New Novel about Child Trafficking Titled "Caught In Traffick" Now Available

I am absolutely THRILLED to announce that my long awaited novel CAUGHT IN TRAFFICK is now available from Amazon and other outlets as a paperback and a download. Please follow the link below;

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Caught-Traffick-Freya-Barrington-ebook/dp/B01L80IVJM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1472539404&sr=8-1&keywords=caught+in+traffick

The sequel to my debut book Known to Social Services, Caught in Traffick picks up the story of Diane Foster; the social worker who was unfairly vilified for the death of a baby on her caseload. Diane is with her partner Ethan Montana in Thailand on a working holiday when they unwittingly become entangled in a complex and ruthless network of organised crime and child trafficking, which stretches from Bangkok to Pattaya.

The terrifying experiences of the children, and those striving to secure their liberty, provides a gripping and startlingly disturbing glimpse into the world of child trafficking.

Thousands of children worldwide are sold, kidnapped or simply given into the harrowing and frightening world of child trafficking, from which few escape. I wrote Caught in Traffick in the hope that the book will raise awareness and perhaps even challenge people’s views on this most heinous issue.

Thank you for the ongoing support.

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Freya

Book Information

In Freya Barrington's previous book, 'Known to Social Services', Freya Barrington gave us a frighteningly realistic insight into the harrowing world of the child protection social worker. Based on her own experiences, the book was a revelation and occupied the number one spot for social work books on Amazon UK within weeks of release and went on to win the autobiography/biography/memoir section of the 2015 London Book Festival and received an Honourable Mention at the 2016 Paris Book Festival. 

'Caught in Traffick' is the sequel to 'Known to Social Services', and continues the story of social worker Diane Foster. Set mainly in Thailand; Diane and her partner Ethan are on a working holiday, blissfully unaware of the dangers lurking against the beautiful backdrop of white beaches and glorious monuments. When four-year-old Darcie Taylor is abducted from a crowded beach, Diane and Ethan find themselves sucked into the horrifying world of child trafficking. When Darcie’s abduction is followed closely by the kidnap of another child, there can be no doubt that a well co-ordinated gang is operating in the area. 

A chance meeting with the Director of Social Services Nicholas Bishop leads to a shocking revelation about the man who is still Diane’s most senior manager. Together, they become embroiled in a dangerous web of subterfuge and corruption, where organised crime syndicates and depraved sex offenders engage in a desperate battle of wits against those dedicated to their downfall. Trapped within this labyrinth of immorality are the children, who are sacrificed on the altar of greed and perversion for financial gain. With the gang’s tentacles reaching across to England, Diane is shocked to find herself faced with some old adversaries. With gripping twists and turns, hair-raising rescue attempts and heart breaking tragedies which leave you in despair; 'Caught in Traffick' will open your eyes to the disturbing underground world of child trafficking.

A Taste of Things to Come; a sneaky peek at the first chapter of my forthcoming novel Caught in Traffick

The time fast approaches for the release of my latest novel, Caught in Traffick. While we wait, I thought you might like to get a taste of what’s to come in this fast moving and gripping story of child trafficking in Thailand. Here is a tiny glimpse into Chapter One.

****

The beach at Jomtien, was crowded with tourists doing what tourists do. They sunbathed, swam, drank cocktails, and played with their children on the fine white sands. Screams and shouts of laughter emanated from the banana boats out on the Gulf of Thailand, filled with willing passengers who had paid for the dubious pleasure of being flung off into the warm blue ocean. A string of ponies, sweated in the hot February sun, carrying their cargo of small, equally hot children. No one paid any attention to the old man in the wheelchair, whose feeble demeanour was a signpost of his advanced years. He was simply an old man of no account who had been pushed into a shady spot by his nurse, to enjoy the warmth of the late morning sun. He wore a large straw hat, which obscured his face. Underneath the hat however, the Old Man’s deep set eyes were keen and searching, and the unsuspecting people on the beach could not have guessed the sinister purpose of his presence. Their indifference would be costly, for the Old Man had played this game many times before and was as sharp as he was cunning. 

The Old Man observed the tableau, which played out before him; with his shrewd eye for detail, he already knew where all the main players were situated. He knew the beach well, and had already committed many details of today’s particular scenario to memory. It was with good reason that the Old Man was known to the people who sought him out, as “The Watcher.”

