Bert felt jealous, cheated on, and blue. Then he discovered he could morph into a giant nightmarish slug...
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On Wednesdays and Sundays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ novellas. You can check in regularly and read them bit for bit, or leave a message in my 'contact' page, and I'll send the entire digital story to you for free when published.
Life in the Clouds #6: Take a Slug ® James Field.
Olive curled her tongue around her lips in startled vexation. She dropped her suitcases on the garage floor and stood thinking, her bent forefinger against her lower lip.
Then: “Well, I’ll just have to take it anyway—sorry—can’t wait—I’m a saleslady and have an important meeting at Dover.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Miss. Hanson,” said the supervisor civilly, glancing at the storage tag on Olive’s car.
“Not to worry. If the car is too bad, I’ll take a train.”
She paid for overnight storage without complaining, though since the mechanic hadn’t repaired her car, she thought the charge was unjust. She thrust the suitcases into the car and chugged out, the motor spitting. At the first lay-by, she opened the car’s bonnet and fitted the loose spark plug cap properly into place. When she moved on, the motor ran smoothly again.
She drove out of Sidcup, back toward Chipwick and The Stables. There, she ran the car into that thick grove of oaks and maples she’d investigated earlier and parked the car in a grassy space beside the woodland track.
The day before, she’d prepared a picnic hamper and left it on the back seat of her car. While waiting for the cover of darkness, she laid a light robe over the suitcases. From the hamper, she took a roast chicken, a box of biscuits, a bottle of coke, and a packet of potato chips. These she spread on the grass-a picnic lunch.
To be continued…
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The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
There’s a lot to like and a lot to dislike in this story. I like that it’s cosy, funny, and heart-warming. The plot, however, is a tragedy. There are two murders, and every character in the book, of which there are many, has a motif. With so many twists, turns, and red herrings throughout the narrative, it lost me in a virtual maze.
But the author commits the gravest crime: he introduces a new, guilty character right at the end of the story. Tut, tut, naughty.
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