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Dudley Chalk had to be come a detective with no experience, no training, no clues.
It changed his life. |
Wishing Chapter 1 Cheat
Chapter 1
It was a clear [December] night, the kind that inspires thoughts of buying a telescope. Adam watched the stars as he sat at [Myra Bishop's] round plastic patio table, cradling a cigarette in the bitterly cold night air. Smoking was a habit he abandoned a year ago but suddenly rediscovered. He needed the company of something he knew well.
He had joined a singles club. Before reaching the singles meet-and-greet party he had been able to justify it as harmless social research, or something interesting that he’d never done before, or even that he was looking for inspiration rather than a partner. He needed inspiration. His life was…uninspired. But within ten minutes of arriving at the party he had felt a strong desire to run away, or simply fall to the ground apparently dead in the manner of a threatened possum. A strange enveloping sadness set in when it occurred to him that he was no better than the company in which he found himself. The guests were resolutely single, professionally lonely people. Leave, he told himself, or go see the man who was out on the patio and bum a cigarette off him.
Nicotine might put all this into perspective.
The cigarette was helping. The guy who gave it to him introduced himself as [Nick] and said this was going to be [his night]. He knew it. His arrangement of [salt chinos] and [tartan pinso] gave him the look of a man who should be famous. The girl in the red dress was all but his. It had been his day, [it was going to be his night, the 6th was always good to him]. He simply had to tell her that his family was from the [shores of the Mediterranean, he was generous and naturally great with kids], and she wouldn't be able to resist. He said this while pacing furiously around the patio, partly to stave of hypothermia but also to build up the courage to talk to the girl in the red dress. She was, after all, the only woman at the party who was turning heads.
The urge to treat the evening with derision had abated a little and Adam was beginning to think more clearly. How to handle a room full of single people? Before the patio, his trick was to say “So, you’re single then,” and hope something good would come of it. It hadn't. There was one person he wanted to talk to of course, but talking to the girl in the red dress was out of the question. She was so attractive she had to be a part of [Myra Bishop]'s singles night organisation rather than one of the forlorn and lonely. She was probably a plant or the caterer; it was inconceivable that she was single. She was the kind of girl to whom married men would send flowers or risqué emails. Men would become besotted by her.
He needed to talk to someone because that was the entire point of the evening, but for the moment a spot on the freezing patio was preferable. Nick, having completed his nervous laps, straightened his jacket, covertly sprayed some breath freshener and, like a man about to launch himself into the night, said “Wish me Luck!” and returned to the fray through the patio doors.
Adam studied the Milky Way, that streak of stardust that seemed to mark the passage of some magical flying craft. He thought of the red dress and the utterly perfect thirty-something girl beneath it. Would Nick win her over with his tales of [Mediterranean origins or his unusual clothes? Surely he would appear more frosty than Mediterranean after his polar refuge, and there were no children present to whom he could display outrageous acts of kindness]. Adam was torn between hoping Nick would be successful on this, [his big night], and hoping he might fail so that less generous or exotic people might stand a chance. Not Adam, however, for he would never speak to her. He couldn’t, in all honesty, walk up to the girl and say ‘So, you’re single then.’ And his usual introduction was actually worse. “Hello, my name is Adam, I sell taps for a living and I enjoy a wide range of hobbies.” She didn’t look like the kind of girl who would swoon at a tap salesman, no matter how wide-ranging his hobby list.
He wondered if he should get very drunk and [reinvent himself. Perhaps morph out of his serious demeanour and become someone more jolly], more accessible. He wouldn’t see these people again, of that he was sure. Yes, the alcohol and reinvention plan was a possibility. Not drunk of course, but buzzed perhaps. He could be Carlton Dangerfield, a man who works for the Government but not behind a desk, if you know what I mean, wink wink. That should do it. He was laughing now. A nice idea, but it wouldn’t work. He wouldn't be able to pull it off. He didn't have the desperation or the personal confidence of Nick and his expensive trousers. He could talk knowledgeably about taps but any other story would have to rely on half-finished sentences and winks. People would think he had a neurological disorder.
A shooting star passed through the clear December sky. Adam closed his eyes and made a wish. “I wish the girl in the red dress would walk out onto this patio now and engage me in intelligent and subtly flirtatious conversation.” He waited a moment before opening his eyes, then looked toward the patio doors. Nothing. Then the shooting star burst into a thousand little sparkles and Adam realised that he’d made a wish upon something recently launched from someone’s back garden.
“I can’t even get that right,” he said. “I need a new life.”
You will notice that this version has some [parts marked out].
The general feel of the chapter is late in the year, maybe it even has a Christmas feel to it (the red dress, a party). The party is actually on the night of December 6th, Nick's big night. What's big about December 6th? It's when we celebrate St. Nicholas.
What are salt chinos and I've never heard of a tartan pinso. The word "arrangement" reeks of an anagram. Salt chinos is an anagram of St Nicholas. Tartan pinso is patron saint.
Nick hails from the Mediterranean, is generous and naturally good with kids. St. Nicholas was the Bishop of Myra, on the shores of the Mediterranean. The party is hosted by Myra Bishop.
Adam wonders if he should reinvent himself and come someone more jolly. St Nicholas was re-branded into Santa.
