The Unveiled Lady (Vigilauntie Justice #2.5) ebook

Baz pressed the needle into her embroidery, sneaking a look at Peggy on the other side of the table as she did so. ‘Ow!’ She’d stabbed herself with the needle. Again.

Peggy looked up but didn’t say anything. Beyond the café’s window, the drizzle had let up but the sky remained as grey and foreboding as it had been since Baz had awoken.

Baz had already tried making conversation several times that morning. Each time, Peggy had grunted a monosyllabic response. It wasn’t that Baz didn’t like Peggy – she very much did. And it wasn’t that the pair didn’t have anything in common. Nor was it that they didn’t have anything to talk about.

The truth seemed to be that Carole’s absence unsettled Peggy. Her partner was spending the week with her daughter. Carole had four kids – Baz was fairly certain of that. And she gathered Peggy didn’t get on with the one Carole was visiting.

Or maybe the problem was that without Madge here to facilitate conversation, it just didn’t flow as smoothly as usual. Like Carole, Madge was away visiting family. Her sister Jackie lived in Manchester and Madge had gone to spend a few days with her.

Whatever the reason for the silence, it was making Baz uncomfortable.

Every morning, the four women met up at Wellbeloved Café in the heart of south-east London for two hours. They lingered over their beverages, had a bit of a natter, and worked on their respective crafting projects. Baz liked the bustling coffee shop– it was warm and homey, yet tasteful and stylish. The building that housed it was several hundred years old and the interior was bright and inviting while still maintaining much of the character.

When the bell above the front door jangled, Baz instinctively turned to look. The figure in the door stood slightly hunched. They wore a tattered tracksuit with the hood pulled up. Despite the miserable weather, they wore sunglasses. The lower portion of their face was obscured by a mask – one of those cheap blue surgical ones.

But one thing stood out in sharp contrast to the person’s overall demeanour. Their shoes.

Those very shoes kept popping up in Baz’s social media feed and on her internet searches. She’d looked at them and had been seriously tempted – until she’d spotted the price tag. It was clear from looking at them that they’d be expensive, but she still hadn’t been prepared for the reality. She’d wondered who would spend more than £1,000 on shoes.

Apparently, she had the answer now.

Still, Baz was surprised when the person – instead of walking to the café’s front counter – sidled over to where she and Peggy sat.

When the interloper lowered herself into Madge’s chair, Peggy finally looked up. With a start, she uttered a single syllable. ‘Flip.’

Baz was surprised by this. Although Peggy didn’t have Carole’s potty mouth, she didn’t normally pepper her speech with faux-swears either. Baz had a bit of a soft spot for words like gosh, sugar, darn – and flip. But Peggy wasn’t the sort.

Peggy scowled. ‘What are you doing here? And what on God’s green earth are you wearing?’

The newcomer lowered their voice, such that Baz could barely catch the words. ‘I thought perhaps we could speak in private.’

Peggy cast a glance at Baz and gave her a quick wink before turning her gaze back to the other person. ‘Well, you thought wrong.’

The stranger harrumphed. Something about the sound struck Baz. It felt almost – but not quite – familiar. ‘Perhaps I made a mistake in coming here.’

Peggy scoffed. ‘I’ll say you did.’

‘I need your help, PP,’ the new arrival hissed.

Rolling her eyes, Peggy turned to Baz. ‘Baz, this,’ she waved laconically at the other person, ‘as you may have already worked out, is my sister, Flip. Felicity Trent Florence.’

Baz bit back a gasp. Peggy’s family rarely came up in conversation. From what Baz could tell, there were only a handful of relatives she was on speaking terms with.

Flip removed her face mask and sunglasses, revealing thin, tight lips and a pinched brow. ‘Lady Flip Florence.’ She put so much evidence into the relevant word that she sounded almost like Hyacinth Bucket.

Peggy dipped her head and raised her eyebrows as she turned to look at her sister. The move was remarkably similar in effect to Madge looking at someone over the tops of her glasses. ‘The dowager Lady Florence.’

Flip released a short, sharp breath through her nose.

