Books and stories
Read more on this page about my writing - and click through to read some extracts. The Glass Eye Game is my first completed novel, publishing soon, while Pool of Hartles is my current project. You'll also find links to other stories.
The Glass Eye Game
When Charlie Gryff, the last maker of glass eyes in the land, retires and hands on his business to his three daughters, Gail, Rhea and Cordy, he overlooks Eddy, the young man who came to him as a boy, newly adopted from the care system by Charlie’s future accountant, Peter Foster. With no idea of how he lost his eye, Eddy grows up to be Charlie’s apprentice, with a flair for unusual and unsettling prosthetic, glass eye designs and a collector of the stories of those who have experienced eye loss.
And in a world that has gone synthetic and left behind the traditional methods and materials, Charlie and Eddy look on in horror as the daughters and their partners modernise the business and quickly cause division among themselves and within the family, which is already riven by the aftermath of their mother’s mysterious death when they were teenagers.
When Eddy and Gail rekindle a childhood romance and he is then cut out of the business for good, he retaliates by generating a fake PR scandal and events spiral out of control as the secrets of the past start to unfold …
The Glass Eye Game is a compelling family drama and thriller told from the points of view of Eddy, Gail, Rhea, Cordy and Peter, intercut with flashback vignettes of Eddy’s traumatising childhood and Charlie’s formative years as a glass eye-maker. It is a story of love, family, identity and how the past informs the present – and also of how trauma can be overcome to give hope for the future.
Pool of Hartles
Caught up in a terrible car crash on his return to his native North-East after an absence of some years, Harry Hartles, a young journalist, is lucky to escape. In doing so, he discovers a long-lost notebook in the wreckage, which sets him on a journey deep into the past where multi-generational dramas play out against the backdrop of a local folk tale.
Using his journalistic insight, the stories he uncovers offer him a chance to seek redemption from a former lover for a drastic mistake earlier in his career, but only if Harry can solve the secret of his own identity.
Blind Caroline's Boyfriend
Shy had had good days and he had had bad days. Shy too had seen good times and seen bad times. Today was a good day during bad times. A good day because he had been visited by two friends – well, one friend and one friend once-removed – who enabled him to feel part of the outside world (if only briefly) while allowing him to indulge his shortcomings with a reduced level of guilt. The bad times? His job wasn’t working out as he had hoped – his hours had been cut for the second time in as many months – and his consumption, while not up in volume, had certainly increased in potency – cooking lager had been replaced with super-strength, aka “the tar”.
Not that significant to some, but to Shy a step in the wrong direction. And then, of course, there was Karl who showed signs of going off the rails. And … well, the bad times were just the bad times. They would pass. He hoped.
* * *
“I wish you could have seen Shy in his good days,” said Jim to Michael, the latter’s bike standing between them as they met outside Shy’s flat, Number Fifty Tenniel Gardens. “He’s gone downhill a lot since I first knew him. I think he’s getting things together again though.”
Michael smiled. Jim looked around before ringing a defunct bell, then knocked.
“We’ll get what we want and get out as quickly as we can,” whispered Jim. “And then go to the Park.”
Shy opened the door with a hunch and a shuffle.
“Jim, man, come in.”
“Shy. Good to see you. You remember Michael, don’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah. Is that your bike? Nice bike.”
Shy gestured for them to come in, holding the door as they entered.
“Yeah, nice bike, man. How long you had it?”
“About six months.”
“Yeah, I used to have one like it. Not as nice. You can cut the handlebars, you know.”
“Will it be alright here?”
“Yeah, yeah, the handlebars’ll fit OK.”
“No, but here, it’s OK?”
“Yeah, no probs. Plenty of room to get past.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking they’re too big. I clipped a wing mirror today.”
“I know. Come in.”
Shy opened another door from the entrance hall into his flat.
“You can just saw off the ends. That’s my bike.”
“Looks like it’s done a few miles. Is that your work bike?”
“Yeah, it needs a service though. I’d get a new one, but looks like it might not be worth it, know what I mean.”
“What’s up, Shy?” said Jim.
Shy shut the flat door and pointed to the low-slung sofa and the armchair fashioned out of an old car seat. A half-finished game of chess sat on a table in the centre of the room, which Michael began to study. Indistinct reggae music could be heard from a corner of the room.
