Review ~ Before You Go by Clare Swatman

Pan Macmillan
9 February 2017

What's it all about.. 

When Zoe's husband Ed dies, her world caves in. But what if Zoe can get Ed back?

You find your soulmate . . .

Some people stare love in the face for years before they find it. Zoe and Ed fumbled their way into adulthood, both on different paths - but always in the same direction. Years later, having navigated dead-end jobs and chaotic house shares, romance finally blossoms. Their future together looks set . .

Then the unthinkable happens.

One morning, on his way to work, Ed is knocked off his bike and dies. Now Zoe must find a way to survive. But she's not ready to let go of the memories. How can she forget all of the happy times, their first kiss, everything they'd built together? Zoe decides she has to tell Ed all the things she never said.

Now it's too late. Or is it?

What did I think of it ..

Before You Go starts with an ending, which is in itself an usual way to start off a story but as we get deeper into the devastating loss suffered by Zoe we realise that the story, rather than ending, is very much beginning.

We all say from time to time,  if only I could have a another chance I would do things differently, but of course we rarely get a second chance to make amends, and even if we did, would we be able to change events enough to make a difference? For Zoe, another chance to make things better in her relationship with Ed is paramount and her unusual ability to travel back through time gives her a rather special opportunity to relive key moments of her time with Ed. To say more would be to spoil the effect of the story which really needs to be read with no preconceived notions of how it will all eventually play out.

The fragility of life is beautifully observed with some lovely light touches which add a necessary lightness to what is, in effect, a story about loss, and of the devastating burden of grief when it’s so often complicated by moments of regret.  Zoe’s story could be anyone’s story as it shows just how in the blink of an eye lives can be turned upside down and changed, irrevocably, forever.

There is a real connection with the thoughts and feeling evoked in the story and I am sure that the ideas expressed will resonate with some readers. It’s quite sad in places, beautifully perceptive in others and written with such a fine eye for character detail that you can’t help but become emotionally involved in both Zoe and Ed’s story. The ending when it comes is entirely appropriate and one that, for me, worked out beautifully.


There is no doubt that this is a really good debut novel from an exciting new talent.

Best read with… a creamy cappuccino and a comforting bar of chocolate..

About the author

Clare Swatman is a journalist for a number of weekly women's magazines. Before You Go is her first novel. Clare was Features Editor for Bella and has written for Best, Woman's Own and Real People. She writes for her local magazine as well as the travel pages for Take a Break. Clare lives in Hertfordshire with her husband and two boys.

Read and Excerpt by clicking here
Follow the author on Twitter @clareswatman

Photo credit ; Leanne Dixon

My thanks to Pan Macmillan of my review copy of this book

Before You Go is published on the 9th February

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Blog Tour ~ Before You Go by Clare Swatman

Jaffareadstoo is delighted to be hosting today's top on the 

Before You Go Blog Tour

...I'm really excited to be able to share an excerpt of Before You Go ...

Pan Macmillan
9 February 2017

When I open them again it takes a moment to work out where I am. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but I’m surprised to find I’m still in Ed’s bed, where we ended up last night. I’m still nestled in the crook of his arm, and his other arm is slung across the bed, opening his chest up to the room. Gingerly I pull myself into a sitting position and look around. It’s dim, the sun seeping gently round the edges of the blinds, but there’s enough light to see and I can tell instantly it’s not only the room we were in last night, but it’s the next morning, not weeks or months later: there are my clothes in a pile on the floor, Ed’s next to them; across the room I can see our wine glasses in the brighter light by the window, half drunk, smudged and abandoned in the heat of the moment. My face flames at the memory and I smile.

I need a drink so I pull Ed’s shirt on and wrap it round me and pad along to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. As the cold liquid hits the back of my throat I try to work out what’s going on here. It’s different from normal – or whatever has become normal – and I’m not sure what to make of it. Why have I woken up the next day rather than days or months later?

Who knows? But it means another day with Ed, so I can’t complain. I walk back into the bedroom and climb into bed. As I do, Ed stirs and opens his eyes, squinting at me in the semi-darkness.

