Iceni Columnist Keri Beevis

New Year, New Book

Well… old one, actually. My third book, The Darkness Beneath, has been repackaged and relaunched as Deep Dark Secrets with my publisher, Bloodhound Books, and it was released middle of January.

Now you would think that with all these new books, I would be a brand new Beev. More sophisticated and refined than the old one, and a little less bumbly. Above: Keri Beevis

Hell no. It is definitely new year, same old Beev, and if January is anything to go by I am in for an interesting year. I have already had one incident in a local supermarket, where I was supposed to buy a pineapple for my mate, Ness.

‘If you pull the leaves and they come out then it will be ripe and ready to eat,’ she told me. Well, I’m no pineapple expert, so I took her advice. There I stood in the fruit and veg aisle, pantyliners in one hand, my other hand pulling at the leaves on all of the pineapples, and none of them budging.

This resulted in a phone call to Ness. ‘I keep pulling, but nothing is happening. What do I do?’ I wailed loudly (because I am like Dom Joly on a mobile phone), unaware that, as I explained my predicament, I was waving the pantyliners around in the air, much to the amusement of nearby shoppers.

Then during gusty winds on Tuesday night, my wheelie bin took off. When I say, took off, I don’t mean it rolled a few feet. It literally did a Dorothy and I was hunting for it for several days before I finally found it in a neighbour’s garden at the other end of the street.

The new year hasn’t changed Mama Beev either. Book launch day involved a question and answer session on my publisher’s Facebook page. Nothing too daunting. There were some pre-arranged questions, with readers invited to ask further questions in the comments below the post, which I would then answer. It was scheduled for 6pm and I almost forgot about it. Mama Beev had popped over for a cup of tea and we had been caught up chatting. Realising the time, I eased her out of the door and fired up my MacBook.

Twenty-five minutes later, the phone rings. I toy with ignoring it, but know if it’s my mother she will just keep calling back.

‘Hello?’ ‘Oh, it’s only me,’ chirps Mama Beev. ‘I’ve just been to the shops.’ ‘Okay. You do know I’m in the middle of the question and answer session for my publisher right now?’ ‘Yes, I remember. But I just wanted to tell you that my feet have now grown so big, I couldn’t fit into any of the slippers in the supermarket.’ ‘Okay.’ ‘So I bought an elephant plant pot instead.’ ‘That’s nice. Mum, I really have to go now and answer these questions.’

So there you have it. I may be a bestselling author, but my mouth, my wheelie bin and my mother will always keep me grounded.

My new Norfolk based thriller, Dying to Tell is now available to buy in paperback and Kindle. Follow me on Facebook or Twitter for more information.