I've spent the past few days updating The Spell of Summer and Summer's End with new front and back matter for both the digital versions and the paperbacks, and I came across this deleted scene among my files that I had completely forgotten I wrote. I thought I'd share it with you. Please note that my thoughts below will contain mild spoilers and the scene contains mature elements.

This was going to be a scene that takes place (if memory serves me right) either the day before or the immediate morning after the family BBQ at Pippa's parents' house where she came to the realisation she was developing a somewhat intense attraction to her brother's childhood best friend, Jimmy. Guilt surfaced and she made an appointment with her counsellor. In the end, I deleted this scene because I couldn't bring the counsellor into any more scenes without making the story seem like a counselling process, which I really didn't want. I chose to visit Pippa's difficulties in her thoughts, actions, conversations, and in dreams instead, which also subtly gave credence to Sammy's nightmares which we never learn about in detail, although we can fill in the blanks ourselves. It was also important to me to keep the "magical thread" of "the spell" alive in this story and it was much easier to do that through Pippa's dream connection with her husband, than through any counselling session.

In this deleted scene, we do get a glimpse of Pippa and David's closeness, which is lovely, and we don't really get that in the final version . In the end, I chose to allow readers to feel their closeness through Pippa's own memories and through what the other characters have said and thought about David - not least Jimmy who totally stepped aside for him because he respected their relationship and believed Pippa had found the right man. And of course, through David's own beautiful actions via the engraving in the rings and the letter in the jam jar.

I hope you enjoy it.

 “David?” Pippa shut the front door and dropped her car keys on the entrance hall sideboard as she wandered through the hall towards the kitchen and breakfast room, the table still a mess from five sets of breakfasts, two of them unfinished. “David!”
          His head peeked around the sliding doors to the garden. “Hey. Dropped the kids off at school okay?”
          “Yeah. What are you doing out there?”
          “Figured I'd get this patio laid before my afternoon meeting.”
          “Now? Two weeks before Christmas?”
          “It's a dry morning. Forecast says it'll be dry all day.”
          “'Cause that's always accurate. Look at the sky – I think it's going to snow. Why not wait until the spring or summer?”
          “The stones have been sitting here for months.”
          She stepped out into the half-completed patio. “Yeah, well, so has the rattling exhaust pipe on the car, the leak above the garage door, the loose tile on the roof above Liam's room, and the new TV we bought six weeks ago is still in storage and not mounted on the wall. It's a miracle the cat's still alive.”
          He laughed, and let go of the stone slab he was holding. “What are we like, eh?”
          “A busy, large family?”
          She smiled as he enveloped her in a huge, warm hug – he was always warm, even when it was freezing – and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. “Just what I've always wanted.”
          Her smile widened into the kiss. “Me, too. With you.
          “Mmmm…” His hug grew tighter. “Quiet house, no kids, me home during the day … make love to me now, Mrs Fellows.”
          She unintentionally let out a snort that was supposed to be a laugh. “Make love and lay the patio? Isn't that a bit ambitious?” she teased. “Do we have time?”
          He was already shuffling her back into the house. “My meeting's at three – I need to leave here at half-one. How often do I get the chance to be home, alone, with you?” His hands – fingertips icy from laying the stone – snaked under her jumper.
          She shivered with delight. “Patio needs finishing,” she mumbled into his mouth.
          His tongue gently swept against hers. “It's winter. I was thinking crazy. It can wait.”
          She laughed. “I need to feed the cat.”
          “Cat's a walking miracle. It'll be fine.”
          She felt a tug on her bra, and her strap came undone. She gasped as a cold palm cupped her breast, but it was heat engulfing her from the inside out.
          “Any more excuses Mrs Fellows?”
          “David—”
          “Jesus, what the hell am I missing working in a bloody office everyday. As soon as my partnership starts in the new year, I'm putting in a request to work from home at least three days a week.”
          She moaned as his thumb grazed her nipple; pressed against it; circled it. “You'll never get anything done.”
          “As you pointed out, we never get anything done anyway.”
          “We get plenty done.”
          He kissed her neck. His other hand squeezed her backside. “There's plenty I'd like to do right now.”
          Oh, hell, this was nice. “David…”
          “Mmmm?”
          “Slide the door shut.”