The answer to this chapter is St. Nicholas. We have one out of 7 already. The books are nearly yours for the asking!
It was a clear [December] night, the kind that inspires thoughts of buying a telescope. Adam watched the stars as he sat at [Myra Bishop's] round plastic patio table, cradling a cigarette in the bitterly cold night air. Smoking was a habit he abandoned a year ago but suddenly rediscovered. He needed the company of something he knew well.
He had joined a singles club. Before reaching the singles meet-and-greet party he had been able to justify it as harmless social research, or something interesting that he’d never done before, or even that he was looking for inspiration rather than a partner. He needed inspiration. His life was…uninspired. But within ten minutes of arriving at the party he had felt a strong desire to run away, or simply fall to the ground apparently dead in the manner of a threatened possum. A strange enveloping sadness set in when it occurred to him that he was no better than the company in which he found himself. The guests were resolutely single, professionally lonely people. Leave, he told himself, or go see the man who was out on the patio and bum a cigarette off him.
Nicotine might put all this into perspective.
The cigarette was helping. The guy who gave it to him introduced himself as [Nick] and said this was going to be [his night]. He knew it. His arrangement of [salt chinos] and [tartan pinso] gave him the look of a man who should be famous. The girl in the red dress was all but his. It had been his day, [it was going to be his night, the 6th was always good to him]. He simply had to tell her that his family was from the [shores of the Mediterranean, he was generous and naturally great with kids], and she wouldn't be able to resist. He said this while pacing furiously around the patio, partly to stave of hypothermia but also to build up the courage to talk to the girl in the red dress. She was, after all, the only woman at the party who was turning heads.
The urge to treat the evening with derision had abated a little and Adam was beginning to think more clearly. How to handle a room full of single people? Before the patio, his trick was to say “So, you’re single then,” and hope something good would come of it. It hadn't. There was one person he wanted to talk to of course, but talking to the girl in the red dress was out of the question. She was so attractive she had to be a part of [Myra Bishop]'s singles night organisation rather than one of the forlorn and lonely. She was probably a plant or the caterer; it was inconceivable that she was single. She was the kind of girl to whom married men would send flowers or risqué emails. Men would become besotted by her.
He needed to talk to someone because that was the entire point of the evening, but for the moment a spot on the freezing patio was preferable. Nick, having completed his nervous laps, straightened his jacket, covertly sprayed some breath freshener and, like a man about to launch himself into the night, said “Wish me Luck!” and returned to the fray through the patio doors.
Adam studied the Milky Way, that streak of stardust that seemed to mark the passage of some magical flying craft. He thought of the red dress and the utterly perfect thirty-something girl beneath it. Would Nick win her over with his tales of [Mediterranean origins or his unusual clothes? Surely he would appear more frosty than Mediterranean after his polar refuge, and there were no children present to whom he could display outrageous acts of kindness]. Adam was torn between hoping Nick would be successful on this, [his big night], and hoping he might fail so that less generous or exotic people might stand a chance. Not Adam, however, for he would never speak to her. He couldn’t, in all honesty, walk up to the girl and say ‘So, you’re single then.’ And his usual introduction was actually worse. “Hello, my name is Adam, I sell taps for a living and I enjoy a wide range of hobbies.” She didn’t look like the kind of girl who would swoon at a tap salesman, no matter how wide-ranging his hobby list.
He wondered if he should get very drunk and [reinvent himself. Perhaps morph out of his serious demeanour and become someone more jolly], more accessible. He wouldn’t see these people again, of that he was sure. Yes, the alcohol and reinvention plan was a possibility. Not drunk of course, but buzzed perhaps. He could be Carlton Dangerfield, a man who works for the Government but not behind a desk, if you know what I mean, wink wink. That should do it. He was laughing now. A nice idea, but it wouldn’t work. He wouldn't be able to pull it off. He didn't have the desperation or the personal confidence of Nick and his expensive trousers. He could talk knowledgeably about taps but any other story would have to rely on half-finished sentences and winks. People would think he had a neurological disorder.
A shooting star passed through the clear December sky. Adam closed his eyes and made a wish. “I wish the girl in the red dress would walk out onto this patio now and engage me in intelligent and subtly flirtatious conversation.” He waited a moment before opening his eyes, then looked toward the patio doors. Nothing. Then the shooting star burst into a thousand little sparkles and Adam realised that he’d made a wish upon something recently launched from someone’s back garden.
“I can’t even get that right,” he said. “I need a new life.”
You will notice that this version has some [parts marked out].
The general feel of the chapter is late in the year, maybe it even has a Christmas feel to it (the red dress, a party). The party is actually on the night of December 6th, Nick's big night. What's big about December 6th? It's when we celebrate St. Nicholas.
What are salt chinos and I've never heard of a tartan pinso. The word "arrangement" reeks of an anagram. Salt chinos is an anagram of St Nicholas. Tartan pinso is patron saint.
Nick hails from the Mediterranean, is generous and naturally good with kids. St. Nicholas was the Bishop of Myra, on the shores of the Mediterranean. The party is hosted by Myra Bishop.
Adam wonders if he should reinvent himself and come someone more jolly. St Nicholas was re-branded into Santa.
The answer to this chapter is St. Nicholas. We have one out of 7 already. The books are nearly yours for the asking!
