Sue Swift's Blog: Welcome Back, Suzie!, page 21
March 6, 2012
March 4, 2012
**It’s another Sunday Snog!**
http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog/
Kissing never grown tiresome, does it?
This one’s from Seducing the Hermit, my Alaska book:
Pulling her into his arms, he said, “Here’s something to keep you warm.”
He bent his head and kissed her. The heat of his mouth formed a sensual contrast with the chilly tip of his nose, which brushed across her cheek as she swayed against him, glorying in the power of his embrace. She’d never felt so cherished. They’d shared a wonderful holiday together. She’d had a great time with the clan, and he’d allowed her closer to him than ever before.
Soon–too soon–he broke off the interlude. “Your face is getting all chilly, baby. Go on home before you catch frostbite.”
“Not much chance of that when you’re around,” she murmured.
He grinned and opened her car’s door for her then helped her in. She watched him in her rear-view mirror as she drove with care into the pitch-dark woods. At this time of year, southern Alaska enjoyed only about six hours of sunlight. She’d noticed most days were rainy, the sky leaden. Today had been clear, but ice-cold. She didn’t doubt his assessment of the weather.
Her headlights cutting through the gloom, she drove through the forest to a place where the trees thinned, gradually disappearing as the land transformed into meadow. An eerie green light above her filled the open field. The night sky wasn’t dark, but filled with curtains of unearthly, pulsating color. The air hummed with electricity she could feel through her parka.
This was her first glimpse of the aurora borealis, the dazzling northern lights. Entranced, she pulled her bug to the side of the road and cut the engine so she could take a better look. She tugged her parka more snugly around her then zipped it to the top and secured her hood to keep her ears warm. After she exited the car, she leaned against its side, tipping her head back to watch the show.
Ignoring the knifing cold, she rapidly became absorbed in nature’s display. She didn’t resist when her spirit seemed to rise into the night sky, dancing with the light. She felt close to God, in harmony with heaven’s angels.
The rattle of a truck’s engine broke the sacred silence. Fisher arrived, halting his truck behind her car. His boots crunched on the gravelly verge as he approached. He joined her, slipping his gloved hand into hers. “It’s great, isn’t it?”
“Awesome. Completely beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”
He squeezed her hand. “We get blasé about the beauty of this place. Watching you appreciate it helps me see it anew. I’m glad I followed you.”
“You followed me? Why?”
“This road can be treacherous. I wanted to make sure you got back safely.”
That was a sweet thing to do, typical of him. She twisted her neck to look at him and the sky at the same time.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself. Come here.” He led her to his truck. Opening a metal storage box, he took out a couple of blankets and spread them out on the bed of his truck. He helped her in, then followed her.
She lay beside him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. They cuddled together, with Valerie again allowing a sense of peace to surround her. Gone was the frenetic desire to reach her goals. She simply enjoyed the moment.
Fisher moved, his dark silhouette blocking the glimmering lights above her face. He touched his lips to hers in the gentlest of caresses.
The flickering light of desire shimmered through her body. She nibbled on his lower lip then sucked, drawing him in. TheAlaskanight had captured her with its enchantment, and she wanted to lure him into the magic. She wanted him to feel what she felt, an almost mystical oneness with him and with the night.
Despite their thick, enveloping clothes, their bodies merged. His long, dark hair mingled with hers and her fingers intertwined with his. Their mouths melded together.
He unsnapped the collar of her parka. The slight rush of cool air teased her skin beneath her sweater. She rubbed her chest against his. Even through their jackets, she sensed the hardness of his body against hers and the urgency of his need. He lowered the zipper of her jacket. Its rasp sounded in counterpoint with the wild beat of her heart, blending with her moans as he began to make love to her beneath the stars.
After he opened her parka, he slid a gloved hand beneath her sweater to caress her breasts. Her body involuntarily jerked. The gloves were chilly and a little rough, and had surprised her. After a moment, she let herself relax into the different feel of Fisher’s leather gloves caressing and plucking her nipples.
Heat gathered deep in her pussy, and she pressed against him, chasing her growing arousal. She tore his jacket open then reached for his belt buckle.
He rose above her, kneeling within the cradle of her legs, and leisurely tugged off one glove, then the other. “I want to love you, baby. All night long.”
