77 Days

77 days until the World Cup starts and I'm worried about Caroline getting the tickets. That's a normal thing, isn't it, to worry about your partner? Especially when she does something she has previously nagged me relentlessly for. If your partner does something out of character it makes you think they are changing. Oh my God, what if Caroline changes into someone different? What if the new Caroline is someone I don't like? Or worse, what if she turns into someone who doesn't like me?

I was in the pub, after work on Tuesday waiting for the football to come on, with a friend called Danny. We spent the first drink talking about the problems at Manchester United, and the second drink discussing the merits of different football managers, having a huge laugh at the horrible idea of Arsene Wenger as the manager of United. This led to a list of other unsuitable managers for the greatest club on Earth, and we came to the conclusion that it might as well be David Moyes because everyone else is either too inexperienced for a big club, closely associated with an enemy, or already exposed as lacking sufficient vision.

Out of the blue, Danny asked me a personal question. "How is Caroline?"
Of course I was suspicious. "She's fine, thanks."
He persisted. "Does she like Italy?"
A couple of weeks ago I had mentioned, before a European game I think it was, that Caroline was going on one of her work trips, starting in Milan; and that she might be able to get tickets for the World Cup in Brazil because she was meeting up with Bertrand Cottoneau, that guy who used to play for France and is now a top bureaucrat in the European Football Federation. I know Danny was interested in the World Cup tickets, not in Caroline's welfare, but I actually responded to his personal question with a personal answer.

"Good question. I have only heard from her once. I think she might be hiding something from me."
"Yes," said Danny, "but did she say she has met Cottoneau? Can she still get free tickets for the final?"

I took a sip of my drink. "She says she can, but there's no free lunches, are there? I'm worried what she's having to do to get them. Bertrand has some dodgy friends. She met up with him at a lingerie fashion show, and now she says she is going to a casino in Trieste. Caroline in a casino! I mean, the grief I get from her when I bet on the football. She thinks gambling is a stupid waste of money."

He told me not to worry because in business you have to pretend you like people you can't stand. And in any case, if she got tickets for the final, whatever she did was worth it. Can you tell Danny isn't married?

Caroline asks awkward questions

It's always interesting when Caroline reads one of my books for the first time. Official advice to writers is not to take notice of praise or criticism from someone close to you - it's impossible for them to be objective. How true, especially when the central character is that very person...

Caroline:  I want some straight answers, Robert. I notice that you gloss over your first visit to Castle Dunlaggin and in particular your relationship with the models Joni, Greta, and Georgina. Did something happen you’re not telling me about?

Robert:  When I’m writing a book I can’t include everything that happened, much as I might like to. I don’t deny that I found them very attractive, Georgina in particular. She was so symmetrical, perfect she said for bikini shoots. The flowing robes worn by the acolytes sat well on her tall frame. She said she only there to lose weight, but she looked good to me. Joni, on the other hand, took the programme very seriously. She really believed in the spirit guides.

Caroline:  Why on earth did you go there in the first place? Don’t you feel embarrassed that you were taken in by Regina Heart’s bogus cult?

Robert:  I wouldn’t say I was taken in by it. My legal training means I try to keep an open mind. I leave judging people down to the judge. I often take cases which seem far fetched, but the client deserves to be represented. It’s easy to judge these things with hindsight, but at the time the Orgatron training regime was gaining converts all over the world. Don’t pretend you weren’t tempted. If not, why did you audition for high priestess?

Caroline:  I’m the one asking the questions, Robert. And it wasn’t an audition. It was ordeal. He was the quite biggest, roughest man I have ever seen. Where was I? Oh yes; how did you persuade Angus to ferry you back to the island on the night of the solstice moon ceremony?

Robert:  Double malt whiskies were the key. Good man, Angus. He knew I’d drown if I tried to go across alone. We nearly did drown when the boat smashed into the slipway.

Caroline: Bogus philosophy aside, do you think anyone benefited from Regina’s orgatron training?

Robert: I’d have to say yes. Wouldn’t you? I mean, sex is fantastic since you did the practice. And Jocasta says she is a changed woman. I thought at the time that Regina was being much too harsh with Jocasta, but the sessions in the dungeon and on the rack seemed to cure her completely.

Caroline: I'm going for a bath and then to bed, and I want you to tell me again exactly what Regina did to Jocasta...

Dancing to Regina's Tune

We go through life imagining we are in control, making choices based on preferences and evidence. But when we look back, we can see how we were dancing to someone else's tune. I thought it was just coincidence when Forbes-Brown lobbed me a lucrative piece of work up in Scotland for a client I had met before, but that was to underestimate Regina Heart's ability to play a long game.