‘Morning, you.’ His breath is stale but I kiss him anyway and he responds hungrily. When he pulls away he’s fully awake and he smiles at me.

‘So, last night was fun.’

I rest my chin on my hand and look down at him.

‘It was.’

He sits up and adjusts his pillows so he’s facing me. ‘So what do you want to do today?’

I meet his gaze. ‘How do you know I’m not busy?’

He shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. ‘I don’t.’

I elbow him in the side and he falls backwards onto the bed.

‘Oi!’ he wails. I ignore him.

‘As it happens I am free and it would be nice to do something, yes.’

He grins again and glances at the clock. It’s 9.30. ‘How about a picnic?’

‘Ooh, yes.’ I clap my hands together. ‘I love a picnic.’

‘Great. Shall we go to Clapham Common?’

I frown. ‘I can’t go out like this. Do you mind if I go home and change first? Then maybe we could go to Ally Pally?’

‘Yeah, course.’ His eyes roam up and down my body and I feel myself blushing. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why you need to change, I think you look pretty hot in just my shirt.’

‘Why, thank you young man.’ I flutter my eyelashes ridicu­lously and Ed throws his arms around me and pulls me tightly to him until I can hardly breathe.

‘But you’re not going anywhere yet. We’ve got loads of time for this first.’ And then his lips move down my neck and across my nipples and I gasp, lost in the moment all over again.

It’s gone midday by the time I let myself back into my flat, Ed in tow. We’re holding hands, giggling like teenagers, and I’m relieved to find Jane out. He waits in the living room while I jump in the shower and get dressed and I hope for his sake Jane doesn’t come home and find him there all alone, prime for interrogation.

Half an hour later we’re ready to go. I’ve shoved bread, cheese, crisps and wine into a bag and Ed hoicks it onto his back, then we set off through the sun-baked streets which wind up towards Alexandra Park. We hold hands all the way and his touch feels as though it’s burning my skin, but I won’t let go. I can’t let go.

The park is busy on this hot, bright Sunday lunchtime. The sky is a hazy blue, the heat making everyone feel lazy. Roasting bodies glisten in the rare summer sun, hungrily soaking up the rays, while the odd person half-heartedly throws a frisbee or a ball through the thick, sticky air. From a couple of hundred metres away comes the sound of laughter and screams as a group of friends squirt each other with water pistols. We stop and spread out our towels on the grass in one of the few free areas of shade we can find, and Ed unpacks the food as I take in the familiar view. The rows of Crouch End houses in the foreground, reaching out to central London, dotted with spots of green parkland and trees, all the way to the soaring skyscrapers of Canary Wharf and, on a day like today, a hazy, shimmering south London. It’s so stunning it takes my breath away.

‘God, I’m starving,’ Ed says, grabbing a piece of bread and shoving it into his mouth. Crumbs spray all over the towel as he struggles to chew the enormous mouthful.

‘Oh, that’s a lovely way to impress a girl.’ I roll my eyes and attempt to flick crumbs from the towel where they’ve sprayed like bullets.

‘Sorry,’ he grins mischievously, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster.

I grab some bread and cheese too and start making myself a sandwich, the heat making every movement feel like an effort. The air is full of a soft buzzing sound, a mix of distant lawnmowers, chatter and the odd wasp flying lazily past. I peer through the darkness of my sunglasses and take the opportunity to have a proper look at Ed while he can’t see my eyes. He’s still chewing furiously, the muscles of his jaw working hard to get through another huge chunk of bread. His hair, slightly sweaty, is stuck to his forehead, three dark strands trailing in his eyes so he has to keep pushing them away. His skin is lightly tanned, a mixture of sun cream and sweat making it glisten in the sunlight. He turns his head away to watch some kids playing a game of frisbee nearby and I allow my gaze to move downwards, taking in his strong, lean arms beneath the short sleeves of his T-shirt, the soft hairs lightened from hours in the sun. I blush as my eyes travel down further, trying not to think about what’s under those clothes, instead checking out his legs peeking from the bottom of his shorts, the muscles taut. His head whips round and I tear my eyes away, hoping he’ll mistake the redness flooding my face for overheating rather than embarrassment at being caught ogling him.

