Paula Hillman, author

I’m awaiting news from a publisher who loves my latest romance. In the meantime, I’m doing everything I can to push The Silver Road. Here’s another snippet, another taster, a heart-in-mouth scene involving a dog stuck on the sands. You’ll have to read the book if you want to find out what happens!

P.S. I have plenty of paperback copies, or you can buy them from the Troubador website and Amazon.

Maya and Jude are talking outside the orange hut when Mitch appears…..

Maya leans against the doorjamb, arms folded. ‘Stargazing, then. I can think of—’ Her sentence is interrupted by a shout from further down the track. Mitch appears. His face is shiny and red, and he is yelling for help.

‘Come down to the tide,’ he pants. ‘Quickly. There’s a dog stuck on the sands. We can’t get him. No one can. Quick.’ Mitch is all flapping arms and juddering legs, eyes full of terror.

‘Easy, bud. Easy.’ Jude grabs his shoulders. ‘Dogs can handle themselves. It’ll be back on the beach by the time we get there.’

Mitch bats him away. ‘No. You don’t get it. The poor thing. He’ll die. We need to save him. Come on.’

Jude follows Mitch along the sandy track, past the coffee shack, across the pebbles. A crowd has gathered at the edge of the water. Peg is there, and two other women. All dressed for the beach in shorts, T-shirts and sandals; all yelling. An older man has waded to thigh-depth. On a sand bank further out, a small white dog is yapping furiously.

‘We can’t swim out there,’ Mitch cries. ‘It’s too dangerous.’ He turns to Jude. ‘What should we do? Help the dog, Jude. Help the dog.’

‘Calm down.’ Jude lowers his voice. ‘Mitch. Look at me.’ Mitch is struggling to catch his breath. Jude exaggerates some deep inhales. ‘Copy me.’ He holds Mitch’s chin. ‘Deep breaths. Do what I do, Mitch. Come on.’ Over his shoulder, he shouts, ‘Call the damn dog, someone. Whose is it, anyway?’ He glances at Peg. She doesn’t meet his eye.

A woman with white hair steps towards him. ‘He’s my dog. Seamus. My baby. Can you go out there and save him? Please?’ Her hands are clasped like she’s praying.

Jude isn’t a strong swimmer, but even a strong swimmer wouldn’t put themselves at risk to rescue a dog, would they? Why does this woman – why does Mitch – think he’s some kind of superhero? It would be laughable if it weren’t so tragic. Jude Roberts: Superman and the Incredible Hulk in one person. He’s never saved up for Christmas, never mind saved a living thing, but the woman is pleading with him to do something, and the look in Mitch’s eyes says that Jude is the saviour of the world.

‘We could form a chain.’ This is what he comes up with after scanning his brain for ideas: something he once saw in a film. ‘Hold hands and see how far out we get. We won’t reach the bank, but it might give your Seamus enough confidence to swim towards us.’ He looks at Mitch, and sees fear. ‘I’ll go first, and you take the end.’

Maya fixes him with a sceptical look, but lifts the length of her sundress and tucks it into her underwear. She grabs Mitch’s hand, and they follow Jude and the others into the water. It is deceptively cold. Paddling is one thing, refreshing on the feet, but seawater slapping around bare thighs is an entirely different sensation. When he is at waist depth, the tug of the current knocks him sideways. He braces, jumping to clear the waves, clutching the hand of the older man. It is a surprisingly useful plan. The chain has stability, but the dog is a long way out. Only its head is visible, though it’s still yapping. Jude calls repeatedly; the dog doesn’t move. He makes a decision. If any of them lose their footing or hit a patch of unstable sand, it would be disastrous. To preserve their safety, they must get themselves back to the beach. He shouts an instruction to Mitch, and he retreats. The others follow. The dog’s owner is crying and yelling its name, but she is dragged back to shore by the older man. Saltwater stings a cut at the back of Jude’s thigh. He’s losing body temperature. Peg is soaked and shivering. Jude herds the group towards the shallows with a confidence he’s not feeling, and when the last of them is at ankle-depth again, he turns to look for the dog. It is no longer yapping, and the water has obscured the bank completely. The creature is gone.

‘Seamus. My Seamus,’ the owner sobs. She falls into the arms of the other woman, who is shouting for someone to call the coastguard. The dog will be halfway up the coast by now, coastguard or not. Mitch is crouching on the sand and shaking. Jude joins him. How has this happened? Irresponsible people. It’s always irresponsible people. Every bad thing could be prevented by taking responsibility. Jude wants to weep. The life of a little dog has transmuted into everything bad that ever happened to him. How pathetic is he?

‘Let’s get up to the shack,’ Maya calls, above the chaos. ‘We can dry off, and I can make these ladies a drink.’ She pulls Mitch with her. ‘Come on. None of us is doing any good standing here, staring at the sea.’