His husky murmur sent the blood shivering through her veins. Her pulse hammered, beating a vibrant tattoo in her ears. She quivered with passion, yearning for him. Her quivering fingers couldn’t pull the thick leather belt out of its loops, couldn’t unsnap his jeans. Smiling, he helped, unbuttoning so his erect rod thrust out of the opened fly. Otherwise he remained clothed and reached for her pants, unzipping and easing them down so he could reach her cunt.
She chuckled. “I bet you did a lot of this in high school.”
“Yeah, we became experts at clothes-on screwing.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “It gets mighty cold around here, but no one wanted to go without sex through the winter.”
He bent toward her again to kiss her wantonly, with total sensual abandon. She closed her eyes, letting each thrust of his tongue drive her higher and higher. He settled his long, whipcord body against hers, and she reveled in his masculine solidity. She slid her hands along his body then wrapped her hand around his hard, ready cock.
***
There’s more where that came from, and here’s where you’ll find it:
**It's another Sunday Snog!**
http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog/
Kissing never grown tiresome, does it?
This one's from Seducing the Hermit, my Alaska book:
Pulling her into his arms, he said, "Here's something to keep you warm."
He bent his head and kissed her. The heat of his mouth formed a sensual contrast with the chilly tip of his nose, which brushed across her cheek as she swayed against him, glorying in the power of his embrace. She'd never felt so cherished. They'd shared a wonderful holiday together. She'd had a great time with the clan, and he'd allowed her closer to him than ever before.
Soon–too soon–he broke off the interlude. "Your face is getting all chilly, baby. Go on home before you catch frostbite."
"Not much chance of that when you're around," she murmured.
He grinned and opened her car's door for her then helped her in. She watched him in her rear-view mirror as she drove with care into the pitch-dark woods. At this time of year, southern Alaska enjoyed only about six hours of sunlight. She'd noticed most days were rainy, the sky leaden. Today had been clear, but ice-cold. She didn't doubt his assessment of the weather.
Her headlights cutting through the gloom, she drove through the forest to a place where the trees thinned, gradually disappearing as the land transformed into meadow. An eerie green light above her filled the open field. The night sky wasn't dark, but filled with curtains of unearthly, pulsating color. The air hummed with electricity she could feel through her parka.
This was her first glimpse of the aurora borealis, the dazzling northern lights. Entranced, she pulled her bug to the side of the road and cut the engine so she could take a better look. She tugged her parka more snugly around her then zipped it to the top and secured her hood to keep her ears warm. After she exited the car, she leaned against its side, tipping her head back to watch the show.
Ignoring the knifing cold, she rapidly became absorbed in nature's display. She didn't resist when her spirit seemed to rise into the night sky, dancing with the light. She felt close to God, in harmony with heaven's angels.
The rattle of a truck's engine broke the sacred silence. Fisher arrived, halting his truck behind her car. His boots crunched on the gravelly verge as he approached. He joined her, slipping his gloved hand into hers. "It's great, isn't it?"
"Awesome. Completely beyond anything I've ever seen."
He squeezed her hand. "We get blasé about the beauty of this place. Watching you appreciate it helps me see it anew. I'm glad I followed you."
"You followed me? Why?"
"This road can be treacherous. I wanted to make sure you got back safely."
That was a sweet thing to do, typical of him. She twisted her neck to look at him and the sky at the same time.
"You're gonna hurt yourself. Come here." He led her to his truck. Opening a metal storage box, he took out a couple of blankets and spread them out on the bed of his truck. He helped her in, then followed her.
She lay beside him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. They cuddled together, with Valerie again allowing a sense of peace to surround her. Gone was the frenetic desire to reach her goals. She simply enjoyed the moment.
Fisher moved, his dark silhouette blocking the glimmering lights above her face. He touched his lips to hers in the gentlest of caresses.
The flickering light of desire shimmered through her body. She nibbled on his lower lip then sucked, drawing him in. TheAlaskanight had captured her with its enchantment, and she wanted to lure him into the magic. She wanted him to feel what she felt, an almost mystical oneness with him and with the night.
