Charlie's latest newsletter

Almost February – where is the year going? Still, snowdrops in the garden and the daffodils breaking the ground, so spring is dropping hints that it’ll be here soon.
 
News
 
Tickets for the Portsmouth Bookfest are on sale, via the Pompey website. If you’re thinking, “That’s no use, I live nowhere near Portsmouth!” don’t panic. A number of events are online, including the two I’m involved with. You can find the full programme here, but you might enjoy the Return of the Deadly Dames on 21st February at 7pm GMT, when we’re discussing forgotten female detectives. My old mate Jamie Merrow will also be on that panel. On the 2nd March at 7pm a bunch of BSB authors will give some tips especially for fledgling and wannabee authors.
 
The other place where I’m popping up this year – and this is strictly in person – is UK Meet, which is the first weekend of September, in Southampton. Tickets have just gone on general sale and are first come, first served.


 
In terms of writing, I’m juggling three things. The latest edits for the new Lindenshaw, “Lock, Stock and Peril”, the first draft of a crossover story with the Cambridge Fellows and my actor lads, and an attempt at a short story for the CWA’s competition. In that, Jonty Stewart and Maurice Panesar find them investigating an accidental death which might be no accident. More news on each of these when I have it.
 
Free story
 
I keep finding freebies on my website that I’d forgotten all about. I read them with dread—in case they need to be quietly removed—but this one made me think, “Oh, that’s not bad.” It was written for a blog tour some years ago but I feel it’s stood the test of time. A little mystery for Johnny Stewart to solve.
 
Johnny Stewart is the great nephew of Jonty Stewart. His story is told by Mrs Cochrane, official biographer to the Stewart family.
 
Roger Bradley looked out at the Thames from his mother’s hotel suite. This was going to be a wearing evening and they hadn’t even got round to the dinner guests arriving, let alone sitting down. His godmother had burst her appendix, so a last minute replacement had to be found—probably in the form of cousin Mary—but worse still, Sophia was going to be here.
He’d be the one who’d have to take Sophia in on his arm, have to put up with her flirting all evening and, worse still, also have to contend with his mother’s insinuations about what a nice couple they’d make. She’d got brother Henry engaged to be married within a few months and therefore the possibility of grandchildren pretty well sewn up, so why make such a palaver with him?
And Johnny Stewart would be there. The evening had the potential to be disastrous.
“Are you even listening, Roger?” His mother’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“Of course,” he lied.
“And do you agree?” She fixed him with a gimlet gaze. What would he be letting himself in for if he just said “Yes”? It wasn’t worth the risk.
“Sorry, mother, you were right. I wasn’t paying attention.” He needed to defuse the potential explosion. “There was a rather pretty girl out on the embankment and I got a bit distracted.”
“Ah.” His mother’s tone softened. “All I said was that I suspect that in regard to your reference to your godmother’s medical condition, the word is appendices and not appendixes but we’ll let that go. Was she as pretty as Sophia?”
Roger narrowly avoided asking, “who?”, but he’d always been good at thinking on his feet and managed, “How can I answer that without getting myself into trouble with one or other of you? Would ‘equally pretty’ do?”
“A diplomatic answer, dear.” She sighed. “If only your cousin Mary were as pretty.”
I span round to answer her, then decided I preferred the view of the Thames to the view of a condescending maternal face.
“I hope Mary meets a duke one day, one who falls head over heels in love so she then makes a more brilliant marriage for herself than any other female in the family.”
“Since when have you appointed yourself as Mary’s knight in armour?” Roger’s mother’s voice was cool and languid, the one she adopted when she wanted to let his temper blow itself out.
“Since I was old enough to realise how rotten the family is to her. God preserve all spinsters and save them from the machinations of their married relatives.” Roger span on his heels. “This tie needs straightening.”
He ran into his maternal aunt on the way to finding a mirror, which was blessing in that she sorted it for him and kept him out of his mother’s way until he could calm down.
“I hear Johnny Stewart will be here tonight. I’ll enjoy sitting next to him. There.” Aunt Jacinta added the finishing touch to the bow.
“Better you than me. Johnny’s the most insufferable person it’s ever been my misfortune to come across.” Roger ran his hands through his hair.
“You must dislike him intensely,” his aunt said, drily, “to employ that particular gesture. You always used to do it as a lad when you came to stay and we presented you with something you didn’t want to eat. Or asked you a question you didn’t want to answer.”
 
You can find the rest of the story here.
 
Charlie