Driving down memory lane – 2013 365 Challenge #10

This is what my darling car looked like: Photo courtesy of GoldScotland71 on Flickr

Had fun driving down memory lane today, quite literally, as I’ve cast my first car in the 365 novel (The novel really needs a name – suggestions welcome!).

My first car was a ‘Dove Grey’ Skoda Estelle. Dad bought it for me when I graduated and sold it to me with the information “It has five gears and five doors!” which, for a car of that age and budget, was pretty rare. I knew immediately it was a Skoda, my greatest fear. I worked in a bar and I guess I’ve heard every Skoda joke going.

Still, I loved that car despite having to undertake wacky things like removing the carburetor to take home in a carrier bag or having to bleed the clutch with a broom in a service station off the M6. Expect some of these experiences to appear in future Claire posts… I’m a firm believer in writing what you know.

This one’s for you, Dad:

P.S. Don’t forget to follow the blog if you want to hear more of Claire’s exploits!

_____________________________________________________________________________

The buzzer echoed through the apartment, dragging Claire from a horrible dream. She had been standing alone in a room of twenty beds, her hair lank and unwashed, her clothes creased and dirty. Shaking away the awful image, Claire looked at the clock and swore.

9.30am? What the…?

Claire carefully sat upright, fighting against the spinning room, and realised she was already dressed. A thumping in her head reminded her of the empty champagne bottle sitting alone on the kitchen counter. The buzzer rang again, more urgently. Damn it, the removals guys aren’t meant to get here until 10am. She walked to the door without fully opening her eyes, then pushed her mane of chestnut hair away from her face so she could locate the intercom button.

“Yes?”

“Here to swap the car love, haven’t got all day, I’m parked on a yellow.”

Claire had forgotten Carl’s comment about her being provided with a more appropriate car. Oh well, best go and get it over with, see what they’ve decided is fitting. She grabbed her keys and let herself out of the apartment, determined not to be upset by this latest ploy of Carl’s to make her quit.

She shouldered open the heavy front door and was immediately faced with a man in blue overalls leaning against the lamppost outside her apartment.

“Miss Carleton?”

“That’s me.”

“Here to collect your company car and drop you a replacement.” The man looked around, trying to work out which car was hers.

Reluctantly Claire gestured at her charcoal-grey Audi, parked several cars down from her front door. The man whistled when he saw it and pushed himself away from the lamppost, revealing a tatty old car behind him.

“Blimey love whose front porch did you piss on? That’s a spanking motor to be swapping for this heap of crap. Think you’ll find this baby handles a bit differently. It’s got gears for a start, and a manual choke.”

Claire looked at the rusty box on the road in front of her and wondered what she had done to make Carl hate her so much. The courier’s words washed over her as phrases like “brake horse power” and “pisses out oil” made no sense and were therefore dismissed. The phrase “alloy wheels” permeated the fog of her hangover and she turned to face the man, a spark of interest in her eyes.

“Alloy wheels? That’s good right? My Audi has alloy wheels.” She looked again at the car parked outside her flat, as if hoping to discover it had transformed into something she might be seen dead in.

The man gave her the kind of smile he’d give an eager toddler. “Yes, love, generally alloys are nice to have. Not great on a Skoda though, especially one this old. Just makes the tyres leak. You’ll spend a chunk of time and cash getting them resealed and refilled every time you get a flat.”

Hope died in Claire’s heart. She wouldn’t even know where to take a car to have the tyres sealed and filled, whatever that meant. If something went wrong with the company car she told Julia and a man collected it, leaving her an equivalent courtesy car.

Claire watched mutely as the man walked to the rear of the car and gestured that he wanted to show her something in the boot. Puzzled, Claire went to stand by him and saw what she guessed was the engine. Thank god he showed me that, I’d have looked like an idiot trying to put my bag in there. She tried to follow the rest of what the man was saying as it seemed important but, as she’d always had her cars serviced, Claire had no idea why she would need to know where the oil and water went or what a dipstick was. It sounded rude in any case.

At last the man was gone, driving away in her beloved Audi and leaving her with – Claire consulted the piece of paper hanging from her nerveless hand – a Dove Grey Manual 5-gear Skoda Estelle. Looks like a poo-coloured box on wheels to me. Claire fought the urge to sob as she crumpled the piece of paper and stalked back into her flat. With any luck someone would notice it was parked on a yellow and tow it away.

A sudden desire to open her laptop and search for flights to the Maldives was interrupted by the shrill call of the buzzer. Damn thing’s rung more this morning than it has since New Year Claire thought as she pressed the intercom.

“Did you make a mistake, are you taking that pile of shit away?” Claire’s voice rang like struck steel.

“Well Miss, if that’s how you see your possessions it’s not for us to comment. Removals, Miss, come to collect your boxes.”

Claire leant her head against the cool of the front door and prayed for the day to be over.

***

Project Life 365 Days 1-8 (fromtheinsideoutblog.com)

The Tricky Question of Funny – 2013 365 Challenge #9

From Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – Claire is P.O.S.H. (that won’t mean anything if you haven’t seen the movie!)

I’m struggling with writing Funny. I want Claire to be one of those characters you come across in the best funny novels, by the likes of Wendy Holden, who make you laugh out loud (either with them or at them).

Right now Claire feels a bit morbid. Her life is shallow and she has no real friends. This is important for her character development. But I can’t see how to inject humour without humiliating her and I don’t want her to be clumsy or stupid otherwise it will be harder for her character to develop. She’s more wrapped up in work and taking it too seriously than genuinely vapid (I love that word – it’s one of my husband’s favourite insults.)

My research is clearly going to need to develop beyond hostels, bars and motorway routes, to include How to Write Funny (suggestions always gratefully received). A quick Google search turned up this interesting article so I’m sure some proper time spent on it will help me no end.

