115. Soulsisters

Photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash

His car had that smell. Old tobacco, men, dogs, vinyl, spilt food. Dina depressed the button to open her window a little, and he immediately pressed the master button to wind it back up.

“My car, my rules,” he said.

“I get a bit car sick when the heating’s on,” Dina said.

He wound down her window just a crack, and turned the heating knob from 24 to 21. “Take off your jacket and your shoes and socks if you feel hot. You’ll get used to it. I like it warm,” he said.

There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t regret marrying him. She imagined how her life would be if she’d kept her shoes on, got out of the car at the traffic lights and just ran. No matter how much she repented, it never got any easier. She convinced herself he was the lesser of two evils. He had wooed her with the promise of a life as his wife, which was supposed to save her from the boredom of looking after her parents. They told him she was a wild cat that needed routine and discipline to tame her. She realised she had made a mistake just a few days into the honeymoon.

He put an app on her phone so he knew where she was every moment of the day, and wrote a shopping list of places to go to and in which order. Drive the car to town. Doctor. Pharmacy. Library. Back to the pharmacy to collect her prescription. £10 to treat herself in the charity shop, but only if he thought she deserved it. Supermarket. Home. At first, he would ring her every 20 minutes, but then, over time, the frequency of calls dropped, until he trusted her enough to do this monthly visit on her own.

The bruises were in places that didn’t show, and he was careful that she was always clean for the Doctor. Not that she was allowed to wear clothes that showed off her shape in any event. He knew what was best. She’d made a vow that her body was his so other men weren’t even allowed to look. He slashed a dentist’s tyres because he put his fingers inside her mouth, so she never went again. Those three hours of freedom every month were the best and worst, but woe betide if the supermarket didn’t have the food he wanted, or she bought something he considered to be slutty from the thrift store.

An unsuitable book fell of the shelf and as she put it back, she noticed the ‘#Ask for Angela’ poster on the library wall. The next thing Dina remembered was that she was sitting on a wooden chair, with the feeling of someone stroking her hair, even though there was no-one else there. She looked at her watch. 11.11am. She still had time. A hushed conversation with the librarian who then rang her friend in the charity shop. Within ten minutes, Dina had a free bag of clothes as a running away kit, and a lift to the train station. On the way there, she threw her phone out of the car window.

In road rage vs truck, the car always loses. Dina read about it in the paper, but she didn’t dare believe it until the police came knocking. She thought they were there to arrest her. Even though she was twenty miles away on a train when he died, Dina knew this was her fault because he’d gone out looking for her.

It took over a year before she was able to sleep again. They say that if you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people over and over again, but she can’t take that chance. Her only ambition left in this world is to be defiant enough to hold someone’s gaze. Like she used to do.

Photo by Reinhart Julian on Unsplash

One Good Turn

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Just a quick one. (A new story is on its way later this week soon) But first…

Remember last year when I said that I’d written a story called ‘Say When’ and it was included in a charity anthology called ‘No Good Deed’? Well, ‘No Good Deed’ is on the shortlist for best anthology in the Saboteur Awards 2020!

Please could I trouble you to spare a few moments and do me a massive favour and vote for ‘No Good Deed’ in the ‘best anthology’ section? If you haven’t already read it, then you’re in for a real treat. The kindle version is a bargain at £2.99, and the paperback is £8.99.

Click here to vote!

Thank you so much.

Buy NO GOOD DEED here

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Sales from this book go to the charity Indigo Volunteers

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Photo by Dhaya Eddine Bentaleb on Unsplash

… then two come along at once

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Listen up guys,

I haven’t been entirely honest with you and I want to come clean.

I didn’t share everything I had.

I kept back some of the good stuff. 

I gave them to other people, and guess what?

They liked them. So much so that a couple of my original stories were chosen for anthologies, and the book launches were coincidentally about a week apart!

Wednesday 30th October 2019. 

Prana Vegan Cafe, Leicester, UK.

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Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash

Brexit had been temporarily banished and Halloween was still too far away to think about. I felt like a comedian given their first 10-minute slot. I spent ages that morning, wringing my hands, choosing which 8-minute segment to read from my story, ‘May Settle in Transit’. I couldn’t do the bit about gentrification, nor the bit about a different coffee shop. They didn’t feel right.

