The initial spark for this novel came from a house I saw when I was out walking – a big detached pink house with a green gate. I fell in love with it, and since I couldn't buy it myself, I decided I'd let one of my characters live there – much cheaper, and the moving is effortless!
So that's where Romy lives. She sort of grew from thinking about who would live in this house, and she was one of those characters who came fully formed. However, I had no idea what her story was when I started writing this novel during National Novel Writing Month (NaNo).
As NaNo happens in November, I guess it's no surprise that the first scene that popped into my head when I started writing on November 1 was a
Halloween party. What was a surprise – a big one – was that next thing I knew Romy was having a close encounter of the sexual kind with a stranger dressed as Darth Vader. I knew that was totally out of character for her, so I had to decide whether I should discard it as a bit of NaNo madness or give her a reason for behaving so recklessly. The idea of Darth had taken hold, though, so he had to stay.
The fact that Romy is a property developer got me thinking about the recession and how it affects people's lives. Around the time I started writing this, I'd read an article about people who had lost their jobs and had to move back home. Some had reverted to living like teenagers, relying on their parents for everything while they went out every night and enjoyed themselves. It seemed like a situation with a lot of interesting possibilities and that's where the idea for Kit's story came from. Kit is based on a celebrity crush, as is his brother Rob – but I won't say who because one woman's meat is another woman's wet lettuce.
I don't do much planning, so the story and characters are still evolving as I write. But here’s the story so far ...
SYNOPSIS
Romy Fitzgerald’s son, Luke was conceived last Halloween when Romy had an encounter in a cupboard with a stranger dressed as Darth Vader.
Now, one year after the fateful Halloween party, she is no closer to discovering the identity of Luke's father, and she is ready to give up the search. It has got her nowhere and she needs to move on. Her professional life is in a holding pattern too. As a property developer, she made enough money during the boom years to enable her to ride out the recession living on rental income, but she misses the buzz of developing.
So when her first ever boyfriend, Kit suddenly turns up at her door with a proposition, she thinks it might be just what she needs to shake things up. Joined at the mouth in their teens, Kit and Romy spent their days snogging and their nights snogging some more. But when school ended, Kit emigrated to America, and Romy hasn't seen him since.
Now he has lost everything in the recession – his job as a trader on Wall Street, his trophy girlfriend and his New York lifestyle. He has been forced to return home to Ireland and move in with his parents, and he wants Romy's help in putting his life back together. She is only too happy to throw herself into helping him renovate the dilapidated mansion in the country he has inherited, which he's hoping will help him get back on his feet.
As they spend time together, Romy begins to wonder if she got it right first time all those years ago, and Kit is the one for her. They used to love each other – maybe they can again. But she's getting mixed signals from him – and why is he so secretive about his life in New York?
As she finds herself seeing more of his ramshackle house than she does of Kit, Romy starts to wonder if he's only interested in her skills as a developer. And when his little brother, Rob, is roped in to help it only adds to her confusion. She remembers Rob as a sweet kid, but he's all grown up now and hotter than coffee from a polystyrene cup. Maybe a fling with a younger man is just what she needs. But isn't it wrong to be thinking that way about someone who used to be twelve?
If she just lets go and follows her heart, where will it lead her?
EXCERPT
[Ian is Romy’s brother]
She knew Ian had always assumed that she knew who Luke's father was, and was keeping it a secret because he was married or just didn't want to know. Finally one night, feeling a little drunk and very much in need of an ally, she confessed all. She told him about the Halloween party, Darth Vader, the cupboard – everything.
'So, what you're saying is, Luke's father is ... Darth Vader?'
'Yes.' She glanced at him warily, bracing herself for his response. To her amazement a big grin spread across his face.
'Cool!' he breathed.
She laughed in relief. 'Well, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting.'
'So that was why you were always asking about him. I wish you'd told me this sooner.'
'What difference would it make? We've already asked everyone we know who as at the party. No one knew who he was.'
Ian sighed. 'Let's go over it again. What do we know about him?'
Romy shrugged helplessly. 'He was tall,' she said eventually.
'Okay, good,' Ian nodded encouragingly. 'And he likes Star Wars, we know that.'
'I suppose.' Romy bit her lip. 'But he might not. I mean, what if that was the only costume he could get?'
'Okay, tall and possibly likes Star Wars. Anything else?'