He watched the fishing boats go by as they made their way back to the fishing ports. He watched the waiters making cocktails behind the gaily decorated bars, he watched two lovers kissing on the white sands, mistaken in the notion that they were hidden from view by the garish umbrellas. He watched the hippie types who still came to the area to smoke a little dope, get high and remember the good old days. He watched the parents; but most of all, as a hawk watches its prey, he watched the children.  His seasoned eye was drawn to one family in particular. Two parents with two young children, a blonde haired girl wearing an eye catching pink and white polka dot swimsuit, and a younger boy. Their father was swimming in the sea, leaving mother tending to both children. The Old Man watched and waited, knowing that the opportunity would arise as it always did. It had been over six months since the Old Man had been out hunting like this, and he felt his pulse quicken in anticipation. He had travelled with special purpose from his home in Bangkok, with one thing in mind and now he had it in his sights.

A woman approached from his left hand side; she was a pretty young thing, dressed as a nurse; she attracted as little attention as the Old Man. She said nothing, but bent down to rearrange the blanket over his skinny legs. As she did so, she glanced up at him; “Soon” he whispered in an almost indiscernible voice, “It will be soon, stay close, and be ready.” The woman melted back into the crowds, but her sad eyes stayed constantly on the Old Man. She waited, as he waited; the sweat ran down her back in rivulets betraying the anxiety she felt at her situation.

The minutes ticked by.

Somewhere on the beach, a child cried out in pain. The woman did not turn her head to look; her eyes were fastened on the Old Man, knowing that this could be the moment. The Old Man had heard it of course, but unlike the woman, he fixed his gaze on the unfolding drama on the beach like a hawk on a mouse. The boy had wandered off and fallen; the mother turned, spoke briefly to the girl, and ran to her son. People instinctively turned their heads in the direction of the crying boy, some continued to watch as his mother comforted him, some smiled in sympathy, and no one, but no one had eyes on the girl; no one that is apart from Ruang Sak Yunram. 

****

I hope that has whetted your appetite J

The book is the sequel to my first book Known to Social Services and should be released very soon, possibly before the end of August, but no promises. Caught in Traffick will be available from Amazon as a paperback and a download. It will also be available from certain book stores.

I will of course keep you posted, but you can sign up to follow my blog direct at;

www.freyabarrington.blogspot.com

Or visit my website;

www.freyabarrington.com

Or Facebook

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Freya

Mind Your Own Business; or what NOT to say when helping with renovations

As many of you are aware, Steve and I are renovating an old house in the Cote D’Armor region of Brittany. Of course, I use the term, “Steve and I” loosely as it is Steve who is doing the bulk of the work. With years of experience in building, electrics, plumbing, carpentry and a host of other Hard Jobs (Capital H, capital J there) he is without a doubt a man of immense talent and skill in this field. He can put a fitted kitchen together, without so much as a glance as the instructions. He can fix just about anything that requires fixing and has come up with more ingenious ways to get round a seemingly insurmountable problem than I can recall.

Steve putting the kitchen units together - instructions were not required!

The beginning of another Hard Job

Yikes is all I have to say

Yep, the man’s good.

I, on the other hand, have no discernible DIY skills whatsoever. I have no idea how to change a fuse, put on a plug or any other remotely basic household tasks of that nature. I stand in open mouthed awe at Steve’s efforts and am unceasingly amazed at the results he has achieved in a few short months.

My stunning kitchen only a few weeks after Steve made a start on it

THIS is how it looked before Steve got to it




I am however a useful gopher, a cleaner upper, and most importantly, I make excellent egg custards. The fact that an egg custard has, to my knowledge, never been usefully applied in any DIY task is immaterial. They are an integral part of the process and have to be eaten on a regular basis if success is to be attained J Failure in this culinary area might well result in the universe as we know it disappearing down a black hole. 

My little egg custard tarts - yes I know there's one missing, someone has to test them and Mikey wasn't here

What I AM good at is mixing plaster (who knew). Our battles with the French plaster have been documented in a previous blog, so I won’t repeat myself here. Suffice to say, I have conquered the art of mixing French plaster, which affords me a modicum of status and a (slightly) begrudging recognition from Steve as the best person for this particular job.

I AM good at plaster mixing, but tend to end up wearing most of it

Now in any renovation project of this scale, challenges are inevitable, and have to be overcome. What I have discovered is that when Steve hits a problem, there are certain things, which must never be said; suggestions, which must never be offered, and advice, which under NO circumstances needs to be given.

I have written this blog as a guide for others (OK, other women) who may find themselves in a similar position. A kind of quick reference for correct responses if you like. Ladies, take heed, it may save a lot of heartache.

Scenario Number One – The Leaky Tap

“I’ve got a leak” announced Steve one day.

I immediately adopted, what I felt was a suitably downcast expression to demonstrate my solidarity.

“Oh no” I mourned, “Where?”

“Small bathroom” came the terse response. “I’ll have to sort it this morning, so the water will be off for a while”

“Okay” I said in a completely understanding tone, “Not a problem”.

