Amanda lives in Pontypridd, South Wales with husband Carlos, four-year-old son Travis and a cat called Rita. She began writing eight years ago when, at 27, she decided to pack in her job as a collector, invent a pile of A levels and study creative writing and drama at university.

She has had several short stories published in anthologies. She has written for The Pontypridd Observer and Buzz! magazine amongst others. Her Welsh-language screenplay Catastroffi was broadcast on S4C in 2006, and she’s had a further two screenplays optioned to Tornado Films. She is currently writing a novel, and attends John Evans’s Fiction Factory on Monday evenings. She is currently working as a supply teacher at Ysgol Gyfun Cwm Rhymni. Previously, she’s worked as a drama tutor for First Campus and as an actress.

 STUNG

Tonja Fenton-Grey wasn’t sleeping but wasn’t really awake. She’d just woken from a strange dream and had immediately forgotten what it was all about. She was really annoyed about that. She struggled to open her eyes, which were caked shut with sleep and stale mascara. She had a lecture to go to, but decided she wouldn’t be going because of the weather.

It was raining. Again! Tonja had lived in the Trefforest area of Pontypridd for three months, and it seemed to her that it had rained every day since. Her friends went to nice universities in nice cities, but Tonja had ended up in Glamorgan. She liked University and had made new mates, but there were no posh wine bars and none of the cafes sold lobster.

She’d been into town once but there wasn’t one single branch of Next there, so she came straight home. She didn’t like the look of the locals - they wore casual clothes, ate chips from paper in the street and they all seemed to know each other. She wouldn’t venture into town at night because her mate Tanzy knew someone who knew someone who got beaten up once.

She looked up at a damp patch on the ceiling as she listened to the rain. It was a sound that filled her with dread. The drumming of the rain was soon replaced by a buzzing sound. It started in the corner of the room and soon was near her ear. She sat up quickly and noticed a wasp hovering around her bed. How dare he! She grabbed her copy of Harpers and Queen and set about trying to kill the cheeky little blighter.

She swung and swiped but kept missing. He seemed to buzz louder. He was probably laughing at her. Eventually he flew out through the bedroom door and out of sight. Tonja was furious.

Tanzy was slouched on the settee eating toast and jam when Tonja entered the living room and slouched next to her.

          “Morning,” Tonja groaned

          “You’re up early, mate,” Tanzy remarked. It was half past ten - mega early for her lazy friend.

          “Bloody wasp disturbed my beauty sleep.”

Tanzy looked at Tonja with a look of incredulity.

          “You don’t get wasps at this time of year, Tonja!”

          “You do in this backward town.”

Tonja desperately wanted a cup of Earl Grey but couldn’t be bothered to get up.

          “What did you buy in Cardiff yesterday?” asked Tanzy in between munches.

          “Er, not much. Couple of books, trainers and some lovely undies.”

          “For your mum?”

          “No. They’ll never fit her,” said Tonja. Then it dawned on her. It was her mother’s birthday today and she was driving all the way here to take Tonja home for a party. And she forgot to buy her a bloody present.

          “Oh, Tonja, you haven’t forgotten again have you? She’ll disinherit you this time, mate!” Tanzy laughed.

          “Don’t laugh, it’s not funny. She’ll be here in just over an hour.”

          “Only one thing for it, then. You’ll have to go to Pontypridd.”

          “Come with me, Tanzy,” Tonja begged. Tanzy got up from the settee.

          “Sorry, Ton, I’m going to Uni,” she replied, before going upstairs.

          “Great. I’ll have to wade through the shellsuits alone.”

          “Watch you don’t get stung, Tonja!” Tanzy shouted from upstairs.

Tonja couldn’t wait to get off the dirty, rusty bus. It was full of pensioners and smelled of oranges and dust. She stepped off the bus and into a puddle, which ruined her new Jimmy Choo’s. Tonja wondered why there were so many people of working age in town during the daytime. Didn’t they have jobs or Uni to go to? Why didn’t they just go travelling?

She didn’t know what she was looking for or where she was going, but was in a blind panic to buy something. Anything.

As she walked through the market she realised she’d made a mistake. It smelled of hot dogs and polythene, and people bumped into her. She held onto her Louis Vuitton handbag very very very tightly.

“A pound a bunch. Lovely fresh bunches for a pound!”

“Ten lighters for a pound!”

“Genuine Chanel perfume for a fiver!”

She stopped and looked at the “genuine” perfume and moved on. A young Asian stallholder stepped in front of her, waving a pink pair of furry boots. They looked like Barbie’s dead cats.

          “Two ninety-nine, love. This season’s must-haves,” he shouted.

          “Maybe where you come from,” she snarled, and walked off. What did he take her for? Some cheap valleys bimbo?

As she tried to walk off, she found that the heel of her shoe was lodged between two hundred-year-old cobbles. Not quaint! She wiggled and wiggled, expecting someone to come to her aid, but they all walked on, eating chips and smelling of cheap deodorant.

          “Damn you,” she said to the stallholder “if you hadn’t stopped me I wouldn’t be stuck here.”

The stallholder smirked as her drank coffee from a plastic cup.

          “Christ! Hasn’t anyone heard of tarmac in this backward town?” she snarled.

          “Tarmac? What’s that, then?” he replied.

The heel snapped and her heart sank. The stallholder waved the pink furry disasters again.

