the Great Fox, what if she had shown me up? What if she had knocked over dustbins and woken up the neighbourhood, or howled like a crying human child for some reason? It might be normal to her, but it would be most inappropriate on this side of the motorway.

I shuddered at the thought. Perhaps in reality, I’d had a lucky escape!

I was about to turn back and continue my original journey home, when I heard a deep gurgling sound. With a start I realised it was my own belly, rumbling like the great train as it crosses the bridge over the Thames. All that talk of food and dustbins must have got my juices flowing as well – and now my belly was telling me it was time to eat. Licking my lips, I decided to carry on to St. Leonards Road myself, and try my own luck at the restaurant bins.

—0—

I heard the deep, menacing growl of a dog just as I entered the dark passageway that led to the bins behind one of the restaurants. It was the low, guttural growl of a dog that has cornered another creature and will attack at any moment.

Instead of marching in boldly as I had planned, to check out a few bins and see what tempting delicacies could be found, I stopped. Creeping forward, I peered slowly round the corner into the yard, my ears flat to my head and the tip of my tail sweeping cautiously across the dusty gravel behind me.

I looked to my right.

Zusia was in the corner by the dustbins, her eyes wide and staring, shaking visibly. One of the dustbins had been pulled over; its contents spilled out across the yard. My ears pricked up immediately as I spotted a couple of bread rolls and what looked suspiciously like a juicy piece of half-eaten steak.

Then I looked to my left, and any thought of running in to the yard to grab these tasty treats evaporated in an instant.

Facing Zusia was the largest bull mastiff I had ever seen. He was standing squarely in the yard, his teeth bared and his evil yellow eyes fixed on her as she cowered back into the dark corner, looking as if she was trying to back away through the solid bricks.

For a moment this tableau remained static – the dog snarling and Zusia cowering in front of him.

Then the dog attacked.

It was a blood-curdling sight as he bunched the powerful muscles in his back legs, then with a single vicious bark, launched his great brown body through the air at the defenceless little vixen.

There’s no doubt he would have torn her apart if he had reached her.

But he never did.

At the same moment that he started move, and very much to my own surprise, I found that I had launched myself across the yard in Zusia’s defence.

There’s no doubt it was against my instinct. But for some reason my instinct was put to one side, and as the dog sprang through the air at Zusia, I sprang through the air at him.

By good luck I judged my leap well, aiming myself at a point half way between where he had been standing and the now-screaming vixen. As he flew across the yard, I hit him squarely with full force in the shoulder. It must have been no more than a glancing blow to him as a fox is a quarter his size, but he was off the ground and it was enough to knock him off his trajectory and send him sprawling into the dustbins, while I fell to the ground in front of Zusia.

Quickly I got to my feet while the dog was still struggling under fallen dustbins, and called out to Zusia.

“Come on, quick!”

She stared at me, still frozen.

“Come on!” I yelped in rising panic, as the mastiff got to his feet and turned his yellow eyes onto me, his teeth bared in a fearsome snarl.

Still she stayed rooted to the spot.

“COME ON!” I screamed.

Then with a blood-curdling bark, the mastiff launched himself directly at me.

I scrambled back as the dog flew towards me, but there was no way I could back away fast enough.

I found myself screaming just like Zusia as the mastiff’s jaws came hurtling towards my head, and I could see nothing but enormous teeth and could smell nothing but his hot foul breath, and I thought ‘this is it – this is the end’, and I closed my eyes and waited for the jaws to tear into on my throat…

But it never happened.

I opened my eyes, to see the dog’s face just a few inches from mine, a look of surprise and pain in his eyes, his tongue sticking straight out in front of him.

He came no further.

Backing away a few paces, I could then see the large black rope tied to his collar. It was held taught behind him and I saw it had got itself tangled up round the wheel of one of the dustbins.

If it had not been for the rope catching under the wheel, he would surely have been able to reach me – just as he would have been able to reach Zusia on his first attack if I had not launched myself at him.

The mastiff appeared to recover from the surprise of being nearly throttled and strained against the rope to get to me. He must have got his breath back, for he started barking loudly in what I assumed was his rage and frustration.

And, I rather hoped, the pain of being nearly strangled.