Despite their thick, enveloping clothes, their bodies merged. His long, dark hair mingled with hers and her fingers intertwined with his. Their mouths melded together.
He unsnapped the collar of her parka. The slight rush of cool air teased her skin beneath her sweater. She rubbed her chest against his. Even through their jackets, she sensed the hardness of his body against hers and the urgency of his need. He lowered the zipper of her jacket. Its rasp sounded in counterpoint with the wild beat of her heart, blending with her moans as he began to make love to her beneath the stars.
After he opened her parka, he slid a gloved hand beneath her sweater to caress her breasts. Her body involuntarily jerked. The gloves were chilly and a little rough, and had surprised her. After a moment, she let herself relax into the different feel of Fisher's leather gloves caressing and plucking her nipples.
Heat gathered deep in her pussy, and she pressed against him, chasing her growing arousal. She tore his jacket open then reached for his belt buckle.
He rose above her, kneeling within the cradle of her legs, and leisurely tugged off one glove, then the other. "I want to love you, baby. All night long."
His husky murmur sent the blood shivering through her veins. Her pulse hammered, beating a vibrant tattoo in her ears. She quivered with passion, yearning for him. Her quivering fingers couldn't pull the thick leather belt out of its loops, couldn't unsnap his jeans. Smiling, he helped, unbuttoning so his erect rod thrust out of the opened fly. Otherwise he remained clothed and reached for her pants, unzipping and easing them down so he could reach her cunt.
She chuckled. "I bet you did a lot of this in high school."
"Yeah, we became experts at clothes-on screwing." She could hear the smile in his voice. "It gets mighty cold around here, but no one wanted to go without sex through the winter."
He bent toward her again to kiss her wantonly, with total sensual abandon. She closed her eyes, letting each thrust of his tongue drive her higher and higher. He settled his long, whipcord body against hers, and she reveled in his masculine solidity. She slid her hands along his body then wrapped her hand around his hard, ready cock.
***
There's more where that came from, and here's where you'll find it:
February 18, 2012
***Who won? The blog hop prize winners are…
The Valentine Day blog hop is officially over and Tammi won the grand prize of a $60 gift certificate. Joanne won one of my ebooks and she chose The Wilder Brother. Good choice! If any of you want to read it also, it's everywhere ebooks are sold. And it's also available in print.
Here's the blurb:
The Wilder Brother, contemporary erotic romance from Ellora's Cave. Available in both print and ebook.
For Colton Wilder, the invitation to his brother's wedding is an invitation to trouble because Colt, having boinked the bride, knows what she's really like. He doesn't want his brother Max marrying selfish, manipulative Nicole Newcombe, a famous supermodel. In his view, Nicole stole the groom from her sister Dana.
For staid scientist Dana Newcombe, the invitation to her identical twin's wedding is an invitation to humiliation. For while Nicole was conniving to steal Max away from Dana, Dana had wild monkey sex in a glass-walled elevator with his brother Colt.
When they meet again at the wedding, she doesn't want to want Colt, but she can't help remembering and re-enacting their earlier sexy tryst in oh so many different ways.
***
Here are some reviews:
Rating: 5 hearts: excellent…playful…fast-paced and humorous. The sexual activity is very explicit but not offensive… I heartily recommend this book…different from the norm…
Brenda Talley, The Romance Studio
Rating: 5 stars: An extremely entertaining page-turner…Storytelling at its best!
Mahaira Fatima, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
Rating: 4 angels: an enchanting tale of love… The sexual chemistry between Dana and Colton is explosive while they are able to connect with one another on a deeply emotional level…
Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews
***
And a buy link:
http://www.jasminejade.com/m-251-suz-...
**Another fab Cat Cavendish novel: The Demons of Cambian Street
Deliciously creepy–not to be missed!
Here's the blurb:
Sometimes evil wears a beautiful face…
After her illness, the quiet backwater of Priory St Michael seemed the ideal place for Stella to recuperate. But in the peaceful little town, something evil is slumbering, waiting for its chance to possess what it desires. When Stella and her husband move into the long-empty apartment, they're unaware of what exists in the cupboard upstairs, the entrance to an evil that will threaten both their lives…
Buy it here:
http://www.amazon.com/Demons-Cambian-...