When I had settled on the most perfect chunk of prose, I read it out loud, recorded it, listened back, recorded it again, slowing my speech down, once more with feeling,  enunciated, realised I hated the sound of my own voice and accent, tried not to fidget, remembered to smile, made notes in the book, and then did it again. I think I recorded it about 8 times in total. I wanted to take my time and not rush through to get it over with. I knew I would regret it if I did that. I kept telling myself that this was all practice for when I do my own book tour for my own novel. It’s little steps towards a future goal.

To get me into the zone, I tried listening to Eminem, like Obama used to before he went on stage, but the ‘Villains’ album by Queens of the Stone Age did the trick brilliantly. I went out for a pizza and large glass of Malbec with my super-positive friend for distraction, gossip and support, and continued to practice my deep breathing to calm my nerves.

It had been almost 30 years, since I had spoken in public (with the advance knowledge that I was expected to speak) and reading aloud something I had written heightened the nerves. Why does knowing beforehand make the fear greater? That time around, I was  a singer in a local band, and I now have no idea how the 16-year-old me ever did it. I suppose acting in school plays were still fresh in my mind.

As a local sweet shop got a mention in my story, I bought “a quarter of spice” (100g of boiled sweets – rhubarb and custards) for the audience to pass around.  That morning’s practice helped me to pace myself, and I looked up at the audience every few seconds, how I’ve seen professional public speakers do. To stop myself being overwhelmed, I bought myself time by handing over my business card to anyone who spoke to me. A “thank you” and a smile covered my panic.

My friend said it didn’t look like I was nervous, but I felt it. I think it’s obvious from my social media names I am well aware how my social anxiety manifests itself as uncontrollable babbling.

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(Not actually giant cards, but mini play food)

It felt strange to read out something that was written a year ago, but now may be the first time someone else has heard it. It was great to meet some of the other contributors and hear their stories.  I still have the original flyer seeking contributions.

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Me and the Editor Jon Wilkins 

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Jon organised loads of events around Leicestershire to promote the book during the annual Leicester Literary Festival, ‘Everybody’s Reading’, culminating with this one at De Montfort University, Leicester on 25th February 2020.

You can buy a copy of the anthology, “An Attempt At Exhausting a Place in Leicester” here

Thursday 7th November 2019.

Nomad Books, Fulham Road, London, UK

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The book NO GOOD DEED gets its title from the quote

“No good deed goes unpunished.” Clare Boothe Luce

When I first started this blog, I obviously didn’t have much content to share, so I created a page of quotes I like, called ‘these things I know’, and this one was the first on that list. Fate eh?

So, I now know the London village I want to move to when I win the lottery or have a best seller. I won’t get much change from a million quid though.

I did a recce via Parson’s Green tube to get my bearings a few weeks ago and had a little nosy around Nomad Books. This little indie bookshop has a wonderful vibe. It’s not just the big name bookshops that get the big names. Anthony Horowitz had his launch here this very week!  Their massive children’s section is a great place to hold a book launch.

This was the first time most of us had even seen the book, let along held it, so it was quite a special evening. I wasn’t doing a reading (thank goodness) and my head is still buzzing trying to remember names to faces I know from social media, to bookmark their websites. I could get used to this little world of super-supportive writers, editors, and proofreaders!

No Good Deed is the latest charity anthology by Retreat West Books  The theme for contributions was ‘help’ and  Indigo Volunteers is this book’s chosen charity. £2.99 on kindle or £8.99 in paperback. It makes a great stocking filler!

If you like the direction some of my more recent stories have taken, then I think you would enjoy ‘Say When’. A little bit darker, grittier with hints of past violence…

Amanda Saint – Publisher at Retreat West Books said of my contribution, ‘Say When’

“Very clever twist we didn’t see coming and great distortion of time.”

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Amanda Saint from Retreat West Books and me. Sorry, to Sophie Duffy (my editor) as I unfortunately forgot to take a picture of us two.

‘Say When’ is published in the anthology, ‘No Good Deed’ by Retreat West Books, available here

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*****update*****

You can vote for it here!