Anyway, here is installment #9. Hopefully I’ll be able to spend a bit more time on the next one, once the children are back at nursery (they’re currently asleep on the sofa, having drifted off watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I’ve turned over to Antiques Roadtrip, as I’ve seen the Chitty movie about thirty times since Father Christmas gave it to my son…)

_________________________________________________________________________________

Claire drew a flat-pack box from the pile and pushed it into shape, splaying her fingers so the corrugated cardboard wouldn’t scratch her nail varnish. The storage people were due in the morning and so far she’d only just made a start packing up the lounge. Looking around Claire realised it wasn’t going to take long. She rarely spent time by herself and therefore had no need for DVDs or novels. The few books she owned were mostly business ones given to her by Carl. Who Moved My Cheese sat alongside The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. She had often wondered what Carl’s motivation was in leaving the books on her desk.

Was he being a good boss helping me climb the ladder to the Board, or hoping I would take the hint that I’m not Director material?

Two weeks ago she would have asserted it was the former; now she wasn’t so sure. The look of glee on Carl’s face when Mike from Accounts had lunged in for a snog was etched deep in Claire’s memory. It had been like watching a pet cat morph into a tiger.

Claire filled the box with unread books and unopened CDs – Christmas gifts from her siblings – and closed the lid. She wrote “Charity Shop” on the side in marker pen, then straightened up and went to get a glass of wine from the fridge.

The kitchen isn’t going to take long to pack up either, I barely come in here. The fridge contained a tub of humus, some wilted celery, and a bottle of champagne that Michael had left behind. Claire knew without looking that there wasn’t much else in the cupboards. She generally ate at the office or picked up takeaway noodles on the way home. Cooking for one wasn’t worth the washing up.

The champagne cork popped loudly in the empty apartment and Claire angled the frothing liquid towards a waiting flute. She felt something ping inside her chest as she opened the Veuve Clicquot: the emotional equivalent of her bra-strap snapping, freeing a tension she hadn’t noticed was there.

Damn you Michael, she thought as the cool fizzy liquid trickled down her throat. If nothing else, you had great taste in Champagne.

Claire carried her glass through to the bedroom and slid open the mirrored door of the built-in wardrobe. A complex pattern of hangers, drawers and shelves confronted her. Three perfect rows of stiletto heels took pride of place in the centre, surrounded by neatly folded cashmere sweaters and impeccably pressed shirts and skirts. Claire knew every item intimately, as if surveying a room of close friends.

She ran through the contents of the closet in her mind, trying to imagine which items might suit slumming-it in hostels. Steve had joked that she’d be better off binning the lot and buying some jeans and tops from Tesco. Claire thought she’d rather skin herself alive.

Selecting her cheapest things – her black GAP jeans, a few M&S jumpers and a pile of pressed Ralph Lauren tops and shirts – Claire began folding the remaining items before packing them into her Louis Vuitton luggage. When the wardrobe was empty Claire carefully placed the bags into boxes and labelled them “Storage”.

By the time the champagne bottle was empty, Claire’s life had been piled into half a dozen brown boxes. Her new rucksack was loaded with all the things she deemed necessary for a year on the road. She frowned at the red and grey bag as it lolled by the front door next to her one pair of flat shoes.

Don’t get comfortable. You and I are not friends. In a month my LV bags and I will be on a plane to the Maldives and you will be in a wheelie bin.

Then she collapsed onto the bed without undressing and closed her eyes.

***

The Secret of Writing Funny (writetodone.com)

Humor Writing (writingnovelsthatsell.com)

Venice, Bologna, Family and 2013 365 Challenge #8

Venice from the Grand Canal on our flying visit

Hurrah we’re home. We had a fantastic weekend away in Italy catching up with my husband’s Italian family, meeting the newest member at his Baptism, and eating far too much gorgeous cheese.

We called in at Venice on the way back to the airport (having flown into Veneza Treviso because it was cheaper than flying straight to Bologna) and, as you can see from the photo, we got to see some great bits of the amazing city in our (very) short visit.

Chasing Pigeons in San Marco

We only had an hour so we caught a boat along the Grand Canal, then followed the advice of a local and took a wander through the narrow streets to the San Marco Piazza. It’s not a pushchair friendly city but we coped and the kids had great fun running around chasing pigeons. Thankfully that also meant they slept most of the way home. They were amazing the whole trip and it was a delight to travel with them.

It was a challenge to get up and write my installment this morning. My gorgeous husband is watching Mary Poppins with the kids while I’m in the kitchen tapping away. We’re meant to be at a coffee morning with my daughter’s baby group so today’s post might be a little rough around the edges! More tomorrow.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Claire peered through the gloom, trying to distinguish bodies from furniture. They were in the Kaz Bar in Tiger Tiger for her leaving drinks. Molly, Polly and Sally were huddled together in a booth, giggling. One or other of them occasionally glanced in Claire’s direction and giggled louder.

I bet they’re laughing about the stupid gift Julia bought with my farewell collection. A 75-litre rucksack and a Maglite torch. Honestly, it’s not like I’m going hiking in the Andes. Actually it’s not like I’m really leaving at all.

Claire thought back to her farewell presentation that afternoon. She had been quite shocked to look up from her desk to see the entire office gathered outside her glass door. Carl had pushed through the crowd and beckoned her out into the centre, like the sacrifice in some ancient ritual. He’d signalled for quiet before launching into a speech about how Claire would be missed, how they wished her well and looked forward to her blog posts and Facebook status updates. When Julia had dragged out the gift and dumped it at Claire’s feet Carl’s grin couldn’t have been wider if he’d been a hyena.

“It won’t be wise to turn up in a hostel with Louis Vuitton luggage my dear. They’ll have you down as a snob before you can ask the way to the bidet. That’s if they don’t just steal it and sell it on eBay. The whole point is to blend.” And he’d grinned again, like it was all a big joke.

Well it isn’t a joke. Claire looked around the bar at all the people who had come to say goodbye. They will miss me, even if they don’t know it yet. And I will have the last laugh when I’m sitting on a beach in the Maldives while they’re doing Year End and worrying about the next mobile phone ad campaign.

“Get you a drink Claire?”