Peggy smiled an ice-cold smile and raised a graceful hand – green fingertips clashing with her hot pink hair – towards Baz. ‘Flip, this is my good friend Barbara – Ms Barbara Spencer.’

Flip disregarded the introduction. ‘I trust your friend is … safe? I assume she’s finally gone somewhere that can provide her the help she so desperately needs?’

Several seconds passed before Peggy finally responded. ‘Carole’s in Slough. She’s staying with her daughter for the week. I’ll be sure to let her know you stopped by. She’ll be so sorry she missed your visit. You know how much she loves spending time with you.’

Flip pinched her face into something sort of like a wrinkled prune. It took Baz a moment to realise she was trying to smile. It was several more seconds before she realised how alike the two women were. In bone structure and colouring, that is; they couldn’t be further apart in mannerisms and body language.

Baz felt the tension radiating off them in waves. She turned to look at the café’s front door, certain someone must have left it open as the temperature seemed to have plummeted.

After a few moments, Peggy pursed her lips and crossed her thin arms over her chest. ‘What do you want, Flip?’ She enunciated each word with excessive care and attention.

Flip cast her eyes towards Baz then back at her sister. She repeated the gesture several times while Peggy waited impatiently.

After a few moments, Flip touched her throat with elegantly manicured fingers while smacking her lips. ‘The service in here is terrible. Where is the waiter?’

Peggy stared at her sister. ‘This is a coffee shop. It doesn’t have waiters. You place your order at the counter. Like a pleb.’

Once again, Flip glanced over at Baz and then back at Peggy. Baz was about to offer to place Flip’s order for her when she said, ‘Perhaps he could do that for me whilst you and I have a little chat.’

Heat rose in Baz’s cheeks. She bit her bottom lip to forestall the oncoming quiver. She’d only begun to transition in her sixties and she knew some people saw her as a man in a dress. That didn’t mean she liked to be reminded of that fact, though.

Peggy looked to her left, to her right. She made a show of looking everywhere around herself before finally clicking her tongue as she looked at her dog lying under the table. ‘Ah! I’m afraid Cookie, much though I adore him, has yet to acquire the power of human speech. But perhaps if you were to write a note and tie it around his neck, he might be persuaded to carry it to the front counter for you.’

Flip blinked rapidly for a moment before curling her face into another artificial smile. ‘Very droll, PP. I was, as you well know, referring to your friend.’ She turned her smile to Baz. ‘Barry, was it? Would you be a dear and—’

Waves of revulsion, shame, anger, and fear rolled over Baz all at once. But Peggy had leapt up – no mean feat for a woman of her advanced years and with her mobility constraints. She leant down uncomfortably close to her sister’s face. ‘I have already told you. This is my friend, Barbara. How dare you show up in my coffee shop and disrespect my friends, my chosen family! I will not tolerate that. Now, apologise to Barbara and then tell me what you want – or get out.’

The tension fell away from Baz’s muscles and her heart lifted. She could positively kiss Peggy.

With her mouth held firmly closed, Flip turned to Baz. ‘I’m sorry … Barbara.’ Baz forced herself to smile at the horrible woman. ‘Now, about that coffee?’ Flip raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll pay of course.’

Baz couldn't help but flinch at the thundering crack that filled the room when Peggy smacked her cane on the edge of the chair. Cookie woke with such a start he bonked his head on the table above him. 

‘Felicity Caroline Trent,’ Peggy barked. ‘My friend is not your servant. If you want coffee, you can frolicking go and order it your-frolicking-self.’

Except she didn’t say frolicking.

Baz’s heart rate was gradually drifting back down to normal levels after Peggy’s outburst when Flip said, ‘I really think this is a matter best kept within the family.’

As much as Baz hated to do favours for such a hateful woman, the tension in the room was twisting her digestive system in knots. ‘I’ll just go place your order, Flip.’

Flip opened her mouth and Baz had a horrible feeling she was about to reply that ‘it’s Lady Florence, actually,’ when Peggy pointed an index finger at Baz. ‘Don’t move. You don’t work for my sister.’

‘I don’t mind. Really.’ Baz desperately wanted to be anywhere but caught in between the warring sisters.

