Sophie finds herself saying hello to a huge apple in a rocking chair and swimming in a cup of 'toad tea'. Aliens who have evil designs on planet Earth understand the gibberish shared by Sophie and her best friend Jessica. She wobbles in her mother's high heels in town with disastrous results. She is lectured at by patronising children's programme presenters. Read more about these bizarre events and more in the short story collection entitled 'I don't want that in my ice cream'.

Excerpt from The Desisted:

Sophie, now all grown-up and professional, was on her way to a sales conference in Albania. She paid off the taxi, wheeled her trolley into the terminal building, and scanned the displays for her flight. A few yards away, she saw a female figure swathed in black. Suddenly, her blood froze. She told herself not to be so silly. She saw the profile of the black-clad figure, who bent down to adjust the labels on her cases. As she straightened up, their eyes met. The black-clothed figure managed a faint smile. Sophie felt afraid…very afraid and hoped their paths would not cross. But their paths did cross. The passport formalities and security checks over, Sophie ordered a drink and sat at a table hoping that she would not be noticed by the woman in black. She spread out a magazine on the table, but her reading was interrupted by a chirrupy ‘Can I join you?’

Yes, they did know each other. Yes, she had moved away from the area. No, she did not go into detail about where she had been living. No, she didn’t go to university, but she did some courses. Yes, she was married: a lovely man from Albania. No, she no longer lived in UK. ‘Besides, the weather’s so much better.’ Yes, she was working. The black-clad figure checked her watch and said ‘Oh!’ She rose quickly, handed her a business card and hoped that they would keep in touch.
Sophie felt that April Fool’s Day had come late that year.

Desperate for company, Sophie sat on the swing and looked around the empty playground. The sky was dark grey and the threat of a thunderstorm hung heavily in the air. Apart from the distant sound of a delivery van going along a nearby street, all was quiet. The air was thick and still. Even the birds had stopped singing. It was as if sultry weather kept kids indoors. Sophie had known that her best friend, Jessica would be going away “up to Yorkshire” for a week during the summer holidays. When Jessica mentioned in passing that she would be leaving, Sophie did not listen, hoping that the parents of her ‘frienemy’ would change their minds and not go. She wondered how she was going to while away the rest of the afternoon until teatime. She was bored. Boredom and thundery weather make people do strange things.

The slide offered no excitement. The spider-web shaped roundabout was not going round. The babies’ swings hung listlessly like corpses on gibbets. A rain puddle reflected the uneventful grey sky. Even the grass playing field felt grey. Nothing was going to stir, as if the world was refusing to move and stimulate Sophie’s senses. The pathway to the street that ran alongside the allotments, from where a faint reek of manure wafted across the playground, brought not even a dog walker.
How she wished she had someone to talk to. Leaning back and holding tightly to the chains, Sophie jerked the swing up and in seconds maintained a steady rhythm. The hinge in the crossbar squeaked and ground with each oscillation. She noticed something black in the corner of her eye. A black figure moved slowly from behind the swings. Sophie brought the swing to a stop with her feet on the tarmac. She squinted at the tall black figure. A girl with jet-black hair that hung in rats’ tails over her shoulders stared into the distance with her back to Sophie. Suddenly, she heard a heavy, angry rumbling. Startled, she looked in the direction from where the sound had come. Was it a peal of thunder? No. An empty rubbish skip had been delivered to the front of one of the houses in the nearby street. She turned back to examine the figure in black, but it had vanished. The lorry that had delivered the skip roared off. Its engine noise faded into oblivion. She decided to resume swinging. The black figure was standing right beside her. Sophie let out a little yelp. The dark-haired girl stood staring at the allotment. She was wearing a little black dress that looked three sizes too large for her. Over her shoulder was a black battered handbag. Her black attire accentuated the whiteness of her complexion and her bare legs.
Beryl stared blankly at the path by the allotment. Her lips moved slightly as if she were talking to someone but did not wish to be seen or heard. At school, everyone – including the teachers – thought Beryl a little weird. During playtime, she could be seen whispering to imaginary friends and giggling conspiratorially with unseen persons. Her features spelt melancholy. No one had ever seen her parents. It was rumoured that she had poisoned her parents and their corpses were laid out in the master bedroom. Some said her family were gypsies who had found her somewhere and abandoned her because she was so odd.

She once came to school wearing lipstick. Only the head teacher had the courage to tell her to remove it. Another time she wore a black floppy hat, which was deemed unacceptable for school. On another occasion she turned up barefoot. She seemed to delight in telling anyone who would listen that she had been attacked by a strange man who had taken away her shoes. Of course, she was sent home. She returned an hour later with suitable shoes and socks, which was unfortunate, since most of the staff and her classmates found Beryl disturbing. They had been hoping that she would not return that day. Sophie told her mother the story. Mother was as helpful and as reassuring as ever.