Claire looked up to see Steve lounging against a pillar near to where she was standing. She realised her hands were empty and was mortified to be caught standing alone and without a drink at her own leaving do.

“That’s fine Steve, someone’s getting me one. I’m just heading to the ladies.” She shone him her widest grin and tried not to run, which wasn’t advisable anyway in her towering heels. I guess I should be glad they didn’t buy me hiking boots or something similarly awful, Claire thought as she tip-tapped to the toilets and shuffled into a cubicle. There was a conversation going on in the next stall and Claire couldn’t help but listen to the slurred words.

“I give her two weeks. She has no idea what they’ve set her up to. I went travelling in Australia and alright the hostels here are probably cleaner and less crowded – I mean, who wants to travel around England for Pete’s sake – but it’s still going to be messy, noisy and Common. Miss La-di-dah will last a day before she’s booking a private room and I know the budget they’ve given her. Private rooms aren’t an option. Couldn’t happen to a nicer person in my view.”

Claire felt her face grow hot. It wasn’t hard to distinguish Julia’s drunken voice booming through the wall. Well, that’s just Julia, I know she hates me. When the next voice spoke Claire felt herself go completely still.

“You’re so right, Jules. Silly cow. Thinks she’s better than all of us because she went to some posh school and her family are loaded. Her sister can’t keep a fella and her brother’s a stuck up dick. No wonder she has nothing to do with them. Good riddance I say, I hope she doesn’t come back.”

Claire recognised the voice. It was Susannah, her best friend from Repro. Claire felt tears itch at the corners of her eyes, causing eye-liner to leak in and make them sting. She sat motionless while she heard the toilet flush. The two girls staggered out of the cubicle, laughing and shushing each other. As the room fell silent, apart from the throbbing bass of music coming through the wall, Claire leant her head against the partition and fought the tears. It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to floated into her head, causing a wry smile to twist her lips.

At least I know what they really think, silly bitches.

She pulled herself to her feet, pushed her shoulders back, and strode from the room. Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of Julia and Susannah watching her leave the ladies shortly after them. She sensed rather than saw the consternation on their faces and gained some pleasure from it. Once she had reached the bar Claire ordered a triple gin and diet tonic and turned to face the room. She spotted Mike from Accounts sitting on a Moroccan pouf by himself in the corner and headed over to take a seat next to him. He looked up as she approached and a mixture of confusion and delight crossed his face.

“So, Mike, how are things in Accounts?” Claire settled in and turned on her best charm offensive, determined to enjoy her party if it cost her everything she had.

***

Venice – the city of gondolas, love and pigeons! – Venice, Italy (travelpod.com)
Wandering the streets of Venice – Venice, Italy (travelpod.com)
Venice Canal 5 (wizard-systems.typepad.com)

2013 365 Day #7 – Let the Research Commence

The Royal Border Bridge, Berwick on Tweed. © Copyright Nigel Chadwick and licensed for reuse under Creative Commons

The Royal Border Bridge, Berwick on Tweed. ©Copyright Nigel Chadwick, licensed for reuse under Creative Commons

My novel has reached 5,500 words, including today’s installment. That’s slightly behind NaNoWriMo rate, but I am having to do editing as I go, to make my blog posts a bit more presentable.

I’ve started needing to research stuff online. My husband is worried about me writing a novel based on 200 hostels I have never been to. It doesn’t faze me. With Tripadvisor, the YHA site, Google Maps and other general internet sources, you never need to leave your sofa.

My only worry is that I might offend someone, breach some copyright or generally get into trouble. The internet is a scary place to be chucking out a first draft novel!

Anyway, here goes the next installment:

______________________________________________________________________________

Claire woke suddenly, her heart racing and her ears ringing with the echo of a scream. The bed felt unfamiliar and for a moment she thought she must be at Michael’s house. So who is screaming? Her eyes sought the familiar green numerals of his bedside clock but they weren’t there. Neither was there the orange glow of a street-light flooding through the window to tell her she was in her own apartment.

Where the hell am I?

As her heart thudded loudly in the now-silent room she wondered if she was still in the depths of a bad dream. Then the scream came again, turning her body to ice. Claire sat upright and threw herself out of bed. That was Sky. She began hurrying from the room before she remembered that the door in Ruth’s bedroom was in a different place. Claire yelped as she crashed into the chest of drawers, then winced as something sticky and heavy fell off and landed on her foot. Her swearing echoed loudly in the dark. Taking a breath to calm herself Claire walked forward with her arms stretched out in front of her like a ghost and tried to locate the light switch.

By the time Claire reached Sky’s room the girl had fallen back asleep. If she was even awake in the first place. In the back of her mind Claire seemed to remember Ruth talking about something called Night Terrors and how children could get hysterical without even waking up. Or was that just when they were babies? Claire wished she had paid more attention to her sister’s ramblings.

She sat on the edge of Sky’s bed and smoothed the damp hair off her niece’s brow. The girl looked younger asleep, even with the remnants of lipstick that still stained her tiny mouth. I hope that comes off before Ruth gets back tomorrow.

The afternoon with Sky had been surprisingly enjoyable. Now that Sky was able to hold an almost-sensible conversation it wasn’t so terrifying to spend time with her. Exhausting, though. Do children ever draw breath? It seemed that Sky could talk non-stop for several hours without tiring. Her chatter had been entertaining but Claire’s head still reverberated with the relentless high-pitched babble.

Claire braced herself against the bed, ready to get up and leave the room. Sensing the movement, Sky turned and curled herself around Claire’s back, snuggling against her and giving a contented sigh. Claire was aware of an unusual feeling of contentment. Odd. She sat within the embrace for ten or fifteen minutes, until she was sure Sky was fully asleep. Then she gently removed her niece’s arms and rolled her away, covering her with the duvet so she wouldn’t get cold. She leant over the bed and kissed Sky on the forehead.

“Sleep well, poppet. Sweet dreams.”