Robert stood alone on the wooden jetty wondering if the torn information notice pinned to a post was correct. He listened intently but there was no sound apart from the gentle lapping of six inch waves on the shingle beach. He had stayed the night in a decent hotel in Blackwaterside, once a hunting lodge for royalty and lairds. He was the only guest and had used the solitude to prepare for his meeting with Regina Heart. It was his favourite part of the job – taking instructions directly from the client – but he felt uneasy. The last time he had seen this particular client she had been locked in a cage in a torn latex dress.

Forbes-Brown had insisted he travel to see Regina. “When the case is worth thousands, the client comes to us. When it’s worth millions, we go to them. Most people would jump at the chance for a couple of days in Scotland sampling a few malts. What’s the matter with you, Robert?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll go. I was trying to save your costs.”

“You’re not questioning my judgement? This young woman has been badly treated by a big company. I want to do something for her.”

“She’s not exactly young, Forbes-Brown.”

“She is from where I stand. Not that I’ve met her in the flesh. We spoke on the phone, but there was something in her manner. I don’t know, she had a lovely melodic voice… and she sent me a picture, to my phone. Damned clever, that.”

“I know what you mean. I mean I know the kind of person. Why don’t you take instructions yourself?”

“Look here Robert, I can’t spend all day listening to your twaddle. There’s no risk anyway. The company will settle out of court. They won’t want dirty linen washed in public. Even you couldn’t fuck this one up.”

“I just think if it comes out that my wife works for the company being sued the plaintiff might feel she’s not had a fair shot, especially if she loses.”

“She can’t possibly lose. It’s just a question of how much. Your connection to a junior executive in Monsaint won’t come out. Why would it? Sometimes your attitude… It’s a straightforward case with a big fee. What more do you want? There are plenty of other barristers I could give it to.”

“I’ll get in touch with Castle Dunlaggin right away.”

This is an extract from SHAMELESS EXPOSURE . This, and other books by Robert Fanshaw published by Steam eReads are available from Amazon.

Before the Moon Ceremony

The problem with book extracts is that even short pieces of writing need a beginning - middle - end structure, and an extract is usually part of just one of those. An extract gives you a sense of style, genre, and content (possibly) but leaves you wondering what the story is. Why are these people here? Why are they doing that? Who cares? So to make it more interesting, I will reveal that this extract, from the second adventure of my wife Caroline, entitled Shameless Exposure , is from the middle of the book. All you have to do is work out a beginning and an end which are satisfying to you. By all means let me know what you come up with...

The tables were filled with smiling, chattering women. Nobody missed dinner this time, and not just because of the bottles of wine on the tables. Everyone was looking forward to the moon ceremony. For the majority, it would be their first attempt to make contact with an animal spirit. It would also be, except for the wayward Jocasta, their first physical release for at least twenty seven days, a release they had been skirting around with increasing difficulty in their daily practice.

The upper reaches of the legal profession were one of the few remaining areas of modern work life, apart from rubbish collection, which was still a predominately male environment. Robert was not used to being outnumbered so comprehensively and sat down next to Angus for moral support once he had collected his bowl of yellow lentil stew with yellow rice from the kitchen.

“Ye decided to stay then?” said Angus, taking off his cap and placing it on the table.

“Regina more or less insisted, but I am curious to see the ceremony.”

“Well I hope ye are feeling energetic. Ye may be in demand later on.”

“Not me, I’m married.” Robert picked at his lentils, his appetite not stimulated by the smell or the texture.

“There’s no one married on Mura. That’s what Miss Heart says, anyway. Ye best be prepared. Eat yer stew.”

“What about you? Are you married?”

“Nay. I’m still looking for the right girl. There’s not many single lasses on Sporran.” From his grizzled looks, Robert guessed Angus had been looking for a long time. Angus drained his cup of wine.

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Aye, lived there all my life.”

“What about the women who come to Castle Dunlaggin? Lots of them seem to be single and looking for something or someone.”

Angus leaned towards Robert and spoke conspiratorially. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad of the work ferrying people here and there and doing odd jobs for Miss Heart. But most of these lasses are wrong in the head. I wouldn’t want a girl of mine to get up to what they get up to.”

“But surely there’s nothing wrong with masturbation?”

“In front of strangers?”

“But it’s not just mindless sex, is it? They’re trying to connect with some bigger power, develop themselves spiritually.”

“You’ve no been taken in by this nonsense have you?”

“Not taken in I hope. I’m just trying to keep an open mind. It’s part of my training.” Robert immediately wished he hadn’t reminded Angus that he was a lawyer. Angus gave him a look of contempt and refilled both their cups with wine.

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” That was Angus’s final word on the matter, so Robert struck up a conversation with a stocky woman sitting on the other side of him. Linda was older than most of the other acolytes, in her forties he would guess. Robert noticed she hadn’t touched the wine in the cup in front of her. She said she was divorced and this was part of her project to get her life back together. She had decided to expose herself to as many new experiences as possible.

