Pam Howes's Blog, page 2

A different sort of blog this month. A taster of the next novel in my Rock'n'Roll Romance series. This is the fourth story about The Raiders and their lives and loves. Why - "Not Fade Away" - as a title? Well I thought it appropriate as The Raiders are now clocking age sixty but still touring and recording. Like The Rolling Stones and Eagles, they'll carry on until they get carted off to Rock'n'Roll heaven. Old musos who enjoy what they do, never fade away. The song was written by Buddy Holly, you'll see it credited to Charles Hardin and N. Petty. Charles was, of course, Buddy's real name and Norman Petty was his producer at the time at the Clovis Studios in New Mexico. The Crickets and Buddy recorded a classic album in 1957 called "The Chirping Crickets". The song, with its Bo Diddley beat, featured on this album, along with other golden tracks; "That'll be The Day" and "Oh Boy". Then along came The Rolling Stones who, of course, had a major hit with it in 1964. But for me, Buddy's is the greatest, and the book will be dedicated to his memory. Below is the first chapter. Please let me know what you think. All comments are welcome as we're in first draft early stages and nothing's yet set in stone.

NOT FADE AWAY

PROLOGUE

   When Roy Cantello, lead singer with chart-topping band The Raiders, had an affair with Livvy Grant, a young singer half his age, it was to change his and wife Sammy's lives forever. Roy fathered a daughter. Livvy handed baby Harley to he and Sammy to bring up as their own and then vanished from their lives, only to reappear when Harley was sixteen. Roy became reinvolved with Livvy and when she claimed to be pregnant again with his child, Sammy divorced him. The child wasn't Roy's, but the son of Livvy's late husband. Roy has raised Danny as his own. He and Livvy had a son the following year but their relationship didn't work out. Roy remarried his wife Sammy six months ago and shares joint custody of the two little boys with Livvy. Everything is now warm and cosy in Roy's world, but not for long…

CHAPTER ONE

ABBOTT'S EDGE, CHESHIRE MAY 2005

Roy swatted a wasp from the neck of his lager bottle and pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head. 'Bloody nuisance,' he muttered, wafting after the wasp with his newspaper. 'Bit of sun and they come out in swarms.'

'A single wasp's hardly a swarm,' his wife, Sammy said. She stopped watering the patio planters as the wasp buzzed angrily around his head. She batted it away and it flew round to the front of him.

'See, there's another one!'  

She shook her head, laughing. 'It's the same one, you dope! You're turning into a right grumpy old sod, Cantello! And besides, wasps don't swarm. It's bees that swarm.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'Aren't you the clever one?' He smacked her playfully on the backside. 'And less of the old, you. And I'm not grumpy. Don't you remember how I nearly swallowed a wasp once when I was abroad with the band? The little bugger got into my can. Next thing I knew it's stinging my bloody tongue and I couldn't sing that night. I could have swallowed it. Might have proved fatal.'

Sammy sat down on a lounger beside him. 'Yes, but it didn't and you're still here to tell the tale! Did you get the barbecue out of the garage? Was there any gas in the can?'  

'Yep. I'll switch it on in a minute. They'll be getting hungry. I promised them hotdogs.' He dropped his glasses back down his nose and looked across the well-tended garden to the play area where RJ and Danny were in the sandpit, squabbling over whose turn it was to play with the digger. Never in his wildest dreams did he envisage having two under fours at the age of sixty-one. Running around after them kept him fit though. He looked at Sammy who was watching the boys closely. He knew what she was thinking; well at least he thought he did. She glanced at him and he reached for her hand and squeezed it. She had a nostalgic look on her face and sadness in her eyes. He swallowed hard, wished he could make it go away permanently. But it would take time, maybe the rest of his life. He'd never give up trying to make amends though. Sammy was his world. He'd love her forever.    

'Wish we could go back in time,' she said wistfully.

'Me too,' he said. 'But you're happy, aren't you, Sam? I mean, with what we've got now. There's nowhere on earth I'd rather be than with you in this place.'

'And me too, but don't you think it's a bit too small when we have the boys to stay? I really wish now that I'd hung on to Jasmine House.' She was referring to their old Edwardian home. 'I miss all those spacious rooms and the huge garden. This place was supposed to be for my retirement. It's not big enough for a family. We can't stay here when the boys get older. We'll have to buy another house.'    

'We'll see. Here's Harley.' He waved at his daughter who emerged from the French doors and joined them on the sun-loungers. 'How did the scan go, sweetheart?'  

'Great,' Harley said. 'Everything's on track. Ten more weeks.'  She rubbed her very pregnant belly. 'I'll never get up off this lounger. You're gonna have to get a crane.'

'Still only two in there?' he teased.  

'Dad!' She laughed. 'Idiot. There's hardly room for two never mind more.'

'We'll definitely need more space when the babies arrive,' Sammy said. 'Perhaps we should see about building an extension.'

'Maybe.' Roy lit a cigarette, ignoring Harley and Sammy's disapproving looks. Too late to stop now. He'd tried, half-heartedly, a couple of times, but life was too stressful and he needed his fags. He didn't smoke indoors anymore, so that was an improvement. He closed his eyes and thought about the birthday surprise he'd be springing on Sammy in a couple of months. Unbeknown to her, he'd bought back her beloved Jasmine House from the boy band she'd sold it to following their divorce. It was in the throes of a complete makeover courtesy of their interior designer son. Roy had instructed him to spare no expense. It had to be perfect. Sammy wasn't that happy at turning sixty. He thought buying their old home might soften the blow. Hopefully they'd recapture some more of the magic they'd lost. He felt happier now than he'd felt in a long time. He wanted to make sure she did too. A feeling of contentment washed over him. A feeling he was getting used to. Life was pretty sweet and about to get even better. So much to look forward to. His new grandchildren and the house. He finished his cigarette. 'I'll start the barbeque and …' he stopped as the telephone rang out in the kitchen. Bloody phone, always disturbing his peace. Harley struggled to her feet, announcing that she needed the loo and would answer the phone.

 Roy stood up. The boys were getting noisier and a loud squeal made him jump. 'RJ, don't pull Danny's hair like that,' he shouted. 'Naughty boy. Come here, Dan.'

'Daddy,' Danny yelled as he ran to Roy who caught hold of him and sat back down with him on his knee. He stroked his blonde curls and wiped his blue eyes with a tissue. He loved the little boy as though he were his own flesh and blood. He looked up as Harley returned.

'It was Livvy,' she said. 'Tour's finished. She got an earlier fight from the States and she's getting the shuttle from Heathrow. She'll pick the boys up at seven.'  

'Bloody hell,' Roy said. 'That's all we need.'   

'She never thinks,' Sammy tutted. 'Why can't she wait until tomorrow and we'll take them home ourselves like we arranged? I hate her coming here. Sorry, love, I know she's your real mother, but…'

'Mum, it's okay, I understand,' Harley said.

'What time is it now?' Roy asked.

'Five-thirty,' Sammy said. 'Doesn't give us much time to get organised. Forget the barbecue. Make them beans on toast, Roy. I'm getting in the bath. No way is she seeing me in shorts and a scruffy top!'

Roy shook his head as she hurried away. Scruffy top? Sammy never looked anything but immaculate. 'For God's sake. I could throttle Livvy at times,' he said to Harley. 'She's a bloody nuisance, swapping arrangements without warning. She knows damn well that Sammy doesn't like her coming here.'    

***

Sammy pulled the curtains across and lay down on the big brass bed while the bath filled. She stared up at the beamed ceiling, smiling as a little spider spun an intricate web just above the window. He'd have to go before bedtime, but for now she'd leave him in peace. She could feel a headache starting. Probably tension, she thought. Hardly surprising with her nemesis dropping in later. She turned as Roy came into the room.

'You okay, darling? You look pale.'

'Bit tired,' she said. 'And annoyed.'

He bent to kiss her. 'I'm sorry she's messed up our last night with the boys.'

She sighed. 'Go and see to their tea. I'll be down as soon as I'm ready.

