While I wait for the edits for number 10 in the Jordan Carr series, I’m having a bit of a faff about doing something different. It might well come to nothing, but – who knows.
This is some of todays effort. If nothing else I’m enjoying writing it and surely that’s the point.
‘The sound of footsteps behind her was quiet. So quiet that she wasn’t sure how long they had been there. She moved over from the middle of the road and pulled her hood closer. She didn’t want to meet anyone. As she walked on, she began to feel uneasy. Why didn’t they come past? She slowed a little more and pulled out her phone. She unlocked it and made it obvious in her hand. Still, no-one passed. She knew that the thing you shouldn’t do was to turn and look. The company had put on self-defence classes, and it had been drummed into them. Don’t let your nerves show. Keep your shoulders back and your pace regular and confident. Ha, easy to say in a nice, warm meeting room. Her throat had dried and her heart had begun to pound. She had walked this lane often when she was younger, all seasons, and at all times of the day, but that had been then, this was now, and nerves had come with age and sense.
The main road was still a few minutes walk away. She wanted to run, she mustn’t run. She wanted to turn and face them down. She shouldn’t do that. She might look ridiculous.’
It has been an odd year up to now and I’ll be glad to see the back of January in many ways and sad in others. One thing was that I finished the Jordan Carr Book 10 and submitted it. I am now waiting with fingers crossed to hear back from my new publishers. As always as soon as I pressed the button, I just knew that the thing was a load of old codswallop – but it’s gone and I can do nothing more for now.
Because of other stuff going on I am not actually working to full capacity on my writing but I have sort of made a bit of a start, not even a full chapter yet but I get twitchy if I don’t keep my fingers twiddly. It’s different and it may well fizzle into nothing but again, we will just wait and see.
It doesn’t have a title and though I have an idea where it will go – you just never know. Working title is Motorway Thing – catchy huh.
It had rained for the whole journey. Spray from the wheels of lorries and buses on the motorway had fogged the windscreen, and the glare of lights was hypnotic. This, coupled with the hiss and rumble of tyres on tarmac, made it difficult for Sylvia to concentrate for all the hours of driving. She had finished the black coffee in her go-cup miles back, and there were no biscuits left in the packet torn open on the seat beside her.
When the sign for the services loomed through the mist, she sighed with relief, and by the time her car reached the slip road, she was desperate for a wee.
First stop was the lavatory, then a takeaway coffee and something to eat. The most important thing was caffeine, and surely there was more in an Americano than there was in a delicious, rich mug of hot chocolate with a great swirl of cream on top and tiny marshmallows. So, sense overcame desire. A hot chicken wrap and an apple pie, the filling lethally hot, and she carried the lot back out to the car.
Colin had offered to come with her, and if they’d been together, they would have eaten inside, people watching together and laughing at what he always referred to as ‘the race’.
He hadn’t really understood when she told him she wanted to make the trip on her own. He said he did, but she could tell by his eyes that he was hurt. No matter, she was doing this on her own terms. She had to.
Back on the road, the satnav said two more hours. Just two. It would be dark by then, dark and probably still raining and definitely still cold. Although she had only come from Somerset and had grinned at the motorway sign pointing to The North, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there had been some sort of boundary. Probably round about Oxford. Accents in the service station were different, and the gentle fold of fields seen through the mist had become, at times, rain-drenched moors, and stone houses in little towns clambered up steep streets.
Back in the car, she pulled her coat closer around her shoulders, turned on the audiobook, and took a minute to refresh and relax. Stephen Fry’s voice was so soothing, and who knew Greek myths could be so fascinating. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and tried to clear away the tension, the apprehension, and the sneaking feeling that she was making a terrible mistake.
It had been a couple of decades since she had been this far from the South. There had been times when guilt and sadness had almost brought her back, but in the end, she had written, called and emailed and said it was enough. Now, though, the company she had worked for since she graduated had been taken over by an international group. They said they wanted her to stay on; they promised promotion, more responsibility, and eventually even a team of her own. She was tempted, of course she was. Isn’t that what it had all been about? The sleepless nights, early mornings, lost weekends and now the rewards were promised. Suddenly, really out of the blue, she wasn’t sure she wanted to work in finance any more. One morning, walking into the office, the new logo proud on the walls and new suits in the lift, she was swept with a feeling of intense sadness and loss.
***
In the meantime my other stuff is still out there and waiting for some love:
I was looking at some old stuff and thought I’d give this a little moment.
The Case of the Fight in the Big Top at Cullompton-on-Rye
Sparkly Sue from Balwhinnnie Worked at the Circus of Light. She mucked out the camels each morning, And danced on the highwire at night. She was gorgeous in flashing suspenders. In diamantes and sequins so gay. At six forty-five every evening, And the pensioners, cheap matinee. Now, Walter, the big top erector, Had a secret inside of his head, He fancied the pants off our Suzie, And wanted to take her to bed. He tried to entice her with flowers. To woo her with chocolates and cake. But Sue was determinedly single. And regarded our Walt as a rake No, no, she would cry with emotion Whenever he leered at her bum. I shall never allow your advances. And what’s more, I’ve told your old mum. But the truth is a little more sordid Than Suzie’s high-flying ideals. She had lusts of her own towards Nigel Who worked in a tank with the Seals. She admired his manly demeanour, His pectorals,’specially when wet. She wanted to be his beloved But hadn’t quite managed it yet. The case reached a nasty conclusion One night in Cullompton-on- Rye When Walter found out about Nigel And gave him a thump in the eye. So whenever you visit the circus And it sweeps you away with delight Remember performers are humans And the magic is only at night.
Before Jordan there was Tanya. Tanya is selfish and snarky, but she is dedicated and cares about justice. The Book Folks have created a lovely box set of all the stories in this series and wrapped them in a lovely new cover. Only 99p for all these words – A bargain. Tadaaaa:
As if it wasn’t enough excitement being publication day for Book 9 of the Jordan Carr series. All his other adventures have lovely new covers. Thank you The Book Folks and Joffee Books.
Diane M Dickson's Stories 