Back in Ruth’s room, Claire’s heart sank when she saw the time. 2a.m.? She felt wide awake, even though she had only slept for a few hours. I guess I may as well do something useful. Pulling out her laptop, Claire started making notes on her assignment. Best take it seriously. I can’t give them any excuse to fire me for incompetence, not if they’re already trying to get me to quit.

She wrote a list of things that needed doing:

Choose Blog Name
Start Facebook Fan Page
Choose Twitter name
Buy road map and plot hostels on it

Thinking about it, I don’t even know where Berwick-Upon-Tweed is. She opened the internet and spent twenty minutes wandering around the YHA website, mentally noting twenty ways they could improve their customer journey. She added Join the YHA to her to-do list before clicking on the hostel that would see the start of her journey. It seemed that Berwick was in Northumberland. Not a part of the country Claire had been to before. Her heart sank. Something about the name Northumberland made her feel cold and grey.

Reading on, she found out the Berwick YHA was in an eighteenth-century Granary and included its own art gallery. Thirteen rooms, all en-suite? That didn’t sound like the hostelling experience she’d imagined, with rows and rows of grimy rooms and one bathroom between twenty.

Even if I have to share with three or four other people, Claire thought, supressing a shudder, at least I don’t have to leave the room to pee.

***

A Baptism and the 2013 365 Challenge #6

The character matrix I use to keep track of my creations

Today I am at a Baptism in Bologna, Italy, with all my husband’s family, so this post was scheduled on Friday when I was meant to be packing (thank you husband!). As you’re reading this I am mostly wishing I had worked harder at learning Italian (I’m the only family member apart from the kids who doesn’t speak Italian. I can just about manage hello, how are you in Italian, despite many purchases of teach-yourself-Italian CDs).

My picture today is of my character matrix. (I borrowed the template from a blog but my WordPress reader is playing up so I’m afraid I can’t say who just now.) Usually I fill one of these out about halfway through a first draft, once I have a good idea of all my main characters and some interesting facts about them.

Because I need to ensure consistency in my blog posts for this 365 Challenge, I decided to figure some of it out upfront (like names, ages, physical appearance). I find it hard to imagine details about characters until I have written in their voice for a while. Characters don’t come to me fully formed. It’s more like meeting people in real life: when you first come across them you have a bunch of preconceived ideas about who they are based on past experience or stereotypes. As you spend time with them those ideas are either proved or disproved. That’s part of the fun of writing for me – finding out who my characters are. They always shock me.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Auntie Claire! Mummy said you were coming to stay but I didn’t believe it.” A whirl of blonde hair and beads threw itself at Claire’s legs and hugged tight, almost tilting her to the ground. Claire resisted the urge to shake her off like an unwanted dog and waited for the shrieking to stop.

“Hello Claire,” Ruth greeted her sister as she came to the door. The two women air-kissed, leaning over the child still wrapped around Claire’s legs. “Is that a new perfume, it’s very exotic.” Ruth sniffed the air and Claire could tell she really wanted to say it was awful, but as Claire was there to do a huge favour she had no choice but to be nice.

“Yes, Michael bought it for me,” Claire said tightly, before gently removing Sky from her legs so she could walk down the corridor to the kitchen-diner.

“How is Michael?” Ruth asked over her shoulder. Claire wondered if her sister had been so caught up in her own misery she had missed the status updates on Facebook. Or is it that she just can’t keep the maliciousness at bay for five minutes?

“We broke up.”

“Oh, did you? I’m sorry to hear that. He was very charming. Not that we saw much of him.”

Oh, here we go.

As if sensing her sister’s reaction, Ruth didn’t continue. Instead she pulled Sky away from where she hung off Claire’s arm and smiled brightly at her sister. “Tea?”

“Earl Grey please, if you have it?”

“No, only Tetley I’m afraid. Or I have Nescafe?”

Claire shuddered then shook her head. “A glass of water would be lovely, thank you.”

Ruth ran water from the kitchen tap into a plastic Disney Princesses beaker and handed it to Claire, who had sat down at the table. Ruth then poured herself more treacle-coloured tea from a spotty-red teapot and sat opposite her.

“Mum will be here shortly. I’m not supposed to drive, so Mum’s taking me. They’ll do the tests, keep me in overnight for observations, then Mum will come and get me in the morning. I’ll be back by lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Where are you going exactly? Peterborough General?”

“No, I’m still covered by Mum and Dad’s health insurance so I’m going private. It was going to be weeks before they could get me an appointment with the NHS.”

Silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the sound of Sky munching grapes. Claire cupped her hands around the bright pink cup and stared at the reflections in her untouched water. It was always like this with Ruth. Unless she was ranting about the latest injustice or gushing over some bloke she’d snogged they didn’t have much to say to each other.

“How’s work?”

Claire looked up, surprised at the question. “Fine. I have a new assignment.”

“Oh, something interesting?”

“Yes, it could be. I guess. It’s for Coca Cola.”

The spark of interest in Ruth’s eyes died. “Disgusting teeth-rotting stuff. I can’t believe you endorse evil brands like that.”

There didn’t seem any way to respond to the comment without starting a row. Sky was now slurping milk through a straw but she looked up and surveyed the two sisters. Catching her gaze, Claire was surprised at how much comprehension there was in her niece’s eyes. She realised she hadn’t seen her niece in over a year. Claire hadn’t joined her family for Christmas, which meant it was the Christmas before that she last saw Sky.

“Miss Hawkins says Coca Cola was invented by a chemist.”

Claire didn’t know what to say to the non sequitur. It no longer seemed possible to brush the girl off with That’s nice and a smile.

“What else have you learned at school?” She said instead.

“If two pieces of metal touch each other in space they get stuck together.”

Claire stared at Sky, bereft of words. Where did that come from? I remember learning completely useless facts in school, but that seems a bit technical for a six-year-old. She was still scrabbling for a response when the front door opened and she heard the familiar swish of her mother’s floor-length wool coat sweep the laminate flooring.

“You’re here then,” her mother said as she came into the kitchen. Claire turned to look at her, trying to read behind the words.

“Yes, the traffic was surprisingly light, I made good time.”