Ed leans back on his elbows and watches me.

‘What?’ I feel awkward under his gaze, scared he’ll see right through me and know everything that’s going on in my head.

‘Nothing. Just enjoying the view.’ He grins, then lies flat on his back, his hands behind his head. I follow suit, watching the leaves above my head rustle gently in the almost non- existent breeze, my mind full of questions – questions I don’t think I’ll ever be able to answer. Ed’s body is so close to mine and I long to reach out and touch him. I shuffle round so my head is leaning gently on his thigh, and his hand reaches down to play with my hair. A shiver runs through me and I know, before it even happens, that sleep is going to take me away, leave me stranded in this moment. But I don’t even mind because I’m so happy that even if this is my last moment with Ed, then it’s OK. And then tiredness overtakes me, my eyelids droop and I’m powerless to stop them . . .

About the author

Clare Swatman is a journalist for a number of weekly women's magazines. Before You Go is her first novel. Clare was Features Editor for Bella and has written for Best, Woman's Own and Real People. She writes for her local magazine as well as the travel pages for Take a Break. Clare lives in Hertfordshire with her husband and two boys.

Photo credit: Leanne Dixon

My thanks to the author for sharing this excerpt and also to Jess at Pan Macmillan for the invitation to be part of this blog tour

Blog Tour runs 25th January - 8th February, do take a look at the other blog stops. Follow on Twitter #beforeyougo

@clareswatman
@panmacmillan 

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Sunday WW1 Remembered..

Artist and illustrator Norman Wilkinson was a marine painter who had previously been commissioned to create paintings for the elegant smoking rooms of RMS Titanic and Olympic. Prior to signing up for the navy in 1915, Wilkinson had built his career working for the illustrated London News. He also produced landscape art for the The London & North Western Railway and London Midland & Scottish Railway to advertise their routes. He served on submarine patrol in the waters of Gallipolli before returning to Britain in 1917 and it was whilst serving on a mine-sweeping ship that his idea of dazzle camouflage was born.

Wilkinson realised the huge threat that was posed by the German U-Boats. It was deemed impossible to camouflage the fleet, however, Wilkinson came up with the idea of hiding the ships in plain sight by using a series of cleverly contrived shapes and bold colours. The Admiralty were intrigued by this idea and asked Wilkinson to oversee the painting of a ship using this new technique of Dazzle camouflage. The idea was hugely successful and was used for both large and small ships. One of the largest ships to be 'dazzled' was RMS Olympic, sister ship to the ill-fated Titanic.

The camouflage worked by breaking up the ships form thereby making it impossible for a submarine to properly locate the vessel. Wilkinson assembled a group of artists and model makers at the Royal Academy of Art to come up with hundreds of unique designs and colours

© IWM (MOD 2474)

Model 1/600 full-hull scale plastic kit model ((L 40cm x W 4.5cm x H 7.7cm) of RMS Mauretania dazzle painted to represent her appearance during the First World War.

You can find out more about Norman Wilkinson's art work by clicking here

More about the Dazzle ships can be found by clicking here 

As part of 14-18 NOW, the official cultural programme to commemorate the centenary of the First World War leading German artist, Tobias Rehberger, transformed HMS President (1918) by covering it entirely in ‘dazzle camouflage'.

Find out more by clicking here

This photograph of HMS President, was taken by my husband, on the River Thames in 2014 

HMS President

© Digital Images

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Close to Home...Sarah Jasmon

As a book reviewer I have made contact with authors from all across the globe and feel immensely privileged to be able to share some amazing work. However, there is always something rather special when a book comes to my attention which has been written by an author in my part of the North of England. So with this in mind I have great pleasure in featuring some of those authors who are literally close to my home. Over the next few Saturdays, and hopefully beyond, I will be sharing the work of a very talented bunch of Northern authors and discovering just what being a Northerner means to them both in terms of inspiration and also in their writing.

