Helga Trumpet's Bestseller

Lisa Stewart

Description

Helga Trumpet is a scatty health worker who considers herself a celebrated author. After all, her debut novel Candy Martini Reaches Out did hit 114 on the bestseller list. Having enjoyed a splash of stardom through social media, interviews and personal appearances, Helga is now grappling with her follow-up novel - Candy Martini Goes Viral. Her patients must come second.Strange incidents at work suggest an intruder is on the prowl and all staff are on high alert. Helga fails her team as their crumbling health centre heads for closure.Can Helga learn from her mistakes in time to finish her novel and save the health centre?

Informations

• Publié par: Brown Dog Books
• Date de parution: 09 août 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781839522741
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

First published 2021
Copyright © Lisa Stewart 2021
The right of Lisa Stewart to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Published under licence by Brown Dog Books and The Self-Publishing Partnership, 7 Green Park Station, Bath BA1 1JB
www.selfpublishingpartnership.co.uk

ISBN printed book: 978-1-83952-273-4 ISBN e-book: 978-1-83952-274-1
Cover design by Patrick Knowles Internal design by Andrew Easton
Printed and bound in the UK
This book is printed on FSC certified paper
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 1
Helga felt a prod on her shoulder. She whirled round to see two giggling teenage girls, one dressed as a tiger the other a lion. She didn’t like to ask the reason.
‘Can you do us a photo?’ The tiger waved her mobile phone in a furry paw.
‘Of course!’ Helga beamed. She snatched the bobble hat off her head and tugged her fingers through her wilful brown hair. ‘I think I’ve even got a spare copy of Candy Martini if you’d like me to hold it up?’
‘A copy of what?’
‘My novel – Candy Martini Reaches Out .’ Helga moved towards the boot of her car.
‘Och, we don’t have time for that! Are you going to take our photo or not?’
‘Daft old bag,’ the lion muttered.
‘Oh … you mean a photo of you two?’
‘Aye! Me and my cousin.’ The teenagers hugged each other, their fuzzy cheeks pressed together.
‘Right,’ Helga sighed, capturing the blurry image before handing back the phone.
Hastening to zip up her jacket, Helga caught the skin under her chin. ‘Aya!’ she yelped. A sharp gust chased a swirl of crisp packets down the street. She pulled the bobble hat back on and picked her way up the rough path to the bleached front door. Remembering from previous visits that the bell had long since stopped working, she rapped on the splintered wood. Shouts came from beyond the flimsy door, which sprang open. Helga was met with the scowl of a shapeless woman in stretched, stained cottons and matted sheepskin slippers. As she spoke, the cigarette – gripped between tight lips – flicked ash down her front. ‘He’s out the back. Again . You’ll have to do something about it or he can’t stay here much longer. I’ve got enough problems with my prolapse without having to look after him.’ Helga made for the back door, mindful not to breathe in the stale cooking smells from the morning’s fried sausages, the remains of which languished in a frying pan of gritty white lard. A tangle of wild grass and shrubbery led to the railway track at the foot of the garden. Several years ago the street had clubbed together to give the outdoor space a much-needed makeover – the results of which were long forgotten. Helga followed the tyre marks through the rutted terrain. Stumbling over a corpsed gnome, she twisted her ankle. ‘Dennis!’ she shouted irritably. He ignored her clamouring. She approached the mobility scooter that he’d propelled to the land’s perimeter a few feet from the industrial train tracks. A raw wind blasted across the deserted route. Helga checked in both directions before stepping into his eyeline. The old man shook with cold as he gripped a tousled mutt with stiff hands.
‘Come on inside, Dennis. It’s flipping Baltic out here.’
‘Never going back,’ he mumbled into the dog’s fur. ‘They hate me.’
‘No, they don’t.’ Helga sighed. ‘Come on, Dennis – you’ll freeze to death.’
‘This time I’m going over. I mean it.’ He revved the scooter, inching it towards the railway line.
‘At least give me Pepper,’ Helga reasoned. The dog’s ears pricked up hopefully.
‘If I go, I’m taking him with me. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. They care more about this damn dog than me.’ Pepper gave her an imploring look.
‘Now you know that’s not true.’
‘Tis! They keep me locked up in my room all day without so much as a snifter.’
Helga chanced a step closer. ‘Give me Pepper.’
His grip tightened. ‘I’m nearly eighty-five you know.’
‘Dennis, you just had your eighty-fourth birthday last week.’
