by Heide Goody
“Well, I’m surprised, Lori,” she said. “The place looks wonderful. The policewoman made it sound as though you’d messed the place up quite a bit. The strange painting you’ve done there on the wall actually looks pretty good.”
I grinned proudly.
“‘Strange painting,’” said James with an arch expression and a waggle of his sexy eyebrows.
“It’s a compliment,” I told him.
“It’s odd,” said Mom.
“Okay, less of a compliment now,” I said.
“No, this rug,” she said. “It’s odd. I’m sure the last time we were here it had a little hole in the edge where it got caught in the vacuum cleaner. And this floor doesn’t have a dent in it anymore either. Remember, where Adam dropped a suitcase?”
“Not really, dear,” said Dad.
After all of the hard work I’d put into the cleaning, I’d used a tiny bit of thunderbolt magic to fix up the ruined flooring and restore the rug. I made sure that my smile didn’t slip and just kept silent.
Despite the offer to camp on the doorstep, I let my parents have use of Adam’s flat. After Cookie’s intriguing attempts at dessert – polenta and wild apple soufflé – we left them to enjoy a night in a real bed and the rest of us walked home.
As we neared the local community centre by the church, Cookie hitched her thumb down a side road. “I’m heading down this way.”
“You don’t live in that direction,” I said.
She gave me a salacious wink. “You two crazy lovebirds, I know when the universe needs me to travel my own path.”
“Yeah, but that street’s a dead end,” said James.
“Yeah, but is it?” said Cookie.
“It is.”
“Yeah, but is it? Or is it your attitude that’s a dead end?”
“It’s the road. I’m fairly sure.”
Cookie stood on one leg, spun round and went her own special way.
We carried on. James linked arms with me and I thrilled at his closeness.
We passed the community centre. A group of pensioners stood outside. They were the same ones that I’d seen spinning around the lamp post yesterday. They all wore purple t-shirts and I squinted, trying to read what it said on the back. They were doing creaky squats and lunges, as though they’d been exercising.
“What does it say on those t-shirts?” I asked James.
He looked. “It says Ashbert’s Golden Years Parkour Academy,” he said.
I let the words sink in. Ashbert’s new venture looked popular. More people, old and young, were pressing through the doors of the community hall. As we reached the doors we could hear people talking.
“Such a nice young man. He’s done all of the little jobs around my garden that I can’t get to anymore.”
“He’s been a godsend. When he does the shopping, it’s bang-on. Gets the bargains, he does.”
“Brought him a little present that I’ve knitted for him.”
We stopped and looked through a window. Ashbert, my one-time perfect man, was there with his adoring pensioner army. He was smiling and chatting with them all. On the table behind him was a stack of white cards, many with red ticks over them. White cards, sort of postcard size, the sort you sometimes see in a newsagent’s window.
“Help others. Help yourself,” I murmured to myself.
“What’s that?” said James.
“Something I said.” I shook my head, smiling. “Whatever you do, make yourself happy.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said James. “So, Uncle Phil and Theo are out at the Jaguar owner’s club together and won’t be back until much later.”
“Oh?” I said.
“Maybe we can find something to do to entertain ourselves when we get back to my place.”
“That would be nice,” I said.
“Nice?” he asked. “Is that the best word you can come up with?”
I turned to him. “What word would you use?”
He thought for a moment. “Exciting.”
“Exciting.” I was looking forward to some excitement. I let my fingers drift across the tweedy roughness of his jacket. “Something exciting. Something raunchy.”
“Raunchy? I really do hope so,” he said. “So, something exciting, something raunchy, something… magical.”
I thought briefly of the thunderbolt which was safely shut away in a suitcase under my bed in Adam’s flat.
A distant shout came from over the rooftops. “It’s a bloody dead end!”
Grinning to ourselves, laughing like secretive teenagers, we hurried on.
Acknowledgements
We are indebted to a number of people, including members of THE Book Club (TBC) and Rachael Bowen for helping us to shape this book.
Many thanks to you, the reader for taking the time to read this book.
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The next few pages will tell you about some of our other books.
Clovenhoof by Heide Goody & Iain Grant
Charged with gross incompetence, Satan is fired from his job as Prince of Hell and exiled to that most terrible of places: English suburbia. Forced to live as a human under the name of Jeremy Clovenhoof, the dark lord not only has to contend with the fact that no one recognises him or gives him the credit he deserves but also has to put up with the bookish wargamer next door and the voracious man-eater upstairs.
Heaven, Hell and the city of Birmingham collide in a story that features murder, heavy metal, cannibalism, armed robbers, devious old ladies, Satanists who live with their mums, gentlemen of limited stature, dead vicars, petty archangels, flamethrowers, sex dolls, a blood-soaked school assembly and way too much alcohol.
Clovenhoof is outrageous and irreverent (and laugh out loud funny!) but it is also filled with huge warmth and humanity. Written by first-time collaborators Heide Goody and Iain Grant, Clovenhoof will have you rooting for the bad guy like never before.
F. Paul Wilson: "Clovenhoof is a delight. A funny, often hilarious romp with a dethroned Satan as he tries to adjust to modern suburbia. The breezy, ironic prose sets a perfect tone. If you need some laughs, here's the remedy."
US: http://www.amazon.com/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/
Oddjobs by Heide Goody & Iain Grant
It’s the end of the world as we know it, but someone still needs to do the paperwork.
Incomprehensible horrors from beyond are going to devour our world but that’s no excuse to get all emotional about it. Morag Murray works for the secret government organisation responsible for making sure the apocalypse goes as smoothly and as quietly as possible.
In her first week on the job, Morag has to hunt down a man-eating starfish, solve a supernatural murder and, if she’s got time, prevent her own inevitable death.
The first book in a new comedy series by the creators of ‘Clovenhoof’, Oddjobs is a sideswipe at the world of work and a fantastical adventure featuring amphibian wannabe gangstas, mad old cat ladies, ancient gods, apocalyptic scrabble, fish porn, telepathic curry and, possibly, the end of the world before the weekend.
US: https://www.amazon.com/Oddjobs-Heide-Goody/dp/0993365531
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Oddjobs-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B01GVT13XQ
Disenchanted by Heide Goody & Iain Grant
Ella Hannaford has a small business to run, an overworked father to look after and a future stepmother who wants a perfect wedding.
Can she avoid a girly night out with her clueless stepsister? Can she side-step lovesick suitors at every turn? Not if it’s up to that team of foul-mouthed dwarfs who want to forcibly drag her into her happily ever after.
Gingerbread cottages, dodgy European gangsters, gun-to
ting grannies, wisecracking wolves, stubborn fairy godmothers, ogres, beanstalks and flying carpets abound in a tale about what happens when you refuse to accept your Happy Ending.
US: https://www.amazon.com/Disenchanted-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B06X6DHK11
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Disenchanted-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B06X6DHK11
A Spell in the Country by Heide Goody & Iain Grant
A witches’ bootcamp in the English countryside, from the authors of Clovenhoof. Three very different witches must fight an ancient adversary. Features a foul-mouthed imp, stampeding seaside donkeys and plenty of spells with unintended results.
US: https://www.amazon.com/Disenchanted-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B078NRFL93
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Disenchanted-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B078NRFL93
