***
A couple of weeks later, Robyn was getting ready for her journey to Wales. Maggie had gone straight home after her cup of tea (which wasn’t far as they both lived on the same road), and had dug up all of the old emails and website addresses from when she’d visited the coast a few years ago. In a surge of enthusiasm, Mags had phoned up a B&B and booked everything for Robyn without her even having to ask.
She’d turned up the next day with a folder of printouts and had handed them to Robyn. She’d booked her a room, had downloaded a map of the route in case Robyn’s satnav conked out on her half way there (it had happened before), and had also printed out various details about local restaurants, pubs, and shops.
Robyn accepted all of this with surprise and gratification for Maggie’s hard work, but she secretly knew why her friend had done it.
Maggie was forever getting writer’s block – she was the Queen of Procrastination – and she got into moods where she’d do practically anything to avoid sitting down at her computer and doing some work. She’d once redecorated her whole house pretty much single-handedly just two weeks before a novel deadline.
Robyn didn’t know how she did it; if she ever left things to the last minute, she turned into a catastrophic mess, downing tea by the bucketload and not having time to eat or shower while she madly scrambled to get the words down on the page.
There’d be none of that now. Robyn was going to go to Wales, she was going to relax, and she was going to let the writing come to her. After only a few hours’ sleep (she’d been up late again working), she locked up, loaded the car, and took out the directions that Maggie had printed off for her. It was the first time she’d even looked inside the folder (she’d been too busy planning her characters before), and she quite liked the idea of not knowing anything about the place she was visiting before she got there. She glanced at the address long enough to read the post code, punched it into her satnav, and drove off.
She enjoyed the drive; she generally loved driving, but rarely got the chance to do it for long distances. If she ever needed to go to a book signing or to a literary conference, her agent usually sent a car for her. It was nice, but sometimes she just wanted to drive herself.
She got to the coast after about four hours, which wasn’t bad, and she passed the ‘Welcome’ sign on her way into the town.
Robyn slammed on the brakes so hard that the driver behind nearly crashed into the back of her. Horns blaring, he overtook her and zoomed off into the distance.
Glancing in her rear view mirror and seeing that the coast was clear, Robyn threw the car into reverse and moved slowly backwards until she could see the front of the sign again. She pulled over onto the side of the road so she wouldn’t be an obstruction to the rest of the traffic, and looked up.
Yes, there it was. Printed right in front of her in black and white. ‘Welcome to Crickley Bay’.
Robyn stared at the simple white sign for the best part of five minutes, trying to get her head around what she was seeing. She’d been so sure that there wasn’t a place called Crickley Bay in the UK; she’d tried the name in several different search engines and had come up with nothing. But here it was. Somehow, it not only existed, but it was the exact town that Maggie had booked for Robyn to stay in. Robyn hadn’t even told Maggie the name of the book, so just what the hell was going on here?
Fumbling with the folder that had been resting on the passenger seat, Robyn pulled out the piece of paper with the map and address on. She was heading to number 5, Anwen Road. The town was written down as some Welsh word with a lot of L’s in it that Robyn couldn’t quite read, let alone pronounce. No mention of Crickley Bay anywhere.
Thinking she probably wasn’t going to get to the bottom of this by idling at the side of the road, Robyn put her car into gear and pulled out again, heading for the B&B where she hoped she’d get some kind of answers.
Character Building Page 2