She closed her eyes, but found it impossible to switch off. A nice soak would work wonders, she hoped. There was no way she was greeting Livvy without full makeup, freshly-washed hair and figure-hugging clothes. That was one thing she still had in her favour - her slim waistline and long, slender legs. Roy was always telling her she looked wonderful for an old bird, cheeky sod that he was!

***

Sammy lay back in the bubbles and closed her eyes. Bliss. She could hear the boys jabbering as they came upstairs. She heard Harley chastising RJ. With his thick dark hair and big brown eyes he was the spit of Roy and Harley, but a right little devil at times.

'See you later, Mum. I'm off out soon,' Harley called. 'Sorry I can't stay until Livvy arrives, but I'd already made arrangements. Tell her I'll catch up with her tomorrow.'

'Okay, sweetheart.' She wished Harley could stay. She always managed to diffuse any tense situation when her birth mother was around.

Sammy didn't mind Roy sharing joint custody of the boys with Livvy. Even though Danny was not his flesh and blood, she and Roy had formed a bond with the little lad. He had a sweet and gentle nature. Livvy had reappeared in their lives when Harley was sixteen. Roy became re-involved and when Sammy discovered Livvy was pregnant again, she'd called time on their marriage, even though it wasn't really what Roy wanted. A few months after their divorce she realised her mistake, in spite of all the pain and betrayal, she was still in love with him and he with her. Roy begged her forgiveness and they'd remarried. This time it was for keeps, she was determined. She knew Livvy still had a hold over him with their children. But there was no way she was getting her hands on him again. She climbed out of the bath and wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel, ready for a pampering session that would keep Roy's eyes glued to her, and her alone.

***

'Right, boys, sit on the sofa and wait quietly for Mummy,' Roy said as RJ sucked his thumb and twiddled the ear of his bunny. Danny yawned and rubbed his eyes, snuggling into the favourite old blanket he always took to bed with him.

The lounge door opened and Sammy walked in, flicking her long, light brown hair back over her shoulders. She perched on the arm of the sofa and he stood in front of her. He felt an instant twitch as he gazed down into cool blue eyes that held a wicked twinkle. She could still turn him on and she knew it. 'Wow! Looking good, Mrs C.' He pulled her up and into his arms, pressing against her. 

He loved the way her tight black jeans sat neatly on her slim hips. He ran his hands over her firm backside, clutching her closer. Her cream silk sweater, with the wide neckline, slid off one slender shoulder as he held her. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the seductive scent of her perfume. He wished he could drag her back up the stairs right now and shag the arse off her.

'Just a little something I threw together,' she whispered, running her hands through his hair.   

'You know, Sam, for a woman clocking sixty, you look terrific. I'm so proud to be seen with you. I love you.'

'I love you, too,' she said, pulling him onto the sofa. 'But don't get any ideas before she arrives. It's taken me ages to get ready. You can save it 'til later.'

'Just one kiss to keep me going,' he said, leaning in.

'Roy!' Sammy nodded at the boys who both had their eyes shut now. 'Oh, look, poor little things. They're asleep already. They should be in bed.'

'Might as well have that kiss then. Promise not to mess your hair up.'

She smiled and moved into his arms.

He kissed her and squeezed her and thought about how thrilled she'd be when he told her he'd bought back Jasmine House. He couldn't wait to have long, loving nights in their old bedroom; to share the new Jacuzzi bath with her, as they'd done so many times in the past, with an accompanying bottle of wine. Here at the cottage there was no Jacuzzi and the bathroom, tucked under the thatched eaves, had such a small bath and at over six-foot tall he was hard pushed to lay full length in it, never mind share.     

'What are you grinning at?' Sammy said.

'Oh, you know. Just thinking about later,' he said, winking at her. He looked at the clock. It was now seven-thirty. Typical of Livvy that she didn't think to call and let them know she was running late.

'Wish she'd hurry up,' Sammy said. 'I feel all churned up inside.'

'I know,' Roy said. 'Me too.' The doorbell rang. He got up to answer, and let in Livvy and a tall grey-haired, denim clad man, wearing a Stetson and a big friendly smile. 'Come on in. The kids are asleep. Pity you couldn't leave them until tomorrow.'

Livvy shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. 'I want them home tonight. I've not seen them for four weeks. You remember Hank, my drummer.'

'I do,' Roy said, shaking Hank's outstretched hand. 'How you doing, mate?'

'Howdy,' Hank replied. 'I'm doing good thanks, Roy, and you?'

'Okay,' Roy nodded. 'Come through. They're on the sofa.'

Sammy got to her feet as Livvy ran into the room and fell to her knees beside her sleeping sons. She dropped kisses on their heads and hugged them. 'I've so missed them. Have they been okay?'

'They've been fine,' Sammy said. 'You could have called more often, you know.'

Livvy shrugged. 'Don't like being a nuisance. And I get upset when I hear their voices. Anyway, I bet they haven't missed me half as much as I missed them. They love coming here to stay.' She got to her feet and took Hank's hand. 'Hank and I have some news.'

Roy stood behind Sammy and put his hands on her shoulders. 'News?'

'Yeah. We err; we got married last week in Vegas!' She held out her hand to show off a plain gold band. 'We'll have a proper ceremony when we get organised.'

'Married? Well, congratulations,' Roy said. 'Didn't even know you two were an item.'

Hank cleared his throat and put his arm around his new wife's shoulders. 'We've err, well we've been good friends for a long time. But you know, it's two years since my wife passed. I felt I was ready to move on and so did Livvy.' 

'I'm pleased for you.' Roy shook Hank's hand again and pecked Livvy on the cheek. He looked into her baby-blue eyes and felt nothing. Even looking down at her neat little figure in tight denim jeans, fringed leather jacket and cowboy boots, a mass of golden curls framing her face and falling to her shoulders, a look that had driven him crazy a few years ago, he still felt nothing. He was also surprised to find he felt no jealousy or animosity towards Hank. He breathed a deep sigh. It was definitely over. The feeling was good. He turned to Sammy and saw relief in her eyes too. She pecked Hank on the cheek and gave Livvy a hug.  

'I guess we should have a drink to toast you,' Roy said. 'Sam, there's a bottle of Moet in the fridge. Will you do the honours?'

'My pleasure.'

***

In the kitchen Sammy leant against the worktop and said a silent prayer of thanks to whomever. Livvy, married, meant there'd be less likelihood of her calling Roy so often in the future and having him running back and forth to Ashley Grange if one of the boys were ill or for any excuse she could come up with. She usually called his mobile too and not the cottage land-line which always had Sammy feeling uneasy. Now she'd got Hank to rely on, life hopefully would get better. She poured four flutes of Moet and carried a tray into the lounge.

'Well, here's to the pair of you.' Roy held up his glass in a toast. 'Hope you settle down okay at the Grange, Hank. You'll soon get used to the UK weather.'

'Thank you.' Hank cleared his throat as Livvy's cheeks flushed bright pink.

'I'll tell them, honey,' Livvy said and put down her glass on the coffee table. 'We're not going to be living at Ashley Grange, Roy. Hank has four daughters and grandchildren in LA. So we're going back to the States and taking the boys with us. It's all arranged. We'll be living there permanently from next month.'

Sammy felt Roy stiffen beside her. He gave a strangled gasp and put down his glass.

'Over my dead body!' he roared, startling RJ into wakefulness.

'You can't stop me taking them,' Livvy said as RJ began to cry. 'I knew you'd be like this. They're my babies.'  

'They're Roy's too,' Sammy said and picked RJ up and cuddled him. He snuggled into her neck, thumb back in his mouth, eyes closed again. Sammy swallowed hard. She loved the still-baby scent of him, and stroked his sweaty little head. She couldn't bear to part with him and as much as he complained about kids under his feet all the time, she knew it would destroy Roy to lose them both.    

'There's no way you're taking them. If you want to go off with Hank, that's fine, but the boys stay here,' Roy said, quieter this time.  

'We'll see about that,' Livvy snapped. She took RJ from Sammy. 'Hank, you carry Danny out to the car.'     

