Spotlight & Giveaway: The Other Mother by Heidi Field

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Heidi Field to HJ!

Hi Heidi and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Other Mother!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

The Other Mother is Suzannah’s story, a woman in her late thirties, engaged and pregnant
with her third child. Her adoring fiancé, Alec, has no idea she had two children before
meeting him. Suzannah’s first child is dead, her second is in prison. What happened to
her children are stories she is not prepared to share, fearing that exposing her past will
destroy her future. But, her ex-husband, Breck, has other ideas. In the dark about the
details of their daughter’s death, Breck returns to Suzannah’s life, determined to uncover
the truth. A truth that will ruin everything, a truth that will end her relationship, and take
away her baby.

I wrote The Other Mother because I wanted to explore how far a woman will go to keep
the life she has dreamed of, after the trauma of losing two children. A woman damaged
by men, who is still determined to find love and happiness and family. A woman whose
desperate choices have terrible consequences.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

“I’m between a rock and a hard place, and all roads lead to destruction.”
“Did you? Put me first, huh? Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”
“And then there’s the relief. That’s the feeling that really stings, the one that plays on my
conscience long after I’ve left.”
“There is something so comforting about the mundane routines of life, like eggs for
breakfast with the person you love.”
“No one wants to get close to me, to the mother of a monster, a woman who spawned the
devil.”
“My mind flips out and a shiver ricochets through my body.”
“I will always be that duck on the pond, however serene I make my life appear; below the
surface I must paddle like crazy to keep myself afloat. The day I stop paddling will be the
day I sink.”
“How does a person get over killing a member of their family? They don’t, is the answer.
They carry it like a backpack full of bricks for the rest of their lives.”
“I’m going to have to lie again.”
“My body ached so badly and my hands shook when I held a pen or ate lunch. ”
“Pain sears through my neck, back and the bump as I smack against step after step.”
“He dropped to the floor like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz, blood spilling out
of a hole in the back of his skull.”

What inspired this book?

I live beside a forest, where I run and walk our Great Dane. At certain times of the year,
trees are cut down and log piles appear, with danger signs warning about getting trapped
under rolling logs. The log piles became a big feature in this book and the previous one,
and I spend a lot of my time outside in the forest thinking about my characters and plots.
The forest, trees and the solitude are a big inspiration for this series.

My biggest inspiration for all my stories are people, their emotions, how feelings drive
behavior for good or bad. I love putting relatable people into extraordinary situations and
then seeing how they fight for their sanity and survival. It is those big emotions, fear,
anger, love, that bring about the most extreme reactions and drive the worst choices. I
never know where my stories will go, I like to let the characters take me on their journey,
and we discover the arc and outcomes together.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

In my debut novel, The Other Boy, the first book in the Peasedale Woods Killers series,
Suzannah was a subsidiary character, a mother protecting her son. Part way through the
edits for that book, I realized that I needed to write Suzannah’s story. A mother with
some terrible secrets. A woman who had a once been an innocent girl, but life had taken
her down a darker path.

Without doubt, Suzannah surprised me. I began the book thinking she was a victim, but
she turned out to be fiercer than I originally gave her credit for, and she had a darker side
to her that I was not expecting. She is, I guess, like us all, a complex personality,
comprised of duality, with the warmth and depth of a doting mother alongside a colder,
calculating side that puts her survival above all else.

What was your favorite scene to write?

This is an easy question. Always, my most favourite scenes are the ones where characters
show the worst of themselves. The most fun scenes to write are the most difficult to read.
I have to dig deep to make the actions believable, emotive, shocking. I love that.

“He has me pinned against the sitting room door, his hand clenched around my neck, and
I can’t breathe. I try pulling his hair but it only makes him grip tighter. I try and hook my
fingers in between his hands and my skin, clawing at his fingers, as tiny black dots swirl
about in my field of vision. I wriggle my body, hoping to shake him loose, but
unbalancing him just makes him slump forwards, all his weight against me. I pee a little,
my senses fading.

Flailing my arms about, I reach my hand out to the sideboard, finding the cool, marble
key dish. I scrabble inside for my keys but they slip out of my tacky palm when I try and
click the button to open them. All I can reach is the dish. It’s heavy and my arm feels
weak as my body is denied its oxygen supply. I can’t believe this is happening.”