Today I welcome North West Writer

Sarah Jasmon

Credit : Marc Melander

Hi and welcome to Jaffareadstoo, Sarah. Tell us a little about yourself and what got you started as an author? 

I'm an imported Southerner, brought to the North West by marriage and staying by choice. I live on a boat on the Leeds/Liverpool canal, and didn't start writing properly until I was nearly 40. I'd always wanted to write, and scribbled odd bits and pieces all of the time, but it took a divorce and an MA in Creative Writing to make me buckle down and actually get on with it. 

Your books are written in North West England – how do the people and its landscape shaped your stories? 

The Summer of Secrets, my debut novel, is very much set in the area where I live. I found it immensely helpful to be able to go for a walk and see the places I was writing about. The landscape is a character, I think. And the word 'evocative' is often used to describe my writing style! I grew up around the Wiltshire Downs, amongst gentle, rolling hills holding neolithic remains. It took a while to become accustomed to the wide, almost fen-like nature of the part of West Lancashire where I live, but I've grown to love it. I'm hoping to start a PhD in Place Writing soon, working with creative non-fiction to explore the canal landscape around Manchester, which is really exciting... 

Black Swan
2015

As a writer based in the North West, does this present any problems in terms of marketing and promoting your books and if so, how do you overcome them? 

Not so much marketing and promoting. The world of bloggers and reviewers is a wonderful place and happens almost exclusively online. In a wider sense, how much exposure your book gets is down to the publisher making a decision on how much they're going to do. How they come to that decision - to push this book and not that one - is an opaque and mysterious process! It may have something to do with being London-based, but I couldn't give you any evidence on that. 

In your research for your books, do you visit any of the places you write about and which have made a lasting impression? 

I've just finished the first draft of book #2, which opens on a beach in Thailand. I wish I could say that I'd been there for research, but sadly it was more of an online process, plus drawing on memories of travelling before my children came along. The action then moves back to England, and I did cruise down the Macclesfield canal on a friend's narrowboat (my own boat is too wide to fit on that particular stretch) and I have a trip planned for Bletchley Park and the nearby Blisworth Tunnel. 

If you were pitching the North West as an ideal place to live, work and write – how would you sell it and what makes it so special? 

There was a meme going round the other week, something like, 'Southerners urged not to travel unless absolutely necessary as blizzards approach. Northerners - you'll need your big coat.' I love the Northern attitude, the blunt friendliness, the lack of respect for status. And the cities, the hills, the canals; chips and gravy; the festivals, music and arts; Wales just round the corner. And London's only a couple of hours away if you really need to pop down. There's also an increasing amount of events for writers happening, for instance, the Northern Lights Writers' Conference and the Comma Press Graduate Writing Fair, both bringing industry professionals up here. Oh, and Booths, the NW supermarket chain. Their cafes are great for a morning of writing, and you get a free coffee if you have a Booth's card. Win! 

Writing is a solitary business - how do you interact with other authors? 

One day I'm going to try and draw a diagram of my writing connections. It'll be a bit like the map of the Tube, I reckon, with all of the interconnecting routes. I did an MA a few years ago, and I still meet up with the fellow students from that. I'm in two writing groups, one I meet with monthly to critique chapters, chat and eat cake, the other I go on two retreats a year with, for writing and all-round creative sharing. I'm also in a group with other writers who were first published after they turned forty. We have a Facebook group for chatting and sharing grumbles and ideas and opportunities plus we all meet up a couple of times a year. I also teach one morning a week at Manchester Metropolitan University. Oh, and my boyfriend is a writer. Sometimes the hard bit is deciding to stop interacting so that I can get some writing done... 

How supportive are local communities to your writing, and are there ever any opportunities for book shops, local reading groups, or libraries to be involved in promoting your work? 

The North West has some brilliant independent bookshops. Two that spring to mind are Ebb & Flo in Chorley and WriteBlend in Liverpool, both of which have a fabulous series of events going on all year round. Working with libraries is great wherever you are. I've had some lovely sessions with library-based book clubs, and getting to know your local librarians means that they are much more likely to put your book out on one of their promotional racks! Oh, and the local newspaper will always pop something in if you contact them, for instance around publication day. I did a lot of getting out there and talking with people when my first book came out, less so as I've settled into writing the next one. People I know are all interested though, they're always asking how the next book is coming along.