'Um ... I think he might be asthmatic.'
'Really? What makes you think that?'
'Well ... he was breathing really heavily the whole time – sort of wheezing.'
'Romy,' Ian said, smiling pityingly, 'you were having it off.'
'You know I hate that expression.' She frowned.
'Okay, you were ... making love, whatever.' Ian sniggered. 'You were making love in a wardrobe with a guy you couldn't pick out in a crowd –'
'Oh, shut up!' She grabbed a cushion and swatted him with it.
He laughed more, raising his hands to defend himself. 'Okay, okay. But y'know, everyone breathes deeply when they're in the throes. Plus you were in a wardrobe – it was probably pretty stuffy in there. And on top of all that he was wearing a mask.'
'Yeah, I know. I'm just clutching at straws.'
'And he might have just been getting into character – you know, if he thought the Vader thing turned you on. Did he say anything?'
'Ugh! I'm not giving you details.'
'I don't want details, thank you very much. I just mean, did he say anything to make you think he was trying to fulfil your Darth Vader fantasies?'
'Like what?'
'Like, "can you feel the force, baby?" he boomed in a Vader-like voice. "Get a load of my light sabre". Ian collapsed in giggles.
Romy looked at him crossly.
'Sorry, sorry,' he said, trying to rein in his grin.
'If you're not going to take this seriously –'
'I am, honest. Sorry.' He reached out to her and pulled against him and she laid her head on his shoulder.
'I just think he should know he has a child, whoever he is,' she said. 'And Luke should have a chance to know who his father is.'
'Well, there has to be some way of tracking him down. We just have to be more creative.'
'How?'
Ian was silent for a while, thinking. 'We could hold a DNA party!' he said finally, shaking her off and sitting forward.
'A what?'
'A DNA party. We throw a party, right, and then we keep a glass or something that everyone's touched, so we have their DNA. We'll get a load of freezer bags and mark who each glass belongs to. Then we send them all to the lab –'
'What lab?'
'You know – the lab. The DNA testing lab. You've seen Sea of Love, right? They did that. They went on dates with all these women and –
'They were cops. They had access to a lab.'
'Well, there are places that do DNA testing, aren't there? What about all those skanks who don’t get onto the telly? They must have somewhere to go to find out who the father of their baby is if they don't get picked for Jeremy Kyle.'
'And what kind of skank would I look like, turning up at the baby-father clinic with a hundred-odd DNA samples? Even those ones on the telly usually have it narrowed down to three or four suspects. Anyway, you can't collect people's DNA without their permission.'
Ian flopped back against the sofa defeatedly. 'Well, maybe he'll start to look like his father.'
'Big helmet?' Romy said, her lips twitching.
'Big helmet, mouth breather. Seriously, though, maybe he'll turn into a dead ringer for someone we know.'
'You know, sometimes he does almost remind me of someone. But I can't put my finger on who it is.'
'Mr Potato Head.'
'Sorry?'
'Mr Potato Head – that's who he reminds you of. I've often thought that myself.'
'My son does not look like Mr Potato Head.'
'Hey, calm down. I'm talking about if you do the button nose and don't use the moustache.'
'He still doesn't look like Mr Potato Head, okay? Anyway, it definitely wasn’t Mr Potato Head. This guy was much taller. And less ... potatoey.'
Ian sighed heavily. 'I guess we're back to square one then.'
e writer friend. In the five years that I've lived here, I've written two manuscripts, almost finished with a third, published an article, started blogging and best of all, made friends with other writers. I was lucky enough to get into the chick lit group on Write Words a few years back where some of most fabulous people in writing were hanging around. Since then, I've left WW and joined a splinter group. The camaraderie of the group tempers the isolation that can dog a writer. The networking has introduced me to NaNoWriMo and led me to write 2 posts a month for the Canadian blog, Book in a Week.
e writer friend. In the five years that I've lived here, I've written two manuscripts, almost finished with a third, published an article, started blogging and best of all, made friends with other writers. I was lucky enough to get into the chick lit group on Write Words a few years back where some of most fabulous people in writing were hanging around. Since then, I've left WW and joined a splinter group. The camaraderie of the group tempers the isolation that can dog a writer. The networking has introduced me to NaNoWriMo and led me to write 2 posts a month for the Canadian blog, Book in a Week.