What was the most difficult scene to write?

I’m not sure I find anything hard to write, the story seems to have a life of its own once I
start writing, however, when I received feedback for my early draft, it is the aftermath of
the most dramatic scenes where I am lacking depth or detail. The reactions are the most
complicated to get right, because those are the scenes that really show you the raw
character, their true inner world, how far they are prepared to go to get what want, and
where their moral compass lies.

“He was going to kill me. I didn’t have a choice.”
“I believe you and I understand. I do.” She looks down at the body again. “But this is
crazy. We can’t get rid of a body. You can’t ask me to help you; it isn’t fair. I don’t want
to be involved.”
“You’re already involved. You’re here. If you call the police then they’ll take a statement
from you and your picture will end up on the news too and soon enough someone will dig
out the truth about you and Gunner.”
Shiv turns to leave. “Give me my phone. I’m leaving. I won’t say anything.”
“I messaged you to come over. You said see you in two hours. The police will check my
phone. You either help me or take your chances with the media and the fallout. I’m
sorry.”
“Christ, Suzannah. He’s dead. What is it you think we’re going to do?”

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

I do think it showcases my writing style, absolutely. I took a Master’s in Creative Writing
at Winchester University, expecting to come out fired up to write YA fantasy novels, but
during the course, whenever I wrote scenes or first chapters, whatever the genre, people
ended up dead, characters were dark and unhinged, I loved the psychological aspect of
character choice and behavior.

I have tried to plan and plot my stories, but in the end, I work best when I sit and write
and let the story flow as I type, twists revealing themselves, characters choosing what
happens next. I make notes throughout the day as idea come to me, dialogue, a snippet of
a scene that I don’t want to forget, and I hope that my method of writing makes for a
flowing storyline driven by the wants and emotions of the characters.

My first novel was a duel POV, this one has a second timeline for a backstory, the third
novel in the series, The Other Killer, will be slightly different again. At this point, I recognize that my stories are slow burn starts, with the tension ramping up as the threats evolve, and the endings are hopefully unexpected. Each book will shed light on the previous one, and make the readers think differently about a character that they thought they knew.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

Whatever they want. It is a glib response, but I think reading is a personal thing and
everyone’s experiences of a story are different. I only have to read the reviews for The
Other Boy to see that people take away different things from a story.

On the most basic level, I hope that I have provided some entertainment, an escape from
everyday life, some peaceful hours of enjoyment. Beyond that, I guess that I wrote the
books having raised five children wondering if I really know who they are or what they
do when they are not with me. I wanted to explore the idea of parents not knowing their
kids fully, and how that might feel. Then, how those young choices playout in their lives
as they grow, how those early choices colour their adult lives. But, these are my thoughts,
what my readers think is a mystery. If my books make people thing about the world, or
their relationships, or their actions, or their choices, or their family, then I think I am
winning.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I have just finished the first draft of The Other Killer, Mason’s story after he is released
from prison. This book is a tough read, as it flips between the past and the present, what
made the boy an accomplice, and what choices the man makes back out in the world.

I thought the series would end after three books, but I had an idea when I was on holiday
that formed the bones of a final book, The Other Brother. The serial killer’s story. There
is a big twist in this book, and it will feature my darkest character so far. Hopefully an
explosive finish to the series.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of THE OTHER MOTHER + one additional Tule ebook of the winner’s choice

To enter Giveaway, please share this post (FB – Twitter) and Leave a comment to this Q: The focus of my books is teenagers who make terrible choices. I have five children, the last is only a year off being a teenager, and all their journeys through those tricky, hormone-fuelled years have been different. I had a tough time at secondary school, and they were not my happiest of years. My question is this What advice would you give to your teenage self?
Mine would be to focus on the things you enjoy, and don’t give your time or energy to people who drag you down. The world evens everyone out in the end. You can’t change how others think or feel, so focus on yourself. Easier said than done, I know, but it is a message I give my children often.……

This giveaway closes 3 days from the date of this post.

Excerpt from The Other Mother:

I walk to the far end of the platform, checking over my shoulder every few seconds until I reach the furthest bench. I’m early for the train, so I settle down with a sweet tea and a magazine. I need to distract myself, but every time I catch another passenger appearing from the ticket office in my peripheral vision, my heart misses a beat and I snap my head up.

