It has been a long time since I posted an update. Devil Boy is progressing well: 13 chapters and 65,000 words in the bank. I have chosen the following excerpt from Devil Boy, Chapter 10 because it is the first meeting of two characters from The Waterhole. They never had occasion to meet in that story. A loud snort halted Nicola. She spun around. “Sorry! We didn’t mean to frighten you.” The sight that greeted Nicola was surprising but it could hardly have been less frightening. A lovely dapple-grey mare was responsible for the snort, evidently as surprised to find a lone woman on the track as was she to meet a horse. The mare shook her silver mane and stamped a hoof. Nostrils flared and ears twitched while wide eyes stayed fixed on Nicola. Perhaps the mare took exception to her first encounter with a human whose beauty matched that of the woman on her back. (Perhaps such thoughts are foolish anthropomorphisms.) “Shush Freyja, shush ... Être gentil avec la belle femme, ma chérie,” Dorothy Pemberton soothed. “I’m sorry, she doesn’t usually do this.” Nicola was a little confused but she was not afraid. Her insecurities did not extend to horses. She had had a pony as a child, and ridden until she grew too big for it; and big enough to shift her interest from ponies to boys. “She’s gorgeous!” exclaimed Nicola. “What an amazing colour ... I’ve never seen such a silver tail and mane.” As she said it Nicola realised that the rider perfectly matched her beautiful mount. Her own long mane of silver-grey hair was a near-identical shade. She was of an age and complexion similar to Maggie but there was nothing wild and unruly about her hair. It hung full and straight to brush the cantle of the saddle. There was nothing wild or unruly about any part of her. Nicola thought she looked like some glamorous Hollywood actress in an old western: a silver-maned horse bearing a silver-maned star of the silver screen! She sat, elegantly straight yet relaxed in the saddle. She wore a red checked shirt and her riding gloves matched the grey of her mare’s flanks. Neat blue jeans disappeared into long black leather boots. Nicola noticed how small the woman’s feet were in the stirrups. She was petite and slim but not skinny: she retained the curves of her youth. Even in the shadow of her broad leather hat her blue eyes sparkled. The lines about her eyes and mouth marked a generous and welcoming smile. “She is silver dapple,” she said. That is the official name for it but my husband says she is what they used to call ‘taffy’.” Nicola was captivated by woman and mare. The mare allowed her to run a hand down her nose. “You’re beautiful aren’t you?” she cooed. “What’s your name?” “Freyja,” Dorothy replied, on her mare’s behalf. “She was the Norse goddess of love, Odin’s wife. My father was something of a Viking ... from Iceland.” Nicola thought that made perfect sense. It was easy to imagine that she was looking up at a Scandinavian goddess. That explained her beauty. “But you spoke to her in French.” “Ha-ha! Mais oui! I did, I did! Mon père était de lIslande, mais ma mère était Française. But I am a Kiwi! My name is Dorothy. Call me Dot. Ha-ha! You must be a detective!” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” “Non! Do not apologise my dear. My turn! What is your name and why are you all the way up here on your own? I did not see a car.” Nicola had forgotten where she was and where she was meant to be. She had forgotten that she was lost. “Oh ... Oh yeah ... Perhaps you can tell me where ... I came from the river ... but I ... must have gone the wrong way,” she burbled. “I see ... And your name?” “Sorry. Nicola, Nicola Sweetman.” “Nicola Sweetman? How do I know that name?” “I used to teach at the school ... Hikutaia.” “Ah, oui, oui! You are the one who found the poor Overwater girl!” Nicola nodded. “It must have been ... Oh, I am so sorry.” Nicola nodded again. She bit her lip. “But look at you; you are as pretty as they say.” Nicola wondered who ‘they’ were.
Posted on: Sat, 06 Dec 2014 02:18:05 +0000
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