Credit: Marc Melander

Find out more about Sarah and her writing by visiting her website by clicking here  

Follow on Twitter @sarahontheboat

Huge thanks to Sarah for answering my questions about living and writing in the North West

I hope that you've enjoyed reading this Close to Home feature

Coming next week : Caroline James

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Blog Tour ~ Secrets We Keep by Faith Hogan

 Jaffareadstoo is delighted to be hosting a stop on the Secrets We Keep Blog Tour

Its a real pleasure to welcome back to Jaffareadstoo the author of Secrets We Keep

Faith Hogan

Today Faith is sharing her thoughts about the Inspiration for Secrets We Keep

I have a confession to make….

As a writer, I’m blessed to be surrounded by inspiration! You see, I live in the west of Ireland – far away from the big city and bright lights. We have the Ballycroy national park just out the road and Beleek woods only a walk away. Our landscape is littered with the remnants of a history both creative and bloody, our folklore lives on in the images and sounds that dominate our pageants and festivals to this day. The Atlantic Ocean sweeps up to our doorstep.

The best novels, for me, are the ones that hand over a starring role to a sense of place. The Nordic writers like Menkell, the Scotts, like Rankin and all the great American’s from Ann Tyler through to Stephen King, have one thing in common and it travels across genres – it is a sense of place.

When it came to writing my second novel, I very much wanted to write something that featured where I live. I wanted to capture a sense of the beauty and community, I wanted to show that love can be a very different thing when you take it away from the distractions of city living and that sometimes, taking away what we think we are can leave us with who we always hoped we might be.

As a child, my mother brought both myself and my sister to the nearby Ennsicrone beach every Thursday during our summer holidays. It was a big deal – our day out. We travelled by bus and it didn’t particularly matter if the sun was shining or if the beach was wetter than the sea – when you’re six, the rain doesn’t really count if you’re having fun.

We would spend hours on the water’s edge, never allowed to go too far because my mother was no great swimmer. Often, we would pitch up on the large flat basalt rocks that are a feature of the beach. Enniscrone has five miles of golden sands – but at its town end, it is perfectly chiselled for picnicking. At our backs – the Cliff Bathhouse, a small white castellated building that always intrigued us. Even then, the bathouse looked as if it had been closed for many years. My mother would say, she could remember it being opened, but then, times change and at some point, a new bathhouse was built on the main road high above the rocks. As with all new buildings, it was bigger, more spacious and more modern and the older building fell into disrepair and closed.

In our childhood, the Cliff Bath House seemed to represent all that was different and alien to this holiday place compared to our own small town existence.

Later, as I got older and we visited Enniscrone with our friends, the Bathhouse still stood there, a silent, squatting overseer, reminding me of those days of innocence and fun. As I got older and began to walk along the beach in all weathers the bathhouse has been a point of focus and very often, we would talk of the possibilities that it might present, if one had the time or the energy or the opportunity.

It was one evening as I was walking back along the beach that I realised, I do have the opportunity to do something for the Cliff Bathhouse. I could make it come alive again – in my own way and from there I began to see what it might be, then it was all about who could put things right and that’s when Kate Hunt came along… 

About the book...

Head of Zeus
1 February 2017

Two distant relatives, drawn together in companionship are forced to confront their pasts and learn that some people are good at keeping secrets and some secrets are never meant to be kept..

A bittersweet story of love, loss and life. Perfect for the fans of Patricia Scanlan and Adele Parks.

The beautiful old Bath House in Ballytokeep has lain empty and abandoned for decades. For devoted pensioners Archie and Iris, it holds too many conflicting memories of their adolescent dalliances and tragic consequences – sometimes it’s better to leave the past where it belongs.

For highflying, top London divorce lawyer Kate Hunt, it’s a fresh start – maybe even her future. On a winter visit to see her estranged Aunt Iris she falls in love with the Bath House. Inspired, she moves to Ballytokeep leaving her past heartache 600 miles away – but can you ever escape your past or your destiny?

