Inspirational places: London and France

The Camelot Inheritance ~ Book 4

Here we are in 2019 and, drum roll … I’ve finished Book 4!

Yes really.

Well, not the illustrations, those are just beginning; but the story is written and I’ve allowed my most honest critic (Pete) to read it.

In the next few weeks it will be sent to my editor but first off I’m going to allow a few other trusted beta readers to read and criticise. Painful but necessary.

My clever cover designer, Katie Stewart in Oz, has been alerted - now all that’s needed is a decision on the title.

Perhaps the reason that I’ve been able to type the last full stop (or period) is because the past few weeks Pete and I have been in France. This wonderful country continues to be my creative haven.

Just so you know what I mean, here are a few of our favourite places:

La Roche Bernard (meaning Bernard's rock). This is our closest town. We love it.

If you know anything about French history you will have heard of the revolution in the 1790’s.  This piece commemorates it. Sadly, there’s also a monument beside the river to some folk who were in the French Resistance during WW II and didn't live to see the end of the war.

Damgan is one of our happy places, it's not historical, just beachy.

Vannes: A fabulous walled medieval town with a port We enjoy mooching around its streets and lanes and taking in the photography exhibitions.

And then there’s Nantes on the mouth of the Loire (where many a chateau can be found). We drove down there on Friday to visit Les Machines de l’Ile and to see the amazing, ENORMOUS, walking elephant. People can ride on its balconies. The trunk moves and sprays the crowds. It flaps its ears, opens and closes its eyes. And the best thing about it? It made everyone smile and laugh and feel better.

I've made a tentative beginning to the illustrations. One will head up the introductory chapter which is set in the British Museum in London - this photo is of the front of the Museum. If ever you go to London, do visit .

I’m aware that there’s loads to see and do in that city but, of all the museums, that’s the one I’d recommend (although the Science Museum is another great day out).

In this book there are scenes set in the museum, but also on the underground and Tower Bridge. Other locations have been saved for future books.

Here is an excerpt. I hope it whets your appetite for more.

‘Don’t look now, but that statue blinked.’

‘What?’

‘The statue behind you,’ Tamar said. ‘The one with wings and a human face … it blinked.’

Arthur spun round. ‘The one like a lion with wings?’

She nodded. 

‘O-kay.’

Catching a statue moving wasn’t new to him. He’d come across one before - but that had been on his side. He didn’t fancy finding out whether this one was friendly. It was way too big.

He caught hold of Tamar’s arm. ‘Let’s move.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Slowly.’

‘It can’t do anything can it?’ Tamar asked. ‘I mean, how can an ancient Assyrian statue, in the British Museum in the centre of London, do anything?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t want to find out.’ Arthur edged away. A memory rumbled. ‘It could listen.’

Tamar examined the statue’s head. A sort of headdress covered its ears.

‘We weren’t saying anything worth listening to, were we?’

‘Think what we were talking about!’

She did a quick re-run of their conversation and realised that the stuff they’d been discussing was most definitely worth hearing. She risked another look. The statue was massive, probably several metres high. It towered above the tourists and groups of schoolchildren. If it did anything there would be carnage.

Arthur grabbed her hand, pulling her away as he whispered, ‘You’re the history geek. Remind me: why were these statues made?’

Tamar didn’t need to check her notes. ‘They were meant to be gatekeepers against evil spirits.’

‘Oh yes,’ he said softly. ‘Now I remember.’

Arthur flipped through his memories. It was two summers ago and he was standing outside the Granite House marvelling at a couple of glowing stone statues just before he was captured by the Crow Man and taken to meet Matearnas. One of the maddest people he’d ever met.

He cast another look over his shoulder. A Japanese tourist was taking a close-up of the statue. She was standing directly beneath it. As far as Arthur could tell, it wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t going to chance a closer look. He and Tamar were probably the reason behind the blink.

‘We could be sending out vibes. After all, you are the Time Keeper. You haven’t always been stuck in this century like the rest of us.’