The minutes ticked by. I could hear the sound of tinkering, clattering and the obligatory muttering which always accompanies such Hard Jobs.  After ten minutes, I approached ……..

Pipes pipes and more pipes

Lesson Number One; Offer No Sympathy

When your husband is fixing a tricky leak in the small (or any other) bathroom, DO NOT stand at the door like a sympathetic mother hen and ask, “How’s it going?” No matter how compassionate you sound, and regardless of your well-meaning support, it is absolutely NOT required or welcomed at this point.  It will only result in a sharply and rather crossly spoken, "WHAT?" as he bangs his head coming up to hear what you're trying to ask him. 

You will be advised of “How it’s going” when the job is completed and NOT a moment sooner.

Scenario Number Two – Awkward Wiring

“Right” said Steve with determination.

I knew that tone and immediately felt anxious, knowing that my assistance was required in some capacity.  I secretly hoped it was not plaster. 

“What’s up?” I asked brightly hoping he would just ask for a cup of coffee and leave me out of it.

“See these wires?” he said indicating a mutinous looking tangle of red, green and yellow wires dangling from the ceiling.

“Yes” I affirmed, my anxiety increasing by the minute.

“Well, I need you to hold THIS one, don’t touch THAT one and feed me THESE ones through that hole when I say so”

I eyed the hole and looked back at the wires and made my error ……

Wiring hell - to me anyway

Lesson Number Two; never question his judgement on what will go where

When your husband has given what he feels are clear instructions on what you are required to do to assist him in getting the Job done, do not utter the words,

“Are you sure all those wires will fit through that hole?”

When I made this rookie mistake, Steve adopted a pained expression, shook his head and sighed.

“This is not my first rodeo” he said with what I felt was an unnecessary edge of sarcasm. “Of COURSE they’ll fit”

Questioning his good judgement in such matters is highly improper in terms of DIY etiquette. I might as well have said,

“You’re wrong you know, you have no idea what you’re doing. Those wires aren’t going to fit through that hole”.

They fitted.

He knows EXACTLY what he's doing thank you

Scenario Number Three – The Unfinished Job

Steve is always busy. He might have a dozen or more jobs on the go at any one time. Here’s a bit of useful advice in regard to those unfinished little jobs you might observe around the house.

A hundred and one jobs on the go at any one time

Steve had been working on some really difficult plumbing. He had put an en-suite bathroom in our bedroom, where there had previously been NO bathroom at all. Consequently, he had to create ALL the plumbing necessary for the sink, shower and toilet. I can tell you from having watched him do this, that it is no mean feat and takes a lot of time, effort and thinking. I would see him in the evening sitting staring into space “thinking” about his plumbing Job. Holes were made, pipes were fitted, connections were joined up and slowly, the complex network of plumbing took shape. By necessity, it had to come down through the floor in order to hook up with main drains and away. This meant that a big fat pipe was running along the ceiling in the living room.

I had to do it, I had to open my big mouth ……

Steve's Hard bathroom Job

Lesson Number Three; do NOT ask obvious questions

Casting a critical eye at the fat pipe in the living room I asked,

“Are you boxing that big fat pipe in?”

Sigh

Steve’s response?

“No, I thought I’d leave it like that and have it on display. Of COURSE I’m boxing it in” – there's that sarcasm again.

Me (in small voice) “Sorry”

THE big fat pipe

Big fat pipe now boxed in and being painted over

Scenario Number Four – The Uncooperative Dishwasher

We had purchased a 2^nd hand dishwasher from one of those Facebook sites. The people we bought it from were very nice and assured us that it worked perfectly. Indeed, the inside of it was all wet where the man had given it a test run before we came. 

We bought it.

After a bit of thought, Steve decided to put my washing machine under the stairs, so I could have the dishwasher in the kitchen. Yes of course, that was the practical thing to do. I mean, who wants a dishwasher under the stairs? So, after some wrestling with the washing machine, and some not so strenuous manoeuvring of the dishwasher, Steve went to plumb it in.

It wouldn’t work L 

I bit my lip, looked worried and tried so hard not to speak, but I couldn’t help it; it just came out.

Sorting yet more plumbing

Lesson Number Five; do NOT use a tone of voice usually reserved for four year old children

I could see Steve’s frustration beginning to mount as the dishwasher refused to cooperate.

“Try again” he said tersely after another attempt to rectify the problem.

I tried – it made the right sound, but no water was going in.

“It’s not working” I said unhelpfully stating the obvious.

