All Wendy wants to do is drive the 255 bus around Uddingston with her regulars on board, top up the milk, and just be fine. But without her mum around anymore, there’s no one to remind her what needs done. But she’s ready to step out her comfort zone, and that’s where Ginger comes in. You can read an extract of Elissa Soave’s debut novel below.

Ginger and Me
By Elissa Soave
Published by HQ

Prologue
Present, Polmont Prison

They kept asking me why I was outside her house that day, and who was with me. I tried to say I would never harm Diane, I loved her. And I mean I loved her, not just the writing. Though I do love her writing too. The way she can squeeze the juice out of a metaphor, take you back to being eight years old with a sound, or a smell. Make you cringe. Or cry. It’s genius, and I know because I’m a writer too. Just because I drive a bus, it doesn’t mean I can’t write. I’m even in a Writers’ Group – though they don’t always appreciate how good my stories are. One of the things I tried to tell the police was I’m a writer like Diane, that’s what we’ve got in common, but they wouldn’t listen. They arrested me and told me anything I said would be admissible in court, even though I loved Diane. I can’t speak for Ginger, I can only tell you what I told them – I’d never hurt Diane. That didn’t stop them putting me in a police car and taking me to Motherwell Police Station, practically via the same route as the 240, which was not my favourite route to drive at the best of times. I don’t know where they took Ginger.

Next day, they took me to court. They woke me up at seven with a bowl of Cheerios and a cup of lukewarm tea.

‘Do you have someone who can bring you some clothes?’ It was the same policewoman from the night before. She looked more feminine than I’d imagined female officers looked, even with the uniform. Her hair was tied back in one of those low buns but you could tell she would be pretty when she took it down. I wondered if she had a female sidekick, like Scott and Bailey, or whether she was more the lone wolf sort of detective, like Vera or maybe a brilliant female Morse.

‘Wendy. Wendy!’

‘Sorry, what?’

‘You’ll need clothes for court this morning. Is there someone we can call to bring you in some stuff?’

The only person would have been Ginger so I shook my head.

‘Where are my own clothes? Someone took them off me yesterday but I don’t have a lot of jeans so I’d like them back.’

She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘Those are evidence now, Wendy. You won’t be able to wear them. Look, don’t worry, we’ll find you something here.’

‘What about my phone?’ I called after her. ‘They took that off me yesterday too and I really need it.’ But I don’t think she heard me because she didn’t turn round.

I got changed in the toilet next to my cell while the policewoman stood outside. I wasn’t too pleased with the skirt and sweatshirt combo she’d brought me but I wasn’t in any position to argue, and at least they more or less fitted my long skinny frame. I washed my face in cold water, and risked a look at my morning-after self, surprised that it still looked like me. My forehead deep and broad, dominating over narrow eyes, still dull mahogany and revealing nothing. My pale skin remained so, though there was faint bruising on my right cheek, which must have happened the day before. My nose was long and straight, my dad’s nose, but my smile was terrible, like I’d spotted someone across the room that I had to pretend to be pleased to see.

‘If it pleases Your Honour this has all been a big misunderstanding,’ I said into the mirror. I leaned in closer and turned my head to the left and right. My lank black hair was unaffected by a night in the cells. It was still in more or less the same style I’ve always worn it – a bob to my shoulders – though I had let Ginger cut the fringe a bit shorter recently. I wasn’t sure about it but she said it would balance out my huge, shiny forehead and she was usually right about that sort of thing. I patted my hair down ten times on each side before smoothing it against the back of my neck. ‘You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear Wendy,’ I whispered to myself. They were my mum’s words. Just as well I’ve never been the kind of person to put much store in looks. I left the bathroom counting backwards from twenty under my breath to keep me steady.

They put me in a small, windowless van with three other women and took us to Hamilton Sheriff Court. The skinny girl curled in to the front seat raised her chin at me as I got on so I sat next to her.

‘I’m Wendy,’ I said. ‘What are you going to court for?’ But she didn’t answer. I really wanted to tell her that these weren’t my own clothes, I wouldn’t have chosen a skirt for one thing, never mind pairing it with trainers. I could tell she didn’t want to talk though and, to be fair, she probably thought I was some sort of criminal, so I just sat and bit my lips and tried not to think too much about where Ginger and Diane were now.

When we got to the court, I was assigned a duty solicitor called Mr Cameron. He was a small, V-neck jumper kind of man and I could imagine him cutting his grass on his weekends off, or going on mini-breaks to do nothing in Dunkeld. He shook my hand sweatily and told me we’d ‘be up in five’. If you’ve watched as many courtroom dramas as I have, you might have the idea that a courtroom is an impressive place, dark wood lining the walls and men in wigs milling around with folders of important papers. The room they took me into was about the size of my living room, and the only people in there were me, Mr Cameron, another lawyer sitting across from us, and the judge. It was all over in a few minutes – they charged me, Mr Cameron said I made no plea and moved for bail, the other lawyer opposed it while they ‘made further inquiries’, and the judge said I’d be taken to Polmont Prison ‘forthwith’.

The judge left the room and I watched as Mr Cameron got up and shook hands with the other lawyer. He walked back to me and said, ‘We’ll renew our motion for bail in a week but don’t get your hopes up.

Ginger and Me by Elissa Soave is published by HQ, priced £14.99.