Hello Readers, welcome to my New Year newsletter.

I want to explain why you haven’t heard from me in such a long time. You see, the past year has been difficult for me and my family, but somehow we got through it…

• Binding Threads on Beamer Street is a book I never thought I would finish.
• Friday, November 22nd, 2024, started much the same as any other day. I got up, switched on the landing light, and opened my son Alan’s bedroom door to check if he was awake and see if he wanted a cuppa—the usual start to the day.
• I could see by the landing light that he wasn’t in his bed and presumed he was downstairs – he had been unwell for a few days but refused to let me call a doctor.He was a 39-year-old adult; I respected his decision.
• I made my coffee, turned on my computer, and for the next few hours, worked on Binding Threads, stopping at lunchtime to make a hot drink and check on our Al.
• He had suffered from pancreatitis from a young age, although we didn’t know that’s what it was until he was officially diagnosed at seventeen after a life-threatening episode, which caused him to stay in the hospital for over a month.
• For the next twenty-two years, there were many more hospital stays. He saw junior doctors climb the ladder to become consultants. Nurses remembered him and even knew him by name – well, what can I say – he was a friendly, sociable, handsome chap, and his bravery was jaw-dropping.
• He followed his favourite football team, Liverpool FC, with passion and knew everything about the history of the club as well as the game. He adored music, making and mixing it on his decks, and had a YouTube channel called 2Ten-records, which he later changed to 2Ten music that had a huge following.
• Making money from it wasn’t his aim. He enjoyed sharing his love of music. He finished college and went on to university, studying music and media as a mature student. His many hospital visits and admissions made the journey a slow one.
• But he was determined even when the painful pancreatic episodes were coming quicker and more frequently. A massive 12-hour Berger’s operation to remove the head of his pancreas came when he was in his twenties, and we thought that should have fixed the problem. But the rogue cystic fibrosis gene that was causing his health problems had damaged his pancreas further, and he had to have a complete pancreatectomy, which left him with a rare form of type three diabetes that was hard to control.
• The Hickman Line that passed through his chest, behind his heart, and into his stomach fed him due to the complications of surgery. He was determined not to have the tube up his nose because he didn’t want people to think he was ill. His willpower knew no bounds.
• All was going well. He went back to uni, had plenty of friends with whom he socialised, and got on with his life. Then in November, he got a chest cold. He took a hot lemon drink to bed and said he would stay there until he felt better. Bouncing back from adversity was his forte.
• I went into his room later that November day and expected him to be up and on his computer. But the room was in darkness, exactly as I saw it earlier that morning. I switched on the bedroom light to see him lying unresponsive at the foot of his bed.
• A chest cold had wiped him out.
• I called an ambulance as his dad tried to revive him with chest compressions. The paramedic pronounced life extinct at Two Ten!
• He would have high-fived at the irony.
• BindingThreads was all but setaside.
• Christmas 2024 came and went. Family and friends offered warm embraces of support.
• My friends in the publishing world could not have been kinder and bolstered me. My family and friends were my stay and strength; you know who you are. Thank you.
• Then, in the new year 2025,still crushed,I received a diagnosis of suspected lung cancer. Many tests, scans and attempted biopsies followed. Meetings, get-togethers, life postponed, including a cancelled cruise to Norway with writer friends.’Life goes on,Mum.’ I would hear my son’s voice in my head so many times, he had said it so many times over the twenty two years since his diagnosis, always following it up with his favourite phrase,’it is what it is’,in his own pragmatic way.
• What could I do?
• Wallowing isn’t in my nature either. I had a book to write.If I am going to write about strong women who cock a snook at adversity, I’d better bloody well practice what I preach…
• Writing the book took me to another place, especially when doctors warned me that my next procedure, a complex CT biopsy, so close to my heart it could be catastrophic but necessary for a proper diagnosis.
• I had the procedure, and I came out alive.
• A short while later, the consultant informed me that the lesion on my lung was not life-threatening and did not need invasive intervention. He said it is an aspergilloma, a type of cyst,and they will monitor it closely for the next five years; it resembles a tumour but doesn’t act like one.
• ‘Like a plastic apple,’ I hear our Al say. He had a fantastic sense of humour. And, although this has been the worst year of my life, it has also been one of revelation, understanding and peace, knowing my son is no longer ill or in pain. He is safely tucked in my heart.
• Oh, and before I forget: Boldwood will release Binding Threads on January 18th, 2025, after giving me all the time I needed to complete it. Thank you, Caroline, my editor, for coming to Liverpool to see me and bringing me the most amazing bouquet of gorgeous blooms.To Jean and Fenella and all my writer friends who have been so wonderful and supportive. What would I do without you all? Thank you must also go to my loyal readers, who have waited so patiently for the next instalment of The Beamer Street Series, and sent so many messages of support and understanding.
• You restored my faith in the wonderful and enabled me to look on the bright side. God bless you all.
• Wishing 2026 is a better one for us all.
• Sheilaxx
• Dedicated to my beloved youngest son. Our Al,1985–2024.Cherished and loved with every beat of my heart x