Books by bestselling author Margaret Graham
Here are Margaret's books; those published under her own name, together with her novels published as Milly Adams and Annie Clarke. To find out more about each of her novels simply click (or tap) on the title and read more.
Margaret Graham (Novels)
- After the Storm
- A Time of Courage
- At the Break of Day
- Somewhere Over England
- Canopy of Silence
- A Distant Dream
- A Bitter Legacy
- Look Within Your Heart
- Out of Night
- A Bed of Roses
- Practising Wearing Purple
- Easterleigh Hall
- Easterleigh Hall At War
- Easterleigh Hall A House Divided
Margaret Graham (Creative Writing Handbooks)
- Writing Awake the Dreamweaver
- The Writer's Springboard
Milly Adams (Novels)
- Above Us the Sky
- Sisters At War
- At Long Last Love
- The Waterway Girls
- Love on the Waterways
- Hope on the Waterways
Annie Clarke (Novels)
- Girls on the Home Front
- Heroes on the Home Front
- Wedding Bells on the Home Front
- Christmas on the Home Front
After the Storm
(After the Storm was previously published as Only the Wind is Free)
" Vivid, sensuous and warm-hearted, this novel marks a most impressive literary debut. " - Barry Unsworth, Booker prize winner
An extract from the novel…
Annie hung on the bar which divided the allotments from the wasteland at the back of the lanes, near to her father's shop. The rust was gritty beneath her hands and smelt of old money. At last her balance was perfect. She released her hands and opened her eyes, lifting her head slowly, savouring her success, smiling though the bar pinched her breath up into her throat and her stomach was pushed into her back. The sky was dusty blue and everything shimmered in the heat.
'All right Annie, we know you can do it, get yourself down…
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A Time of Courage
(A Time of Courage was previously published as A Measure of Peace)
" The reader becomes totally involved with the heroine, her joys and her sorrow and her struggles… In a world of vacuous bestsellers, this stands out like a rose on a snowdrift. " - The Press and Journal
An extract from the novel…
They sat back, their heads against the tree, looking up through the branches, seeing the spiked cases which they had once dislodged with sticks and Hannah breathed in the scent of the summer. It was the first time that she had done so since her mother died.
Harry stood, brushing his trousers, the dust pale against the black cloth. She watched him as he took the rope and sawed at a strand with his pocket-knife, tucking it into his inside pocket.
'I need a reminder of all this ' he said, waving his hand down the rough garden, and she nodded but knew that she had no need of such things because all this would never leave her; and with this thought came the realization that she was strong and she was free and her life was just beginning. But there was one more thing she had to do before her work could begin. It was something she should have done five years ago and she hoped it was not too late.
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At the Break of Day
(At the Break of Day was previously published as The Future is Ours)
" A welcome antidote to the vacuousness that dominates the bestseller lists. " - The Press and Journal
An extract from the novel…
'I'll see if those kids will help,' she said, running on down the road, calling to them, wishing that she was running back to Liverpool, back to Frank and Nancy. But then she heard her name, and then again , and footsteps sounded behind her, closer, catching her. Then a hand caught her arm, slowing her, stopping her, and it was Jack. At last it was Jack, turning her to him, gripping her shoulders, shouting, 'Where the hell have you come from?'
'I'm back from the cowboys, didn't you know?' she whispered. 'Didn't you know? Why didn't you meet me?' His eyes were brown as they'd always been. His smile the same.
He picked her up now, swung her round.
'Where are your plaits? I've always thought of you with your plaits. Where are you going to bung your rubber bands now?'
It was so good to feel his arms, hear his voice, see the hair which still fell across his forehead, because he was her friend.
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Somewhere Over England
(Somewhere Over England was previously published as A Fragment of Time)
" Emotional, thoughtful… Margaret Graham has a sure, delicate touch " - Good Housekeeping
An extract from the novel…
'Through that small door is the linen cupboard,' Frau Weber said, smoothing her hands down her apron. 'It is there that we keep the winter quilts and over there in that corner is our store for all that we need each year for Christmas. Perhaps you can smell the candles. They are special; they are honey wax.'
Helen smelt them as she approached the corner; their scent hung rich on the air.
'One day perhaps you can come back to our land for Christmas. I would like that. This …'Frau Weber paused. 'This difficulty between father and son cannot go on. Their squabble will die as the politics die. It is just a silliness between them.' Helen stopped, she could not go where the eaves sloped. It was too dark, like her mother's cupboard. She turned, holding onto the post, feeling its roughness, wanting cool air.
'Yes, it will pass. You're right, I'm sure it will pass,' she said, breathing deeply, watching as the older woman took down a small muslin bag which hung from a hook secured to a beam.
'These apple slices will make a cinnamon tart for you tonight. It is Heine's favourite, but then you will know that, my dear Helen.'
Helen eased herself over to the window; it was light here, so light. The window ledge was warm, the grained wood worn smooth. She rubbed her hands along it, pushing the darkness away. A butterfly was beating its wings against the glass and she opened the window, cupping her hand around it, feeling it fluttering against her skin. She opened her hands and threw it out into the windless air, watching as it flew its jagged path to safety.