February 14, 2012
***I'm a guest blogger!***
I'm at the blog of the brilliant Catherine Cavendish today, with a hot excerpt from Devere's Ward.
http://www.catherinecavendish.com/2012/02/rip-roaring-regency-romance-from-sue.html
February 12, 2012
***A Valentine's Day Sunday Snog***
Today there's a special Sunday snog–the Big Blisse Kiss, a giant blog tour organized by Victoria Blisse.
If you go to http://blissekiss.co.uk you'll find a looooong list of participating authors, all of whom are offering gifts to some lucky reader. All you need to do to get one of my ebooks is to comment on this post, and in a week I'll go to random.com or some other web selection mechanism, which will make the choice for me.
And now here it is: A special V-Day Sunday snog. Because it's for V-Day, it's a little more than a snog 
From Highland Vampire, contemporary paranormal erotica:
I ate, bathed and went to bed, and by the time dawn rolled around was wondering if perhaps my family was right, and I was crazy.
I'd become convinced that Castle Kilburn was haunted.
Oh, nothing dramatic had happened. No clanking chains, moans or screams in the night, but a pervasive sense of being watched. Unnerving, especially in the shower, though I'd convinced myself by the time I climbed into bed that I was imagining things, dark visions born of my flight and my plight.
A luxurious canopied creation draped in ruby-red velvet, richly pillowed and comfy with very soft, well-worn linens, the bed itself was conducive to dreams of the most sensual sort. Maybe my fantasies were the result of meeting Garrett Kilburn, but as I lay in bed, my mind had drifted…
Was I awake or asleep?
Cool air washed over me, as though he'd torn away my sheet. I felt the scratchiness of his sweater on my breasts, his stubble on my throat.
I couldn't see him—it was dark within the red canopied bed, but I was sure it was Garrett. My lover smelled like the Highlands and pipe tobacco.
I pulled off the sweater, tugging to get it over his head, and ran my hands over his face, reading his features with my fingertips. We kissed, a sweet melding of mouths. Light fingernails scrabbled down my sides, and, moaning, I moistened with delighted anticipation.
One cool hand slid between my thighs while he cupped my breast with the other. I opened my legs, and he went for my pussy, separating the folds with his clever fingers, caressing my clit as he thrust his tongue in and out of my mouth,
I undulated, my body writhing against his, and stroked down his back, reaching for his firm ass. His flesh was hard with muscle, cool as though he'd been outdoors, dry. He pulled his lips from mine to nibble my neck, lick the spot he'd bitten, then traced my collarbone with his tongue. He stopped to rim my nipples, nuzzle my tits and rub his face on my belly. I liked the direction he was going, and moaned with approval and longing, running my fingers through his hair.
He used his body to part my legs, then slid lower so he could nibble on my thighs. He spread me open with firm palms and tasted me. A sultry heat flowed through my body, but I wanted more. I set my feet on his shoulders and pushed my hips forward so his tongue pressed against my clit.
He sucked hard and I let out a startled little shriek. He stopped eating me and gave a low laugh. A long, cool finger tested my wetness, my readiness. Another entered alongside, stretching me.
"Yessss…" I sighed….
(there's more where that came from but it gets pretty graphic here, and kids have access to this blog, soo….you'll have to buy the book to read the really sexy parts!) And then:
I awoke at dawn, disconcerted by what had happened, and wondering how I could face Garrett. I pulled the hangings aside and got out of the cozy bed, shivering. The slate floor was chill on my bare feet as I dashed into the adjoining bathroom. Flicking on the light, I stared at my body, examining it for signs of Garrett's intense loving.
But I saw nothing. No scratches on my breasts or thighs, which surprised me. I have sensitive skin and I expected to see beardburn from Garrett's stubble.
But there was not a single mark on my body save for two tiny wounds in my neck. Odd. And there was no sign of Garrett in the bright morning light…
Is he or isn't he? Read the story to find out for sure.
February 11, 2012
Touting my friend's book–The Playgroup by Janey Fraser
I met the wonderful Janey Fraser (aka Sophie King) at the Women's Fiction Festival in Matera last year. Four of us–Beth Barany, a book promoter, my traveling companion Laura Mills, Janey and I shared several wonderful dinners together. At the time, another of Jane's books was on the Italian bestseller list, which she was incredibly modest about. I would have been jumping up and down and freaking out all over everyone had that happened to me.