Steve dragged the reluctant machine out once again and seeing how annoyed he was, I made another clumsy attempt to be helpful. Adopting a soothing tone, which I would normally reserve for children around the age of four who have fallen and bumped their knee I said,

“Never mind, leave it for now. I’m sure you’ll work it out in a bit”

I can almost hear the audible gasps and sharp intakes of breath at this most offensive of faux pas. In my misguided effort to “help” I had committed a cardinal sin, no TWO cardinal sins;

-         I had said “never mind”; not only did Steve mind, he minded so much he was prepared to stay there all week if he had to in order to conquer this Hard dishwasher Job.

-         I suggested he “Leave it for now” – I might as well have said, “Obviously, you can’t fix this, so why not leave it alone and we’ll get someone in who knows what he’s doing”

My transgression was instantly apparent from the look on his face. With only slightly clenched teeth he spoke slowly and quietly,

“I CAN fix it, I know EXACTLY what the problem is, I just don’t have the right fitting”. He then went into a long (unnecessarily long I thought) explanation of how the water pressure was affecting the flow of the water, so it wasn’t reaching the dishwasher, and how he needed a special valve to address this.  Anxious to make amends, I nodded enthusiastically and said “I see” a lot, when I didn’t see at all.

One trip to Bricomarche later to get the valve and hey presto – dishwasher working perfectly, as he always knew it would J

One dishwasher in perfect working order

Scenario Number Six; the busy busy man

It is important to understand that when a man is as busy as Steve, he is focused, he is determined, he has a plan. He does NOT want to be diverted from that plan by non-stop offers of food or drink and he especially does not need to be called away to watch the latest funny video of a cat on Facebook L

On this particular day, Steve had many Hard Jobs on the go. He was knocking a door through from one room to another, raising startling amounts of dust and debris. 

Knocking the door through. I turn a blind eye to the dust!




He was still tinkering with the plumbing, and had the removal of a staircase on his mind. 

The staircase that had to come out was on his mind






The weather here in Brittany was warming up, and I had all the windows flung wide open. This was all well and good, but as is often the case, we had many uninvited flies in the house. I loved to have the back door open too, but being in the kitchen, the flies were too much of a problem. But I was too hot, and so came yet another blunder.

Lesson Number Six; do NOT divert a busy busy man

I collared Steve as he passed through the kitchen.

“I know you’re busy darling, but you couldn’t just fit me that fly screen so I can have the back door open could you? It’s awfully hot”

Now, like most men, Steve likes a challenge. He was busy; so very busy, but his woman had made a request of him and had used the words, “You couldn’t just”……….. The caveman in him took over. He COULD just, and he would do it before she could repeat the words, “It’s awfully hot”.

“Right” he snapped in a Basil Fawlty way; “Get the mesh”.

I scuttled off and got the roll of mesh we had bought for such a purpose. He measured it with steely eyed determination, thrust it back at me and demanded I cut it where he indicated.

I did so, knowing by now that I really shouldn’t have asked him to do this, while he was so busy with other Jobs. I tried to back track.

“If you’re too busy, leave it for now, do it another time, honestly, it doesn’t matter” 

Foolish woman, there you go again saying it doesn’t matter.

All I got was a raised eyebrow and “The look”. 

I kept cutting.

Steve went outside; he hammered, sawed, nailed and muttered. In less than one hour, he had constructed a temporary, yet perfectly functional fly screen. The back door could be open all day – yey.

“It’s only temporary” growled Steve darkly, “I’ll do it properly when I have more time” he added pointedly as he returned to his Hard, and far more important Job of knocking a door through.

I just about got away with it, but it’s never a good idea to disturb an already busy man, especially one who is beginning to resemble a grubby Quaker with that bearded look; which is dirt by the way!

DO NOT disturb

One busy man!

And so ladies, I hope that this short guide might assist you in knowing what not to say or do in your efforts to be helpful. I will leave you with a few more useful tips J Happy renovating everyone.

-   When there is a problem, never ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?” – There won’t be. If HE can’t do it, you certainly can’t. You may ask the question if there is no problem, as you may be required to clean up, make a coffee or mix plaster. This is acceptable. 

-         Do NOT under any circumstances suggest getting someone in to help him. He does not want anyone else’s help. He wants to do it ALL himself and by God he will.

-         You MUST resist the urge to touch him while he is working out a problem. No matter how sympathetic you are feeling, you MUST not touch him, no, no, no. Do not stroke his arm, put a hand on his back or in any way make bodily contact. Now is not the time. If you do, you may as well pat him on the head and say “There there”.

-         Under no circumstance utter the words, “Ahhh don’t worry about it” - these words are futile

-         And my final rule just for me; even in moments of weakness, I must NEVER mention how good I am at mixing plaster J That would just be rude!

www.freyabarrington.com

Freya