Hurrah! Another little teaser for THE DRAGON IN THE DRAIN!
This short bonus scene is an extra, just for you. It doesn’t appear in the book. But it gives you an insight to events that DO take place in the book from a different character’s perspective. But what exactly has been going on?
Gladys Atkins sat at her dressing table and examined her reflection in the chipped white-rimmed oval mirror. She gave her head an experimental wobble; the front left roller was loose again. She pulled out the hair grip, repositioned the roller and re-inserted the pin. That was better. Only when her scalp ached was she satisfied that her rollers were tight enough. She rarely took them out, except on special occasions. If you took them out every morning, you had to put them back in again every night, and she certainly didn’t have time for that. But you never knew when a special occasion might surprise you. It didn’t do to be unprepared. Gladys Atkins had been waiting for a special occasion to surprise her for twenty-five years. She tied a brightly coloured headscarf around her head, tucking the corners in neatly.
It had been a strange breakfast. Last night Gerald had been angrier than she’d ever seen him, and that was saying something. He was a volcano of a man, her husband, ready to erupt with fury at any given moment, without warning. His mild-mannered, newspaper-reading spectacle-wearing persona fooled a lot of people, but it had never fooled her. She knew a wild spirit when she saw one. And she knew that one day he would reveal it and prove her right.
Wilf had been subdued too. At least at breakfast he’d stopped all that nonsense he’d been talking last night. Dragons, indeed. Silly boy. What had possessed him to think he could get away with it? And what had all that hiding behind the curtains been about? She wondered if her son’s friendship with young Alf Lomax had anything to do with it. He’d always seemed a nice enough boy but his mother was very odd. Never talked about her personal life at all, and dodged all the questions about her marriage. There were very few mysteries in Gribble, but that was one of them. Gladys had always made sure she’d been very sensitive when she’d asked Mrs Lomax about how her husband had died, and she had still taken offence. Every time. She was one of those over-sensitive types, Gladys supposed. It was surprising how many of them there were about. He’d died years ago, after all. If you were a widow, surely you had to expect that people would be interested in your story. It was rude, really, to refuse to discuss it. If Gerald died, she’d never stop telling people all about it in great detail. But then she was a generous soul. It was just her nature.
She puckered her lips and applied a slick of red lipstick. She gave her head a final wobble, just to make sure, and then, satisfied that her rollers were in place for the day, rose from the little velvet stool and left the room.