Friends in Need (Vigilauntie Justice shorts) paperback

Friends in Need

Chapter 1: In which Peggy explains how things are going to work

‘Don’t you go looking at me with those big hopeful eyes, mister. You’re not my type. I shan’t be falling for you.’ Peggy fixed him with one of her glares – and if anyone on this earth knew how to give an effective glare, it was Peggy. People had been known to run home crying for their mummies. Men cowered. Women burst into tears.

Men and women alike found Peggy intimidating; she was a septuagenarian with fuchsia hair and spiked jewellery and punk band T-shirts. Today’s top featured Siouxsie and the Banshees.

She didn’t mind being thought of as intimidating.

But the recipient of today’s glare was not a man. Nor a woman. In fact, he seemed to be entirely immune to her tactics. Instead of fleeing or cowering, he continued to study her.

Peggy harrumphed. ‘You might be unaffected by me, mate. But rest assured, I am equally invulnerable to your charms.’

The great beast of a dog opened his mouth, letting his ridiculous pink tongue loll out. She couldn’t bring herself to call the dog by the name he’d been given.

‘This is only a temporary arrangement.’ Peggy turned away and rested her fingers back on her keyboard. ‘I’m glad you’re no longer with that bastard. But you can’t stay here. A few days is one thing. But only until we find you a proper home.’

Peggy thought the dog might be an Alsatian or possibly a German shepherd, not that she knew the difference. He responded with a single tentative wag of his tail and then continued standing in front of her, watching her.

Diane had shown up at the door of their flat just after ten that evening and deposited the dog on them. ‘I need him to disappear.’ Apparently, she’d dealt with his human – who was definitely a wrong ’un. But that left the dog. ‘Plus, I worry about you, Mum. You could do with a big, strong man about the house.’

Peggy shook her head at the memory. She’d never needed – nor wanted – any men about the house. Not since she’d moved out of her parents’ home more than fifty-five years back. And, naturally, her indifference to the charms of men had left her with no progeny who might drop by at odd hours, depositing unwanted pets, begging for a babysitter, or just needing a good cry.

Carole, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so unencumbered. Diane was Carole’s eldest. Carole had been married to Harvey even longer than she’d been with Peggy – though not by much. Carole and Harvey had four kids together. Kids who were now fully grown and had children of their own.

Tina, Carole’s youngest, had been fifteen when Peggy and Carole first got together. Tina knew full well the two women had no need of a big, strong man – or any kind of man. Peggy and Tina got on just fine.

But Diane was different. Diane made it clear she resented Peggy’s presence in her mother’s life. She’d been referring to Carole’s relationship with Peggy as ‘Mum’s midlife crisis’ for eighteen years. The fact her mother was now in her mid-sixties seemed entirely lost on Diane.

As Carole herself had once put it, ‘Diane isn’t exactly the brightest stick in the bunch of sticks.’ That was the sort of thing Carole said – she found herself hilarious.

Diane still called Peggy her mother’s friend. She’d once overheard Diane tell one of her brothers that Peggy was ‘not our kind of people’.

Peggy harrumphed again. The dog continued to study her.

‘Well, go on, then. Carole’s gone to bed, so you may as well sit with me on the sofa.’ Peggy lifted a tentative hand to pat the beast – only to see him flinch and cower. Her heart sank. She didn’t like dogs. But she didn’t want to see one harmed. ‘I’m sorry, fellow. I hope you understand I’d never hurt you.’

Instead of hopping up on the sofa, the dog turned three times and then lay down on Peggy’s feet.

‘We’ll find you a good home – I promise.’

The dog said nothing, as dogs are wont to do.

Peggy spent another hour working on her next novel before closing her laptop for the night. ‘Oh.’ She looked at the dog again. ‘I suppose you’ll want a walk. It’s going to be a short one, though. My legs aren’t what they once were.’

The beast stood up and wagged its tail.

Words: 14k

Pages: 76

Estimated reading time: 1–2 hours

When I published my first book in January 2020, someone at work laughed and asked me when I was going to quit my job.

There’s this perception out there that authors are wealthy people. And I’m sure the big names (e.g. Richard Osman, Stephen King, John Scalzi, etc.) are doing just fine.

But it’s not like that for indie authors. It’s tough out there. There are great, amazing things about being an indie author. But most of us aren’t making bank.

You know who is making money out of books? Jeff Bezos, CEO of Amazon.

You may have noticed a move in recent years of indie authors selling their books directly to you. There’s a reason for that.

If you buy a book for 0.99 from Amazon, the author gets to keep maybe 0.26 of that. Maybe. It depends on the file size. And they won’t even get that for around 3 months. But if you buy a book from an author for 0.99, the author gets to keep around 0.83. And we get that money within days.

Because that first book I mentioned? Four years later, it hasn’t come close to paying for itself.

If you can’t buy direct, libraries are a great way to get books for free while still helping authors get their fair share.