More about Faith

Faith Hogan was born in Ireland.  She gained an Honours Degree in English Literature and Psychology from Dublin City University and a Postgraduate Degree from University College, Galway.  She has worked as a fashion model, an event’s organiser and in the intellectual disability and mental health sector.

She was a winner in the 2014 Irish Writers Centre Novel Fair – an international competition for emerging writers.

Her debut novel, ‘My Husband’s Wives,’ is a contemporary women’s fiction novel set in Dublin. It was published by Aria, (Head of Zeus) in 2016.  

‘Secrets We Keep,’ is her second novel out on Feb 1st 2017..  

Find out more on her website by clicking here

Follow on Twitter @GerHogan

Visit on Facebook by clicking here 

You can check out the books on:

Amazon.co.uk   http://amzn.to/2h7Adn6          
Amazon.com      Amazon.com Faith Hogan

Kobo  Kobo Secrets We Keep                                        

iBooks -  http://apple.co/2hBcaQR

Google Play     http://bit.ly/2gS3iVH

Huge thanks to Faith for her guest post today and for the invitation to be part of her blog tour for Secrets we keep. Thanks also to Yasemin at Head of Zeus for all her  help with organising this blog tour.

Tour runs between 1st February and 1st March so do visit the other blogs for more exciting content.

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Review ~ The Phantom Tree by Nicola Cornick

HQ
2016

What's it all about...

Browsing antiques shops in Wiltshire, Alison Bannister stumbles across a delicate old portrait – supposedly of Anne Boleyn. Except Alison knows better… The woman is Mary Seymour, the daughter of Katherine Parr who was taken to Wolf Hall in 1557 as an unwanted orphan and presumed dead after going missing as a child.

The painting is more than just a beautiful object from Alison’s past – it holds the key to her future, unlocking the mystery surrounding Mary’s disappearance, and the enigma of Alison’s son.

But Alison’s quest soon takes a dark and foreboding turn, as a meeting place called the Phantom Tree harbours secrets in its shadows…

What did I think about it...

It's been a while since a good time slip novel caught my imagination and I am delighted that this latest novel by Nicola Cornick really grabbed my attention from the start. I love travelling back in time and in the hands of an accomplished author it should be rather like stepping aboard a time travel machine. What's so refreshing about this book is that the author has flipped the idea on its head by having a protagonist from the past end up in the future which somehow takes the idea of time slip to a whole different level. The history feels authentic as does the story which surrounds the mystery, and moving seamlessly, as it does, between past and present it is very easy to get caught up in the story of Alison Bannister and Mary Seymour.

The Phantom Tree gets right into the heart of a Tudor mystery and gives us a possible explanation for the alleged disappearance of Mary Seymour. What I love so much about clever historical fiction is that whilst it brings history alive in special way it also allows a talented author to put their own individual slant on what might have happened.  Of course I know that time travel doesn’t exist but in the hands of a gifted writer it just shows that nothing is impossible to achieve.

Time slip novels are notoriously difficult to pull off successfully, but when they are done well they are a joy to read and The Phantom Tree certainly gets it right on every level. The author has the balance exactly right with neither one time element seeking to overshadow the other. I was equally comfortable reading about Alison Bannister in the present and then slipping back through time to read Mary Seymour’s story in the past and as both women are feisty protagonists they are equally deserving of the reader’s attention.

There is much to enjoy in this story which will appeal to all lovers of historical time slip novels. Nicola Cornick is fast becoming one of my favourite authors and I can’t wait to see what she come up with next.

Best Read with .. A tankard of small beer and  a venison pasty, rich and succulent 

More about the author can be found on her website by clicking here

International bestselling author Nicola Cornick writes romantic historical mysteries and witty and passionate Regency romance. She studied History at London and Oxford and was awarded a distinction for her dissertation on historical heroes. It was a tough study but someone had to do it. Nicola has a “double life” as a writer and guide at the stunning 17th century hunting lodge, Ashdown House.