          “Looks like you’ll be needing new shoes, love. Only five ninety nine!”

Her face was purple. Her boots were pink. Tonja had to get away from this place. She didn’t care about her mother’s birthday. She didn’t care about anything. She couldn’t stand another bus journey, so she walked blindly, hoping to come across a cab. But she happened to come across a bearable-looking gift shop and went inside. It was a moody place that smelled sweet. An old lady was at the counter talking to the owner.

          “You’ve got it lovely here, Lorna,” said the old lady. “Your dad would have been so proud of you.”

          “Thanks, Mrs Price,” Lorna replied. “I hope it does well. I’ve worked so hard.”

The old lady left, smiling and waving, and Tonja and Lorna were the only ones in the shop. Some crystal ornaments caught Tonja’s eye. They were little angels that glinted in the light. A set of them should keep the old dragon happy, she thought. She picked one up and examined it, moving it back and forth and looking at the colours it reflected. She then noticed a sign which read “Pretty to handle, pretty to hold, but if you should break it, consider it sold.”

          “Do you need any help?” smiled Lorna from behind the counter.

          “Just looking.”

          “Are you looking for a gift?”

Tonja didn’t reply. She put the ornament down and picked up another.

          “Lovely, aren’t they? But very delicate,” said Lorna. This really wound Tonja up. Did she think she was stupid enough to break it?

          “I’m not going to break it,” snapped Tonja.

          “I never said you were.”

          “And if I should break it, then I would pay for it.”

Lorna looked away and started cleaning behind the counter. Not being funny, thought Tonja, but I could probably buy this place for a week’s pocket money.

          “I’ll have a set of these angel things. Gift wrapped,” said Tonja.

Lorna reached under the counter and pulled out a roll of iridescent pinky-purple paper and some royal blue ribbon.

          Suddenly, Tonja heard the buzzing noise again. There was a wasp in her face. It flew at her and flew away. Then it was back again. It was so close that Tonja thought she could see its face. It looked cheeky and cocky. She thought it was taunting her.

          “Get lost!” screamed Tonja, swinging out with her handbag.

          “I’m sorry?” asked Lorna.

          “You’ve got bloody wasps in here!”

          “Right. Do you want a set of five for thirty-five pounds, or would you like eight for sixty?”

          “I’ll have them all. Wrap them nicely,” said Tonja as she spun around, trying to hit the wasp. Through the buzzing noise, she could have sworn that she heard him giggle.

          “Think you’re funny do you?” said Tonja

          “What?” asked Lorna

          “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Lorna came over and carefully took an angel from the display. Tonja couldn’t see the wasp and hoped he hadn’t gone far because she was determined to kill him. Suddenly, she felt an almighty sting on her right butt-cheek.

          “Arrgghh! You bastard!” she screamed.

Lorna looked scared and offended. “Excuse me?” she asked.

Tonja couldn’t be bothered to explain. Lorna seemed to be speeding up as though she wanted Tonja out of the shop as soon as possible. The wasp flew past her face again, taunting her. She swung at him with her handbag. She missed the wasp but hit the display. There was a loud crash and both girls stared at the decapitated broken angels.

          “What have you done?” cried Lorna.

The wasp stared at Tonja from the top of a glass cabinet containing jewelled boxes and water features. She swung again, creating another bombsite. Lorna ran behind the counter and picked up the phone.

          “Hello? Police?”

She had never been in trouble before, and was very miffed that she was in trouble this far from home. If this had happened back home, her dad would have sent his solicitor round to sort it out. Not that they have wasps in shops were she came from.

Lorna was busy adding up the cost of the damage. Tonja couldn’t look at her for all the trouble she’d caused.

          “Look, Miss Fenton-Grey,” said the fatter of the two fat policemen “Lorna has very kindly said that she won’t press charges this time providing that you pay for the damage.”

          “But it wasn’t me!”

          “We’ve got statements from three passers-by who said they deliberately saw you smashing the place up. Are you paying up or getting arrested?”

          “It was a wasp, you stupid imbecile!”

There was a silence as Lorna and the two fat policemen stared at her. She realised how stupid they must have thought she was.

          “You don’t get wasps at this time of the year,” said the least fat one.

          “Okay,” she sighed, handing over her platinum credit card “how much?”

          “Three thousand, four hundred and sixty-three ponds and forty-nine pence please,” said Lorna with a smile.

It had been a long day for Lorna. It had taken hours to bag up the damage to give to the insurance company. At last her shop was tidy again. Bare, but tidy. She heard Ali’s lorry pull up outside and opened the door.

          “Evening, love. Big order tonight,” said Ali as he jumped out of his lorry.

          “Aye, come inside and you’ll see why.”

Ali stepped into Lorna’s Gifts and was amazed.

          “Christ, Lorna. At this rate you’ll be a millionaire by next year. Your dad would have been so proud of you.”

          “Yes,” she smiled “he would.”

          “So where’s Gustav?”

          “He’s around her somewhere,” said Lorna, scanning the shop. “Gustav, come to mammy.”

There was a buzzing noise and Gustav the wasp appeared. Lorna extended her finger and he landed on it. She kissed him fondly.

          “You’ve been a very good boy for mammy today, haven’t you? You must be tired.”

          “You’re lovely to that wasp, Lorna. He’s so lucky.”

          “No,” she replied. “I’m the lucky one.”