Page 46 of A Good Heart is Hard to Find
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Spawn
‘Good morning! This is Edge Radio, bringing you news and views from both sides of the Welsh border. For those of you who have just joined us, today’s studio guest is writer of horror novels, Cass Leigh.’
‘Good morning.’
‘Nice to meet you – can I call you Cass?’
‘Please do.’
‘I have to admit that I’m a big fan of yours.’
‘You don’t have to admit it, you can keep it secret if you wantto.’
‘Ha, ha! Now, the critics haven’t always been kind about your work, have they?’
‘No, but that isn’t unusual.’
‘Aren’t they a little more damning than the usual reviews, though?’
‘Any publicity is good publicity. But it’s my faithful readers’ opinions that matter: if they’re buying the books, I must be doing something right.’
‘Yes. Your work isn’t for the faint-hearted, is it?’
‘I don’tpull my punches, certainly.’
‘Could you tell us something about your next book?’
‘Yes, it’s calledShock to the Spiritsand it’s coming out in April. It’s a story about murder, and revenge going even beyond the grave.’
‘Well, I’m sure we all look forward to that one. And are you working on another book at the moment?’
‘No, I’m sitting in a stuffy studio answering a lot of inane questions.But when I get home I will be working on my next novel, Lover, Come Back to Me.’
‘And what is that about?’
‘Resurrected love.’
‘Er … yes. Now, a little birdie told me something just before I came on air that I find very hard to credit: that you were actually the twin sister of the celebrated poet Jane Leigh!’
‘Did it?’
‘I take it my information is wrong then? We had the pleasure of Miss Leigh’scompany on the programme last year, and you certainly don’t look anything like her!’
‘No.’
‘You mean, no it isn’t true that you’re her twin sister?’
‘Yes, it’s true, but no, I don’t look anything like her.’
‘Oh … then perhaps we could explore the relationship between two such different writers originating from the same family?’
‘Perhaps we couldn’t.’
‘Right. Right … er, now listeners, Ithink it’s time for a record request. Mrs Popplewell of Shrewsbury would like to dedicate an Elvis track to her dear husband, Bruce. So here is the King himself with “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog” …’
My agent phoned to tell me thatNocturnally Yourshad slithered, crept, wormed, and ectoplasmically materialized its way into the top-one-hundred fiction chart, which is sort of like Top ofthe Pops for books.