“Pippa?”
          “Hmmm?” She turned back towards Cathleen Barry.
          “You've gone silent. You haven't said anything for two minutes.”
          She hadn't?
          Pippa sighed. Only half of her was in the consultation room with her counsellor. The other half of her…
​          “It's the inconsequential things I remember most; things that had no meaning before are monumental now – relentless visions: the way he'd automatically glance right before left when walking out the front door; the way he'd always eat the crust of his toast before the rest of it, and I didn't even realise his toast smelled different – he made toast different than I make toast. How? How can someone make toast smell different using the same toaster? I miss smelling his breakfast.
          “I'll wonder if it's me – if I'm cracking up – and then I'm walking through that kitchen again, towards the garden, and the very last time he was in the garden hits me, clear as day – it was a clear day – less than twelve hours before … the accident. He was laying down the new patio; it looked like it was going to snow. I said he was mad to lay it now – wait until the summer. He said it would never get done if he didn't do it now…
          “It's still where he left it – that slab of stone lying a little off-centre, on top of the last one he'd laid. He was right. It never got done.”
          And then, there was the feel of his hands on her skin. Branded – branded into her. Her throat closed up. “I don't think these sessions are helping.”
          “You don't think you're making progress?”
          “Progress?” The word sounded alien to her; strange on her tongue. “No. I'm always stuck in the same place.”
          “And what place is that?”
          “Nowhere.”
          “What do you mean?”
          “I mean nowhere. There's nothing – I can't see the future, and the past is gone.”
          “Gone?”
          “Yes, gone. Wiped away by one accident… Who David was – that man doesn't exist anymore; my husband doesn't exist, but…” She fiddled with her wedding band.
          Cathleen placed her pen and paper down on the low table in front of her, and waited.
          “I'm stuck. It's been almost eight months. I can't change anything. Where he is … he's nowhere, too. I'd have to leave it behind … him behind.” She'd almost choked over those last two words. Tears welled.
          “Have you been thinking of leaving David?”
          “What?” Pippa started in her seat. She felt as if she'd been slapped. “No. Why would you say that?”
          “You just mentioned—”
          “No,” she said, flatly. Firmly. “I love him, I wouldn't leave him.” Guilt churned; rose fast… She felt sick. “His kids love him – do you think I'd take that away from them?”
          “I think your children will continue to love their father no matter what you do.”
          “They need him. They need their dad. And they need to know they'll never lose him.”
          “Do they know they'll never lose you?”
          She looked up from the gold ring, and met Cathleen's gaze. Her first instinct was to cry, 'Of course!', but a fearful cold lodged in her throat and stopped the words from coming out. Did they know? How was that a promise she could keep? Any decision she made could be the wrong one; could ruin four lives, maybe more. Or, she could stay here.
          Here is nowhere.
          She took in a sharp breath and pushed the bite of reality away. Here. Right here. No one would lose her – she couldn't get lost – if she stayed right here.
          “Pippa?”
          She blinked.
          “I asked you a question.”
          She had? “I'm sorry. I…” Her left hand was shaking. She gripped it with her right. “Could you repeat it?”
          Cathleen uncrossed her legs and leant forward on her seat. “Why are you here?”
          Here. Right here.
          “You're the one who called my office this morning to squeeze in an appointment when I haven't seen you in three months. Nicola on reception said you were upset on the phone. Did you come all this way just to tell me you don't find these sessions helpful? That nothing's changed?”
          Everything's changed. A tear slipped.
          “I'm sure you didn't, so … why are you here?”

Greetings! I'm please to say my schedule for writing and publishing is full until end of 2024. Twisted Roots (After the Storm #2) is released on 31st July (available to pre-order now) with books 3 and 4 coming out by the end of this year. Full details and purchase links can be found in my latest Newsletter:

​The cover for Book 4 will be revealed towards the end of this year.