'I hope you've got some child seats,' Roy said, standing by the lounge door as Livvy tried to push past him.

'Of course we have. We went home to get my car. I'm not that stupid, you know.'

'Honey,' Hank said, lifting Danny up. 'Just go. We'll discuss this tomorrow with Roy.'

'Nothing to discuss,' Roy said. 'They stay in the UK with me and Sammy. And not only that, our daughter is due to give birth to your first grandchildren soon,' he flung at Livvy. 'Don't you even care enough about that to wait?'

'I'll be back for the birth,' she said. 'Hank will take care of the boys. They'll be fine with him. Two of his girls are mothers; they'll help look after them for however long I'm over here.'

'You haven't a bloody clue about parenting,' Roy said, shaking his head. 'You dumped Harley on me and Sam, and now you're talking of taking the boys to another country and leaving them with strangers? No disrespect to Hank, but what about when you're both on tour, or recording for weeks at a time? Who'll look after them then? I'm sorry, Livvy, but I'll fight you to the ends of the earth for custody. They're going nowhere.'

***

A different sort of blog this month. A taster of the next novel in my Rock'n'Roll Romance series. This is the fourth story about The Raiders and their lives and loves. Why - "Not Fade Away" - as a title? Well I thought it appropriate as The Raiders are now clocking sixty but still touring and recording. Like The Rolling Stones and Eagles, they'll carry on until they get carted off to Rock'n'Roll heaven. Old musos who enjoy what they do, never fade away. The song was written by Buddy Holly, you'll see it credited to Charles Hardin and N. Petty. Charles was, of course, Buddy's real name and Norman Petty, his producer, at the Clovis Studios in New Mexico. The Crickets and Buddy recorded a classic album there in 1957 called "The Chirping Crickets". "Not Fade Away", with its Bo Diddley beat, featured on this album, along with other golden tracks; "That'll be The Day" and "Oh Boy". Then along came The Rolling Stones who, of course, had a major hit with it in 1964. But for me, Buddy's is the greatest, and the book will be dedicated to his memory. Below is the first chapter. Please let me know what you think. All comments are welcome as we're in first draft early stages and nothing's yet set in stone.

NOT FADE AWAY

PROLOGUE

   When Roy Cantello, lead singer with chart-topping band The Raiders, had an affair with Livvy Grant, a young singer half his age, it was to change his and wife Sammy's lives forever. Roy fathered a daughter. Livvy handed baby Harley to he and Sammy to bring up as their own and then vanished from their lives, only to reappear when Harley was sixteen. Roy became reinvolved with Livvy and when she claimed to be pregnant again with his child, Sammy divorced him. The child wasn't Roy's, but the son of Livvy's late husband. Roy has raised Danny as his own. He and Livvy had a son the following year but their relationship didn't work out. Roy remarried his wife Sammy six months ago and shares joint custody of the two little boys with Livvy. Everything is now warm and cosy in Roy's world, but not for long…

CHAPTER ONE

ABBOTT'S EDGE, CHESHIRE MAY 2005

Roy swatted a wasp from the neck of his lager bottle and pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head. 'Bloody nuisance,' he muttered, wafting after the wasp with his newspaper. 'Bit of sun and they come out in swarms.'

'A single wasp's hardly a swarm,' his wife, Sammy said. She stopped watering the patio planters as the wasp buzzed angrily around his head. She batted it away and it flew round to the front of him.

'See, there's another one!'  

She shook her head, laughing. 'It's the same one, you dope! You're turning into a right grumpy old sod, Cantello! And besides, wasps don't swarm. It's bees that swarm.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'Aren't you the clever one?' He smacked her playfully on the backside. 'And less of the old, you. And I'm not grumpy. Don't you remember how I nearly swallowed a wasp once when I was abroad with the band? The little bugger got into my can. Next thing I knew it's stinging my bloody tongue and I couldn't sing that night. I could have swallowed it. Might have proved fatal.'

Sammy sat down on a lounger beside him. 'Yes, but it didn't and you're still here to tell the tale! Did you get the barbecue out of the garage? Was there any gas in the can?'  

'Yep. I'll switch it on in a minute. They'll be getting hungry. I promised them hotdogs.' He dropped his glasses back down his nose and looked across the well-tended garden to the play area where RJ and Danny were in the sandpit, squabbling over whose turn it was to play with the digger. Never in his wildest dreams did he envisage having two under fours at the age of sixty-one. Running around after them kept him fit though. He looked at Sammy who was watching the boys closely. He knew what she was thinking; well at least he thought he did. She glanced at him and he reached for her hand and squeezed it. She had a nostalgic look on her face and sadness in her eyes. He swallowed hard, wished he could make it go away permanently. But it would take time, maybe the rest of his life. He'd never give up trying to make amends though. Sammy was his world. He'd love her forever.    

'Wish we could go back in time,' she said wistfully.

'Me too,' he said. 'But you're happy, aren't you, Sam? I mean, with what we've got now. There's nowhere on earth I'd rather be than with you in this place.'

'And me too, but don't you think it's a bit too small when we have the boys to stay? I really wish now that I'd hung on to Jasmine House.' She was referring to their old Edwardian home. 'I miss all those spacious rooms and the huge garden. This place was supposed to be for my retirement. It's not big enough for a family. We can't stay here when the boys get older. We'll have to buy another house.'    

'We'll see. Here's Harley.' He waved at his daughter who emerged from the French doors and joined them on the sun-loungers. 'How did the scan go, sweetheart?'  

'Great,' Harley said. 'Everything's on track. Ten more weeks.'  She rubbed her very pregnant belly. 'I'll never get up off this lounger. You're gonna have to get a crane.'

'Still only two in there?' he teased.  

'Dad!' She laughed. 'Idiot. There's hardly room for two never mind more.'

'We'll definitely need more space when the babies arrive,' Sammy said. 'Perhaps we should see about building an extension.'

'Maybe.' Roy lit a cigarette, ignoring Harley and Sammy's disapproving looks. Too late to stop now. He'd tried, half-heartedly, a couple of times, but life was too stressful and he needed his fags. He didn't smoke indoors anymore, so that was an improvement. He closed his eyes and thought about the birthday surprise he'd be springing on Sammy in a couple of months. Unbeknown to her, he'd bought back her beloved Jasmine House from the boy band she'd sold it to following their divorce. It was in the throes of a complete makeover courtesy of their interior designer son. Roy had instructed him to spare no expense. It had to be perfect. Sammy wasn't that happy at turning sixty. He thought buying their old home might soften the blow. Hopefully they'd recapture some more of the magic they'd lost. He felt happier now than he'd felt in a long time. He wanted to make sure she did too. A feeling of contentment washed over him. A feeling he was getting used to. Life was pretty sweet and about to get even better. So much to look forward to. His new grandchildren and the house. He finished his cigarette. 'I'll start the barbeque and …' he stopped as the telephone rang out in the kitchen. Bloody phone, always disturbing his peace. Harley struggled to her feet, announcing that she needed the loo and would answer the phone.

 Roy stood up. The boys were getting noisier and a loud squeal made him jump. 'RJ, don't pull Danny's hair like that,' he shouted. 'Naughty boy. Come here, Dan.'

'Daddy,' Danny yelled as he ran to Roy who caught hold of him and sat back down with him on his knee. He stroked his blonde curls and wiped his blue eyes with a tissue. He loved the little boy as though he were his own flesh and blood. He looked up as Harley returned.

'It was Livvy,' she said. 'Tour's finished. She got an earlier fight from the States and she's getting the shuttle from Heathrow. She'll pick the boys up at seven.'  

'Bloody hell,' Roy said. 'That's all we need.'   

'She never thinks,' Sammy tutted. 'Why can't she wait until tomorrow and we'll take them home ourselves like we arranged? I hate her coming here. Sorry, love, I know she's your real mother, but…'

'Mum, it's okay, I understand,' Harley said.

'What time is it now?' Roy asked.