“Oh, they’re cutting back my hours again, man. Do you want to get one on, Jim?”
He threw a loosely packed tobacco tin to Jim.
“What for?”
“Don’t ask me. I don’t know what’s going on there. Ali’s got it in for me, I reckon.”
“Get out of there, Shy. You know you should.”
“I know, I know. It’s not as though I could have done anything different. I should have taken the chance when I got it.”
“What?”
“I could be sitting on a beach somewhere, maybe running a bar or something. Do you want a drink? Only I’ve got a can of tar in the fridge, but that’s all I’ve got.”
“No, don’t worry Shy. So how have you’ve been? You on the strong stuff again?”
“Ah, I’ve just had a few over the last few days. Nothing much. It’s under control.”
“What about the classes?”
“Oh, alright, I suppose. I did miss one last week, though. Not too good, is it? But there was a good reason.”
“Yeah? Got a light, Shy?”
“Yeah, hold on. I think I pulled at the class before last. Lorraine. You remember Lorraine?”
“She’s not still around is she? She’s trouble Shy, you know that.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not that bad. We just went for a drink after the class. Just the one. She knows Blind Caroline. I had to talk to her about her. And then she started talking about going back to hers, but I couldn’t do it.”
“Blind Caroline? Who’s she?”
“She used to run the agency over in town. You know, the one before it went bust.”
“Yeah.”
“I wanted to talk to her boyfriend.”
“Who? Lorraine’s?”
“No, Blind Caroline’s. Because he was the one who got me out of trouble, but I still got grief for it.”
“Look, Shy, you’re making no sense. Have a go of that. That should help.”
“Cheers, man.”
“You alright Michael?”
“Fine.”
“No, look, I’ll tell you. I was doing this job the other day. Running a packet over to Sugar Quays One. You know where that is?”
“I can’t say I do, Shy?”
“It’s down on the river. Near the tower.”
“I know where you mean.”
“And I get a call to say can I pick up a delivery and make a drop from Number One down to Sugar Three. Sweet, yeah. So, I drop off what I’m doing at Sugar One, pick up the packet and head off to Three. Anyway, I get there, do the stuff, and I’m out of there.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Nothing. Here, you want this? It’s not going that well.”
“Thanks. I’ve seen a great move.”
“Yeah?”
“Knight to Bishop Six. Puts him in imminent threat of check. Not checkmate. But if he doesn’t deal with it, then the check will lead to the loss of most of the left flank. If he does counter, as he has to, then he lays open his other flank.”
“Yeah?”
“If you’re black, that is.”
“I’m white.”
“Ah. Can I have the ashtray, please? I’ll have another think. Whose move is it?”
“Black.”
“So, what happens, Shy?”
“Nothing at first, until Ali gets on the phone, giving me hell about dropping off the wrong packet at Number Three. Or something. Says I have to go back and drop it off at the merchant bank. Where it should have been in the first place, so he says. Important package and that I’ve fucked up. Again. Bastard. I tell you, man, if I hadn’t listened to him, I could be away by now. So, I go back to Number Three and when I get there, he’s there. Blind Caroline’s boyfriend. Turns out he’s been working on the door for the past six months. I tell him what’s happened and you should have seen the look on his face. ‘What the packet that’s just been dropped off?’ he says.
“ ‘Yeah,’ I say. Then he whistles and takes me into the back room. I go in there and there’s the open packet on the table. You won’t believe it, man. There’s twenty quid notes pouring out of it like nobody’s business. ‘We have to open them all up,’ he says. Security you see. Could have been a bomb.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five thousand pounds. They counted it. None of them had seen that much money before.”
“What did you do?”
“We didn’t do nothing. We didn’t know what to do. We just sat there looking at it.”
“Shy.”
“I know. We should have just taken it and headed off for the nearest airport. I could be sunning myself on a nice beach somewhere now.”
There was a knock on the window. Jim and Michael jumped.
“It’s alright. It’s probably Karl. He said he might drop round.”
Shy went to answer the door.
“How you doing Michael?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“I’ll ask him if he’s got anything when he gets back.”
“OK.”
Shy could be heard ushering Karl inside.
“Wheredya get it from?”
“It’s my brother’s. He said I could use it for a while.”