“Right. Well, we’d best be off Ruth. Have you told Claire where everything is, when Sky has her tea and when to put her to bed?”

“Won’t you stop for a cup of tea?” Ruth looked up at her mother, who was still wearing her winter coat. “We’re not due at the hospital for over an hour. Claire’s only just arrived.”

“We don’t want to be late.”

Ruth looked apologetically at her sister, as if their mother’s rudeness was somehow her fault. She handed her sister a handwritten sheet of paper. “I’ve written it all down, but if you have any problems you can ring Dad.”

“Much good that will do you. Your Father’s working this week, otherwise he would have taken Sky.”

“I thought Dad retired.” Claire smiled at her mother, to show that she was making a light-hearted comment. Her Dad had retired the year before, but he was finding it hard to let go. He had taken on various non-exec roles that seemed to take up more of his time than his full-time job as Chief Financial Officer.

“Your father works harder than all of you,” was all her Mum said, before turning to face the corridor. “Come on Ruth.”

Sky got down from the table and ran to give her Grandmother a cuddle. “Bye bye Nana, see you tomorrow. Auntie Claire and I are going to have so much fun.”

“Bye bye poppet. You be good for your Auntie Claire.”

Claire remained seated at the table as her sister bent to kiss her cheek, gave her daughter a huge hug, and scurried off down the corridor after their mother. Sky came over and leant against Claire, putting her arms around her neck. As the front door clicked shut Sky’s face widened into a broad grin.

“I’m so glad you’re here Auntie. I want you to show me how to paint my nails and my lips and all the things Mummy doesn’t let me do.” Her clear blue eyes sparkled in a way that promised trouble.

Claire was conscious of a strong desire to run down the corridor after her mother and sister, to tell them she would drive Ruth to the hospital. Instead she looked down into the face gazing mischievously up at her and forced out a smile.

“Okay, Sky. Let’s have some fun.”

***

‘The Motherhood’ feat: Day #5 of the 2013 365 Challenge.

You can find the full Motherhood feat video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNVde5HPhYo Worth a watch!

You can find the full Motherhood feat video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNVde5HPhYo Definitely worth a watch!

I love this installment because I managed to include my latest favourite viral advert in the story.

Created by Fiat, ‘The Motherhood’ feat is for all those Mums who juggle small children and work. Or for any Mums really. Or anyone who fancies a giggle or enjoys clever word-usage.

By the way, I should probably add that my story is entirely fictional. I don’t work for Vodafone, Birds Eye, Coca Cola, Starbucks or the Youth Hostel Association, nor do I know much about them except that they are strong brands.

Any lawyers reading that think I might get into trouble for bandying these names around please give me a heads up and I’ll start inventing some fictional brands!

____________________________________________________________________

“So, you’re being pushed out then? I wouldn’t stand for that if I was you.” Steve grinned at Claire as the two of them sat in Starbucks with a stack of paperwork on the table in front of them.

“I am not being pushed out, thank you very much. The Board want me to prove my loyalty, that’s all. I’m on the up.”

“Bollocks. Whoever heard of a Company sending its top Account Director out of the office for a full year? You’ve got windmills in your head if you believe that rubbish. They’re hoping you’ll get sick of it and quit so they don’t have to pay you severance pay, you mark my words.”

Claire glared at Steve as he voiced the concern that had been buzzing round her mind for a week. Once she had had time to think it through it seemed ludicrous that a company would continue to pay her a generous salary while she dossed around the country writing a few Tweets and posting some snaps on Facebook. It was clear that Steve was right. She had been at AJC for three years and her severance pay would be at least a year’s salary. Much better to have her sweat it out in grubby hostels for a few weeks so that she would be grateful to hand in her notice.

There’s no alternative, I will just have to stick it out. If I resign now, not only will I have to work my three months’ notice, I’ll have to put up with the likes of Carl and Steve smirking at me every single day knowing I couldn’t hack it.

Happy to have made his point regarding her secondment, Steve moved onto a fresh topic of torment. “So come on, spill the beans, what happened to Lover Boy? One minute you’re practically renting a lunch time slot at Yo! Sushi together, next thing you’re back to chomping an M&S salad in your office. Dumped you, did he?”

“It’s none of your business Steve.” Claire looked up from her laptop and stared into Steve’s muddy brown eyes, holding his gaze until he looked away.

“Perhaps we could concentrate on the accounts? You know, work? The Vodafone ad is being filmed tomorrow and we’re still trying to pin them down to tell us what airtime their Board is going to let them have.” She took a sip of her latte before replacing the cup on the table. “Apparently the new cheese is all about SEO and viral media rather than more traditional channels.”

Steve sat back, his face more serious although his eyes still danced with mischief. “Get Jimmy on to it, he’ll create something for them. Like that great Fiat Motherhood video. The missus was in hysterics, sent it to all her friends.”

Claire had seen the video but failed to see the humour. Three months in Pyjamas and comparing episiotomy scars? What was funny about that? It just confirmed her view that having kids was a foolish idea. Whatever Michael had thought about the subject.

***

Day #4 of the 2013 365 Challenge…

My refreshed website – still needs work but I was up til 1am getting it this far!

Okay so I am finding this challenge more challenging than I expected. I did my initial calculations on wordcount and figured I could easily write a thousand words a day and post them. I didn’t take into account needing to ensure each scene makes sense by itself, or the time required to tidy up spelling and punctuation. Nevermind how long it takes me to choose an image, upload it, add tags and categories and format the blog post!

This is only my second day without the children and my time seems to have been eaten up by buying birthday gifts for my little one’s 4th birthday (which is actually not until the end of January!), finding a Baptism card (it’s all Christening cards here, I found one in the fifth shop I tried) and updating my website so it ties in with my new business cards for the Art in the Heart Gallery (read about it here).

