As our little party left Ypres on the way back to Zeebrugge, I took out my notebook and started scribbling furiously, half-afraid that – like a dream – the revelation would fade before I had chance to get it down. Two wars, two sets of lovers – the stories linked by family, fate, photographs and…
32: One Man’s Death
Ever since the day I found his WW1 diary, Will had been part of my life. In recent years he had become the driving force behind the novel that was about to be published. Now it was his turn to be the focus. ‘Caught in the bombardment: nothing left to bury.’ My mother’s succinct statement…
31: WW1 Research
By some miracle, the new part of Louisa Elliott was completed by Easter. By the end of May revisions and corrections were complete, and the novel was lining up to be published a year hence. At last it seemed everything was coming together, enabling me to bring to the fore what had been simmering in…
30: The Ghosts of Railway Cottage
Moving house with just one helper – my indefatigable daughter, Louise – was achieved. Dealing with recalcitrant horses, shifting hay bales and mucking-out had their benefits – all these years later I’m still grateful for her stamina and strength. In the weeks before Christmas we’d worked like bullion traders on a bonus, going to bed…
29: Eyes Wide and Breathless
Coincidence abounded in the summer of ‘87. First, Rosie Thomas, who turned out to be married to literary agent Caradoc King; second, publisher Carmen Callil, who just happened to ring Caradoc to ask if he had anything for her to read. Third, Carmen – almost a legendary figure in publishing – was Australian, and intrigued…
28: Another Link in the Chain
I met Chatto’s MD in early October for lunch. The Groucho Club, situated in the more salubrious half of London’s Soho, was famous as the haunt of literary giants and famous journalists. Somewhat daunted by that, I felt a new outfit was in order, and searched Harrogate for something suitable. I chose a rather sober…
27: Chatto & Windus
Since Carmen was away on business, I was to meet my editor first. Arriving at Chatto’s offices in London’s Bloomsbury was another pinch-me-I’m-dreaming moment. The beautiful Georgian terraces, surrounding a green park, once housed the titled and wealthy, but had been the home of book publishing for decades. Chatto & Windus – now part of…
26: Leaping the Hurdles
As my new-found literary agent had pointed out, it could take time to find a publisher. With a clear memory of past rejection slips, I hardly dared believe it would be soon, or that the financial reward would be significant. Judging by what I’d read, it seemed a first book would be lucky to fetch…
25: Caradoc King & AP Watt
A positive response from the first agent I’d applied to – I could hardly believe it! That it should arrive by telex, just as MT Reliance was entering Bilbao, made it a crazy moment. The Spanish pilot gazed at us in astonishment – hugging, kissing, laughing – were these really the stiff-lipped British? Ashore the…
24: Summer Vacation
After five years of seeking time to write, suddenly time was heavy on my hands. My husband Peter had gone back to sea after three months’ leave, my precious novel, Louisa Elliott, was sitting on an agent’s desk in London, waiting to be read and decided upon. Wondering what would happen next, longing for news…