Follow on Twitter @NicolaCornick

The Phantom Tree was my community Library read

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Blog Tour ~Another You by Jane Cable

Jaffareadstoo is delighted be part of the Another You Blog Tour   

And to welcome back to the blog the author Jane Cable

Today , Jane is explaining to us the connection between her latest novel, Another You and World War II...

Like most novels Another You had many iterations before the final story fell into place. The first version was based on a real ghost story from Studland in Dorset where the book is set, but as I began to research the history of the area I realised there was actually something far more interesting going on.

On my first visit to Studland in 2009 a friend had taken me to Fort Henry, a huge concrete blockhouse overlooking the beach, and explained it had been built for D-Day rehearsals witnessed by the very top brass including Churchill and King George VI. What I didn’t realise at the time was the extent of those rehearsals, and the tragic fact that six men died during the first of them.

This was, in fact, kept secret for a very long while. I stumbled across the story when googling Studland in World War II led me to a naval history message board. On it was a thread about the rehearsals including a heartfelt plea for information from the son of one of the men who died. It was answered by tank restorer and WWII historian, John Pearson, and I got in touch with him.

John was generous with his time and his knowledge. His starting point had been the restoration of his Valentine Double Duplex tank which had been used in the first of the Studland D-Day rehearsals, code named Exercise Smash. Double Duplex meant that the tank was made seaworthy (or not, as the case may be) by the addition of a canvas skirt held up by hydraulics so it could power ashore from landing craft and be in action on the beaches straight away.

At Studland things did not go according to plan. Normally the most peaceful of bays, on the morning of the exercise the wind turned and came in from the east making the sea unusually choppy. The tanks were launched three miles out and seven of them did not make it to shore with the lives of six soldiers from the 4/7 Dragoon Guards being lost. Lessons were learnt by the British at least and on D-Day the tanks were launched much closer to the beaches. At Omaha, however, the Americans launched from 5,000 yards and only three of their tanks made it which had a massive effect on the loss of life there.

On the sixtieth anniversary of D-Day, helped by the National Trust and various arms of the military, John Pearson organised a permanent memorial to the men who died in Smash which was unveiled by one of their widows. He also brought his newly restored Valentine DD to Studland to put it through its paces. Ten years later it was back there again and I was lucky enough to meet John and to attend a moving memorial service at Fort Henry.

By then I knew that wartime memories would be central to my story. One of the few surviving veterans was there that day and so I created the character of George, a former soldier with a proud but cynical view of the war effort, who provides my heroine Marie with a direct link to the past. After The Cheesemaker’s House I had really wanted to write in a time where this was possible, where there was a character who could ground the smoke and mirrors in historical truth.

Even when I was close to finishing the book I felt there were huge gaps in my knowledge about everyday life in wartime Studland. I had joined the Facebook group of the local historical society and they put me in touch with National Trust warden Stewart Rainbird who had pulled together an oral history of the time by talking to locals who had lived through it. His knowledge enabled me to bring the whole period to life in more subtle ways, such as the constant noise of the shelling which went on for weeks – but stopped at weekends so that the ranges could be cleared.

Although Another You is set in 2004, what happened sixty years before is the vital beating heart of the story and the catalyst for change in Marie’s life. As a tribute to the men who died and in order to help survivors of combat I will be donating £1 to Words for the Wounded for every review on Amazon in the UK and in the US.

 

Marie Johnson is trapped by her job as a chef in a Dorset pub and by her increasingly poisonous marriage to its landlord. Worn down by his string of affairs she has no self-confidence, no self-respect and the only thing that keeps her going is watching her son turn into a talented artist.

But the sixtieth anniversary of a D-Day exercise which ended in disaster triggers chance meetings which prove unlikely catalysts for change as Marie discovers that sometimes the hardest person to save is yourself.

More about the author can be found on her website by clicking here  or on Facebook by clicking here 

Follow on Twitter @JaneCable 

Huge thanks to Jane for this fascinating guest post and for the invitation to be part of her Blog Tour.

Another You is published by Endeavour Press

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