Until recently, a day in my life would have been the phone ringing when I was halfway down my first cuppa, to say that someone needed a lift, or a loan, or a babysitter, or a reference because of a court date, or a truancy officer, or a cancellation at the pain management clinic, or – rarely enough – a job interview. Because I’m a full-time church deacon. And in a big city in a time of austerity that means I was everything to everyone. If I mentioned God once a day, I was lucky.

But it’s all changed now. Now I live in the “charming” (i.e. boring) little town of Simmerton, where the church has got a Fair Trade shop instead of a clothes exchange and the minister plays golf.

Still, my new job’s got its challenges. For a start, I do the school assemblies (because of the golf) on a rota with the Piskies and RCs. (There’s no mosques, temples, or white witches in Simmerton. It’s all very plain vanilla.). The first one is today.

‘And if a stranger comes within your gates you will not reject him,’ I read, looking out across a sea of bent heads. ‘The stranger at your gate will be as one born among you and you will love him as you love your own family.’

I pause.

‘And here I am, a stranger among you! You need to treat me like a lifelong friend, like a member of the family. God said so. So there.’

Someone smothers a giggle. A teacher shushes her. ‘Of course, He’s not talking about a new deacon at your school assembly, is He?’ I say. ‘Who’s He talking about? Who is it we need to open our arms to?’

‘Hearts fans,’ shouts a boy in a Hibs scarf. ‘Forget it!’

I keep smiling through another giggle and another shushing. I look around the room, waiting for a more sensible answer.

‘Like homeless and that?’ comes a voice from the back. ‘Instead of moving them on kind of thing.’

‘Definitely,’ I say. ‘Who else?’

‘Immigrants,’ says someone off to the side. There’s a rustle of whispers.

‘Refugees!’ Now they’ve got it.

‘Foster kids?’

‘Gypsies!’

‘Visitors from outer space!’

A teacher turns as if to hand out a scolding for that one, but the kid looks to me, eyes wide and hands out, beseeching. ‘Eh no, Miss? If space aliens came we’d need to be nice to them. Eh no?’

‘Absolutely,’ I say. ‘Imagine how scared they’d be. Let’s sing a hymn, so’s if they land their spaceship on the roof they’ll know we’re friendly.’

The teachers are glowering, but I don’t care. The kids love me. And it’s important, what I’m telling them. There’s almost as much in the Bible about kindness to strangers as there is about murder. It used to puzzle me, till Jed in the first parish pointed out that it’s pretty easy not to murder people day-to-day and much harder to be open-hearted to weirdos.

I get some practice after lunch, with an atheist candle-maker of all things. I know as soon as the shop door dings and she raises her head. That wide-eyed look doesn’t hide the burst of panic.

‘Hiya,’ I say, weaving between the stands of hand-made greetings cards and little books of proverbs to where she stands behind the counter, her handiwork ranged behind her. ‘I’m Finnie Lamb. I’m new down at Simmerton Kirk. I’m a deacon. I’m just saying hello to everyone.’

‘Oh, well, I’m not one of your flock,’ the woman says.

‘Right. Well, like I said. I’m just passing. I’m not taking a register or anything. Are you the Mo? Of Mo’s Handmade Candles?’

‘Yes, but I’m not interested.’

‘In candles?’ I say. ‘That must make life a bit of drag.’

Her eyes flash. ‘In organised religion.’

‘Ah. Well – again – I was just saying hello but I’ll let you get on with making these beautiful candles and I’ll get on with helping people who can’t pay their bills and might actually need one when their power’s cut off.’ She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. ‘No offence,’ I say. ‘And I hope there’s none taken.’

‘What did you say your name was?’ She’s struggling with a feather-topped pen, trying to click out the nib and make a note of what’s just pissed her off so mightily.

‘Finnie Lamb. Would you be willing to donate any of your merchandise to our next silent auction?’

‘No,’ she says. ‘I’m not going to shovel my hard-earned money into some shady religious operation sending Bibles to perfectly happy little Paraguayan children, ruining indigenous culture.’

‘I think you might have turned over two pages at once there. Who mentioned Paraguay?’

‘I saw a poster outside the church,’ she says.

‘And,’ I add, ‘hard-earned?’ I give a final look at the candles and walk out, trying not to care that I’ve made my first Simmerton enemy.


Giveaway: Catriona is giving away one (1) print copy of Strangers At The Gate, limited to U.S. residents. Leave a comment below for your chance to win. Contest ends October 24, 2019. Good luck everyone!


You can read more about Finnie in Strangers At The Gate, a psychological thriller, released October 22, 2019.

Finnie Doyle and Paddy Lamb are leaving city life in Edinburgh behind them and moving to the little town of Simmerton. Paddy’s been made partner at the law firm in town, and Finnie has snagged a job as a church deacon. Their rented cottage is quaint; their new colleagues are charming, and they can’t believe their luck.

But only days after moving into the gate house, Finnie begins to have doubts. She keeps hearing strange sounds, and the thicket of trees make her feel claustrophobic rather than safe. When they witness the bloody aftermath of a brutal murder, it changes everything. They’ve each been keeping secrets about their pasts. And they both know their precious new start won’t survive a scandal. Together, for the best of reasons, they make the worst decision of their lives.

And that’s only the beginning. The deep, deep valley where Simmerton sits is unlike anywhere Finnie and Paddy have been before. They are not the only ones hiding in its shadow and very soon they’ve lost control of the game they decided to play.

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About the author
Catriona McPherson is the national best-selling and multi-award-winning author of the Dandy Gilver series of preposterous detective stories, set in her native Scotland in the 1930s. She also writes darker contemporary suspense novels, of which Strangers At The Gate is the latest.

Eight years after immigrating to the US and settling in California, Catriona began the Last Ditch series, written about a completely fictional Scottish woman who moves to a completely fictional west-coast college town.

Catriona is a proud lifetime member and former national president of Sisters in Crime, committed to advancing equity and inclusion for women, writers of colour, LGBTQ+ writers and writers with disability in the mystery community.

To learn more about Catriona, visit her website at catrionamcpherson.com.

All comments are welcomed.