'Five-thirty,' Sammy said. 'Doesn't give us much time to get organised. Forget the barbecue. Make them beans on toast, Roy. I'm getting in the bath. No way is she seeing me in shorts and a scruffy top!'

Roy shook his head as she hurried away. Scruffy top? Sammy never looked anything but immaculate. 'For God's sake. I could throttle Livvy at times,' he said to Harley. 'She's a bloody nuisance, swapping arrangements without warning. She knows damn well that Sammy doesn't like her coming here.'    

***

Sammy pulled the curtains across and lay down on the big brass bed while the bath filled. She stared up at the beamed ceiling, smiling as a little spider spun an intricate web just above the window. He'd have to go before bedtime, but for now she'd leave him in peace. She could feel a headache starting. Probably tension, she thought. Hardly surprising with her nemesis dropping in later. She turned as Roy came into the room.

'You okay, darling? You look pale.'

'Bit tired,' she said. 'And annoyed.'

He bent to kiss her. 'I'm sorry she's messed up our last night with the boys.'

She sighed. 'Go and see to their tea. I'll be down as soon as I'm ready.

She closed her eyes, but found it impossible to switch off. A nice soak would work wonders, she hoped. There was no way she was greeting Livvy without full makeup, freshly-washed hair and figure-hugging clothes. That was one thing she still had in her favour - her slim waistline and long, slender legs. Roy was always telling her she looked wonderful for an old bird, cheeky sod that he was!

***

Sammy lay back in the bubbles and closed her eyes. Bliss. She could hear the boys jabbering as they came upstairs. She heard Harley chastising RJ. With his thick dark hair and big brown eyes he was the spit of Roy and Harley, but a right little devil at times.

'See you later, Mum. I'm off out soon,' Harley called. 'Sorry I can't stay until Livvy arrives, but I'd already made arrangements. Tell her I'll catch up with her tomorrow.'

'Okay, sweetheart.' She wished Harley could stay. She always managed to diffuse any tense situation when her birth mother was around.

Sammy didn't mind Roy sharing joint custody of the boys with Livvy. Even though Danny was not his flesh and blood, she and Roy had formed a bond with the little lad. He had a sweet and gentle nature. Livvy had reappeared in their lives when Harley was sixteen. Roy became re-involved and when Sammy discovered Livvy was pregnant again, she'd called time on their marriage, even though it wasn't really what Roy wanted. A few months after their divorce she realised her mistake, in spite of all the pain and betrayal, she was still in love with him and he with her. Roy begged her forgiveness and they'd remarried. This time it was for keeps, she was determined. She knew Livvy still had a hold over him with their children. But there was no way she was getting her hands on him again. She climbed out of the bath and wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel, ready for a pampering session that would keep Roy's eyes glued to her, and her alone.

***

'Right, boys, sit on the sofa and wait quietly for Mummy,' Roy said as RJ sucked his thumb and twiddled the ear of his bunny. Danny yawned and rubbed his eyes, snuggling into the favourite old blanket he always took to bed with him.

The lounge door opened and Sammy walked in, flicking her long, light brown hair back over her shoulders. She perched on the arm of the sofa and he stood in front of her. He felt an instant twitch as he gazed down into cool blue eyes that held a wicked twinkle. She could still turn him on and she knew it. 'Wow! Looking good, Mrs C.' He pulled her up and into his arms, pressing against her. 

He loved the way her tight black jeans sat neatly on her slim hips. He ran his hands over her firm backside, clutching her closer. Her cream silk sweater, with the wide neckline, slid off one slender shoulder as he held her. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the seductive scent of her perfume. He wished he could drag her back up the stairs right now and shag the arse off her.

'Just a little something I threw together,' she whispered, running her hands through his hair.   

'You know, Sam, for a woman clocking sixty, you look terrific. I'm so proud to be seen with you. I love you.'

'I love you, too,' she said, pulling him onto the sofa. 'But don't get any ideas before she arrives. It's taken me ages to get ready. You can save it 'til later.'

'Just one kiss to keep me going,' he said, leaning in.

'Roy!' Sammy nodded at the boys who both had their eyes shut now. 'Oh, look, poor little things. They're asleep already. They should be in bed.'

'Might as well have that kiss then. Promise not to mess your hair up.'

She smiled and moved into his arms.

He kissed her and squeezed her and thought about how thrilled she'd be when he told her he'd bought back Jasmine House. He couldn't wait to have long, loving nights in their old bedroom; to share the new Jacuzzi bath with her, as they'd done so many times in the past, with an accompanying bottle of wine. Here at the cottage there was no Jacuzzi and the bathroom, tucked under the thatched eaves, had such a small bath and at over six-foot tall he was hard pushed to lay full length in it, never mind share.     

'What are you grinning at?' Sammy said.

'Oh, you know. Just thinking about later,' he said, winking at her. He looked at the clock. It was now seven-thirty. Typical of Livvy that she didn't think to call and let them know she was running late.

'Wish she'd hurry up,' Sammy said. 'I feel all churned up inside.'

'I know,' Roy said. 'Me too.' The doorbell rang. He got up to answer, and let in Livvy and a tall grey-haired, denim clad man, wearing a Stetson and a big friendly smile. 'Come on in. The kids are asleep. Pity you couldn't leave them until tomorrow.'

Livvy shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. 'I want them home tonight. I've not seen them for four weeks. You remember Hank, my drummer.'

'I do,' Roy said, shaking Hank's outstretched hand. 'How you doing, mate?'

'Howdy,' Hank replied. 'I'm doing good thanks, Roy, and you?'

'Okay,' Roy nodded. 'Come through. They're on the sofa.'

Sammy got to her feet as Livvy ran into the room and fell to her knees beside her sleeping sons. She dropped kisses on their heads and hugged them. 'I've so missed them. Have they been okay?'

'They've been fine,' Sammy said. 'You could have called more often, you know.'

Livvy shrugged. 'Don't like being a nuisance. And I get upset when I hear their voices. Anyway, I bet they haven't missed me half as much as I missed them. They love coming here to stay.' She got to her feet and took Hank's hand. 'Hank and I have some news.'

Roy stood behind Sammy and put his hands on her shoulders. 'News?'

'Yeah. We err; we got married last week in Vegas!' She held out her hand to show off a plain gold band. 'We'll have a proper ceremony when we get organised.'

'Married? Well, congratulations,' Roy said. 'Didn't even know you two were an item.'

Hank cleared his throat and put his arm around his new wife's shoulders. 'We've err, well we've been good friends for a long time. But you know, it's two years since my wife passed. I felt I was ready to move on and so did Livvy.' 

'I'm pleased for you.' Roy shook Hank's hand again and pecked Livvy on the cheek. He looked into her baby-blue eyes and felt nothing. Even looking down at her neat little figure in tight denim jeans, fringed leather jacket and cowboy boots, a mass of golden curls framing her face and falling to her shoulders, a look that had driven him crazy a few years ago, he still felt nothing. He was also surprised to find he felt no jealousy or animosity towards Hank. He breathed a deep sigh. It was definitely over. The feeling was good. He turned to Sammy and saw relief in her eyes too. She pecked Hank on the cheek and gave Livvy a hug.  

'I guess we should have a drink to toast you,' Roy said. 'Sam, there's a bottle of Moet in the fridge. Will you do the honours?'

'My pleasure.'

***

In the kitchen Sammy leant against the worktop and said a silent prayer of thanks to whomever. Livvy, married, meant there'd be less likelihood of her calling Roy so often in the future and having him running back and forth to Ashley Grange if one of the boys were ill or for any excuse she could come up with. She usually called his mobile too and not the cottage land-line which always had Sammy feeling uneasy. Now she'd got Hank to rely on, life hopefully would get better. She poured four flutes of Moet and carried a tray into the lounge.

'Well, here's to the pair of you.' Roy held up his glass in a toast. 'Hope you settle down okay at the Grange, Hank. You'll soon get used to the UK weather.'

'Thank you.' Hank cleared his throat as Livvy's cheeks flushed bright pink.

'I'll tell them, honey,' Livvy said and put down her glass on the coffee table. 'We're not going to be living at Ashley Grange, Roy. Hank has four daughters and grandchildren in LA. So we're going back to the States and taking the boys with us. It's all arranged. We'll be living there permanently from next month.'

Sammy felt Roy stiffen beside her. He gave a strangled gasp and put down his glass.

'Over my dead body!' he roared, startling RJ into wakefulness.

'You can't stop me taking them,' Livvy said as RJ began to cry. 'I knew you'd be like this. They're my babies.'  

'They're Roy's too,' Sammy said and picked RJ up and cuddled him. He snuggled into her neck, thumb back in his mouth, eyes closed again. Sammy swallowed hard. She loved the still-baby scent of him, and stroked his sweaty little head. She couldn't bear to part with him and as much as he complained about kids under his feet all the time, she knew it would destroy Roy to lose them both.    

'There's no way you're taking them. If you want to go off with Hank, that's fine, but the boys stay here,' Roy said, quieter this time.  

'We'll see about that,' Livvy snapped. She took RJ from Sammy. 'Hank, you carry Danny out to the car.'     

'I hope you've got some child seats,' Roy said, standing by the lounge door as Livvy tried to push past him.

'Of course we have. We went home to get my car. I'm not that stupid, you know.'

'Honey,' Hank said, lifting Danny up. 'Just go. We'll discuss this tomorrow with Roy.'

'Nothing to discuss,' Roy said. 'They stay in the UK with me and Sammy. And not only that, our daughter is due to give birth to your first grandchildren soon,' he flung at Livvy. 'Don't you even care enough about that to wait?'

'I'll be back for the birth,' she said. 'Hank will take care of the boys. They'll be fine with him. Two of his girls are mothers; they'll help look after them for however long I'm over here.'

'You haven't a bloody clue about parenting,' Roy said, shaking his head. 'You dumped Harley on me and Sam, and now you're talking of taking the boys to another country and leaving them with strangers? No disrespect to Hank, but what about when you're both on tour, or recording for weeks at a time? Who'll look after them then? I'm sorry, Livvy, but I'll fight you to the ends of the earth for custody. They're going nowhere.'

***

It's all very well pouring your heart and soul into your new WIP, but even when the end is in sight, you haven't finished by a long mile. You can polish and tidy as you go along, cutting out any unnecessary frills and furbelow's. But that still won't be enough. Many of us are too close to our own work. We can't always see the faults or plot flaws like the fact that your MC has gone from being over six-foot-tall and dark to five-foot-eight and blonde, over the passage of ten chapters. The fact he was born in June but now celebrates his birthday in October and drives a sporty BMW when he began the story driving a bog-standard Vauxhall Astra. You get the picture. You might have started writing the story in question four years ago, when petrol was dirt cheap and he didn't think twice about filling up his tank, whereas now it takes half a week's wage to fill it. All these things need careful thinking about and this is where a good all-round editor comes in handy. He'll spot the things you've missed and help you put them right. I'm very lucky in that I have one. Editor, that is. Click here  John Hudspith is one of the best free-lancers in the business today. He amazes me with his ability to just change even one tiny thing that makes a world of difference. I often think - why didn't I see it? It's glaringly obvious once Johnny's pointed it out.

We met on click here YouWriteOn, an online authors' critique site, in 2008 where I'd uploaded the first two chapters of my novel, click hereThree Steps To Heaven. At that time I hadn't a clue about the mechanics of writing, POV, structure, tone, and all that jazz. All I know is that I had a story I wanted to tell. So I took the plunge and uploaded the first two chapters. I had a couple of reviews in the first few days. They were favourable enough, no one said chuck it in the bin anyway, but I didn't feel I was getting the feedback I was really after. Then the third review came in and I actually almost missed out! It was a review from Johnny and was the most helpful I'd ever seen. Not only that, he'd kindly sent a word doc with further help to my email address. Now earlier that day, prior to reading the review, I'd deleted a load of spam and guess what, I'd deleted the word doc. I didn't recognise the incoming address you see. It had found its way into the spam folder and got binned along with the usual Viagra and loan offers! I contacted Johnny and he kindly sent me the document again. It was amazingly helpful. And that was it, the start of a great working relationship. Johnny has now edited another three novels for me and under his wing my writing skills have grown beyond anything I could ever have imagined. My books all sell very well, and the many five star reviews coming in on Amazon and Goodreads are beyond my wildest dreams.

Apart from well-edited text, a book also needs a really great cover. I mean, you wouldn't send your kids out looking scruffy, would you? And your book is an extension of you, your baby being sent out into the world for people to judge. They'll love it or hate it; you have no control over who buys it. But if it's well presented, at least it's in with a fighting chance of being looked at. And that's where a good cover designer comes in. I was introduced to click here JD Smith by Johnny when I decided to self-publish "Steps". I had an old fifties-style juke box in mind and Jane produced something I think is perfect. A wrap-around juke-box that goes from front to back. Jane has since designed the covers for all of my novels. She seems to get exactly what I'm looking for from my very brief, brief! I always get several choices to choose from and many people comment how much they like the covers. 

So all in all, if you've finished your book, but want to know it's as good as it can be, before you send it out to agents or go as I did down the Indie route, may I suggest you think about using my lovely editor. And when you are ready, ask Jane to design the cover of your dreams. I can promise you will not live to regret it.

To take advantage of my new, competitively priced formatting service for Kindle and Smashwords, with guarantee to The Premium range, contact me for further details at. [email protected]

It's all very well pouring your heart and soul into your new WIP, but even when the end is in sight, you haven't finished by a long mile. You can polish and tidy as you go along, cutting out any unnecessary frills and furbelow's. But that still won't be enough. Many of us are too close to our own work. We can't always see the faults or plot flaws like the fact that your MC has gone from being over six-foot-tall and dark to five-foot-eight and blonde, over the passage of ten chapters. The fact he was born in June but now celebrates his birthday in October and drives a sporty BMW when he began the story driving a bog-standard Vauxhall Astra. You get the picture. You might have started writing the story in question four years ago, when petrol was dirt cheap and he didn't think twice about filling up his tank, whereas now it takes half a week's wage to fill it. All these things need careful thinking about and this is where a good all-round editor comes in handy. He'll spot the things you've missed and help you put them right. I'm very lucky in that I have one. Editor, that is. Click here  John Hudspith is one of the best free-lancers in the business today. He amazes me with his ability to just change even one tiny thing that makes a world of difference. I often think - why didn't I see it? It's glaringly obvious once Johnny's pointed it out.

We met on click here YouWriteOn, an online authors' critique site, in 2008 where I'd uploaded the first two chapters of my novel, click hereThree Steps To Heaven. At that time I hadn't a clue about the mechanics of writing, POV, structure, tone, and all that jazz. All I know is that I had a story I wanted to tell. So I took the plunge and uploaded the first two chapters. I had a couple of reviews in the first few days. They were favourable enough, no one said chuck it in the bin anyway, but I didn't feel I was getting the feedback I was really after. Then the third review came in and I actually almost missed out! It was a review from Johnny and was the most helpful I'd ever seen. Not only that, he'd kindly sent a word doc with further help to my email address. Now earlier that day, prior to reading the review, I'd deleted a load of spam and guess what, I'd deleted the word doc. I didn't recognise the incoming address you see. It had found its way into the spam folder and got binned along with the usual Viagra and loan offers! I contacted Johnny and he kindly sent me the document again. It was amazingly helpful. And that was it, the start of a great working relationship. Johnny has now edited another three novels for me and under his wing my writing skills have grown beyond anything I could ever have imagined. My books all sell very well, and the many five star reviews coming in on Amazon and Goodreads are beyond my wildest dreams.

