When the Kat’s Away…

The Kat’s away—and oh, how the mice will play (if you’ll pardon the pun). Yes, my darling daughter has been invited to be the keynote speaker at a prestigious Dolls Convention—the name escapes me, but it’s all very fancy—in the USA. She’s been whisked away First Class to Los Angeles, no less!

Of course, I’m enormously proud of her, though I must admit, I rather preferred it when I could boast about her glamorous television career as the beloved host of Fakes & Treasures—a far superior version of Antiques Roadshow, if you ask me. And yes, I’d be lying if I said her wardrobe malfunctions on national television didn’t secretly amuse me. But now that she’s given up the cameras to launch her own antiques business (which, I begrudgingly admit, is going very well), I have to find new ways to impress Delia Evans, the ever-disapproving housekeeper at Honeychurch Hall. “Kat’s a keynote speaker,” I inform her smugly. “Yes, flown First Class!”

But don’t get me wrong—I love Kat to absolute bits. It’s just that I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being… well, judged. Sometimes it feels as if she’s the mother and I’m her wayward daughter, which, frankly, is rather unfair. I know my dear Frank meant well when he asked her to “keep an eye on me” before he passed away, but I doubt he meant for her to follow me to the West Country like some sort of personal probation officer.

It’s not as if she doesn’t support my writing career, though she was horrified at first. She dismisses my Star-Crossed Lovers series as steamy bodice-rippers—I had to correct her. They are romance novels with a bit of spice. A crucial difference.

Alright, alright—I’m getting defensive, which usually means I’m not being entirely truthful. The fact is, Kat has got me out of more scrapes than I’d care to admit, and if she ever finds out what happened in Poole—the “incident”—she will absolutely hit the roof. And Alfred—my stepbrother (and former guest of Her Majesty’s Prisons, though I suppose now it’s His Majesty’s Prisons) … well, she’s never warmed to Alfred.

And yet, I can’t shake this awful feeling of foreboding. Do you ever have that? A sort of prickling in your bones, an ominous whisper in your ear? Kat calls it nonsense, but I blame it on my gypsy blood. I know she thinks I made that up, but I spent my entire childhood on the road, traveling with Bushman’s Traveling Fair and Boxing Emporium. When you grow up with a band of prizefighters, certain instincts rub off on you.

I just know something is about to go horribly wrong.

Of course, it could just be my “friend” problem—but hopefully, by the time Kat steps off that plane, my little predicament will be sorted. All neat and tidy, and none the wiser. Then we can enjoy the Safari Supper in the village, meet my former flame’s prodigal wife, and carry on as if nothing ever happened.

But that feeling… that dreadful, creeping feeling… what if I’m right?

Giveaway: Hannah has generously offered to give away one print copy of A FATAL FEAST AT HONEYCHURCH HALL. To enter, please leave a comment below. One entry per person. Giveaway ends April 16, 2025. Good luck everyone!

A Fatal Feast at Honeychurch Hall: A Honeychurch Hall Mystery, Book 11
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Release: April 2025
Format: Digital, (USA Print in July)
Blackwell’s | Amazon

When Eric Pugsley, who runs the unsightly scrapyard on the Honeychurch Hall estate, brings home his Turkish fiancée, everyone is delighted — even if the marriage does seem to include her feisty mother who is never without a Terkel cigarette dangling from her lips.

A Safari Supper at the Hall is held in their honour but trouble begins when somewhere between the first course and dessert, one of the villagers goes missing and is later found drowned in the estate’s ornamental lake. Rumours of foul play abound, given that competition is fierce to clinch the Honeychurch Challenge Cup at the upcoming Flower Festival, where sabotage has already come into play – earlier in the week someone released a herd of goats into the village allotments, where of the planned entries were eaten.

But things take a sinister turn when Eric asks Kat to value the bride-to-be’s 19th century Etruscan engagement ring only to be told that historically it is used for poison – hardly an appropriate choice for love but Eric is adamant it’s what his fiancée wants. And then a second body is found… unearthing a hotbed of sabotage, blackmail, and old grudges.

About the author
British born, Hannah originally moved to Los Angeles to pursue screenwriting. She has been an obituary reporter, antique dealer, private jet flight attendant and Hollywood story analyst. After twenty-five years living on the West Coast, Hannah returned to the UK where she shares her life with one very old Hungarian Vizsla. Hannah writes the Honeychurch Hall Mysteries (Constable) the Island Sisters Mysteries (Minotaur) and the Vicky Hill Mysteries (Constable)