When I wrote The Well-Dressed Werewolf, I had no idea I would be coming back to write Westaway’s origins one day. I was also pretty sure that I would never write an epistolary novel. I’m not quite sure what happened, but I do know that I am very pleased with how The Disturbance at Foxwood Court turned out and am very excited to share it with you all.
I am in serious trouble. This morning, I took my niece and nephew to Tūranga, the big central Christchurch library, on the bus. I made one big mistake right off the bat: I let my nephew choose what shoes he was going to wear. He choose a pair of gumboots that turned out to be way too big for him. Before we’d even reached the bus stop, they’d already fallen off once. It was too late to turn back. I spent the rest of the morning retrieving the gumboots, trying to keep them on my nephew, or, when this was not possible, near enough my nephew that we wouldn’t forget them. We returned home with both gumboots—but without Chachi, my...
