Search This Blog

Sunday, 25 April 2010

Double O Donut by Caz McKinnon



First let me say that this blog is a fantastic idea, creative and all the hard work Medium has put it should be applauded. Also, a big thank you to Sessha who made the cover of my new book:

Double O Donut is my fourth novel, it started as a fun idea and just grew. Of all the projects I have worked on, this was the most fun. Below is the opening chapter:

DOUBLE O DONUT: never judge a spy by her cover.

‘Alexander ripped off his tight white shirt to expose a rippling six-pack, bronzed from his hard labour on the farm. The fading sun caught his body and turned the beads of sweat on his chest into gold. Hope sighed, a strange sensation running through her body. She let out a sigh. His eyes were piercing “I want you Hope, I have always wanted you” his accent strong and domineering. She shivered as he picked her up and threw her gently onto the bales of hay. “Oh Alex” she felt heat rising through her body as he pawed gently at her restrictive bodice freeing her from the restraints of chastity. “You are so beautiful, I must have you Hope”. His hands and his mouth finding hers, she threw her head back, lost in the perfect bliss and promise of more. This is what she had been saving herself for..”

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG

The alarm sounded breaking the dream. Hope sat up and rubbed her eyes. Why could she never get to the end of the dream?

It was Monday, the first Monday in February, and therefore there was no time to snooze. She stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen. Clicking the kettle on and throwing two slices of bread into the toaster, she lumbered through to the bathroom. Grabbing her toothbrush she started to brush her teeth, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. UGH.

Hope wasn’t blessed in the looks department. Her hair was best described as mousy and her face was chubby and red. She had the faintest hint of a moustache on her upper lid that no amount of bleach could disguise. She smiled at herself. Her teeth were crooked, too big for her mouth and slightly yellow. Hope harboured no illusions, she was fat, not big boned as her mother often said, and she was ugly. She wished it wasn’t so but it was and it was the secret weapon that had defined her life for five profitable years.

Robbie entered the bathroom and wrapped himself around her legs. He let out a meow signaling his need for food. At that moment she heard the toaster pop in the kitchen of the small flat.

Back in the kitchen Hope lavished layers of butter and jam on her toast and made a pot of tea, Robbie sat quietly in the corner enjoying his own breakfast. As she munched she watched the morning news. “Recession, recession, recession, guns, knives and impending doom’. She sighed, today was no different from any other day or so she thought.

She finished her toast and wandered into the lounge. It was prim and tidy and cluttered, which seemed a contradiction in terms, but every single thing had its place. Her collection of comical pigs sat proudly on every available surface. She had been collecting them for 10 years now, before that she had collected cutesy little dragons but she had read somewhere that dragons were for nerds. She didn’t want to be a nerd, so she swapped to pigs. There was something adorable about a pig playing the clarinet or dancing a jig. All in all she had close to two hundred and fifty. Her favourite, the ballerina pig in a pink tutu sat proudly on the television, next to the framed and signed photograph of Barry Manilow that she had been given as a gift from a pen pal in American when she was seventeen.

Hope was 27 and fiercely intelligent. She had studied Theology at Cambridge, flying through the course with the top grades. When asked, which wasn’t that often, she said that she had chosen Theology because she wanted to see if she could find God, but everyone knew that she had chosen it as it allowed her to spend hours and hours in the library among the dusty books all alone. Hope loved to read. As a child she had been given copies of all the Enid Blyton books and had read and reread them. She had the same affinity to her text books. Where other students merely glanced at the chapters they had to read, Hope read the book cover to cover. The reread it just in case she had missed anything.

But Hope had passions that were way outside of the area she had chosen to study. On her shelves in her tiny flat sat her collection of Mills and Boons Romance novels. All slightly dog-eared from being read and read over and over. All lined up in alphabetical order. She read all kinds of Romance and erotica. There were bookcases in all the rooms except the bathroom. But the big flat packed bookshelf in the lounge was reserved for Mills and Boons. They were her favourite, they were the ones she wanted near her in the evening.

See Hope loved Romance. She read it with a vigor and naiveté usually reserved for teens. She lost herself in the pages, throwing herself into the worlds typical of the books, often casting herself in the starring role. They were the only romances she had ever had.

Well that was not strictly true. When she was first at Cambridge she had had a dalliance with an Engineering student, she cringed now as she thought about it. He was very handsome, had floppy hair, a crooked smile and spoke with a plum in his mouth. She fell hard for him, scrawling his name and hers in little love hearts in her note pads and practicising signing her name with his surname. It lasted two weeks, two glorious, fun filled and exhilarating weeks, until she heard him telling another guy that he loved ‘fatties’ and there was none fatter than Hope. Even then she was willing to forgive him, but a week later she found him in his room with Angelica, the only girl at Cambridge larger than Hope.

She was brought back to earth by the shrill tone of her bleeper. She picked it up off the side and read the message: ‘The crimson squirrels can’t sleep whilst the blackbirds gather no moss’. “Oh no.” She muttered aloud, Robbie stopped munching and glanced at her, meowing once, as if to acknowledge her fear.

She threw her bleeper back on the table and ran to the bedroom. This was potentially serious. She pulled her clothes on rapidly aware that time was of essence.

She grabbed her stuff and left the flat. The usual black car was waiting at the corner for her. She jumped in and nodded at the occupant. “X.” He nodded back. “Double O Donut, it is time.”

With that he pulled the car away from the curb and sped through the busy streets of London. No more was said; they just sat back and let the dulcet tones of Radio two play.

4 comments:

  1. Thank you for those kind and generous words. Yet another brilliant one here from you. Is there no end to your talent? So delighted you are part of our wonderful team - now you know why. xxx

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is just fabulous. Welcome to the site! I can't wait to see more of this book.

    ReplyDelete
  3. The Book Shelf's Book of the Week for 4/26/10:

    http://newandgoodreading.blogspot.com/2010/04/book-of-week-42610.html

    ReplyDelete