She's got another book out–in English this time–and her launch party is on Monday at The Players' Rehearsal & Club Rooms Basement, 10 Craven Street WC2N 5PE in London from 6pm – 8pm.
People have been saying wonderful things about The Playgroup:
Fay Weldon said: I read it without stopping all the way home. Sincerely meant. Rings true, and homey. Unputdownable.
From Katie Fforde: A must read for anyone who has small children or knows them. Hugely enjoyable.
A lovely book. I really, really enjoyed it. It has a sparkle, a lightness of touch and a deep, true charm. Written from the heart. (Elizabeth Buchan)
Just coming to the end of The Playgroup and loved it. Terrific story and enormous fun. Also the characters were all great. (Judy Astley)
From Trisha Astley: Warmly and engagingly written and with an engaging cast of characters, The Playgroup captivated me from the very first page.
Here's an excerpt:
from CHAPTER 1
'Mrs Merryfield, Mrs Merryfield. We went to More-ishus. And it rained.'
'Hi, Gemma! Nice tan! Listen, I'm pretty certain Molly is dry now but just in case she's not, there's a spare pair of pants in her sandwich box. That's the one with the picture of a giraffe on it – sorry I didn't have time to label it.'
'Morning, Miss Merryfield. Had a good break? Darren, have you said hello to your playgroup leader?'
'Gemma, I'm so sorry. But we've just had Beth checked again and it turns out she's allergic to wheat as well as salt, sugar, any kind of additives and – get this – any food that's yellow. Weird, isn't it? So can you make sure she doesn't have any biscuits at breaktime?'
The stream of traffic on the first day of term was always hectic with the children running up to swing on her arms, wrap their small, warm bodies round her legs, bobbing up and down, unable to stand still for a second and announcing in breathy excited voices exactly what they'd been up to in the holidays. It was like lots of different hands playing piano notes at the same time.
The parents too would understandably want to chat, some calling her Gemma because they felt they knew her while others preferred a more formal address. As for the children, well, she'd given up explaining that she was a Miss. In their minds, any woman like their mum had to have a Mrs in front of their name.
Yes! You got a real mixture of tiny feet and parents here at Puddleducks Playgroup. For a start, there was Darren's mum squatting down by the playdough table to settle in her three year old, who was nervous about coming back after a whole summer off.
Then there were mums like Kyle's who arrived in skinny tops and casual jogging bottoms (so casual that they looked as though they'd just rolled out of bed and were going back to watch daytime tv) and just waved goodbye to their children without a second glance. Kyle's mother always dressed her son in a skimpy Power Rangers t-shirt, winter and summer even though Gemma kept asking her to bring in something warmer. It had got to the point now when she just lent Kyle something from the Lost Property box when his arms went blue.
And of course there were the one-offs like Clemmie's mum, who used to be a model, and arrived every day in beautifully cut trousers, earrings and flawless foundation complete with lip liner. 'Don't forget your handbag, Clemmie darling. It's got your oatmeal snack in it so we can keep an eye on those naughty calories.'
Some parents – although they had grandparents on the playgroup run too – came from the council flats down by the bottom end of the canal. A good smattering came from the smart houses up at the top end where house prices had been known to go into seven figures. There were also a lot of in-betweeners from roads where you could park your car in the drive and those where you couldn't. It was a testament to Puddleducks that families who could have afforded to go private, were actually keen to send their under-fives to a state playgroup like this one.
Mind you, there were times when she felt she did run a private one- to- one service.
'I'm reely sorry to bother you, Gemma. But Mikey's lost his favourite sweat shirt and we think he might have left it behind here last term. Could you have a look for it when you have a second? You can't miss it. It says 'Granny went to Adelaide and came back with a new Grandad.' Not very funny, actually, under the circumstances but I'll tell you about that one later.'
'Miss Merryfield? Could I have a word? Poppy is rather upset because she only got three gold stars at the end of last term for her letter outlines and Alex got four even though Poppy can do lovely p's and q's whereas Alex, I couldn't help noticing from his work sheet over there, still gets his 'b's back to front. We did a teeny bit of practice during the holidays. So I wondered if you could bear this in mind because it does make a difference to her confidence, don't you think?'