“What about you?” Linda said. “I’ve only been here two weeks but I gather it’s unusual for men to participate in the programme.”

“I’m not here for the programme,” said Robert. “I came to help Regina with a legal matter and ended up staying longer that I expected.”

“But I’m sure I saw you come out of one of the practice rooms with Georgina?”

“Yes well, it’s hard not to get drawn in if you spend a few days here. It does raise some questions.”

“Yes, it does,” said Linda. “More questions than answers. I’m hoping I’ll understand it all better after the ceremony.”

“Me too,” said Robert. 

My books are available to download from Amazon. Start HERE

Caroline visits Castle Dunlaggin

Caroline has been searching for her natural mother, and thinks a lifeline has been thrown when Regina Heart gets in touch, claiming to be her birth mother. Regina has founded a pagan cult religion on a Scottish island, and persuades Caroline to visit her remote castle.

She breathed in the cool clear air and let it calm her worries. She would treat this as a holiday, a much needed break from her life. She joined in the laughter as the women scrambled from the boat onto the wet concrete ramp. She looked up at the fairytale castle, dark against the grey sky.

Every room and bunk was already booked for the solstice, so Regina led Caroline up the narrow stone steps to the unused bedroom above her own.

“I’m sorry it’s so dusty,” said Regina. “I’ll organise a work party to clean it out and make the bed.”

“I can do that myself if you tell me where things are,” said Caroline.

“No,” said Regina. “I’ll get Jocasta to do it. She finds cleaning therapeutic. I want you to begin orgatron practice right away. It’s only three days until the moon ceremony and I want you to be ready.”

“Ready in what way?”

“You could be my first high priestess, but we need to build up your vaginal power. Come, I’ll give you an introduction and you’ll see what I mean. I have a machine which can accelerate the learning process. Here, let me put this on you.”

She clipped an orgatron over Caroline’s wrist and gave her a brief instruction on the significance of the flashing colours.

“Is this the machine you were talking about?”

“All the proselytes wear the orgatron for practice. I have another machine which is only used in circumstances when time is short. Most of the women build up their orgasmic power over a few weeks, a whole month ideally. But I realise that busy people like you can’t give up a whole month, much as they might like to. That’s where the orgasmic accelerator comes in.”

She led Caroline down to the practice rooms and found Joni and Jocasta practising together spread across some large cushions. Regina made a sign and withdrew from the room. Five minutes later a flushed Jocasta emerged and bowed meekly to Regina.

“What duties do you wish me to perform, Mistress Superior?”

“Please clean the room above my own. Make sure it’s spotless. I will inspect when you have finished.”

Two minutes later, Joni emerged, panting lightly, her orgatron still flashing yellow.

“How can I serve the spirit of the orgasm?” asked Joni.

“In the best way imaginable,” said Regina. “Take this novice and show her the love of the community. Wash her and oil her, give her loose robes, then take her to GEORGe. Set the timer to one hour.”

“One hour, Mistress Superior? I understood novices began with fifteen minutes.”

“Caroline is a special case, she has great potential.”

Click on the cover for more details.

Anniversary Bash

Do you have a master-plan, or do you start something and see where it goes? Caroline always has clear objectives. To her, life is a Roman road with posts at every Roman mile. They even call them milestones in the latest business jargon. The discipline of business runs deep in Caroline's personality and carries over into our marriage. However many times events and affairs deflect her from the straight road, she somehow manages to shoehorn everything back into the grand plan.

I, on the other hand, hate to plan anything, even going to the movies. I would always rather decide on the day. So, for me, it is a particular and unusual miracle that this blog, started on a whim, has lived to see it's first anniversary. Over those 62 posts, the blog has roamed far and wide, following the adventures in publishing generated by Caroline's stories about her business colleagues. From time to time, my experiences with writers' gatherings have provided the material, and those have proven the most popular posts because people love to read something with their name in it. But in the spirit of an anniversary, I shall pour a glass of Pinot Noir, dig out three favourite extracts, and say 'Happy Birthday' to My Wife Caroline. (It's not her real birthday, but she could always have two, like the Queen).

I love it when characters answer back. Antonia Anderson said her piece when Shameless Ambition was due to be published. She wanted to explain how she came to be pole dancing in a bar in Spain.

"Robert is a lovely man but he can be cynical. I told him he wasn't being fair about career and personal development so here I am to put another viewpoint.
I am Antonia Anderson, Head of Press, PR and Social Media in Monsaint Medical Instruments. That's enough about me. Robert says he will put a picture on his facebook page. The fact is that MMI is a brilliant, dynamic company that cares about the future, and believes in nurturing internal talent. Our chief executive, Andreas Rivera-Castillo, knows that the difference between the winners and the also-rans in today's competitive environment is Leadership. Strong leaders have an undefinable edge which is why they get to the top. Belief is a big part of it. And that intensive experience in Spain with my colleagues was all about discovering the inner belief, the inner motivation that drives us to the top."  22nd March 2013.

