Next Scotland Street novel I am currently writing the next Scotland Street novel. Here is a short excerpt. Readers may recall from the last one that Berties mother, Irene, is stuck in Dubai. We are in no hurry for her to come back. Here is Bertie at school with his dubious friends: “My grandmother’s coming to stay,” announced Bertie in the special period at school where the members of the class were invited to give their news. “She’s arriving tomorrow – from Portugal.” “How nice!” said the teacher. “Did we all hear that, boys and girls? Bertie’s grandmother is arriving from Portugal. How nice for Bertie!” Olive looked at Bertie with interest. “To make up for your mother’s running away?” she said. “As a sort of mother-substitute?” “Olive!” exclaimed the teacher. “Bertie’s mother did not run away. What a terrible thing to say!” “Sorry,” said Olive. “That slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it.” “I should think not,” snapped the teacher. “Poor Bertie!” Tofu, who had been following the exchange with some interest, now joined in. “My dad says that Bertie’s mother’s a cow,” he said. “I wonder if his granny will be a cow as well.” Olive was quick to express a view on this, and did so before she could be stopped. “It depends on whether she’s his granny on his mother’s side or on his dad’s side. If it’s on his mother’s side, then there’s a good chance she’ll be a cow too. It all depends, you see.” She gave Tofu a withering look. “Mind you, you’re one to talk, Tofu. My father said that your mother was a tart. I’m sorry to raise it now that she’s dead of starvation, but there we are. That’s what comes of being a vegan – I could have warned her.” “She didn’t die of starvation,” muttered Tofu. “She’s still alive.” “Just,” said Olive. “Now, now!” said the teacher. “This is not at all nice. The important thing is that Bertie is going to have a visit from his grandmother.” “I hope she doesn’t drink too much,” said Olive. “Pansy’s granny drinks like a fish.” “Not all the time,” said Pansy mildly. “Just in the evening.” Tofu sought clarification. “What time does she start?” The question was posed with a politeness that was unusual for him. Any exchanges between Tofu and Olive tended to be short, scornful, and as often as not curtailed by his spitting at her. Although Olive’s principal lieutenant, Pansy had a secret soft spot for Tofu and they usually addressed one another courteously enough, except when Olive was around, when Pansy felt that she had to follow her friend’s lead. Pansy thought for a moment. “About five,” she said. “Sometimes a bit earlier, but usually at about five.” AMcS
Posted on: Mon, 01 Sep 2014 21:20:40 +0000
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