“How is Max?”
“He’s inside. Robbery.”
“This is Jim and Michael. Have you met Jim before?”
“Alright Karl. How you doing?”
Shy shut the door and the draught vanished.
“Yeah. Alright. You got anything Shy?”
“Nothing you’d want. I was just sorting Jim out when you rang.”
“Your doorbell’s broken, Shy. Look I really need something. Do you want to buy a bike?”
“Why would I want a bike, Karl? I’ve got one.”
“Shy, have you got anything for us?” said Jim.
“What about you, do you want a bike Jim?”
“I’m fine Karl.”
“What about you?”
“No, thanks. That’s mine in the hall.”
“If you give me tenner, I’ll go across the road and score you something if you want?” said Shy to Jim.
“That’s a nice bike that is. Better than the one I’ve got. It’s good mind, though, mine.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
Jim handed Shy a twenty pound note.
“Keep the rest, Shy.”
“I don’t know. But it’s nice. I’m looking to sell it. I need the cash.”
Shy left the flat.
“So, Karl. What you up to?”
“Nothing much. You haven’t got anything have you? I’m on edge.”
“No. Sorry Karl. I don’t do that. Shy doesn’t either.”
“I know. But. There’s a guy up on the Archway. He might have something. Better. You sure you don’t want a bike?”
“No, we’re fine.”
“What about a trial?”
“What do you mean?”
“Give me a score and you can have it for a week. If you don’t like it, then I’ll give you it back and that’ll be it.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, but it’s good. Goes fast.”
“Let’s have a look then.”
Jim and Karl rose from the sofa and walked into the hall. Michael looked at the chessboard. When they returned, Michael had withdrawn from the board and was rummaging in the tobacco tin.
“Got any papers, Jim?”
“Yeah, good idea. They’re here. Alright, you’ve got a deal, Karl. But you don’t get it back without the cash. And I’ll give you thirty.”
“Nice one, Jim.”
The door opened and Shy walked in.
“Jim, he didn’t have much, but I got what I could. Here you go.”
“Thanks, Shy. You’re a hero.”
“Do you want to get one on?”
“Michael’s doing the work. Don’t worry.”
“I’m going to do those bastards.”
“What you on about, Karl?”
“Nothing. I owe them some money, but now I’m going up the Archway. There’s a guy there and I’m going to fire myself up.”
“Take it easy, Karl, man. Relax.”
“You seem a bit fired up, Karl.”
“Yeah. I just need something to relax. I’m going.”
Karl got up, paced the room, waved an agitated hand, then left the flat. There was a crash of bikes collapsing, some swearing and eventually the outer door closed. Michael looked at the door.
“Do you think the … do you … do you think … the … he’s alright?”
“Yeah, man, he’ll be fine. He just needs a fix.”
“He’s looking dangerous, though, Shy. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen him like that for a while. I think he’s back on it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You’re fucked, you know.”
“What?”
“The game. White. White is fucked.”
“Right.”
“If black knows what he’s doing.”
“Well, he doesn’t necessarily.”
“Shy? What happened with the money?”
Shy started digging in his pockets.
“No. The twenty-five thousand.”
“Oh, man. I took it back to the merchant bank. I had twenty-five thousand on my bike. I could have just gone. Disappeared. Wouldn’t have mattered what happened after that. I could have spent the rest of my days on beach. Maybe in Morocco or Mexico, I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to see Blind Caroline’s boyfriend. See if we could sort it out next time. Be ready for it.”
“Oh, Shy. You should have done. Go when the going’s good.”
“Jim. I’m going to have get going. I’ve got to go.”
“Yeah, OK. Two minutes. Look, Shy, we’ve got to go, but I’ll give you a bell. Try and lay off the tar. You’ll be alright.”
“Alright, man. You going to the Park?”
“Maybe at the weekend. See you there Sunday, yeah?”
“Yeah, alright.”
Jim and Michael went into the hall, collected their bikes and went to the Park.
* * *
They were bad times, but it was a good day, thought Shy. He had seen his friend and a friend once-removed. He had a smoke and enough cash for a couple of tars, or maybe even something stronger. And change besides. The sweet sun might not be that far away.
The short story below is one of a number that I wrote many years ago. I still like it, still think it holds up.