‘And what did I get for it? An Asda sponge cake and a pair of bloody new pyjamas! Not even a bottle of whisky for the old man. What do I want with new pyjamas? Who do they think I’m trying to impress?’ He raised his hands in frustration. Pepper seized the opportunity and made a dash for the back door.
‘Pepper!’ he cried. ‘See, even the dog can’t bear to be near me. No one will miss me!’
‘Well, I’d miss you, Dennis – you know how concerned I am about you,’ Helga said in soothing tones. She glanced at her watch. ‘Let’s get you inside before both of us end up with the flu.’
‘If I did, no one would come and visit me.’
‘Dennis, we’ve had this conversation before. If it’s company you’re looking for, we’d be delighted for you to join us at the Tuesday Chatters.’
‘Load of old women moaning on, I expect?’ he grumbled, blowing his nose on a soiled hankie. ‘What do you lot get up to anyway? I bet it’s all jigsaw puzzles and Happy Clappy singing.’ Helga took this as consent to retreat into the house as she moved the scooter into reverse.
‘Not at all. We have a real mix of folks. Peter’s in his thirties and Kamal’s only twenty-two.’
‘Then what do they know about getting thrown on the scrap heap?’
‘Well you can ask them yourself next week.’ She followed Dennis as he navigated the scooter through the kitchen and into his bedroom, which appeared to be doubling up as a laundry facility. His daughter emerged at the doorway, blocking the exit. ‘You should stop wasting everyone’s time,’ she barked at her father. ‘Oh, it’s no trouble,’ Helga said, squeezing through the narrow gap into the hall. ‘Your dad’s agreed to come to our wee social group on Tuesday.’
‘Has he?’ she grunted. ‘Will you give him a bath?’
‘That’s not really what he’s there for,’ Helga answered, thinking the entire family would benefit from a good soaking. ‘He’s there to make new friends. The minibus will pick him up about one thirty if you can have him ready and dressed.’
‘Dressed?’ She snorted, stubbing out the cigarette on the doorframe. ‘He’s so lazy he sleeps in his clothes.’
‘Then why buy me bloody new pyjamas?’ Dennis hurled back.
Helga took a hurried left into the staff car park and, checking all the nooks and crannies for an empty space, abandoned the car on double yellow lines. She was locking the vehicle when Vanda exited the building. ‘Ah, Helga, I’m just going out for a sandwich – want one?’
‘No, thanks, I’ve brought my lunch today. Leftover mac cheese,’ she replied, patting her bag. ‘At least I hope I’ve remembered it.’ She rummaged around in her crammed shoulder bag but came up with nothing. Dumping the holdall on to the pavement she reached in and handed Vanda items one by one: scarf, gloves, purse, umbrella, a paperback. ‘What – not yours?’ asked Vanda, with her arms full.
‘Hang on.’ Helga raked around the bottom of her bag.
‘You do know we only get thirty minutes for lunch?’
‘Looks like I will need a sandwich,’ Helga nodded, repacking her bag.
‘What kind do you want?’
‘I’ll just have what you’re having.’
‘Tuna mayonnaise?’
‘Oh no, I don’t want that.’
‘What about ham salad?”
‘Och, it’s a bit cold for that. See if they have cheese savoury but if the savoury is red onion forget it. I’d rather go for something else.’
‘Chicken?’
‘I had chicken yesterday.’
‘Helga!’
‘Oh alright, just get me anything.’
Chapter 2
Vanda strode off as Helga entered the health centre. She took the stairs to the first-floor corridor and tapped in the security code. She pressed a further code to enter the office that she shared with the other members of the Harrison Intervention Team: Vanda, Bobbie, Aiden and Molly. Molly was alone in the office, sitting at her PC when Helga entered. ‘Oh, hi, Helga,’ Molly said without turning round. ‘You just missed Chan. She was in here looking for money from you. Says you sponsored her son to do the school’s sponsored silence.’
‘How much?’
‘A pound for every hour. So that’s eight pounds.’
‘Gosh – he’s not a Tibetan monk, is he? I thought teachers were always complaining they can’t control the kids.’
‘Seemingly it’s not so hard when they’re raising money for a school trip.’
‘I don’t remember offering to fund a world cruise.’
Molly handed Helga a pink sticky Post-it note. ‘And someone called Kate Crosbie left a message.’
‘Oh, that’s my agent,’ Helga said breezily. ‘Did she say what she wanted?’
‘Something about plans for a bog tour?’
‘A blog tour, Molly!’
‘Oh, I don’t know about these things. And she mentioned a “Writers’ Block”?’
‘Ah yes,’ Helga nodded. ‘Did I mention that I’ve been asked to participate as one of four local authors?’
‘Hmm, I think you did say something about that.’
‘Are you coming? It’s on the fifteenth of March at Musselburgh Town Hall. Seven thirty.’
‘What day of the week is that?’
‘Wednesday.’
‘Ah well, Wednesday’s always a bloody nightmare in our house. Caz is still doing her shift at Morrisons to pay back what she owes and I need to run Mandy to Brownies.’
‘Can’t she go herself?’
‘It’s way over at Gilmerton.’
‘So?’
‘She’s seven ,’ Molly tutte