Excerpts – I Walk Alone

Research rabbit hole ~ Cafe culture 1935 ~ The Bungalow Cafe

When I was writing A Dish Best Served Cold, I needed a fancy cafe where Arthur could hang out. A search of the 1935 Kelly’s Directories showed me a long list of options, but more research told me The Bungalow Cafe, at 157 Above Bar Street — billed as ‘the most up-to-date restaurant in Southampton,’ was the sort of place a show off like Arthur would love. ‘He enjoyed having a pageboy open the door for him. The art déco interior, live music, and waiters ready to cater to his whims made him feel important. This place echoed his aspirations — upmarket, modern, vibrant’. My quest to find out more about it, to paint a picture of Arthur’s regular visits and some of the defining moments of his story, uncovered an interesting tale.

Research rabbit hole ~ Fascism in Southampton 1935

The rise of fascism in Britain and the fear of another war are themes running through my latest book, A Dish Best Served Cold. In 1935, the prospect of another war was unthinkable to most people, but the British Union of Fascists were rapidly gaining popularity, thanks to their charismatic leader. The party had over forty thousand members, attracted by Oswald Mosley’s powerful nationalistic speeches. Thousands gathered to hear him at Blackshirt rallies across the country. In 1934, he was well received when he spoke at the Coliseum on Portland Terrace. That he could fill the town’s largest meeting hall speaks volumes about his popularity.

Sneak preview ~ A Dish Best Served Cold

You may have noticed that I’ve been quiet for the last couple of weeks. This is partly down to a horrible cold and a great deal of snuggling under a blanket, feeling sorry for myself whilst coughing and sneezing. I have also been busy reading through proofs and approving cover designs for my next novel, A Dish Best Served Cold. The book is set in Southampton in 1935 and features, amongst other things, a famous gold robbery at Croydon Airport. I promise I will tell you more about the research that went into this book later, but for now, I will give you a sneak preview to whet your appetite.

Research Rabbit Hole – Southampton Parks 1926

The town of Southampton was once surrounded by ancient fields where townspeople grew crops in summer and grazed animals in winter. By law, all crops had to be harvested by 1 August, Lammas Day, so the fields were called Lammas Lands. In 1844, the Marsh Improvement Act allowed the council to drain the Saltmarsh around the new Terminus Station. To compensate the townspeople for losing this common grazing land, the council agreed to turn the other Lammas Lands into parks. The Central Parks were laid out in the late 1850s, and old OS maps of the time show the layout has changed very little since. Southampton’s wonderful parks are still a prominent feature to this day, and they also feature in many of my books. Making sure I got things right required a good deal of research.

An author’s life

Last week, I released the third book in my historic fiction series. It was exciting, especially the part where I got to hold the proof copy in my hand for the first time. Even so, the life of an author is not as full of adventure, intrigue and vast wealth as many people think. Top bestselling authors may have lives like that, but my experience (and I suspect theirs) is very different. If you’re thinking of writing a book, read on to understand the reality.

Research Rabbit Hole – Southampton shops 1926

Gilbert’s Bookshop 1895 from the Plimsoll site

When local businesses feature in my books, I try to base them on real businesses when I can. The archived Kelly’s Directories are marvellous for finding just the shop, or restaurant I need. They often tell me who the owner was and what other businesses were nearby. Sometimes, there are interesting adverts too. Several shops played a part in Land Fit For Heroes, so I thought I share a few of the things I discovered.

Sneak preview – Seventh Daughter

My third historic novel is coming out soon. It’s another story set in Southampton, this time in Northam Street. In the summer of 1931, helping a neighbour unleashes a chain of events that threatens to tear the close-knit but impoverished Northam Street community apart. Daisy is convinced death is coming for someone. Will it be Jacob’s wife, Annie, or the women who have spirited her away — Nancy, the prostitute, Mabel, the handywoman or Daisy herself? Albie believes Jacob’s war wounds are behind his strange behaviour. The neighbours think he’s dangerous. If Albie can’t persuade them that Jacob poses no threat, somebody will get badly hurt. Sam’s unrequited love for Nancy is the least of his problems. He thinks he has escaped his troubled past until someone starts attacking women down by the docks. Then fingers point at him. ~ Read on for a sneak peek at chapter one . . .

Who was Tommy Lewis?

Seventh Daughter, the third book in my historic fiction series, is currently being prepared for publication and should be available shortly. The story is set in the summer of 1931 when helping a neighbour unleashes a chain of events that threatens to tear the close-knit but impoverished Northam Street community apart. A few of the characters will be familiar to anyone who has read Plagued and Land Fit For Heroes. One new character is mentioned several times, although he doesn’t make an appearance. Most residents of Southampton will recognise his name, Thomas Lewis, but how many know his story? I think it is about time I got round to telling it.

Sneak preview

1 – Saturday 24 April 1926

When Lenny saw young Albie Joyce on the doorstep he knew he was in for a long night. He liked Albie, he was a good lad and a hard worker, but there was only one reason he’d be knocking on the door at nine o’clock on a Saturday evening.

‘It’s Percy.’ Albie was a little out of breath, his collar was turned up and rainwater dripped from his cap.

‘Isn’t it always?’ Lenny sighed and looked over Albie’s shoulder at the teeming rain. The house lights and streetlights reflected gold in the growing puddles, and chilly air, thick with the acrid smell of the gasworks, drifted into the hallway. ‘What’s he done now?’

Just a tease

If Mary could see him now, stirring his underwear in a bubbling dixie of petrol-tainted water, she’d laugh her head off. It was a far cry from any kind of laundry she knew, with no soap or mangle and a metal tin precariously perched over four stubby candles in the dark instead of the copper boiler she used at home. That he was attempting the task at all would have amused her, but it wasn’t something he could add to the letter he was trying to write. For a start, he wouldn’t want to mention the bayonet he was using to stir the pot, or the lice he was trying to kill. She didn’t need to be worrying about that kind of thing. The trouble was it was difficult to find anything to write about that wouldn’t make her worry. One way or another, even the most innocuous things tended to end up running to horror, and every letter he wrote could so easily be his last.

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