‘That’s true.’ Tamar’s hand instinctively sought out the Time Keeper’s watch hidden deep in her pocket. Gentle, rhythmic ticks ran along her thumb. The fob watch had her name inscribed on it: Tamar Tamblyn, the latest in a long line of Time Keepers.

‘Come on.’ Arthur’s brown eyes were worried. ‘There’s a café on this floor. It might be safer. We can get to it to through the galleries. Don’t look at any of the statues.’

Tamar didn’t need to be told. A blinking statue is enough to worry anybody, even someone who’d met ancient knights. When inanimate objects stir it is time to retreat.  

They ambled from the human-headed lion, but the amble rapidly turned into a run.

Arthur’s brain buzzed. ‘I knew this school trip was a bad idea,’ he muttered, as they skidded past a group of excitable Italians. ‘We’re away from Cornwall and we’re separated from the rest of the Guardians.’

‘Not much we can do about that now,’ Tamar pointed out. ‘Where’s the café?’

‘Through here – come on.’

They zoomed past statues and through galleries. Chatter bounced off stone pillars and floors. Camera’s clicked. Under normal circumstances they’d love it here; but these weren’t normal circumstances.

Arthur checked the miniature sword hanging from the chain around his neck. The gold was at body temperature so there couldn’t be an immediate threat.

‘My sword’s okay,’ he said to Tamar as they spun past a clutch of schoolchildren.

Tamar put her hand to her own silver sword. ‘So’s mine - and the watch is quiet too.’

Sliding over the polished floors, they rounded another corner. The café was in front of them. It was glossy and modern with just one statue in the far corner of a man on a horse. Arthur guessed the carving was probably a couple of thousand years old. Roman probably. It didn’t look threatening.

‘Do you think Mr Vennor will mind us taking a coffee break?’ Tamar asked.

Arthur surveyed the café. ‘Doubt it. And anyway, we can hardly ask if we can take time out because a statue moved.’

‘True.’  

‘I’ll get us a couple of coffees. There’s a table over there in the corner. Why don’t you grab it?’

Tamar inspected the other customers, expecting to see one of their enemies: possibly the Crow Man and his pale companion, Hagarawall; or the Ice Lady and her silver-haired son. But the café’s clientele were reassuringly ordinary.

She relaxed. ‘Actually, can I have a hot chocolate?’

Arthur took in her expression. Her brown eyes were almost black. Whatever she’d seen had really frightened her. 

‘Course you can.’

They’d been friends since nursery. Arthur knew her almost as well as knew his own family.

He knew that she loved her ugly dog, Mug Shot. That she fought with her big sister. That she was one of the bravest people he’d ever met … and that hot chocolate was her comfort drink.

She was fishing in her bag for her purse. Arthur shook his head. ‘My turn.’

Unusually she didn’t argue, just muttered ‘thanks’ and threaded her way between tables to the corner furthest from the carved horse and rider. She slung her coat over the back of a chair and flopped down. Her heart drummed.

Pull yourself together, she told herself sternly. You’ve come across worse things than a blinking statue. You’ve seen skeletons come to life, you’ve been kidnapped by the Ice Lady… and you’ve seen a man die.

It was true. In the two years since she’d been knighted by Excalibur and been made one of Cornwall’s Guardians with Arthur, Nick and Gawain, she’d experienced a lot.

There’s been good stuff too, she reminded herself. Remember last summer when Arthur was made the new King Arthur …  and defeating the Ice Lady at Christmas!

Wiping her palms on her jeans, Tamar slid her hand into her pocket. She touched the cool silver of the top of the pocket watch’s case and ran her thumb over the emeralds set in the other side. Its ticks travelled along her fingers.   

‘Decided I’d have a hot chocolate,’ Arthur announced, plonking the tray on the table. ‘I got us a couple of doughnuts too.’

‘Yay, bring on the sugar rush.’

Arthur swept the room. Since this had started he’d learnt a new way of operating: Always know the exits; examine strangers’ faces; and sit with your back to the wall.