What’s keeping me going (apart from stubbornness, an unwillingness to humiliate myself in front of an audience and a desire to learn more about Claire) is a blog post I read from the lovely Kristen Lamb about taking yourself seriously as a writer. The blog was fabulously called Lies that Can Poison Your Dreams–Don’t Eat the Butt in 2013 It included a great quotation from Stephen King:

Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us get up and go to work. ~Stephen King

If I want to be a Writer and sell my novels I need to get on and write. So here is Day 4’s installment of my postaday novel. I’ll be scheduling Days 5, 6 and 7 today too (hopefully, although I have to go get the kids in under three hours) due to family commitments in Italy. I’ll be back in person next week!

_____________________________________________________________________

“Claire, it’s Ruth.” Claire held back a sigh and walked into the kitchen to put the coffee machine on. A phone call from her sister was never over quickly.

“Ruth, darling. How are you?” As she waited for her sister to start spilling forth her latest disaster, Claire mulled over how much to reveal about her new assignment. Her family would have to be told something, of course. Not that they ever came to visit, or called her home phone, or sent her letters. Still, it seemed only right to tell them she was moving out for twelve months. Tuning back in to the phonecall, Claire realised she had missed some key information and tried to catch up with what her sister was talking about.

“So the doctor said it was probably lack of sleep. You know Sky is a bad sleeper and her nightmares have been worse since she started Year Two.”

Claire worked out that someone was poorly, but was unsure whether it was her sister or her niece. Probably Sky. Silly, spoiled, overly-dramatic child. As if having her father run off with her ballet teacher gives her an open-ended excuse to be a brat forever. Surely they outgrow that nonsense once they start school?

Claire thought about her own schooling. Her parents had paid for the best, obviously, although Claire often wondered whether that was to ensure their three children didn’t hamper their lifestyle, rather than to give their off-spring a good start in life. The school had encouraged independence and character but had no time for tears and tantrums. Claire had learned quickly to work hard and stay out of trouble. More than could be said for Ruth. It had been a constant mortification to her parents that, while their first and third children both achieved academic success, Ruth only acquired notoriety.

Ruth’s next sentence cut through Claire’s reminiscing like a knife through brie.

“The tests are week after next. That’s why I’m calling. Is there any chance you could come and look after Sky? It’s half-term and most of her friends are going skiing. Of course we can’t afford that…”

Claire inhaled deeply and forced herself not to rise to the bait. Ruth was always poor and begrudged Claire her success. Claire accepted that looking after a child on your own probably hampered your career options, but look at J.K. Rowling, it hadn’t held her back. She was convinced Ruth could help herself if only she’d try harder. Claire’s irritation at the badly-veiled hint nearly overshadowed the first part of the sentence, but not quite.

“Have Sky? How long for? When?” Claire could hear panic in her voice and forced herself to breathe in through her nose. Once she was sure she was back in control of her emotions she said in a slow voice, “I start a new work assignment on 1st March, and I’ll … be on the road a lot. You know. Meeting clients.”

“Wining and dining on someone else’s credit card.” Ruth’s voice cut in.

“There’s more to it than that,” Claire responded quickly. Then, before Ruth could start the age-old argument, Claire inhaled through her nose again and consciously lowered her voice. “Tell me the day you need me to have Sky, I’ll check my diary.”

“Well, it’s two days, actually.” Ruth sounded embarrassed.

As well she might. I don’t want to look after her brat for two hours, never mind two days.

Claire had, thus far, avoided spending too much time with her niece, or with her two nephews Jack and Alex. Her brother and his wife lived in Geneva, so that was understandable. Ruth lived near their mother in Cambridgeshire, so her lack of involvement caused considerable friction. Kids just aren’t my thing.

Thinking about minding a six-year-old for two days made bile rise in Claire’s throat. She gulped down her coffee and wondered if she could use the new assignment as an excuse. There was something in Ruth’s voice, though, that made her pause.

“Can’t mum take her? I thought Mum and Dad were the perfect grandparents?” It seemed odd to Claire that two people who had no time for their own children could go dotty over someone else’s, even if they were their grandkids. Maybe they were going soft in their old age.

“Er, Mum’s coming with me, to the hospital.”

Ruth’s words slithered into Claire’s brain, freezing where they made contact. “Just what tests are you having exactly?”

“Weren’t you listening? I said you never listen to me, you and Robert, you’re both the same.”

Claire almost smiled at the petulant tone in Ruth’s voice. For a moment they were twelve and fourteen again.

“Sorry,” she admitted, saying nothing more.

“The headaches, the ones causing spots in my vision. The doctor thinks it’s tiredness but they want to be sure. I’m having a CAT scan or an MRI or something, I don’t remember the details. I’m not clever like you. That’s why Mum’s coming.”

Claire took the two steps from her kitchen to her lounge and sank into the white leather sofa. “CAT scan? Ruth, are you serious?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t joke about something like that. So, will you take Sky? I don’t think Dad could cope with her for two days on his own. You can stay at my place or at Home, whichever is easier.”

Claire rubbed a hand across her forehead, as if scrubbing away unwanted thoughts. “Of course I’ll come. Text me the dates. I should probably come home before I start my new assignment anyway, store some things in the attic…”

She thought Ruth might ask her about the assignment, but she didn’t. After another ten minutes elaborating on her headaches and trips to the doctors she said that Sky was calling for her and hung up the phone.

Claire slumped back into the sofa, cradling her iphone in her lap. Darkness seemed to engulf the room. A gloom that had nothing to do with the rain hammering against the window pane.

***

The Sort of Hope Who Has Time (allsortsofhope.com)
One word for 2013 (ishouldbewashingclothes.wordpress.com)
365 Challenge (tarawoodruff.wordpress.com)
New Year Challenges!? 365 Challenges and Goals (teejrants.wordpress.com)

2013 365 Challenge #3 and a Confession

The last time we went to Bologna (in 2007) it was our first wedding anniversary and we ended up visiting the Ferrari Museum. I am truly the best of wives...