Apart from well-edited text, a book also needs a really great cover. I mean, you wouldn't send your kids out looking scruffy, would you? And your book is an extension of you, your baby being sent out into the world for people to judge. They'll love it or hate it; you have no control over who buys it. But if it's well presented, at least it's in with a fighting chance of being looked at. And that's where a good cover designer comes in. I was introduced to click here JD Smith by Johnny when I decided to self-publish "Steps". I had an old fifties-style juke box in mind and Jane produced something I think is perfect. A wrap-around juke-box that goes from front to back. Jane has since designed the covers for all of my novels. She seems to get exactly what I'm looking for from my very brief, brief! I always get several choices to choose from and many people comment how much they like the covers. 

So all in all, if you've finished your book, but want to know it's as good as it can be, before you send it out to agents or go as I did down the Indie route, may I suggest you think about using my lovely editor. And when you are ready, ask Jane to design the cover of your dreams. I can promise you will not live to regret it.

I'm not the world's best blogger. I started with the good intention of doing something every couple of weeks. Unfortunately life gets in the way of even the best intentions. But we're in the third week of January and I need to get my finger out - and quick - with an update. I've been really busy trying to finish my WIP "Fast Movin' Train". I'm almost at the end now and hopefully will be publishing very soon. The weeks since November have flown by and my series of Rock'n'Roll Romances have done incredibly well in sales, all becoming Best Sellers in the Amazon ratings. This has been helped by Amazon's new KDP Select programme, which allows an author to offer a free book for five days during any 90 day period. I've offered all of mine in turn and the knock-on-effect on the other two has been wonderful. I so appreciate everyone who has downloaded, enjoyed, tweeted and reviewed. Thanks to you all for your support.

I guest blogged recently on the Multi Story website and felt very honoured to be asked to do so. The article is all about building a platform for Indie Authors. You can see mine and guest blogs on various interesting topics at this link http://www.multi-story.co.uk/guestspo...
At the moment my head is filled with ideas for the fourth novel in The Raiders series - "Not Fade Away" - and I can't wait to get started. The characters are dusting off their guitars and drums, ready to rock again. Roy Cantello is asking me daily what have I got in store for him this time around. He keeps reminding me that he's edging sixty now and although he still likes to rock and have fun, he'd like a gentler time in "Not Fade Away." He feels he couldn't go through any more angst at his age. Well I can't promise him too much peace, because that would be no fun for me, as his author! But whatever, I'll make sure he's up to his usual tricks and enjoying life. He knows me well enough by now, and the challenges I like to chuck at him. He says to thank you all personally for enjoying his stories and promises to change his ways next time. Bet Sammy will be pleased to hear that. Although she might have a surprise or two up her own sleeve! Who knows? Depends on what comes tumbling out of the pen once I start. I have a rough idea, but characters tend to carry on suiting themselves and occasionally I have to rein them in and tell them, "You can't do that!" "Says who?" they reply. "We never promised you a rose garden, Mrs Writer!"

One more thing to mention. If you are an Amazon Prime customer in the USA or anywhere that is served by .com, you can borrow all my novels for free.

I'll keep you all informed of progress and will even post the first chapter of Not Fade Away on here, once it's ready. Thanks for catching up with me. Have fun, back to you soon. Pam.  

Dear Readers, before I wish you Seasons Greetings, I just want to say a great big thank you to all who bought and reviewed my books over the last twelve months. Thanks to you guys I'm now officially an Amazon UK Best Seller. All three of my Rock'n'Roll trilogy are in the top 100 Family/Romantic Sagas and have been for some time. That's an achievement beyond my wildest dreams. I've even guested on blogs and websites, like real authors do!  All this has spurred me on to write a fourth story about The Raiders, making the books into a series, rather than a trilogy. The fourth, "Not Fade Away" I hope to have finished and available on Kindle by mid-summer 2012, and paperback closer to the year end. At the moment I'm coming close to finishing my first stand alone novel. "Fast Movin' Train" will be available towards the end of January 2012 as an e-book only.





While recently browsing through computer files I came across the original version of "Three Steps to Heaven." I thought I'd lost it forever when my old computer died. But it had been saved, along with several long forgotten poems and short stories. I've sent the document to my Kindle and am currently reading it to see if it's possible to convert to a prequel to "Three Steps." The story began earlier in this version, 1959, when the boys are in their last term of school and initially getting The Raiders off the ground as a trio. It's also the time they are introduced to Jane, Sammy and Pat. Eddie is dating Angie, his first wife-to-be, but there's a definite attraction between he and Jane. I'd love to link this version, (after much re-jigging and editing etc, as it was my first attempt at writing a novel,) in with "Three Steps", but as a separate read. It will take quite a bit of thinking about but I'm up for the challenge if any readers would like to know what happened in The Early Days. For those familiar with "Steps" the first chapter is dated 1961. The second chapter begins in 1964, so it's my plan to fill in the back story from 1958 to that second chapter's beginning. Taking in the first three years of Eddie's marriage to Angie, Jane meeting Mark, The Raiders first gig, etc and tie them altogether. Watch this space. I'd be interested to get my readers thoughts. If I can pull it off I plan to call it "That'll Be The Day" as it's the very first song the boys learnt to play after seeing Buddy Holly and The Crickets in Liverpool. Part of the story time line is just prior to Buddy's tragic demise. But whatever I decide, I promise to write "Not Fade Away" first!

I've had a wonderful time developing The Raiders. I wanted to get to know them properly. After all, if they were to set up camp in my head for a good few years, I had to make certain I liked them first. It was never my intention to make them squeaky-clean heroes; musicians rarely are. My guys have a naughty streak, a twinkle in their eyes, but wear their hearts very much on their sleeves. Much more fun to create and move down the decades with than plastic stereo types who would bore me stiff after a few weeks. I like a challenge and so do my female characters. They don't suffer fools gladly, but are always willing to give their guys a second chance, and even a third in Sammy's case!     

For readers who prefer a paperback, Always On My Mind is now available on Amazon and to order from all good bookstores. If you follow the e book link on this site, it's on the same Amazon page. Three Steps to Heaven and 'Til I Kissed You are also available in paperback. 

Amazon will be offering free e books of Three Steps To Heaven on 26th and 27th of December. Please help yourself.

Once again, Dear Readers, thank you so much for your support in buying my work and for your great reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. I wish you all the very best for Christmas and The New Year. Stay safe and well and may all your dreams for 2012 come true. Love Pam. xxx 

 
FAST MOVIN' TRAIN

CHAPTER ONE

MARCH 1994

   Balanced on a plank fourteen feet above a polished wooden floor, arms laden with swags and tails, Mandy Radcliffe could think of better ways to spend a Monday morning. She drew a deep breath and edged slowly along to the girl poised on one of the stepladders supporting the plank, now wishing she'd hired a scaffolding platform.

   'Ready, Sarah? Grab this tail and attach it to the end of the batten.'

   'Don't know if I dare let go,' Sarah muttered, eyes wide, hands grasping the ladder so firmly, her knuckles were white. 

   'You'll be fine,' Mandy reassured, with more conviction than she felt. Why the hell had she told her client that height was no problem? 'I'll hold on to you while you press the Velcro in place. Whatever you do, don't look down. When we're finished I'll treat us to lunch at Brambles.'    

   She smiled as Sarah's face brightened. In spite of her recent engagement, Mandy knew her young assistant had a soft spot for the Brambles Italian waiter. Sarah secured the tail then Mandy positioned the swags, deftly curving and overlapping the plush red chenille as she worked her way along the wooden batten. She fastened up the right hand tail, tweaked it so the cream silk lining fell in soft contrasting pleats, and clambered down the ladder. She nodded with satisfaction. 'You can come down now. They're perfect. Let's hope Mrs Barn Conversion thinks so, too.'

   Sarah joined her. 'Wow! They're fantastic.'

   Mandy picked up the chunky plaited tie backs. She looped them around the floor length curtains and coaxed them to hang in neat folds. Red wasn't to everyone's taste, but her client had a passion for the sensual colour that featured in almost every room of the stunning mellow stone house.    

   The elegant room, with its solid oak floor, high ceiling and cathedral-style beams was a fantastic place for a party, if ever she saw one. The huge window, with its curved top, had been the entrance for hay wagons in the barn's previous life. It was the last one in the property to dress and by far the most challenging.