It’s getting harder and harder to get away from Alec as this pregnancy progresses. He’s leaving for work later to make sure I’ve had breakfast, he calls to check in on me several times a day and he can’t get home fast enough to just hang out, run me baths and feed me. I feel so guilty lying to him and keeping secrets.

Alec is a builder by trade, but now a successful business owner; under his meticulous management and budget control, his construction company has grown bigger every year. He’s not what you’d expect when you meet him though, he’s as bohemian as me, parachute trousers, baggy cargos, linen shirts, nearly always in some form of canvas, flat-soled shoe. We love the colour, the loose feel of our clothing choices and how it makes us feel relaxed and free. He’s my guy, you know, the one who gets me, wants what I want, is on the same life trajectory as I am. He’s my tribe.

It’s only a matter of time before Alec follows me or asks to come along and meet the elusive best friend that I have kept him away from for the last eighteen months. Thank goodness his construction company can’t function without him—all those teams of builders need a lot of management and he needs to spend a considerable portion of his day kicking them up the arse to get the jobs done on time. He has suggested getting himself a supervisor to take some of the flak, which would be a disaster, giving him more time at home and less chance for me to get away.

The tannoy announces the imminent arrival of the train, so I pack the magazine into my pink tote bag, push the lid onto my cardboard mug and stand up. There is a breeze today and it wafts some welcome cool air over my bare arms and ruffles my patterned harem trousers. I feel constantly overheated carrying this extra weight. It’s why I chose my new pixie cut look—less hair to get sweaty and end up glued to my face and neck. I’ve chopped and changed between bobs, long fringes with shaved back and sides, and I even had a buzz cut for a year. Now I’m back to the pixie, this time in a pale tangerine shade and I’m loving it. I feel younger and lighter, a fresh me, a fresh start.

I pick a window seat in an empty carriage and watch the world go by as the train trundles along the track towards the prison. The closer I get, the more my stomach knots up. It’s always so hard seeing Mason; the guilt consumes me and as soon as he steps into the visitors’ room I want to cry. My pregnancy doesn’t help, either, reminding Mason that my life is moving forwards without him, that I have found happiness and he is left behind, left out, my murky secret. Two years ago, I’d have never expected to be here, with Alec, expecting a baby, and I know that Mason doesn’t think I deserve it.

The station is a five-minute walk from the prison and I take my time, letting the air fill my lungs as I try to contain my nerves. Visiting a category-A men’s prison is a daunting experience and it’s no easier after two years. I know all the stories about the inmates, the prison is nicknamed Monster Mansion. Gunner Piper is in here. His celebrity status as one of the world’s most prolific serial killers is something that has caused so much media discussion. I still can’t believe that Mason was his accomplice.

I make my way to the visitors’ centre, hand over my passport and the prison ID and stuff my bag, coat and valuables into a locker. Stepping through the scanning machine and holding my arms out for the pat-down has become a routine that no longer scares me and I don’t flinch anymore when we enter the prison for a second search and the drug dog’s obligatory sniff. My pockets are checked, my shoes, even under the fold in my roll-neck.

There is a dress code that all visitors must adhere to: no short skirts or low tops, no ripped jeans, no steel-toe-capped shoes, no expensive watches or sunglasses. I always wear a roll-neck, even when it’s warm, and I go sleeveless with a tank top, because I get a rash on my neck and upper chest when I’m anxious and I don’t want Mason to see that I’m struggling. I bring him the ten pounds he is allowed and some snacks and a book. It’s not a lot. I wish I could do more for him.

Stepping into the visitors’ room I scan the tables. There’s a smell of fresh coffee and sweat, comforting and uncomfortable at the same time. All the inmates are wearing red bibs, like the ones kids wear at football training sessions when they are put into teams. Mason is team prisoner, the group that can’t leave, red for danger. He is dangerous—I know that. He’s where he deserves to be, but every time I see him hunched over a table waiting patiently to see me, to see the only person in the world who gives a shit about him, I can’t help thinking that he’s here because of me, because of what I did all those years ago, what I put him through.

I walk over to his table and place a hand gently on his back. “Hello, sweetheart. I love you.”