'Morning, Mrs Mayfold. Did you have a good holiday? Lucky you, having eight whole weeks off.'
Merryfield, she tried to say to Sienna's mum who was always getting her name wrong, partly because she usually conducted a conversation while checking her iPhone for emails at the same time. As for the long holidays, like most teachers, Gemma was used to digs like that. She'd actually spent quite a lot of time preparing for the new term. Besides, as Miriam had warned her before going on maternity leave, you couldn't win with Sienna's mum who always criticised everything. She was already complaining about someone's parking outside to the father behind her.
Gemma's eyes softened. She liked Toby's dad although he was married so of course, she didn't like him that way. No, it was because he was one of that increasingly common breed of fathers who looked after their children while their wives went out to work. It wasn't, they had both told her confidentially, at the last parents' evening, what they had intended but redundancy and the cost of child care had made it work out that way and actually it was panning out quite nicely because it meant he had more time to be with the children.
'Sorry to bother you.' Toby's dad, always polite, was pushing a packet of tablets into her hand. 'It's the last of Toby's antibiotic course. It was just a chesty bug and he's not infectious any more but he does keep making some rather bad smells because of the medicine and …'
There was a squeal behind him. 'Chesty bug? Are children allowed into playgroup if they're sick?'
Gemma's heart sank. When it came to going back to playgroup after an illness, there was always a fine line between 'almost better' and 'completely better'. The mother who had squealed, in what sounded like an American twang, was new. Poor thing. She'd need reassuring.
'Have you got a letter from the doctor to say that he is fit for playgroup?' Gemma smiled apologetically. 'You might remember that we need that now.'
Toby's father nodded enthusiastically, delving into his jeans pocket and bringing out a scruffy envelope along with a nappy wipe, a black dog poo bag (clean), a tissue (not so clean). and a smattering of small change which then scattered all over the floor.
'Oh my word!' The alarm was evident in the twang. 'Danny might try to eat those coins. He's always putting things in his mouth.'
Danny! It was coming together now. This was the American mother who had already rung her twice with all kinds of questions. Were the Puddleduck sweat shirts optional because polyester made Danny's skin itch? Did the staff ratio conform to the current guidelines here in the UK?
'Please don't worry, Mrs Wright,' soothed Gemma looking past her to where Danny had already shot off to the Messy Corner where one of her helpers was introducing the new intake to the joys of splashing in bowls of soapy water and measuring containers.
The painfully-skinny woman with the short, spikey haircut and a worry-groove on her forehead, frowned. 'It's Carter Wright without a hypen. Not just Wright.'
'Sorry.' Gemma smiled, mentally kicking herself for not having memorised the register properly. 'I do understand it's difficult leaving your son for the first time. All our parents find that at first. But we do take great care of the children. I promise.'
Toby's dad, bless him, was nodding enthusiastically. 'Honest. Toby's our baby and I didn't know what to do with myself when he started here – only two and a half, he was - so we got a dog. I know, crazy isn't it. By the way, congratulations.'
Gemma's heart threatened to stop. 'I'm sorry?'
'Congratulations!' repeated Toby's dad, beaming. 'I gather you're our new pre-school leader while Miriam is on maternity leave. What did she have?'
Gemma's heart began beating again. 'A boy. Nicolas. That's Nicolas without an 'h'.'
'Great news! Did you hear that everyone? Miriam had a healthy baby boy! We ought to rustle up a parent collection.'
Gemma watched Toby's dad springing into action and already wheedling donations from some of the other parents as they finally drifted out of the exit door, through the enclosed outdoor play area and on with their own lives until 11.30 pick up time. Some of them were, at the same time, reading spare copies of the playgroup newsletter she'd brought in. Miriam had said that was a great idea although at the moment, Miriam thought everything was a good idea apart from giving birth again!
Trailing behind them was the American mother with the spikey haircut, reluctantly looking back at her son who was now blowing bubbles. 'You don't think he'll try to eat that stuff, do you?' she asked Gemma plaintively.
