An Angel
In The Window
Release
date: 21 December 2012
Publisher:
MLRPress
Blurb
Alexander Porterfield may be one of the rising
stars of Nelson's navy, but his relationship with his first lieutenant, Tom
Anderson, makes him vulnerable. To blackmail, to the exposure of their
relationship—and to losing Tom, either in battle or to another ship. When
sudden danger strikes—from the English rather than the French—where should a
man turn?
A message
from Charlie
It’s not just beginning to look a lot like
Christmas!
I love the way that our senses can affect our
thinking. Who can see a candle shining next to some holly and not feel a warm
glow of goodwill? Or look at the lights twinkling on the Christmas tree and not
be transported back to childhood, feeling again that giddy sense of excitement
at what the big day would bring? Funny how certain things re-awaken dormant
memories. If I see shiny blue and gold paper next to each other, for some
reason I’m back in primary school again, with nativity plays and homemade decorations...
But it isn’t just sight which is evocative. The
other four senses affect me, too. I only have to hear “Nutrocker” or “House of
the Rising Sun” and it’s Margate, early 1960’s, on holiday and getting lost in
the back of beyond. I can see the scene so vividly. Same with Christmas songs.
“Stop the Cavalry” is one of my favourites, although now it makes me choke up
as it’s become inextricably linked in my mind with the scene in “Warhorse”
where Tom Hiddleston is charging at the enemy.
The aroma of pine needles—real pine needles on a
real pine tree—is for me the definitive smell of the season, but
cinnamon and cloves and the turkey roasting in the oven all play their part. I
suspect smell is the most evocative of senses, although I, alas, have very
little sense of smell and I miss it hugely. So when I can detect a particular
perfume or the odour of something gorgeous cooking, I feel very blessed.
At least I still have most of my sense of taste,
so can appreciate the seasonal delights. Turkey, sage and onion stuffing,
Brussels sprouts, Christmas pudding, mince pies, roasted ham—I love them all.
So what’s the definitive yuletide flavour? Well, have you ever tried Black
Butter (a traditional Channel Island delight)? We have a friend who, the first time
she tasted it, said, “It’s like Christmas!” She was right, the apples and cider
and spices making the perfect combination.
There’s one sense left. Feeling. The first thing I
thought of was pine needles, which get everywhere and poke you when you’re least
expecting it and in the most astonishing places. Not that pleasant, though. The
scrunching of leaves under foot is much more like it, as is snow in your hands
or on your face. Wrapping paper and ribbon in eager hands, the shape of parcels
in stockings in the dark, that tin of Cadbury’s chocolate fingers I simply
couldn’t identify in the early hours of Christmas morning when I was a child.
Please savour Christmas to the full, if you can.
Excerpt
“I
remember the Trojan well, Tom.” Alexander’s voice was hardly above a murmur.
“The midshipmen were all particularly ugly.”
“Oh, you
clown, it was at Port Mahon—don’t you recall the little inn where you played
whist? You should remember, given how much you won.” Tom snorted and shared the
last of the wine between their glasses. “A young man came and chatted to me. Do
you recollect at all?”
“I can
remember that the run of the cards was unusual that night.” Alexander frowned
as if that was all he could bring to mind.
Tom
grinned. “I don’t believe you. You can, no doubt, recollect the detail of every
trump you played that night but you don’t recall the fact that your lover was
being seduced before your eyes.”
Alexander
looked sheepish—not an expression he often adopted. “Unfair! I wasn’t aware
that your virtue was under threat. If I had been, the man in question would
have felt the edge of my sword.”
“Would he?
Really?” Tom chuckled at the ridiculous thought of Alexander calling a man out
for attempting to seduce his fellow officer.
“Now you
mention it, I do recall a rather striking looking young man.”
“I thought
you couldn’t have failed to notice him. He reminded me of you when we first
met—all gangling awkwardness and puzzled innocence. At least until he made his
proposal.”
“What did
he say to you?”
“I could
not possibly repeat it. Not even here in private. But it was completely
indecent and very anatomically detailed.” Tom snorted. “In return I made an
anatomically exact suggestion as to what he could do with his idea.”
“And you
say this has happened frequently?”
“Well,
only if you count as frequent one admiral as well as the chap at Mahon. Now,
are we to make use of that bed or not, sir?”
Alexander
drained his glass. “And so to bed, my lord and master. I am entirely at your
command.”
“At my
command? Are we to play admiral and flag lieutenant again?”
“We’ve not
played that since I was made captain.” Alexander leaned forward, tugging at
Tom’s less than immaculate stock. “I’ll have to upbraid you for the slackness
of uniform.”
“You’re
not allowed to. I’m the admiral, remember?” Tom pulled his captain closer, for
a kiss. “You’ll do what you’re told. This jacket of yours, for instance. It
needs a good brushing. Take it off.”
“Aye aye,
sir.” Alexander eased the offending item from his shoulders.
“And that
shirt needs the attention of your steward. We’ll have that off, too.”
“If you
insist.” Alexander was clearly trying hard to keep a straight face.
“And no
undershirt!” Tom feigned shock as his lover’s chest appeared, bared before him.
“Your sister would be appalled, as she spent so long sewing you that flannel
one.”
“You
forget, I have no sister.”
“Sir,” Tom
grinned. “You forget I have no sister, sir.”
“Sir,”
Alexander repeated, looking remarkably gormless. “I apologise for my lack of a
female sibling. I shall endeavour to do better in future.”
“It would
be as well for you to do better in your duty there,” Tom nodded towards the
bed.
Because Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do
any of her jobs of choice—like managing a rugby team—she writes. Her mystery
novels include the Edwardian era Cambridge Fellows series, series, and the
contemporary Best Corpse for the Job. Multi-published, she has titles with
Carina, Samhain, Riptide, MLR and Bold Strokes.
A member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association,
Mystery People and International Thriller Writers Inc, Charlie regularly
appears at literary festivals and at reader and author conferences with The
Deadly Dames.
Find
Charlie Here
No worries, I'mm willing to host you any time.
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