Mason looks up and smiles at me. He has a fresh bruise on his cheek, a cut on his lip and his hand is bandaged. This has been happening since he got here, his association with Gunner placing him at the bottom of the hierarchy. Being a serial killer is one thing, luring boys to the murderer’s table is, according to the inmates’ code, even worse. I often wonder if my boy will survive his time here, if he even should.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure. Thanks, Mum.”

I get up and head to the café bar in the corner of the room and get us both an apple juice. As I turn back to the table I see Mason staring at me. I smile. He forces a grin that wobbles. I can still see that sweet, confused, angry nine-year-old looking at me with such pleading, desperate eyes, his whole body shaking with rage and fear. I did so many things wrong and I know that if I’d made a different choice that day we may not have ended up here.

Sitting back down I reach for his hand, the good one. “What happened this time?”

Mason shakes his head, his long black hair flopping forward and covering most of his face, hiding those icy blue eyes and the dark circles that have become a feature of his pale face since he arrived. “New guy, heard the stories, thought he’d have a pop.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mason shrugs. “Going to the gym loads. Getting bigger. I’ll keep fighting back till they get off my back.”

My poor boy, he was always such a loner, never good with friends, too moody and confrontational, traits that are not serving him well inside the prison walls.

“Are you studying anything? Last time you said you might take a course?”

“Joined the woodwork. Gonna do an Open University Access course in science, maths and technology. If I get on OK, I’ll do more. Here a while.”

I squeeze his hand. “Yes, my darling, you are going to be here a while, so you may as well make the most of it. Studying is great. You were always good at school, when you could be bothered to go.”

He sucks his teeth. He’s irritated with my comment but he knows I’m right.

I shift in the chair, it’s not so comfortable for a woman who is seven months pregnant. “Maybe you’ll learn something about yourself in here too.”

“Yeah, Mum. Whatever. Don’t start all that again. Maybe you’ll learn something. Do a better job with that one.” He nods to my belly.

“I did the best I could. The best I knew how.”

“Did you? Put me first, huh? Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

I take a deep breath. I know what he’s referring to. Mothers aren’t perfect. They make mistakes. Sometimes circumstances are difficult. “I made the only choices I had.”

Mason flicks his head to the side, his mop of hair sweeping across his face.

He lifts his chin and looks at me. “For you, not for me. And I’m the one paying the price.”

My heart rate accelerates, and I can feel the heat rising up my neck. He’s never said anything about what happened all those years ago, what we did, what we said to each other, what we agreed, and a niggle in the pit of my stomach starts to grow. What if he decides to tell someone? Confess it all?

What if he decides I should be paying a price too?

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Suzannah is pregnant with her third child. The first is in prison. The second is dead. How far will she go to keep her unborn baby safe?

When Suzannah learns she is pregnant, she feels like safety and happiness are finally within reach. Her handsome, successful fiancé, Alec, is over the moon about the baby. He proposes and pampers her. He thinks this is Suzannah’s first marriage and first child, but she’s keeping a few secrets. Actually, a lot of secrets. And they are dangerous…putting Suzannah in a position where she must choose who and what she’s willing to sacrifice to keep her baby and her freedom.

Drowning in her lies, Suzannah is desperate to bury her past, but her ex-husband, who abandoned her years ago, returns, stalking her and demanding to know what really happened to their daughter. When the imprisoned serial killer who lured and groomed her son, threatens to sell his story to the press, Suzannah feels like the life she’d built and the precious one she’s growing, teeter on a precipice. Now the two children she’s hidden from Alec may be the least of her worries.

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Meet the Author:

Heidi Field was raised in the beautiful countryside of the South of England with her parents and her two sisters. In her twenties she was a freelance Sports Massage Therapist. She achieved a Degree in Zoology at the age of thirty and then went on to raise two boys and became the stepmother of three more young children. She still lives near her family home with her partner, their Great Dane and the children that have yet to fly the nest. In her early forties Heidi completed a Masters in Creative Writing at Winchester University. She entered the course hoping she would become a children’s fantasy writer and left with a burning desire to write contemporary mysteries and thrillers. Heidi wanted to put relatable people in extraordinary situations, challenge them, push them to their limits and watch them fight for their sanity. The Other Boy is her first novel.
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