It was all she could do not to give the poor woman a hug. 'He'll be fine. Please don't worry. We'll take good care of him.'
'DON'T WANT TO STAY ! DON'T WANT TO STAY!'
Oh dear. By the door was a screaming human tourniquet of Gap meets Boden as Daisy, who had just been presented with twin baby sisters, entwined herself around her mother's legs. The American woman gave her a look that said 'Is this what they do when we're not here?' and headed back, head bowed towards the car park.
'She's been really clingy ever since these two came along.' Daisy's mother's watery brown eyes appealed to her. 'I can't leave her like this!'
Gemma could have said the usual stuff about not worrying because most children stopped crying once their mothers had gone. But she also knew that if she was a mother herself, that wouldn't really help.
So instead she had another trick up her sleeve.
'Daisy?'
Gemma pretended to be surprised by the voice which came from the back of her throat so that her lips hardly moved. It was an action she'd been working on over the summer, much to her landlady's amusement.
'Daisy? It's me. Mouse.'
Daisy opened her eyes a fraction as Gemma knelt down with her hand inside the hand puppet made out of an oven glove, felt scraps and sequins. Mouse was the class' favourite toy! When they had 'Quiet Talk Time', during which the children would sit in a circle and take it in turns to say something about the day, it was tradition that Mouse would be passed around at the same time and they were only allowed to talk if they were holding him. It worked brilliantly in stopping other children – even Billy – from interrupting another.
Animal distraction had been a trick that her grandmother had taught her. 'Give them something to look after, dear, and they forget getting upset about themselves.'
So far, it hadn't failed to work.
'Hello, Daisy.' Gemma crouched down so she was on the same level. 'I wonder if you can help me. There's something very tiny inside my pocket and it's trying to get out.'
The yelling got louder. Daisy's puce face was now firmly buried into her mother's feet so she was in danger of falling over, complete with twin slings.
'Oh no!' Gemma somehow managed to make her voice loudly authoritative and yet calm at the same time. 'Mouse says he's got a terrible headache from all this noise. He wants you to stop and see what he's been getting up to in the holidays.'
Slowly, she pulled out the felt finger mouse she had made: a smaller version of the glove puppet made from fabric remnants sold by the craft shop on the high street. Bending her finger up and down to indicate distress, she made whining noises so it seemed that miniature mouse, with his red sequinned eyes, was crying. Daisy lifted her head very slightly in concern.
'It's Mouse's new baby and it's his first day at Puddleducks Playgroup,' explained Gemma. ' Poor baby mouse is feeling a bit scared and wants you to help him make a pasta calendar with the rest of us or may be some leaf printing . By the way, he says he loves your daisy tights!'
There was a sudden knock on her shoulder. Ouch! 'Me! I want to hold Mouse. Me. Me.'
Gemma liked to think of herself as a patient teacher but Billy would have tested the fortitude of St Trinian. Last term, she'd had to see his parents again when Billy had given another child an impromptu bowl-shape hair cut with the aid of a plastic Christmas pudding dish from the play box and a pair of so-called safety cutting scissors.
'You can hold another baby mouse,' said Gemma, delving in her other pocket for the spare she'd made in case this happened. Daisy had stopped crying now and was tenderly stroking Mouse's whiskers which were loosely sewn on with large tacking stitches in brown thread. Sewing had never been one of Gemma's strong points.
'No!' Billy had grabbed a plastic hammer from the toy tool box now and was banging it against the wendy house with huge, angry thwacks. 'I want the big proper Mouse.' He pointed to Daisy's. 'Not this stupid one.'
If Billy's mother hadn't already dumped him and left in indecent haste without even an anorak for break time, she might have felt tempted to have called her back.
'Tell you what, Billy,' said Gemma suddenly. 'Remember how you promised not to cut anyone's hair any more?'Billy's hammer banging intensified and was now to the count of four instead of two. 'Supposing I said you could give Mouse a trim?'
'Wot ?'
For a four year old, his tone of voice was more suited to one of those rough police dramas in which her friend Kitty had once been an extra as a singer in a sleezy nightclub. 'Well, maybe after Music Mania, I could show you how to tidy up Mouse's whiskers. We might make him a new outfit too.'