The last time we went to Bologna (For a wedding in 2007) it was also our first wedding anniversary. We ended up visiting the Ferrari Museum. I am truly the best of wives…

Day three, still writing! Actually I have to fess-up that the weekend posts will mostly be written and scheduled tomorrow because we are heading to Italy on Saturday for a Baptism. The kids are so excited to be going on an aeroplane they haven’t stopped talking about it.

My husband and I are just wondering if we’re mad: we’re flying to Venice airport, driving the 40mins into Venice for lunch (I’ve never been!) before driving 2.5 hours to Bologna to check into our hotel. Thankfully the Baptism is on Sunday and we fly home on Monday so it should be a little calmer after that. I’ll be back to real-time writing next week. Please forgive my little cheat and rest assured I’ll still be writing while I’m away, just not posting.

Here is the third installment of my 2013 365 Challenge.

_______________________________________________________________________

Claire’s heart thumped beneath her gold heart pendant as she saw the email in her inbox. Carl had been quiet about her new assignment for a day or two and things had gone on as normal. Well, as normal as it got in AJC. Steve had filled her diary with meetings to discuss the accounts he was due to take over but, as he was away on a three-day conference, the meetings weren’t until the following week. Hoping the conversation in Carl’s office would go away like an unwelcome case of acne, Claire had continued with preparation for the Vodafone shoot and the Birds Eye’s Press Ads.

Claire looked at the email subject line and felt her hand quiver as it hovered over the track-pad on her laptop. Just click Open and find out the worst. Her hand shook for a moment more before she dragged the cursor over the email link and clicked.

The email was terse, as Carl’s often were.

Details of your assignment. Julia will sort the details. You start 1st March.

Good luck.

Carl.

She could imagine Carl sitting laughing at his desk as he wrote the words. Good Luck indeed. Bastard. She opened the attachment and was surprised to see it was only a single page with Coca Cola and YHA logos at the top. Scanning through the words quickly she saw that the brief had been prepared by Carl’s boss, the top man himself.

So Carl wasn’t talking complete crap when he said this came from the Board. Great.

It didn’t make Claire feel any better to know that her sudden move had been decreed by the powers-that-be. In some ways if it had been Carl’s vindictive move she could have handled that better, found some way to get her own back or turn it to her advantage. Knowing that she had come to the attention of the Board made her skin prickle.

Unable to avoid it any longer, Claire turned her attention to the actual brief.

Assignment: To travel to each of the Youth Hostelling Association’s 200 hostels, located throughout England and Wales.

Your assignment includes maintaining a blog to discuss reviews of the hostels, utilising social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter to inform Fans of amusing stories and anecdotes, and generally promoting the brands of Coca Cola and YHA.

You will relinquish your company car and be given one more suited to your assignment. We will arrange for your apartment to be let and cover reasonable expenses, although you will be expected to stick within a backpacker’s budget (c. £20-£30 a day). You will continue to receive your normal salary and holiday entitlement.

Your accommodation for your first two nights’ stay has been booked in the Northernmost Hostel at Berwick-Upon-Tweed for 1st and 2nd March. From that point on you will be expected to plan your own route and manage your own bookings.

Your secondment is for one year, including your allotted holiday allowance. This means you will need to manage the length of your stay at each hostel, and your driving route from hostel to hostel, to ensure that you have visited each of the 200 hostels in that time.

Claire’s mind reeled as she read and re-read the brief. A car more suited to my assignment? She thought lovingly of the charcoal grey Audi parked in the street below. Take my Audi away? And her apartment. Okay, it wasn’t really hers. Mortgages were for people with kids and dogs. Hers was rented, furnished and serviced. Her sleek steel kitchen was kept clean by a firm who came once a week. Still, it was uncomfortable to think of someone else living there.

There was a hard knot in the centre of Claire’s brain and she knew the worries about her car and flat were skirting around the real issue. £20-£30 a day? That wasn’t going to buy more than an M&S sandwich, a couple of Starbucks and a takeaway noodles for dinner. Was she meant to pay for her hostel room and petrol out of that too? I’m not paying for it out of my salary, that’s for sure. If they’re going to make me do this I at least want to come out of it with something.

Claire’s mind drifted to pictures of a fortnight’s holiday in the Maldives when the ordeal was over. She’d never had enough money left before, after maintaining her shoe-and-handbag habit, but a year living on expenses would leave her nicely in the black. Claire sat back in her chair and smiled suddenly. The brief didn’t say when she could take her holiday. There was nothing stopping her dossing around the country for a few weeks and then jetting off for white sandy beaches and bath-water-warm seas.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

***

4 Thing Thursday: 365 Days In 2013 (streetmeetsstyle.wordpress.com)

2013 365 Challenge #2

The printworks, Manchester, taken from Wheel of Manchester by John Mcguire

This is the second installment of my 2013 challenge to write a section of my new novel every day (see earlier post).

Thank you for your support and comments so far and I’m glad you like Claire! I hope I manage to do her justice. I didn’t get much sleep last night (husband’s snoring and restless kids) so today’s will be a short post. I hope to get to grips with the story a bit more today and tomorrow as the children are in nursery (hurrah!).

___________________________________________________________________

Back at her desk, Claire resisted the urge to put her head in her hands. Living in a glass office surrounded by advertising people had taught her self-control in a way her parents’ strictures on The Correct Way to Behave in Public never had. She had risen through the ranks quickly since arriving at AJC and that generally made people want to find out a person’s weaknesses.

Claire looked out through her glass wall at the Account Managers and Execs working hard at their desks. She could see Julia in close conversation with one of the other PAs. The sight made Claire’s stomach twist and she looked away. There was no doubt Julia had a fair idea what had been said in Carl’s office. PAs knew everything.

Besides, I saw the surreptitious look of glee she threw my way when she brought in the drinks. No doubt it’s all round the Company that I’m being demoted or forced out.

It was that, and only that, preventing Claire from typing her resignation letter and storming back over to Carl’s office. I could get another position by 5pm, she thought as she stared impassively at her computer screen, tapping in random letters while her mind churned at eighty-words-per-minute. But what reputation would follow me? I’d forever be the person who quit on the Coco Cola account. What would the gossips say? That I couldn’t hack a bit of dirt and hard work?

