A is for August

Margaret introduces August.

You might think I’m talking about the month of August. But I’m not. August is the hero in my book Sea Gypsy. I never gave him a surname. He constantly sailed the seas in his yacht and answered to no-one.

One of my readers surprised me the other day by posting the cover on Facebook. She still has her copy even though it was published in 1977. I find this truly amazing.

August is a man who needs no-one and was less than pleased when eighteen year-old Jay Gordon got herself into trouble on the high seas and he was forced to take her on board. The story follows her volatile relationship with him and how she slowly discovers the reason he hates women.

Here is an excerpt:

Jay wondered what type of person would get on well with a sea gypsy. Certainly not anyone of a similar disposition, or one who was easily ruffled. They would need to be able to submit to authority, yet not be too easily swayed, as August would have no time for anyone without a mind of their own. It would take a person of remarkable insight, tremendous patience, and naturally a similar love of the sea to chum up with August – if indeed he allowed anyone to get near him again.

Not surprisingly Jay pondered on the woman who had once been his wife. What was it she had done to cause August such pain, such everlasting bitterness that it seemed unlikely he would ever love again? It was not a question she could ask, and as they would be in France within a matter of hours it was doubtful whether the opportunity for him to tell her would present itself. But it was a question that intrigued her. He must have loved his wife once – how could love change to hatred? Jay believed marriage to be a permanent institution and no one should take a partner unless he or she believed it would be a lasting union. So what had happened to upset August’s marriage?

“Where’s that food you promised me?”

August’s voice directly behind made her turn with a start. His rope-soled shoes had made no sound on the deck and she was amazed to see him standing so close. “I’ll do it now,” she said, jumping up. “When you fell asleep I decided that would do you more good.”

Surprisingly he touched her arm. “Stay a while. I’ve been watching you and wondered what it was that held your thoughts so deeply.”

They sat together, shoulders almost touching, and looked out across the sparkling, prancing waves. Jay knew he awaited her reply, but how could she tell him that he alone had held her attention? That it was his affairs that interested her? She could imagine his reaction. The hardening of those coal black eyes, the tightening of his lips. “What I do is no business of yours,” he would say. “The past is over and forgotten and I don’t want to be reminded of it.” But she could tell him how much she was enjoying this morning’s ride – and proceeded to do so.

Margaret's Sunday Snippet

Margaret shares the opening few paragraphs from her book Abby’s Bodyguard:

 

‘Abby Redman?’ enquired a deep, male voice.

 

Abby stopped walking and turned her head. She had just arrived at Orly airport from Heathrow and was heading towards the shuttle bus that would take her to her hotel. She had no idea who this man was. He was tall and broad shouldered with jet black hair and amazing grey eyes. But she didn’t know him from Adam and she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone to meet her.

 

‘And you are?’ she enquired, her fine brows dragging together, her voice sharp.

 

‘A friend of your brother.’

 

A smile accompanied his words revealing even white teeth. He was very good looking, well dressed in black linen trousers and a crisp white shirt, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a con man.

 

‘By coincidence I phoned him only this morning,’ he added with another one of his dazzling smiles. ‘And when he said that his sister was spending a few days in Paris I immediately thought that you might like some company.’

 

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Abby straightened her back and squared her shoulders, her eyes shooting sparks of anger and distrust. ‘And my brother would be?’ She still didn’t truly believe that this man was a friend of his.

 

‘Why Martin, of course. Martin Redman,’ he said with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

‘And your name is?’

 

‘Temple Townsend – at your service.’

 

He held out his hand but Abby ignored it. ‘Martin didn’t say anything about someone meeting me.’ She paused and glared at him. ‘How did you know who I was?’

 

The smile widened. ‘He described you perfectly. Tall, slender, long dark hair. Outstandingly good-looking.’

 

‘There must be thousands of women who match that description,’ she challenged, convinced her brother had not said any of that. He had never paid her a compliment in his life.

 

‘So call him if you don’t believe me.’ His eyes continued to twinkle. ‘Don’t worry, I mean you no harm. But who in their right mind would want to wander around a magnificent city like Paris on their own?’

 

‘I don’t need an escort.’ Abby kept her chin high and her eyes icy. ‘I am here on business.’

 

‘But also a few days holiday – according to your brother.’

 

 ‘Martin has a lot to answer for,’ she hissed as she speed-dialled his number, and was not impressed when he told her that, yes, Temple was an old friend of his.

 

‘When he offered to meet up with you and show you the sights I thought it a good idea since you’ve never been to Paris before.’

 

‘I am not a child, Martin!’ She tried to keep her voice down but found it impossible. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

 

‘Temple’s a good man,’ he said, ignoring her outburst. ‘You should get on well with him.’

 

‘Get on well?’ Her voice rose even higher. ‘How much time am I supposed to spend with him? He’s a total stranger. You’re unbelievable.’

 

Abby cut the call short and turned to face Temple who was once again grinning.

 

‘So now that you know I’m perfectly trustworthy,’ he said, ‘let’s go. I have a car waiting.’ And he picked up her suitcase.