The Traitors

Hands up, I'm an addict. At least, I have an addictive personality. Hence my ability - nay, compulsion - to binge watch.

Goodness knows how I ever managed before netflix/prime (other streaming services are available) came along. Oh, I remember - it was wall-to-wall videos.

Anyway, the first thing I did after my marathon of researching/ writing/publishing/promoting the Time Doctors series {which lasted 25 month), was catch up on one of the series I'd been missing out on: The Traitors.
The huge pull for me had to be Claudia Winkleman - she can do no wrong in my book.

I started watching S3 Ep3, and was instantly hooked, binging all the way through to Ep9 in a couple of days. Because I had to wait several days for Ep10, I loaded up on the entire series 1 and 2 in between times. Normally I can't stand reality shows (unless it's Strictly, which doesn't count because, well, it's Strictly), but this one had me well and truly hooked. Not just because of Claude's scary-faced delivery and stern voice, but the whole set-up of people trying to outsmart their fellow inmates. Genius.

And what a setting - although they're not fooling anyone about the contestants' accommodations being off site - why bother with the footage of the landrovers? Not cool guys. But I guess they've been getting away with the Strictly Sunday results show subterfuge since forever ...
I just found out there'll be a celeb one - could be fun - depends on how seriously they take it and whether they can put their egos aside.

And how fun that Molly, who should, by rights have won series 2, is now a contestant in Dancing on Ice?

Jacky Gray on Insta?

Who knew?

Writing stories is my jam, much more fun than posting on Instagram.
The idea of spending so much time creating content and schmoozing people for likes and shares doesn't sit well with me. Hence putting it off all the time I was writing the Time Doctors series. But now it's done, I'm finally taking the plunge and going for it.


Here are some of the reels I've posted so far.

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And some I've created that didn't make the cut.

Sneak preview - Lost in Time - Part 5

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that sound from you.” Something feral glittered in his eyes as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, the message obvious. “Oh yes. Not just thinking about you, but imagining all manner of scenarios where you would have no choice but to succumb to my … shall we say … desires.”
So the veneer of gracious civility was simply a pretence, designed to disarm her. Or something. It had certainly put her right back on her guard, tensing for his next move. “Excellent. You have no idea how much of an aphrodisiac your fear is. I’m going to enjoy bending you to my will – you will definitely be my biggest challenge so far.”
The not-even-thinly veiled threat in his tone sobered her completely, although the tiny sip meant she wasn’t even approaching squiffy. Or at least she shouldn’t be. Had he drugged it? She tried to think back to whether the bottle had already been open, but he’d definitely poured both glasses together. Unless he’d added something to her drink.
“Are you all right? You seem a little peaky.”

That did it. “You put something in my wine.”
“I did?” He laughed out loud. “I suspect you’ve been watching too many James Bond films.” He picked up her glass and gulped back a large swig. “I assure you I’ve never had to drug a woman in my life.”
“Not when you can intimidate, terrify or threaten her.”
“What’s the difference?”
She glared. Now he wanted to talk semantics? He was obviously just toying with her, bully that he was. She should take his toys away. Subtly. Any overt demonstration of his lack of power over her would inevitably lead to a puffing up of feathers and a desperate desire to dominate. A cool glance. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
Raising her glass in a toast, he emptied, swilled and dried it before pouring more wine and offering it.
Despite his attempts to disconcert, she was starting to get the measure of what he really wanted. The trick would be in making him think she was being duped into satisfying his weird “desires.” She accepted the glass and took another small sip, then gestured at the room. “As for James Bond – this whole set-up is straight from a Bond-villain scene. Right down to the dastardly laugh.”
He obliged with a suitably demented cackle, tapping his steepled fingers in the classic bad-guy gesture. Then his whole demeanour changed as he sat forward. “Diverting though this is, we should get down to business.”
Putting the glass on the desk-cum-table, she resisted the compelling impulse to fold her arms against his onslaught. “What happens if I refuse?”
“Did I not make myself clear? Refusal is not an option.” He paused. “On either count.” “You can’t make me do anything which would hurt Eric.”
Another belly laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea? Hurting him is the very last thing I want. He’s of no use to me unless his brain is in full working order, and that won’t happen if he’s missing a finger.” Another pause. “Or a leg.”
Ignoring the graphic images his words conjured up, she glared. “And you think his brain will be in full working order when he finds out what you’ve done to me?”
“Exactly what have I done apart from treat you to a very fine Syrah?”
She clamped her lips together to stop herself from falling into his trap.
“How hurt do you think he’ll be when he finds out you’d rather meet me than celebrate your twentieth anniversary in the romantic Scottish location where you were wed?”
She managed to quell a second gasp, but only just.
“Eric’s a passionate man and you’re a very attractive woman – or at least you would be if he didn’t make you dress like a frump.” His sidelong glance said he was baiting, and she refused to rise to it.
“But how much does he trust you? Do you honestly think he’ll believe you could spend a couple of hours alone in a hotel room with a man of my reputation and not have sex?” “You flatter yourself.”
“Every day. It has far more sincerity than compliments from toadying sycophants who would curry my favour in the hope of getting something from me.” A wink. “But I’m under no illusions about my attractiveness to women. Although I’m not a complete ogre, I realise it’s my wealth that makes them call me handsome.”
His glare demanded some reaction, but he surely couldn’t expect her to protest. The vast majority of women – and probably most men – would call him handsome, with or without the money. But Naomi never paid any attention to physical appearance, being far more attracted to courage, integrity and kindness. So she didn’t react.
Her cool indifference should have rankled, but instead of annoyance, humour sparkled his eyes and twitched his lip. “I sensed a worthy adversary, but you exceed all expectations. You’re not like most women, are you?”
“I couldn’t possibly comment, only knowing a small fraction of the available population. As, I suspect, do you. Moving in the circles you do, I imagine you come into contact with many women who have little in common with me.”
He barked a laugh. “Why couldn’t I have landed a gem with your courage and wit instead of …” A head shake. “Never mind. What’s done is done.” A speculative glance. “What if I told you there’s a way you can secure Eric’s immunity from my unsavoury attentions?”
Her lips had no more chance of not twitching at the deliberate irony than Eric did of swimming on the moon – his favourite expression for impossible situations. This pleased Devlin greatly if the glitter in his eyes was anything to go by. Down to the nitty-gritty. “I’m listening.”
Her eyes widened as he outlined the deal. She had no choice but to comply – the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

