Ah such a pleasure to Milady Cavendish back here today after out most unfortunate misunderstanding….As if good Milady Cat would have ANY designs on Flint. (Certainly none that cannot be taken care of with that awfully nifty accessory aboard a pirate ship…le plank.
What is more today FINALLY I am one up on Shehanne, not just bagging the lovely Cat before her but being in a bit of her home country Scotland….. So, wasting no time, let us proceed before that scurvy wench comes along and kidnaps my guest.
Felicitations on seeing you in our little stopover today here in Kirkwall in Orkney.
Can you tell us something about your journey from your homeland?
A little scary if I’m honest. That ferry journey across the Pentland Firth can really be hairy when the wind gets up. And it had certainly got up this morning – out of the wrong side of its bed I reckon.
Its reputation as the wildest stretch of water around the United Kingdom is well deserved. I suppose that’s what you get when you have two seas (the North Sea and the Atlantic), with differing tides clashing together.
Oh indeed. The North Sea does blow a roar, especially on a winter’s evening. Still the crew are making you welcome I trust?
Oh yes indeed, Milady. Although one of them – I didn’t catch his name, but I was tempted to give him the address of my dentist – made certain improper suggestions which made me initially blush and then wonder if he should have gone to Specsavers.
My dear, if it was Taliano, I can but apologize But let me tell you his eyesight is in full working order even if he seldom opens them.
A shame he doesn’t do the same with his mouth. Anyway, you have brought me a pleasing little gift I see.
Gracious….Do people think I am a lush? Anyway, you have met the charming members of the club, many times now. Can you tell us why we should each of us spend a week reading your book?
Gracious. How awful. I know nothing of such things….. In my book all deaths are ‘accidents’.
Her step brother was responsible and, as she died, she cursed him. Now she is doomed to haunt the place where she died, searching for someone who can help her. Then one day, Alex Fetcher arrives on holiday…The story is scary, designed to provide plenty of chills, twists and turns. Ghosts, demonic spirits and evil stalk its pages.
Oh my, my, Milady Cavendish I can’t speak for all, but you have quite sold me this story.
While I think I have cured Flint of eyeing other women, he is still a great one for eyeing everything else. He calls it booty. Is there anything I should do to disabuse him of helping himself to other people’s boats and their contents? Already we have four gondolas aboard.
Frankly, with the sort of waves I’ve just experienced, he’ll be lucky to make it more than a few miles without losing his breakfast and the remains of yesterday’s dinner. I wouldn’t worry too much. Oh, and a gondola won’t last a minute on the Pentland Firth in full spate.
FINALLY. Oh, I can see we have come to the right place. Mama’s kitchen https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mamas-Kitchen/431002043619495?fref=ts
most thoughtfully provided our fare today, largely because the pirates eschew the culinary arts for cutlass waving, drinking and frolicking on shore with wenches. Do you have any tips for making them try at least to help my maid, Susan, in the galley? It is such a task and she gets quite fraught.
Milady, I’ve seen where some of them put their cutlasses and I wouldn’t want them waving those about in the kitchen. I think Susan is probably best left to her cooking. The crew will only get drunk on the cooking brandy anyway!
Hmmmm. True. Where is the Orkney Wine? Didn’t you bring me some?
Kirkwall is lovely I am sure, what sites—if any– do you intend visiting here when you leave the ship? Provided of course, you first sign a disclaimer that you never saw me, or Flint?
Never seen either of you in my life before (*winks*).
Now Milady….Contain yourself. Kindly wipe that slaver from your jaw.
Once I’ve had a wander around the town of Kirkwall, I shall visit the Neolithic village of Skara Brae.
Gracious. So that is where Flint got that stone pot?
I don’t know about that…. Not given all the people already after us. However….
Came to light in the 19th century after a heavy storm. You can really imagine the people who lived there.
Well, now I can….
Then I may hop on the ferry over to the island of Hoy
She’s buried out there in the peat bog between two parishes because she hanged herself after her sailor boyfriend left her alone and pregnant back in the eighteenth century. The church refused to allow her to be buried in consecrated ground and her burial place was forgotten, rediscovered briefly in the 1930s and then lost again. During the Second World War, some soldiers, digging the peat bog, came upon her.
Then a kindly American minister of the church – Kenwood Bryant – financed the construction of a headstone a few years later. It’s lonely up there, all alone on the moor, with the wind howling and seabirds calling…
Oh, much like here. Do stop having the men cowering behind the rum barrels. They will drink the contents and then you will be sorry.
Can the living help the dead…and at what cost?
When Alex Fletcher finds a painting of a drowned girl, she’s unnerved. When the girl in the painting opens her eyes, she is terrified. And when the girl appears to her as an apparition and begs her for help, Alex can’t refuse.
But as she digs further into Grace’s past, she is embroiled in supernatural forces she cannot control, and a timeslip back to 1912 brings her face to face with the man who killed Grace and the demonic spirit of his long-dead mother. With such nightmarish forces stacked against her, Alex’s options are few. Somehow she must save Grace, but to do so, she must pay an unimaginable price.
You can find Saving Grace Devine in all usualebook formatshere:
and in paperback here: