Have you seen the selection on DVDs saying "Deleted Scenes?" Well, I've got a deleted scene or two from Scotch Broom. Here's one that my critters said diverged too far from the plot. Still, I liked the idea of my MC, Kat, stopping in at a real B&B (bed and breakfast) in Thurso, Scotland. This is how I write without an editor. I don't think it's too horrid.
If you'd like to catch up before Scotch Broom comes out, you can buy books 1 and 2 of the Witches of Galdorheim on the publisher's website or on Amazon, amongst other on-line stores.
Bad Spelling at MuseItUp
The Book: Scotch Broom - Book 3 of the Witches of Galdorheim Series
A magical trip to Stonehenge lands a witch in the Otherworld where an ancient goddess is up to no good.
Excerpt (Deleted Scene):
She reached into her bag to examine the pound notes Mr. Angstrom had provided for her stay in the British Isles. She counted out two-hundred pounds and hoped that would be enough to last awhile. Realizing that the mundane world had such bad folk as thieves and pickpockets, she divided the money and put most of it into the foldbox part of the pack. She kept out twenty pounds for small purchases. But, first, she had to find out how much the fare to Inverness would be. She had a contact family there, cousins of a Scottish Galdorheim warlock, to take her sightseeing around the Highlands, along with a room and meals.
Kat reached the station and found the schedule tacked up on a cork board. She went to the ticket window to find out the fare. “How much to Inverness?”
“That’d be fifteen pounds, thirty pence, lass.”
“When’s the next train?”
You just missed the last train of the day. You’ll have to wait overnight. First train tomorrow leaves at 11:07.”
“Oh. Well, I wasn’t planning...no matter. AM or PM?”
“AM, lass. The trains run on a twenty-four-hour clock.”
“Can I buy my ticket now?”
“That you can. It’s an open ticket; you can use it whenever you want. Maybe you’ll enjoy Thurso and want to stay a few days.”
“I do have people to meet in Inverness.” Kat handed over the twenty-pound note, and the clerk counted back her change. She turned away from the ticket window and took a few steps, when the clerk called out to her. “If you’re needin’ a room fer the night, you might try the Waterside. It’s decent and not too dear.”
“That’d be great. Which way?”
“Head north on Princes Street. That’s the street right out there,” he replied pointing to the street on the opposite side of the train platform. “Turn right on Sir John’s Square, then left on Sinclair. Walk quite aways, and take a right on Sir George’s Street, a quick right on Janet and keep going ‘til ya see it. Ye’ll be right by the river.”
“Um, north then Sir George—.”
“Nae, lass, right on Sir John’s, then Sinclair, then Sir George.” The station master paused, and seemed to notice the expression on Kat’s face. “Here. I’ll draw ye a map.”
Kat grinned. “That’d be perfect.”
She followed the map the station master had drawn. On Janet Street, she stopped in front of an old brick, two-story house. Windows on both floors faced the street, and a single door led inside. Since it looked so much like a private home, she wasn’t sure whether she should knock first or just go inside.
When she got close to the reddish door, she saw a beautiful brass doorknocker. Taking that as a need to knock before entering, she reached toward it. When she touched it, the knocker spoke. “Welcome to Waterside House. Please come in.” Kat jerked back, surprised. While talking doorknockers were the norm on Galdorheim, she didn’t expect to find one in the mundane world.
The door didn’t open on its own, so she grabbed the handle and pushed it. Stepping in, she found herself in a small lobby. To the right, an archway opened to a wallpapered, well-lit dining room. The wallpaper was a little too flowery for her taste, but it was overall a pleasant room. Turning back, she saw a dark-haired woman standing behind the small counter, wearing a dress straight out of the 19th Century MacSears catalog. Kat was certain she wasn’t there when she came in.
“Good day, may I help you?” the woman said in a sweet contralto voice.
Kat stepped to the counter. “I’d like a room for the night. I’m waiting to take the train south tomorrow. I missed today’s.”
The woman consulted a watch hung on a gold chain attached to a brooch. “Just missed it seems. I thought I heard the train pull out, but I’m so used to the sound I don’t notice.”
Pulling a big leatherbound ledger from beneath the counter, she opened it facing Kat. “If you’ll fill out the information, I’ll have the maid check your room. A single, yes?” She tapped on an old-fashioned bellhop bell, which dinged pleasantly.
“Yes. Just me.”
Kat wondered how anybody in the house could hear it, but a door behind the counter opened right away, and a young girl stepped in. She also wore a 19th Century maid’s costume, complete with a frilly white cap over her thick red hair. “Is the single ready?” the woman asked.
“Yes’m, but I’ll go check.” The girl lifted the hinged counter on one end and headed for a stairway to the left.
Meanwhile, Kat had been puzzling over the questions in the Guest Book. Where should she say she was from? Auto plate? What was that? Maybe she’d only fill in the things she knew and see if that sufficed. She wrote the date and her name. That was all she did know. The woman leaned forward to read the ledger upside down, a talent of innkeepers all over the world.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“On an island north of here. I rode a boat down from the Shetland Islands.”
The woman nodded. “Just write Shetland Islands in the space then. No car? That’s fine. Not many people have them.”
Kat did as requested, then the woman turned the book to face her and made a notation of the check-in time. “One night will be nineteen pounds, sixty pence, including tax, of course.”
Kat unslung her bag from her shoulder and rummaged into the foldbox for another twenty-pound note. She handed it across the counter. The woman handed her a few coins in change. By that time, the maid had come back down the stairs.
“Here’s the key to your room,” the woman said, handing over an old brass key. “Tara will show you the way.”
Kat picked up her bag and followed Tara up the stairway and down a hall to the end room. “The bath is through that door,” she said, pointing out the obvious, since it was the only other door in the room. The room was already opened, so she walked in and laid her bag on the single bed. She turned to hand the forty pence to Tara, but the maid was already gone.
She wondered if the woman at the desk had chosen the decor for the house. A faux wainscot separated the top and bottom of the walls. The bottom wallpaper had vertical stripes of lavender and green wallpaper. The top was lavender with little flowers all over it. The one window looked out onto a pleasant garden.
She flopped down on the bed and bounced a couple of times. Her first hotel room! Kat felt more grown up already. She glanced up to see a black box. It took her a moment to recognize the first television she’d ever encountered. The Witches' Council had an LCD flat screen. “Well, might as well get cleaned up then find someplace for dinner.” She didn’t have to go far for dinner. A Fish and Chips walkaway sat directly across the street.
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