I've had great fun collaborating the some of the other writers published by SteameReads of Australia, like when I met Tamsin Baker on a plane to Croatia.

My sleeping companion woke with a start when the refreshment trolley came past. She ordered a Bloody Mary. The plane hit a pocket of turbulence. There was raucous laughter from the seats five rows up, but my neighbour went a whiter shade of pale, grabbed my arm, and spilt some of the thick red liquid on my chinos.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I'm a nervous flyer. I always think I'm going to die." She used an inadequate napkin to dab the blotch on my trousers. Her nails were painted black.
"No problem," I said, though really it was, because I was travelling ultra light. I seized the opportunity to introduce myself and asked the purpose of her journey.
"I'm Tamsin Baker," she replied. "I'm researching my next book. After Croatia, I go on to Silesia, Moravia, and Transylvania."
"How interesting," I said. "And what would your next book be about?"
"Vampires. The myths originate from that part of Europe. They really did exhume bodies and stick a stake through the heart. It's more than a myth; every society wonders what happens to people when they are dead." She looked straight at me and her eyes widened. "Don't you wonder, Robert?"
12th June 2013.

And then, of course, there was that time last year when Caroline bumped into some characters from a book by Annie Oakfield, Amber and Lucy, and went to their hotel.

By the time I'd had my shower Caroline was curled up in bed and nearly asleep. I decided to risk extreme grumpiness and engaged my wife in conversation.
"What happened next?" I asked. "You were going to tell me about the maid and the champagne."
"Oh God, Robert, I'm really tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. Can I tell you about it in the morning?"
"I didn't get much sleep last night either worrying about what you were up to."
"I wish you wouldn't worry. There's no need to. I'm not suddenly going to run off with another woman, or two other women as it turned out."
"Two?"
Caroline turned over and talked to the bedside table...
6th August 2013.

Warning of Gales

The legal profession knows about computers but does not trust them. The old boys, like Forbes-Brown, have a series of avoidance strategies starting with:

a) pretend helplessness and get someone else to use the machine; and

b) use that other kind of memory located inside the human brain. 

When I was worried about getting stuck on the Isle of Mura with the awful Regina Heart, I phoned Forbes-Brown for a forecast...

 “Could you look up something on your computer for me? The signal’s so poor it takes too long for the pages to load.”

“What pages? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Robert. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Forbes-Brown’s office was a museum of 1980’s work artefacts. The walls were lined with leather bound books. The coffee table supported a pile of real magazines covering subjects as wide as golf and classic cars. His means of communication to the outside world was a solid lump of phone connected to Dorothy, his secretary, who sat in an ante-room wearing a silk blouse, twin set and pearls. She did his typing, translating his elegant long-hand into a suitably legal typeface. His concession to the new century was a sleek grey laptop which he used to weigh down the pile of papers in his in-tray.

“Open it up,” said Robert. “Okay? Now there should be a world icon along the bottom. Click that.”

“Sorry Robert. It’s just a dark screen.”

“Have you switched it on?”

“How do you do that?” Dorothy had offered to give him a tutorial in 2008 but he’d not got round to it yet.

“Do you want to put me back through to Dorothy?”

“She’s on her lunch break.” The routine of the Edinburgh office day was also firmly based in the past. Staff had two tea breaks with biscuits and strictly one hour for lunch. Anyone returning to their station five minutes early was letting the side down.

“There will be a button near the top with a broken round symbol.”

There was a pause, followed by a faint whirring as the machine came to unaccustomed life. There was another long pause.

“It wants to know which country I’m in,” said Forbes-Brown, “but Scotland’s not on the list.”

“Try United Kingdom.”

“Got it. Now what? It says I have to register something.”

“Have you never used it before?”

“Just ask me what you want to know, Robert.”

“I want to know the weather forecast for the Western Isles. I want to know if this is a lull in the storm or the start of a fine spell.”

“Well why didn’t you say so instead of making me mess around with this bloody thing? I listen to the shipping forecast at five thirty every morning. Let me think… There were warnings of gales in Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Trafalgar, Shannon, Rockall, Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, and Fair Isle. What are you?”

“I don’t know, Forbes-Brown.”

“What the hell do they teach at school these days? You’ll be Malin or Hebrides. In any case it was rough or very rough, becoming high in Rockall and Bailey. Moderate or good, occasionally poor.” Forbes-Brown had trained his mind to remember detail for his part two exams and the skill had never left him.

“Can you interpret that for me, Forbes-Brown?”

“It means get off that bloody island this afternoon while you can. I expect to see you here first thing in the morning.” He summarily ended the call.

This extract is from Shameless Exposure available as an ebook from Amazon. Just click the title for more info.