Billy was very keen on dressing dolls, something that his dad, a 6ft 2in builder, had raised at the last parents' evening.
'All roight then.'
Fantastic! She hadn't expected him to cave in quite so fast.
'Would someone please take that child's batteries out!' said a voice behind her with a definite fed-up edge. It was Bella, her young assistant who was, as usual, dressed in clothes more suited to a catwalk than a playgroup with those high heels and skinny short stretchy black skirt that had attracted the eye of that Scandinavian au pair. 'By the way,' sniffed Bella, checking her register, 'everyone's here apart from someone called Lily without a surname. She's one of the new ones, isn't she?'
Gemma tried to sound normal but Beryl, the headmistress' words were still ringing round her head from their meeting last term 'There's something very important I need to tell you. It's about one of the new children who will be starting in September'.
'Yes, she is. Maybe she's not coming. I gather there was a bit of a question mark over her.'
Bella's voice had an irritated click in it that matched the sound of her smart red kitten heels which had, she'd informed Gemma earlier, cost her nearly a month's wages. 'Well if there was any doubt, she ought to have given up her place. There are enough people on the waiting list.'
'Actually,' said Gemma in a low voice, 'there aren't. Not now. Beryl says that the Ofsted report on the main school, has put parents off sending their children to Puddleducks.'
Bella's beautifully- threaded eyebrows rose in consternation. 'But that's outrageous.'
'I know.' Gemma glanced up to check that Jean had sat all the children round in a circle with their various tambourines and shakers made out of plastic washing up bottles and beans, ready for Music Mania. 'So we have to prove that we're the best playgroup in the area if we want to keep going.'
'It's that serious?'
She nodded. 'There's something else too.'
But before she could say anything, there was a ping, indicating that someone was at the door. She'd been waiting for this! 'I'll go,' said Gemma leaping up, her heart thudding in her throat.
This was ridiculous, just as she had told Beryl. She treated all the children the same, whatever their backgrounds. Even so…
'Miss Merryfield?'
She nodded, transfixed by the husky voice that was coming out from this tall, elegant, wafer thin vision in sparkly jeans, black satin jacket that looked more like a man's DJ and beautiful, soft-looking pale pink cashmere scarf that was entwined round the woman's neck, partly shrouding what little face there was on show thanks to the huge dark sunglasses which were so shiny that they reflected back Gemma's startled expression. There was also the overpowering smell of the woman's trademark perfume that she'd read about in Kitty's well-thumbed copies of OK and Hello.
'This is Lily.'
Only then, to her shame, did Gemma glance down at the small girl who was standing between them. Her mother's beautiful pale white hands were on her shoulders; the two of them looked like flowers in a vase, one tall and the other short but each a mirror image of the other. The child had the same chalky white complexion but it was one which seemed effortlessly beautiful like a fine china. In contrast, her dark straight hair, cut in a precise bob, made her startling bright blue eyes appear like a Siamese kitten's.
'Be good.' For a minute, the stranger's gravelly yet somehow feminine voice was so bewitching that Gemma almost thought she was addressing her. 'Someone will be here at lunchtime to pick you up.'
The beautiful woman glanced at her. 'I won't be here in person very often.. You understand, don't you?'
Gemma nodded. My boss has already explained, she tried to say but too late. The woman had slipped out and in the distance, she could see a huge, black, highly polished car waiting. Gently, she bent down towards Lily. 'Do you like music like your mummy?'
The little girl nodded.
' We've got a xylophone over here. Shall I show you?'
They turned round and almost went smack into Bella who had come up to see what was happening. 'Was that who I think it was?' she breathed, glancing out of the window at the blacked out limo pulling away.
'Shhh,' said Gemma fiercely. No one, her grandmother used to say, was more placid than Gemma except when it came to defending others. 'You can't tell anyone. Or else we'll all be out of our jobs. Even more important, we could be putting this child's safety at risk. And no, I'm sorry. I can't tell you why.'
***
Who knew so much could go on in a toddler playgroup?
If you want to read more, buy the book It's at: http://www.amazon.com/Playgroup-Janey-Fraser/dp/009955819X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1328987499&sr=1-1
And check out Janey's site: www.janeyfraser.co.uk
October 27, 2011
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