   'Wonder if I'll ever be able to afford a place like this,' Sarah said, echoing Mandy's own thoughts.

   'You might, if you win the pools.' Mandy packed her tools away. 'Right, let's get the car loaded. I'll leave the bill in Mrs B.C.'s office. She promised to pop in and pay us tomorrow.'

   Mandy waved goodbye to her client's cleaning lady and joined Sarah in the Range Rover. She drove down the rutted private lane and out onto the main street in the Derbyshire village of Rowarth. As they passed though the next village she silently counted the cottage windows she'd curtained in the last few years. Almost every dwelling in fact and some weekend retreats hidden away down country lanes.

***

   Over a glass of house red and a dish of seafood pasta, Mandy reflected on the success of the morning. Not a window for the faint-hearted, but one that would pay for a week in Malta. A trip away might give her flagging marriage a boost. Not that Mike acknowledged it was flagging. He did his own thing and by and large, she did hers. Truth be told, she'd rather have a week in Rome or Paris with a couple of her mates, but she'd get pressure from the kids about being unfair to Dad if she went off for a girlie week and left him to his own devices. Not only that, the trip was supposedly to celebrate twenty-five years of marriage. 

   'Sup up, Sarah.' Mandy shared the last of the carafe between them. 'If we don't get back to the shop soon, Carol will be pacing the floor.'

   Mandy settled the bill and the pair strolled through Pickford town centre. They stopped at Greggs to buy donuts for their afternoon break then headed towards the shop. Mandy looked up with pride at the red painted sign - Amanda Radcliffe Interiors - picked out in gold lettering. Her own business, built from scratch. First by working from home out of the spare bedroom and eventually renting the shop premises.  

   She'd developed her design skills during a short emigration to Canada where Mike had been offered a job in Calgary. He took the offer, too good to turn down, he told her. She'd disliked Calgary from the start. To combat the loneliness of being in a strange country she signed up for a soft furnishing course, discovered her talents, and began making drapes and cushions to sell.     

   She saw it as a way out and planned to earn enough money to go home and start again. Not to rely on Mike, who seemed to get a perverse kick from seeing her trapped and dependent on him. The rot set in their marriage, but they acknowledged each other for the sake of their three daughters. In 1982, after the third freezing-cold winter, she'd had enough and announced she was going home and taking their girls. Mike told her his contract was coming to an end and agreed to go with them.     

   They soon settled into their old lifestyle, reacquainted themselves with friends and bought another house. She put her business plan into action. Mike went back to his previous job and played bass guitar in his old band at weekends. To anyone observing them, Mandy knew they appeared to be a successful and happy family.

***

   Carol, her middle-aged assistant, standing in the sales room with her coat on, handbag over her arm and lips pursed tighter than a cat's arse, was looking pointedly at her watch.   

   'Sorry we're late, Carol,' Mandy began. 'The job took longer than I anticipated.'

   'They always do,' Carol grumbled, hooking a straggly grey curl behind her ear. 'I've emptied the display area like you asked and given the window a damn good clean. It was proper mucky. You could hardly see through it.'

   'I'll brew up,' Sarah announced, disappearing into the tiny kitchen at the rear of the shop, but not before making faces at Carol behind her back.

   Mandy stifled a grin. 'Thanks, Carol. We'll get cracking on another display this afternoon. I'll use some fabric from the new supplier.'

   'Well - I'll be off then. I'm taking Mother to the podiatrist at two-thirty. I needed to get away a bit sooner really.'

   'It's only half-one. You've plenty of time.'

   Carol waddled towards the door. 'Oh, by the way,' she called over her shoulder, 'Rod Davies rang. Said he'll call back later.'

   Mandy watched as Carol left the shop. She felt a bit mean at times, always taking Sarah on the fittings. But Carol couldn't stand heights. She was petrified of going any further than the second rung of a stepladder.   

   Sarah appeared with the coffee. 'You'd never think Carol's a similar age to you. She looks about sixty. You don't look a day over thirty-five. No one would ever guess you were a grandma.'     

   Mandy smiled, thinking of her two little grandsons. 'Carol and I were in the same class at school. She's nearly forty-six. She doesn't have much time for herself, with looking after her mother, and that older fellow she married. That's why she likes coming in here. It's a nice break for her, and she does a brilliant job, hand-finishing the curtains.'

***

   The phone rang at three-thirty. Mandy climbed out of the window space to answer. Sarah was out sourcing silk flowers and baskets for the new display.

   'Mandy, it's Rod,' a softly spoken male voice told her.

   'Hi, you.' She smiled into the receiver. 'What's up?'

   'Err, you free tonight by any chance?'

   'I've some paperwork to do when I get home. I can be free around nine. Is that alright?' 

   'That's great. Is Mike going out?'

   'Yep, he's rehearsing. Did you want to see him, too?'

   'No,' he replied, 'just you.'

   'Okay. Jenny coming with you?'

   'No. I've got a bit of a problem. I need to talk to you - alone.'

   'Is something wrong? With Jenny, I mean. She's not ill?'

   'No, no, everything's fine. Well - not fine, but Jenny's okay. I'll explain tonight.'

   'Sounds mysterious. See you later then.'

   'You will. Bye.'  

   She hung up, frowning. Rod had sounded a bit agitated. Not his usual jokey self. And why did he want to see her alone? She hoped nothing was wrong with Jenny. Maybe she was ill and he didn't want to break the news over the phone. But then, surely he'd have wanted Mike to be there, too.

   The shop bell interrupted her thoughts. Sarah waltzed in with her arms full of flowers and wicker baskets and two-hours later the window sported a fine display of the new spring stock.  

   Mandy went outside to take a look. The fabric lengths, draped at the back of the window, and piped and frilled cushions, set amongst baskets of silk flowers, looked good. Hopefully get her clients thinking about freshening up their conservatories.

***

   Mandy pulled onto the drive of her Edwardian, semi-detached home, still wondering about Rod Davies's earlier call. Ah well, she'd find out what his problem was soon enough. She grabbed her briefcase and let herself in. Welcoming barks and clattering claws on the varnished hall floor greeted her. Two brindle Boxers leapt up and down. She fussed them and let them out at the kitchen door. 'Anyone home?' she yelled up the stairs. She could hear the strains of Wet, Wet, Wet's, Love Is All Around, so someone was in.

   A door opened and a head popped over the balustrade, long, dark hair swinging.

   'Hi, Mum,' Nicole called.

   'Hi, love.'

   Nicole ran downstairs. 'You look a bit flustered, Mum. Had a busy day?'

   'I have. I'll take a quick bath then make dinner. Anyone else in to eat tonight?'

   'Just me. Louise is at her mate's. Dad come home, loaded his gear and went out. Said he'll eat at the pub before rehearsals. Actually, Mum, I'm not that hungry. I ate a huge lunch at college. I promised Becky I'd go round and help her bath the boys tonight. Leave you alone to have a bit of peace.'

   'That'll make a nice change.' Becky, her eldest, lived a few streets away with her partner Andy and their sons. 'There are sweeties in my handbag for the boys. Take them with you.'

***

   Mandy lay back in the bubbles. She felt annoyed with Mike for not waiting until she came home before dashing out. His indifference pissed her off at times. She wondered why she didn't divorce him. After almost twenty-five years, things were unlikely to improve. Maybe she was expecting too much. Most long-term marriages probably ended up as stalemate. Couples-barely tolerant of each others' needs-rubbing along because there was nothing else on the horizon. Divorce was expensive and soul-destroying. A case of better the devil you know for half of them. Mike was a good provider and a great dad. The girls adored him, he didn't treat her badly. But she felt bored, trapped and not special anymore. She'd loved him at first, or at least she thought she had. They'd been quite passionate together, but once it wore off it stayed off. These days he hardly ever reached for her, or she for him, for that matter. She simply couldn't be bothered anymore. What was love anyway? Just a word bandied around by singers, starry-eyed kids and Mills and Boon authors.  