Feeling emboldened by my lucky escape, I stood my ground, keeping just out of his reach as he pulled at the rope to get at me. Confident I was now safe, I stole a quick look across the yard, and noted that the rolls and the piece of steak were still lying temptingly where they had fallen.

“Come on,” I called again to Zusia over the sound of the dog’s barking. “He’s stuck! You can come out now.”

Slowly she unfroze, stretched her forelegs as if she’d been asleep, then made her shaky way to my side.

“Good show,” I said nonchalantly, as if there wasn’t fifty kilos of slavering mastiff just in front of us, barking loud enough to wake all of Windsor and most of Slough. “Nothing to be fright…”

Then the dustbin holding back the rope moved forward a few feet.

With a bark of pure triumph the dog leapt towards me, his filthy jaws opening wide.

There’s no doubt he would have had my throat if I had not jumped back just in time, and once again I was treated to the sight of the dog’s head whipping back and his collar nearly throttling him as the rope snapped tight.

“Yes, we must go!” yelped Zusia, her voice high and strained.

“Wait!” I yelled back. I’d had an idea.

“What?” she shouted, as the dog’s barks went up an octave in his impotent rage. “Are you mad?”

“Hold on a second,” I said.

Choosing my moment while the dog was looking at Zusia, I whipped past him and reached the piece of steak. Grabbing it in my mouth, I ran back and dropped it at her feet. All this happened so quick that the dog scarcely had time to register it.

He stopped barking in surprise and just stared at me.

I sat back and casually washed one of my paws. This was too much for him, and he jumped forward again, barking furiously. Again his head snapped back and his tongue came out. I half thought he might have hung himself this time and would drop dead on the spot, but no such luck.

However, his stupidity meant I once again had the opportunity to dart past him while he was breathless, and collect one of the bread rolls in my mouth. I ran back to the safe area beyond the reach of the rope.

“Cuff og,” I said to Zusia. “Lezz geg ahh o eer.”

I think she must have understood, or at least got the general idea, as she picked up the steak, and together we ran back down the dark passage.

I stopped just before it opened out into the well-lit St. Leonard’s Road and dropped the bread roll.

Behind us there was the sound of a human shout and the loud splash of a bucket of water. The dog’s barking was suddenly cut off and, after a small whimper, there was a blessed silence.

“Come on,” I said. “Time to go.”

I picked up the roll again, and together we ran along St. Leonard’s Road, then into the bushes alongside Goslar Way, across the roundabout and onto the Relief Road. Once we were over the Thames, I led her down onto the fields below the Relief Road. From there we ran through the dark grasses and trees until, as dawn started to spread its rosy glow, we reached the banks of the Jubilee River.

I came to a stop on the path beside the still water and dropped the roll again.

“Eat up,” I said and nudged it towards her with my nose.

She dropped the steak she had been carefully holding throughout our journey and pushed it towards me. “You must have this,” she said. “You are a very brave and clever fox.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I answered. “Any fox would have done the same.” I thought a moment. “Any Windsor fox, that is.”

“Oh no,” she said, as she pushed the steak closer with her nose. She placed her paw delicately on the roll and studied it carefully. She looked up at me. “This is not about a Windsor fox, or a Slough fox. It is about you, Mr. Alfred.” She carefully bit off the other half of the roll and ate it, while considering me thoughtfully.

I looked at the steak, then back at her. She was hungry – how could I eat it? It would hardly be the proper, ‘Windsor’ thing to do.

She nudged it even closer to me. The smell was intoxicating. My belly gave a loud gurgle, and I fear I may have even drooled slightly.

“Go on,” she said quietly. “Eat it.”

I looked into her large brown eyes, twinkling in the warm dawn light, for what seemed like an age.

Then I picked the steak up in my mouth and bit half of it off. Although it was totally, amazingly, wonderfully delicious, I didn’t eat it all.

I pushed the rest across to her and sat back.

She took a small bite, then another, and then it was gone.

“Right now, right here, we’re not in either Slough or Windsor,” she said when she’d finished chewing. “But do you know, Mr. Alfred, it doesn’t matter where a fox is from.” She paused, her small pink tongue playing across her mouth. “If he protects his vixen; if he saves her life, then his only place is at her side.”

She leaned forward and slowly, gently, she licked my nose.

She really was, quite simply, the most stunning creature I have ever set eyes on.

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