Sneak preview - Lost in Time - Part 4

Naomi’s Ordeal – 1985

Hugging her raincoat tight against the wind, Naomi pictured Eric in the garden at Gretna, wishing she could have told him the real reason why she couldn’t go with him to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. The picture dissolved into the hurt on his face when she’d told him, tinged with that frisson of fear that she’d finally met someone truly worthy of her love.
It was the one thing he kept harking back to on the rare occasions they exchanged cross words. Or rather she voiced her concerns about how hard he drove himself – working all day and then spending hours in the attic doing Lord knew what.
Like a broken record, stuck in the same groove, he would apologise for neglecting her and promise to try harder. She couldn’t remember quite when he’d gone from being confident of her love, to questioning his worthiness. But she’d never done anything to give him reason to suspect her fidelity. Until today.

The question wasn’t whether she would go through with it, rather what would happen if she didn’t. It was doubly evil that the monster had picked her wedding anniversary for this secret liaison, and she couldn’t imagine it was anything but deliberate – making the stakes that much higher
Meeting him in a Travelodge was deliberately designed to make her feel grubby, but until she had secured certain assurances, she had no choice but to play along with his sleazy fantasy. As she knocked on the door, the wind tore at her headscarf, whipping it away.
Drat! It was her favourite, the very first Christmas present from Eric, and she’d worn it to feel his presence nearby.

“You’re late.” No niceties, but nothing about this man could be called nice.
She declined to make excuses. He should be grateful she turned up at all instead of doing what a smart person would have done and gone to the police. It had better be worth it.
“You’re here now, so let’s get started. Take off the coat.”
As she’d imagined, he thought he could bully her into submitting to his intimidation tactics. He’d learn. “No.”

A frown. “Sorry. I should re-phrase. You’ll want to take off your coat because it’s ridiculously warm and it’ll dry better. If I'd known you were going to walk, I’d have sent a car.”
What the heck? Not what she expected at all. And it was stifling. As he walked over to the desk, she took advantage of his turned back to remove her coat, hanging it on a hook.
“Red or white? I wasn’t sure so I have both.” He pulled a bottle of wine from an ice bucket and spun around, a polite smile hiding his reaction to her get up.
She’d gone for a long-sleeved, buttoned-up flannelette shirtwaister – what her mum called a proper passion killer.

“If you don’t want wine, I have water, juice or a nice cup of tea.”
If he wanted to surprise her, he was doing fine. 
When she tried to reply, her voice cracked. “Red, please.”
“And perhaps a glass of water to clear your throat.”
Revising her opinion about the niceties, she accepted the water and sat in the chair he gestured, realising he’d paid for one of the executive rooms with more than just a bed.
The drinks sorted, he sat in the other chair, sipping his wine, his gaze appraising. “I suspect you have quite a different idea of how this meeting will run, however I wanted somewhere discreet in neutral territory.”
She sipped the wine, pleasantly surprised at the full-bodied, spicy tang.
His scrutiny suggested a need for her approval of his choice, and she nodded, setting the glass down and clasping her hands in her lap to stop them from fidgeting.

“I've been thinking about you a lot since that first meeting two decades ago. Despite my sister’s histrionics, I’m well aware that you and Eric did a far better job of bringing Lily up than she could ever hope to, and for that I thank you.”
‘You’re welcome’ didn’t seem appropriate, so she said nothing, wondering exactly what he wanted.
“I’m going to come to the point. I'm aware of Eric's talent as an inventor, and I want him to work for me. You must persuade him it would be in his best interests.”
Or what? Naomi knew she’d been right about the not-so-veiled threat in his invitation to meet. More fool her for thinking it was her body he wanted.
“Make no mistake, I will get what I want one way or another. Your instincts were spot on. It does include you.”
The strong wine made its presence felt, and she couldn’t prevent the small gasp from escaping.



To be continued ...