I seem to be living up to my track record.  I’m supposed to be working on the join between the next book to come out, ‘Rachel’ and its sequel, ‘Sisters’. So what have I actually done? Somehow, I’ve worked on the opening of the book that comes after ‘Sisters’ which is still running with the provisional title ‘History Girls’ and is one of the Tina Burns part of the Saltbury series. I have quite a bit of it plotted out, but I didn’t know how to do the opening scene. What do you think of this? It’s very first draft obviously:

“Christine?” came a voice from behind me, “Christine Burns?”
I turned and there hurrying along Saltbury High Street towards me was a cloud of tobacco smoke with an elderly lady attached.
“I thought it was you,” she beamed as she caught up. “That glorious red hair of yours is so recognisable.”
“Hello Miss Carter,” I grinned.
“Oh god!” she chuckled, “you don’t have to call me that anymore. It’s a long time since I taught you History. Besides, I gather you’re walking out with young Carol Baxter now, so you’ll be coming to staff socials before we know where we are. I can’t have a colleague’s date calling me Miss. I’d feel like a female Methuselah! Call me Ethel, Dear.”
Somehow ‘walking out’ was such a Miss Carter turn of phrase, and my girlfriend, ‘young Carol Baxter’, the St. Ann’s School Games mistress was seven years older than me.
“I thought you’d retired now?” I asked trying not to make her sound too antediluvian.
“Oh I have, several times,” she said with something close to a giggle. It’s just that no-one seems to have explained to the Headmistress that it means I don’t have to come in any more. Besides,” she said looking ruefully at her cigarette, “I can’t really afford to retire. I have a sixty a day habit to support!”
Her nickname when I was at school had been ‘Smoky Eth’ and it wasn’t exactly rocket science why. She couldn’t get through a full lesson without a smoke and would often set us to read the next bit of the book while she nipped out for a quick drag.
“Do I remember you prefer Tina to Christine?” she asked.
“Yes Miss ….. er, ….. Ethel,” I managed, “if that’s alright?”
“Goodness Dear, I think it’s up to you what your name is.”
She grinned and rummaged in her bag to produce a pack of cigarettes. She put a fresh one in her mouth and lit it from the smouldering remains of its predecessor. Then as an afterthought she offered me one. Wow, being offered a cigarette by a teacher. My own girlfriend had put me in detention once for smoking; admittedly years before becoming my girlfriend, which, you should know, was a good while after I left school. There are no skeletons in our closet, not that sort anyway!
“I’ve given up,” I announced proudly.
“Oh me too,” she laughed, “hundreds of times; at least once a month for the last forty years. You’ve no idea how virtuous it makes me feel. And how’s it going for you?”
“So far,” I admitted, “I’ve yelled at my Mum, exploded at Dad and my Professor, and screamed at Carol!”
“Goodness!” she chuckled. “I’m not sure I’d dare scream at Carol Baxter. She can get pretty fierce. How did she take it?”
“I think her exact words were: ‘For Christ’s sake woman, give in. I’ll go to the shops for you if you like, then you can say I led you astray. But I want Tina back. I’ve had it with the bloody nicotine monster.’ It took us a while to coax the cat down from the apple tree, too.”