Advertising and Marketing was a closed group. Every day Claire ran into someone from a previous life – a boss, an underling-come-good, a client or supplier. She’d seen former lowly execs become Account Directors or move client-side and become Marketing Directors. You couldn’t be rude to anyone, no matter how much you ached to.

Claire gazed out the window at the city view, or what she could see of it. Manchester in February was a miserable place. It rained. When it stopped raining all you could see were more rainclouds building up on the Pennines. Not that she spent much time outside. The rain was a great excuse to drive the five minutes to work or to the shops from her city-centre apartment. When she wasn’t at the office or with clients she was tucked up warm in the latest wine bar or boutique.

No, the rain wasn’t a problem. Her thoughts dragged her unwillingly back over the last few months, filling her mind with unwelcome images. Flashes of Christmas and New Year filled her head like a TV review programme. Forced to give them attention for the first time, Claire realised they didn’t make happy viewing. She pushed the images away and looked back out at the rain.

Maybe it would be good to get out of Manchester for a while.

***

Let’s Try A 365 Project? (abeautifulmess.com)
Tomorrow, is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one. (milkshakesinspring.wordpress.com)

2013 365 Challenge #1

New Year’s Eve 2006 in New Zealand (on my honeymoon)

This is the first installment of my 2013 challenge to write a section of my new novel every day (see previous post).

Next installment tomorrow.

Happy New Year to everyone.

______________________________________________________________________

Chapter One

“Claire, could you come into my office for a quick chat?”

Claire looked up from the stack of artwork on her desk and resisted the urge to frown, knowing it would leave creases in her foundation.

“Sure Carl, now?”

“Yes please,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back to his own, larger, glass cube on the other side of the office.

Intrigued that he hadn’t sent Julia or phoned through his summons, Claire slipped on her heels, pulled on her jacket and headed after her boss.

“Come in, sit down, would you like a drink?”

Carl was already seated when Claire scratched on his door and opened it.

“Earl Grey please, black, no sugar,” Claire said as she lowered herself onto the black leather chair, glad she was wearing tights.

Carl pressed a button on his desk. “Earl Grey and an espresso please Jules.”

Carl shuffled the paper on his desk and didn’t look up. “How’s the Birds Eye piece coming together?”

Claire looked at the bald patch starting to appear on Carl’s crown and answered in a monotone. “Fine. No dramas.”

“And the Vodafone ad?”

“Shooting next week.”

“Right.” Carl took an audible breath.

Just spit it out, Claire thought as she watched the words fighting to be released from his mouth.

“The Board would like you to hand over your existing clients to Steve.”

Claire sat forward. She hadn’t been expecting that. Aware of her movement she immediately sat back and looked sardonically at Carl.

“Am I being fired?”

“No,” he said quickly, “of course not. You’re one of our best Account Directors. No, think of it more as a change of direction. We’ve secured a new deal with Coca Cola.”

Claire raised her eyebrows before dropping them quickly. Coke? That was a big deal.

“They’re sponsoring the YHA.”

“The what?”

“Youth Hostel Association.”

Claire looked blankly for a minute, not making the connection. Then her brain kicked in. “That doesn’t seem a likely combination – isn’t youth hostelling all about being healthy and the great outdoors. Not something you associate with Coca Cola.”

“That’s the point. After the Olympics they want to improve their healthy image. They’ve decided a year’s sponsorship of the YHA will improve the perception of their brand in the UK.”

“So I’m getting that account? It doesn’t mean I have to hand over all my other deals, surely? Even someone as big as Coke must understand they’re not our only client.”

“Of course not. Actually you won’t be managing the account, I will.”

Claire felt her heartbeat begin to speed up. Something wasn’t right. Carl was looking shifty and he never looked shifty. It was as if he was bracing himself.

“So, come on then, what am I going to be doing?”

“Um. You’re going to be staying in the hostels.”

“What?” Claire nearly stood up but remembered at the last minute to relax back into her chair. Stay in control, Claire, don’t let him get to you.

“The bigwigs want someone on the ground, living the hostelling dream. They want someone to visit all the hostels during the year of promotion, to feedback stories on Twitter and Facebook, you know how it goes.”

“Why can’t you send one of the interns?” Claire could hear her voice sounded higher than usual. She swallowed and took some deep breaths.

“Polly and Molly have finals this year and Sally has a cat.”

Claire looked incredulously at Carl, then over his head through the glass wall of the office.

“What about Julia, she looks like she could use a holiday.”

“This is not a holiday and my PA is indispensable.”

“And I’m not?”

Their eyes clashed and fought before Carl smiled and leaned forward across his desk. “Come on Claire, be reasonable. Think of it as an adventure.”

“You want me to go and sleep in bug-infested bunk-beds in the same room as a bunch of smelly, over-sexed, students for a whole year? You must be mad.” She looked around the office as if seeking something to help her escape. The office was bare except for some piece of modern art and a photograph of Carl’s inexplicably beautiful wife.

“No Claire,” Carl said in a quiet voice. Claire turned to face him, her pulse beating loudly in her ears. Like any predator, Carl was at his most dangerous when he was silent. Forcing herself to meet his eyes she saw the glint in them and swallowed. Carl didn’t frighten her; she’d been around too long and knew she was good at her job. Even so she felt her palms getting clammy as Carl stared at her, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Who did I offend?” Claire could hear the resignation in her voice. Resignation, was that her only option?

“No one my dear. Think of it more as an initiation challenge.”

It was Claire’s turn to raise an eyebrow. This was unexpected.

“The Board feel you have potential but they’re not convinced of your loyalty, to them or to our clients. Think of this as a sabbatical to consider your next career move.”

“Up or out?” Claire suggested, her lips twisting sarcastically.

“Well I wouldn’t put it quite so crudely but yes, as usual, you have encapsulated the essence in a pithy one-liner. That’s why you’re such a valuable member of the team.”

Right, thought Claire as she stalked back to her office. What a load of crap.

***