Rhondda Book Fair

I’m going…

It’s my first book fair as an author.

I feel sick.

I feel excited… and apprehensive. I feel it all and it worries me that I will get there and freeze. People will move past my table because I will be hiding behind a poster of a dragon.

To make matters worse this will be the first time I have put my children’s books up for being looked at. The adult books have done the rounds at shows, never a book fair though. So, I’m a little worried.

Where will you be? I hear you ask.

Well, I will be at SOAR chapel (CF40 1JZ) from between 10.30 and 3pm on Saturday the 3rd of September. If you are around nip in and see if you can unfreeze me.

rhondda bf

And here are some of the books I will have with me…

Children’s Fiction

Adult Fiction

And in case you can’t wait this is my Amazon Author Page where you can buy all the books. They are all available on kindle unlimited as ebooks and as paperbacks. But if you want a signed one come to SOAR Chapel on Saturday

Fey is finally done

Yes, Fey is up on Amazon… It’s the last of the kid’s books I had written and oddly it is the first one I wrote.

I don’t know why I was so scared of getting Fey into the limelight but I was. With pushing from my mum though I have finally finished him and he is now and ebook (also on Kindle Unlimited)and a paperback.

Dai’s father is missing and his mum has to work. So Dai is babysitting all summer. How could he know that his boring job would lead him into an enchanted world as he fights to save his father and his sister? Even more strange is the legacy he brings back.

fey front cover

A doodle

In truth I forget which day I did it. I have been putting the workshop in order and getting rid of the fabric store. At the moment I am sat in the middle of a mess. I have cottons one one side and a working computer on the other. Life is interesting and I am finding that the new set up makes the workshop look huge.

I am coping with the echo…

No, really… It is massive. The only excellent news is that I have a place to write and draw. I’m a happy Kate.

So, back to the doodle. The prompt was ‘smasher’ and I came up with Mr T. My favourite character out of the A-Team, and no – not the movie. You need to watch the series. It was loads better. Mr T is available at Zippi and Society6.

smasher2.

Life

It’s strange how life can move in a circle. Today I found myself wanting, no needing to write. But I am working on a large project – a book – and that wasn’t it. I wanted to do something short… Something flash-like.

So I decided to go for a daily prompt. I may even do another tomorrow… In fact I probably will. So here it is:

Fifty

I hit the big five zero… It arrived unexpectedly. One minute I am twenty and the next fifty. Maybe I noticed a few aches and pains. Maybe I was slower to get up in the morning…

Maybe I wasn’t paying attention.

Then the card.

From a family member. A child of a distant aunt. Distant in miles and in blood. I have a feeling that the aunt was only by marriage. I shake my head and stare at the big numbers on the front. At first I’m in denial. There is no way I’m that old. I shuffle over to the calender, the one hanging behind the door to the kitchen and stare at the date. I really am fifty.

The phone rings.

The noise hurts my ears for a moment and I lunge for the machine just to shut it up.

“Yes?” I’m surprised at the rasp in my voice. When had I last spoken?

“Happy Birthday!” a cheery voice screams at me down the phone.

For a moment I’m silent and then I let out a quiet ‘thank you’, it seems they are waiting for some sort of reply.

“Granma?”

I close my eyes for a moment and a child skips through my vision, a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. Then I see her screaming at me, her face contorted into hate and her fists rigid at her sides.

I say nothing. I can’t.

After a moment I hear a muted voice. “Is she saying anything?”

My daughter. I’d know her voice anywhere.

“No,” says the child, a girl and so unhappy that I can hear the tears.

“Give me the phone.”

There is a sort of shuffling sound and then my daughter is on the line. She is crystal clear and I wonder if she lives close by.

“Mum?”

I swallow. I never thought that you could get a frog in your throat. Not really. But here I am with one and I can’t get past it.

“Mum?”

I open my mouth and I force myself to speak. “Yes…” It doesn’t sound like me. It sounds like an old person. But, as I look at the card in my hand with its harsh pink and yellow balloons, I realise that I am. I’m old.

“I know we parted on bad terms…” My daughter pauses. “But I think Lauren needs to know you.”

Lauren… the baby’s name was Lauren. It had been my mother’s.

“Yes.”

“Mum, do you want to know her?”

That was the question. Did I want to know the child that my daughter had birthed without me and against my wishes? I did but I knew I would have to say the words. That I was wrong.

I’m not sure I can. Was I wrong? Was my daughter happy?

That was the question that kept me up at night.

“Are you happy?” I blurt it out, my voice strident and harsh. It isn’t a question it is a demand.

“Mum…” she sounds resigned. “Yes, I am happy. No I’m not on the bread line. I have a job and a daughter. We are fine, but I want my child to know you.”

I wait only a minute. “Yes.”

“Okay.” I can hear the surprise in her voice. “Can we come around?”

I close my eyes for a moment and look around the room. All the things I own. The beautiful ornaments and the glass. “Is she accident prone?”

I ask it without thinking. It is something I always told my daughter she was. Knocking into things and breaking them.

“Oh Mum…” there is true sadness in her voice. Then a dial tone.

I take the handset from my ear and look at it. I shake it. I place it back to my ear. The tone is dull and continuous.

I like my things. I don’t want them to be broken. I see the child that had been my daughter again as if the past were haunting me. She skips across the room and I wince at the things she could harm. Maybe it would be best if I met Lauren out. Away from home.

Smiling I place the phone back to my ear. “We can do lunch?” I’d heard that term from the telly. I congratulate myself on being so slang savvy.

The tone answers me.

“That’s great,” I say. “Ring me when you are free.”

Smiling I place the receiver down and look at the card. It is cheap and will stand out against the crystal. I have no need to keep it. Moving into the kitchen I toss the offending card into the bin. At least the recycling will reuse the vile thing.

Reaching under the sink I pull out the box. Carefully I take out the polish and the cloths. Today was a big day. My birthday. A good deep clean would be in order. Slowly I start, wiping at the dust that is so fine you can’t see it.