Peggy gave the tiniest shake of her head, pinning Baz to her chair by sheer force of will. ‘Flip is going to tell us why she’s here. And then she’s going to leave.’ She turned to face her sister. ‘Isn’t that right?’

‘I have no desire to remain in your company for any longer than is strictly necessary.’ Gone were the hunched shoulders Flip had walked in with. She now sat ramrod straight.

Peggy nodded. ‘Good. Then get on with it.’ When Flip glanced at Baz once more, Peggy added. ‘Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of Baz.’

Flip wrinkled her nose before continuing. ‘I need your help, PP.’

Peggy guffawed so loudly and for so long that Baz was sure Sarah was going to come running around the corner to check everything was all right.

As her laughter finally began to die down, Peggy fanned herself with both hands. ‘My help? Oh, that is rich. It must be something monstrous or catastrophic to force you to come crawling to me, of all people.’

‘I think you’ll find I walked in here, head held high, actually.’ Which was partially true, at least. She had walked – though slinked might be a better word. But her head had certainly not been high.

Peggy chuckled, soft and low. ‘And why, pray tell, would I do anything to help you?’

‘Because you’re the only one who can.’ Flip was wringing her hands.

Peggy sighed noisily and shook her head. ‘Well, go on then. I suppose you may as well spit it out.’

Flip cast another glance at Baz. Baz wondered whether the woman might make another plea for her to leave. But in the end, she proceeded. ‘I’m being blackmailed.’

Peggy pinched her lips tightly together. Baz strongly suspected she was struggling to contain laughter. ‘I see. And what have you done that these nefarious individuals are threatening to expose?’

Flip crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Perhaps I made a mistake in coming here.’ She made to stand back up.

Once again, Peggy rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, sit back down.’ She waved her hand in a downwards motion. ‘You’ve come all this way. You may as well at least tell me what this is all about – if for no other reason than to satisfy my curiosity.’

Baz really felt like she shouldn’t be here. She desperately wanted to flee – but Peggy had told her to stay.

Still with her arms crossed, Flip lowered herself back to the chair and frowned. No one spoke for several seconds. Eventually Flip sighed and muttered something Baz couldn’t quite catch.

Peggy turned her ear towards her sister. ‘Sorry? I’m going to need you to repeat that.’

Flip frowned. ‘I said they believe I had a child out of wedlock.’

Peggy’s eyes opened wide and she put a hand in front of her mouth. ‘Oh my! Not an illegitimate child. Whatever would the archdeacon say? Can you still be shipped off to the colonies for fornication?’

‘Don’t be flippant. It’s unbecoming.’ Flip scowled. ‘This is serious. They’re trying to extort money from me.’

Peggy took a sip of her water. ‘And is it true?’

The line between Flip’s brows deepened into more of a crevice. ‘Of course it’s not true! How could you even ask me that?’

Peggy shrugged. ‘You did go away to that boarding school in Switzerland for a year. I’ve no idea what you got up to.’

Flip glared at her sister. ‘It was a finishing school. You were supposed to attend as well – if you hadn’t been so obstinate.’

Once again, Peggy shrugged. ‘Then they won’t get away with it – will they?’

‘We can’t afford the scandal.’ Flip picked a piece of lint off her tattered tracksuit bottoms. ‘Emmeline’s gearing up to stand for Parliament. We can’t have a family embarrassment going on at the same time.’

Peggy huffed. ‘Well then. Have you considered throwing money at the problem?’ She waved a hand. ‘Give them what they want and they’ll go away.’

‘Absolutely not!’ Flip scowled. ‘On point of principal.’

Peggy released a long, slow breath. ‘I see. And what is it you think I can do to assist you?’

Flip pinched her lips together. ‘I know how much you enjoy having a little project to focus on. Perhaps you could try speaking to the perpetrators. Maybe see if you can persuade them to see sense.’

Peggy looked at Baz and raised her eyebrows a smidge before turning back to her sister. ‘All right. Leave me the details. Baz and I will see what we can do.’

Words: 5k

Pages: 32

Estimated reading time: 0–1 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.