Book Birthday Blitz/Extract Post: The Approval of Sheep, by Karen Storey

Giveaway to Win a signed copy of The Approval of Sheep with bookmark (Open INT)

Enter here

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Gleam box below.  The winner will be selected at random via Gleam from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data.  I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.

Extract

Short intro for context: The main character, Gordon Slee, has left London to drive to Wales to meet with the descendants of the historic covenant that allows sheep to run through his employer’s top London hotel. It’s an unannounced visit and he hopes to talk with the farmer to agree a deal to purchase this sheep Right at a cheap price in order to impress his boss. In this extract, after Gordon’s six hour drive to Bryn Nefyn, North Wales, he finally arrives at the sheep farm belonging to the covenant descendent, Alan Priddy.

Gordon switched off the engine and pulled up the handbrake.

A skinny figure in a faded black T-shirt and jeans emerged from the doorway of the cottage. At first glance, the old fellow looked as though he was auditioning to be one of the sheep. His white hair was as fluffy and ragged as an unshorn lamb. His T-shirt had ‘RON MAN’ emblazoned across it. It took a moment for Gordon to realise it must have once said ‘Iron Man,’ a Black Sabbath song.

‘Are you lost?’ Ron Man called out.

‘I’m looking for Alan Priddy.’

The man skipped down a path overgrown with weeds and, with a wide smile, stepped towards the car. His teeth were large, uneven, and nicotine-stained. He had a lined face, but it was taut enough to suggest he was younger than Gordon originally thought. Mid-sixties maybe.

‘Are you Mr. Priddy?’ Gordon asked.

‘Aye. So what if I am?’

Gordon reached for the car handle. Which persona should he take on? Chancellor of the Exchequer might be too formal. Maybe the laid-back rock star. Ron Man looked the sort who might appreciate that. He stepped out, his feet hitting the mud and the gravel. ‘Can I call you Alan?’

‘If you want.’

Gordon stood, then casually outstretched his hand.

Ron man stared at it.

Gordon lowered his hand. ‘I wanted to talk to you about the covenant.’

‘Which one?’

‘There’s more than one?’

‘I reckon the U.K. has millions of them, don’t you?’ the man said.

Gordon opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. ‘I have no idea.’

 ‘We can google it.’

Gordon exhaled sharply. ‘Look, did you know you have a covenant that allows you to bring your sheep to the Remblents Hotel in London?’

Ron man gestured as if holding an invisible cup of tea, his pinky extended outward. ‘You want to take one of the fluffy ladies out for scones and Earl Grey down in the big smoke?’

Jesus. The guy was nuts.

Ron Man stood grinning at him.

Gordon looked past the man and at the view beyond the cottage. Phantom grey mountains rose beyond clover topped hills. Fleece-like clouds hovered over the peaks. The nearest hill appeared lopsided; as if its jagged peak jumped, then just missed reaching towards heaven, landing to the right of the landscape instead.

The sound of footsteps fell behind Gordon. He turned. A man in worn jeans and a button-down shirt, older than Ron man, maybe in his late seventies, approached. His heavy boots crunched along the gravel as he neared.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ The older man asked.

‘I wanted to have a word with Alan Priddy.’ Gordon gestured towards Ron man.

‘I’m Alan Priddy,’ the older man said.

Gordon looked from Ron man to the second man, then back to Ron man. ‘You told me you were Alan Priddy.’

‘I did not. I said I was Mr Priddy, and you asked if you could call me Alan. I was being polite and not denying your request. Besides, I’m the nicer brother.’

---