Death at the Caravan Park by Susan Willis
Clive Thompson heads for Whitley Bay caravan park to finish writing his novel. He’s never had a caravan holiday before and is warmly greeted by the manager, Liz Mathews, who lives on the park. She is single and cares for her ninety year old mother who has Alzheimer’s Disease. Clive meets the people in neighbouring caravans and has an amazing view from his veranda over the sea to St. Mary’s Lighthouse. However, Audrey goes missing during the night and Liz is beside herself with worry. The police are out looking for her, but disillusioned by their efforts, Clive begins his own investigations.
About the author
Susan is a published author of eight novels and six novellas with short stories published in Women’s Weekly magazines. She is now retired from Food Technology and scribbles away in County Durham. Writing psychological suspense and cosy-crime novels with strong, lovable North East characters, is her passion. Last year, she brought us, Clive’s Christmas Crusades, set in York. Following the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival, Susan wrote six Curious Casefiles which is now published by Northodox Press. She has incorporated up-to-date issues: poor mental health in a kidnap scene, the perils of social media, and an intruder on Skype.
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You can find Susan’s books here: https://amzn.to/2S5UBc8
As part of the blog tour, it is my pleasure to be able to share an extract of the book with you!
EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 13
Author, Clive is having trouble clearing his mind to write and heads off to the swimming pool on the caravan park.
It’s a small pool but looks clean and well kept. I strip off in a changing room and plod down the steps into the shallow end amongst a few smaller children. I dip my shoulders underneath the cool blue water and sigh - it feels like bliss. I stride across to the opposite side away from the children.
The light smell of chlorine fills my nose and I’m transported back to the old pool in Doncaster and my lessons. I’d taken to swimming like a duck to water as the saying goes. The PE teacher had been surprised and delighted with my performance from an early stage. While others in my class had clung onto the side of the pool frightened to let go even with a floater pad, I’d been fearless.
When I think back now maybe it was because of the horrible violent atmosphere I lived in at home and a little thing like water held no trepidation for me. And, although I received very little attention or praise from my parents, I’d thought the least I could do was to impress the teachers. My childish reasoning brings a lump to my throat now and I dip my head under the water. I notice two life guards sitting up in the high seats keeping a close eye on the children splashing in the shallow end and I begin with front crawl. After a few lengths I get into my stride.
I push the childhood recollections firmly out of my mind. I’m not sure why memories of Doncaster are making a comeback because it’s something I rarely think about especially when I am with Barbie.
I’d had, as she often says, a troubled upbringing and at the age of fourteen had nicked stuff to buy booze. At first it had been for my alcoholic mother and then I got to like the effect when I drank it. The alcohol took me away from all the crap in the house, and it had also impressed my mates. I had got mixed up with a bad crowd although at the time I’d been pleased to be accepted into their gang. It was better than fending for myself and at least they wanted to spend time with me - which had been more than my parents did.
However, I’d ignored warning after warning from social workers until I had ended up in a young offenders’ institution aged fifteen. I spent three years there and was released on my eighteenth birthday. One of the team leaders had called it a short sharp shock and it worked. It made me want to change my life and never be that horrible person again.
And, I muse I’ve done just that. Never again have I drunk more than a single glass of wine or beer, and although I wouldn’t admit this to other men because it’s not macho, I don’t particularly like the taste anymore. And, I might add here that since then I’ve never taken a thing that didn’t belong to me and wasn’t mine.
When I first met Barbie, I hadn’t told her about my past but when it all eventually came out, she’d forgiven my transgression and given us a second chance. Thank God, she believed in us, or shall I say, in me.
I push my arms out further with longer strokes and revel in slow continuous movements feeling all my muscles tense and relax in the correct order. This brings harmony and seems to restore my equilibrium.
Jeez, I think, I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this. Turning swiftly at each end I keep up the swift swimming strokes and stop counting after twelve lengths. I’m on a roll and loving every length and every minute. The muscles in my legs loosen and can feel that I am skimming through the water now oblivious to everything that is going on around me. I don’t hear any noises not even when I turn my head to the side and gulp in deep breaths of air. My body is working automatically, and I let my mind go completely.