   She thought again about the earlier strange conversation with Rod. She and Mike had been friends with Rod and his wife Jenny since their mid-teens. In fact, Rod asked her out a couple of times, but she'd been dating Chris, a boy she really liked, and had turned him down. Not that she didn't fancy Rod. She'd always had a soft spot for him. It was her that persuaded Rod to ask Jenny out when Chris complained he was sick of taking a gooseberry on their dates.

   She recalled now how Rod had refused at first, saying they had nothing in common. But he asked her out eventually and Jenny accepted. The pair seemed happy enough. When she and Chris split up, Mandy began dating Rod's best mate Mike. They'd been a happy foursome, inseparable. She and Mike were first to marry and Becky arrived six months later. Rod and Jenny followed suit. Their son James, and Becky, grew up like brother and sister. It seemed to Mandy that each time she announced another pregnancy, Jenny announced one shortly after. They had six kids between them.  

   Mandy climbed out of the bath and towelled herself dry. She unclipped her long dark hair and ran her fingers through to remove the tangles. She dabbed concealer under her blue eyes to hide her tiredness, stroked blusher on her cheeks and slicked her lips with red gloss that matched her nails.

   She pulled on black jeans, a red top with a low cut neckline and did a twirl in front of the mirror. Still slim, even after three kids, she was proud of her figure. A generous spray of her favourite perfume, Tocade by Rocha, and she was ready. Downstairs she made a cheese sandwich and opened a bottle of red wine. She ate half the sandwich, split the other half between the dogs, grabbed two wine glasses and carried them and her briefcase through to the front lounge. She settled down on one of the sofas, making a neat pile of invoices beside her. At exactly nine the doorbell rang. The dogs barked a welcome. She got up and shut them in the kitchen. Rod was dithering nervously on the doorstep, his bright blue eyes not quite meeting hers.

   'Come on in.' She took his leather coat, hung it on the hallstand and led the way into the lounge. She gestured to the cream sofas. 'Have a seat.'      

   'I don't want to disturb your work.' Rod sat down opposite her, stretching out denim-clad legs.

   'I've finished what I needed to do.' She gathered up the invoices and stuffed them back into the briefcase. 'Fancy a drink?'

   'Please.' He ran his hands through spiky brown hair, streaked with silver. Mandy thought it suited him. Very Rod Stewart, in fact. He took a swig of wine, sat back and half-smiled at her.

   He looked tired, had dark circles beneath his eyes, and was subdued. Mandy frowned. She was used to seeing Rod bouncy and full of life. He always laughed a lot, a complete extrovert and the total opposite to Jenny who was quiet and took everything so seriously. 

   They made small talk for a while then Mandy asked, 'How come you're not working?' Rod was normally drumming with his group. It was rare for him to be around on a Monday night.

   'Band's split up,' he told her. 'I'm joining a new one. Got a couple of weeks break and then I'm off south to East Sussex for the summer.'    

   'Bet Jenny's pleased.'

   He stared at her for a long moment. 'Oh - you know Jenny. Supportive of everything I do. Not!' he finished with sarcasm. 'She hates me being on the road. If she wanted a stay-at-home she should have married a bloke in a suit with an office job, like Mike.'

   'You two had a row? Is that what this is all about?' Mandy took a sip of wine. 'It's finally dawned on you that Jenny doesn't understand you.'

   Rod looked down at his drink. 'She doesn't,' he mumbled, 'understand me, I mean. Never has done. But then I guess I've never understood her either.'

   Mandy nodded. Once Jenny got her claws into Rod there was no way she was letting go. She took another sip of wine.

   'I need to tell you something, Mandy,' he began. 'It's, erm, not easy for me. It might wreck our friendship. But I'm gonna have to take that chance.' He came and sat beside her. 'I've carried it around with me forever. In here.' He patted his chest. 'In my heart - I mean. It won't go away. I can't handle it any longer.'

   She gripped the stem of her glass and drew a deep breath. She could feel her cheeks heating and something that felt like icy water trickling down her back. He was so close she could smell his aftershave, woody and masculine. The scent made her stomach flip. She focused on the dimple in his chin.

   'Mandy, look at me… please.'

   She swallowed hard and looked into his eyes, seeing something in their blue depths that she'd never seen before. 

   'You haven't a clue, have you?' he said softly.

   She shook her head. 'Rod, you're scaring me. What is it?'    

   'I'm in love with you,' he said.

***

Waffle: Oxford Dictionary - to informally speak or write at length in a vague or trivial way.

Blog: No definition given - not in my dictionary anyway!

This blogging thing, well it's all new to me. I've been told I need to do it and I can't leave my brand new website with nothing on it but a few links that lead to my books. You have to make it interesting, they say - so that people will come back for more- they say! I'll do my best, I said. I follow author blogs avidly, hoping some of their thoughts will rub off on me. I've been a guest on some of those blogs, so I guess I have a rough idea of what to do and say. I'm never usually stuck for words. My family and friends will vouch for that. So why is it that right now I'm struggling to string a sentence together? I was recently persuaded to have a go at Twitter. That's an eye opener. I thought it would be a case of people I know adding me to their follower lists and vice versa. But I've now got strangers from all over the world following me. Who are they and why do they want to follow me? It freaked me out at first, but I've taken the plunge and followed a good few of the more interesting ones back. I've even had a go at re-tweeting things that have taken my fancy. Don't know if that's the way to go about it, but remember, I'm still learning.
So anyway, when I set up the aforementioned website, with the help of the very kind and patient Tim Ellis, a fellow Indie Author, I had all these wild ideas about what to write about once I started this blogging malarkey. I wanted to mention music as well as writing and books. And I will, once I fathom out what to say. I like to use songs for my novel titles. I love thinking about which ones are appropriate and will tie in with events in my stories.

When I started to write my first novel it wasn't called Three Steps To Heaven. It didn't have a title at all. In fact, I didn't even realise it was going to be a novel. One sunny day in the mid-nineties I was strolling around The Lanes in Brighton and came across a '60's memorabilia shop. I was drawn towards it by the window display. A Dansette record player; a stack of forty-fives; a tray with a sixties crockery arrangement and a female dummy wearing a Mary Quant style wig, black and white mini dress and white knee length boots, exactly like I wore in the sixties.

I wandered into the shop and was instantly transported back to my teens. I didn't buy anything that day. I was a bit skint and the prices were through the roof, but I came out of there with an idea buzzing around in my head. I loved the sixties and felt compelled to jot down my memories. Some people will tell you that if you can remember the sixties, then you weren't actually there. But that's not true in my case. I had a great time, was most definitely there and remember it very well. I might not recall what happened last week, or even yesterday, but the sixties I can bring to mind with amazing clarity.   

I popped into a nearby stationary store, bought a pad and pen, took myself to sit on the beach and started scribbling. By the time I met up with my friend later that day I'd almost filled the pad. I showed it to him and when he asked what I planned to do with it I said I thought I might write about the sixties music scene in our hometown. I'd worked in a local record store and hung around with musicians that frequented it. I'd seen loads of local bands live and big names too. We had a few good clubs in our area, The Manor Lounge, The Sinking Ship, The Tabernacle, later to become Sergeant Peppers. Where else could you see the likes of The Who, The Small Faces and Jimi Hendrix for less than five bob? (Twenty-five-pence to you youngsters.) I felt I had a good grounding for writing my factual book. For a few weeks I scribbled ideas to my heart's content. Then someone beat me to it and published a book called "It Happened in Manchester." It was very similar to what I had in mind. So I abandoned that idea, but the writing flood-gates were opened. I wrote a bit of poetry and even managed to get a few poems accepted in obscure publications. But the sixties wouldn't go away. My friend suggested I write a fictional tale set in the sixties, using my musical knowledge. And that's how my band in the novels - The Raiders - was born. And so began the long, but fun, task of creating my characters and learning to write fiction… Thank you for "listening". Tune in next time.  Pam.
This card is a membership card for the club where Jimi Hendrix smashed a hole in the wall with his guitar. Happy days!

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