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Canopy of Silence
" Superior… moving… memorable " - Daily Mail
An extract from the novel…
The landau was open. She could smell the gums, see them covering the valleys and slopes, coming up to the edge of the road, so tall. She lifted her head to the sky. In those trees you would never feel the sun, you would curl up and die from the darkness.
There were insects and flies in her face, her eyes, her hair. At Susie's wedding there had been the freshness of early spring, the taste of cowslip wine, the noise of the bedding, friends all around.
'I wish it was not quite so strange. I wish I had my friends here.'
'You have me.' He took her hand, held it between both of his. 'I'm your friend. Your husband.'
Then kiss me, damn it, she wanted to say, but did not.
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A Distant Dream
" Contrasting the Irish troubles in the 1920s with hostilities and prejudice in Australia and drawing some astute parallels, this is a big, satisfying family saga of revenge, betrayal, deception and love… " - Sarah Broadhurst
An extract from the novel…
Cait and Rose flew to Darwin, and then took the train to the small town along the Stuart Highway where Lucia's friend, Mr Villas, needed a manager in the run-down hotel he had bought for his son, but the son had preferred Darwin.
They stood in the dust, running with sweat in the humid heat. There was no platform, just baked red earth. Cicadas clicked. Apart from that there was silence.
Rose said, 'We can't stay here. There are only a few shacks.'
Cait said, 'We must, until we have the money to go home.' They picked up their bags and walked, their heels rubbing in their shoes, sweat streaming down their legs, flies crawling on their faces, their clothes. The street ran alongside the railway line. There were a few houses. A woman on a veranda shaded her eyes. Aboriginals sat in the shade of a gum, motionless. Soon it would be dark.
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A Bitter Legacy
" All the right ingredients. An enjoyable and entertaining read… " - Sarah Broadhurst
An extract from the novel…
They reached the boundary of the garden, and stood at the hedge hearing the insects, and the sea beyond. Irene looked up at the swallows soaring on the wind, and the white clouds scudding the skies, amazement almost striking her dumb. At length she said tentatively, 'I wondered why you were suddenly so kind. But I have to warn you that I will leave when my son is of age. I will take him to his family seat and if that offends your social code then I offer my apologies in advance, and suggest that you cut me now.'
There was silence from the old woman at her side until Irene heard the unused sound of the Old Dame's laugh rolling on and on, and now Mrs Horatio Norden banged her stick on the ground. 'Offend me? I will glory in it.'
There was silence from the old woman at her side until Irene heard the unused sound of the Old Dame's laugh rolling on and on, and now Mrs Horatio Norden banged her stick on the ground. 'Offend me? I will glory in it.'
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Look Within Your Heart
" Wonderfully evocative… A moving family drama that spans three generations " - Chic Magazine
An extract from the novel…
She woke at dawn. On the teapoy was a tea-tray with bananas, bread and butter. She opened the mosquito-net, remembering her da's tales of scorpions. She tapped her slippers, then ate a banana, drank tea, washed, walked out into the compound and across to the gate, looking over the flat misty fields to the shisham trees. A Sikh recited morning prayers in the distant village. She listened, watching the orange on the horizon turn into the sun, feeling the heat as it emerged, seeing the mist disappear.
She helped Revd Williams pack up his car. 'I am a doctor and run a clinic. I try to encourage the women to come to me instead of the local dai,' he paused. 'The midwife.'
Flies crawled on her face, her arms. She brushed them away; they came again.
'Come inside,' he said, mounting the steps. The punka wallah pulled the fan with string attached to his toe. They packed small bottles of iodine and other medicines in long boxes. He left, calling, 'Sleep for today. Young Mr Brannbi is back tomorrow.'
She walked out along the lane, twisting her ankle in a rut. Cattle grazed, women collected cow-pats - fuel, she read in her notebook. She walked alongside the unripe wheat. There was vetch at the roadside, mallow; the air was full of birds, larks, rollers, bee-eaters. It could be England if you looked just at those, not at the huge expanse and the mud huts, and didn't breathe in the smell of ordure.
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Out of the Night
" A great read, intelligent and thoughtful… " - Anna Raeburn
An extract from the novel…
Claire hurried into the shower, washing quickly, drying herself, then on and off the scales. Nothing gained, but nothing lost either and Christmas mince pies would be here before they knew it. It wouldn't do. She dressed suitably for church, then used the bedroom phone to make arrangements to visit Annie Bates, the wife of the wounded Corporal, in the afternoon. Thank God it was only a shrapnel wound - upper arm, Mark had said when he rang with the news last night. Hurrying along the landing she called, 'Hope you're up.'
'All right, all right, I'm coming.' Leah's tone was verging on the savage but it always did until she'd eaten. Claire held to the theory that primal instincts were 'born again' in all fourteen-year-olds and her own daughter was no exception. Mark you, she'd been excessive yesterday after the grounding penalty for being late home after the Youth Club but maybe she'd blown herself out.
In the principally white kitchen, Claire switched on the radio, catching the news as she pushed square bread into the toaster and boiled the kettle. She fished out the low-fat spread for herself and normal for Leah, listening to the disengaged radio voice informing the nation that aid was still reaching Sarajevo…
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A Bed of Roses
" A story teller every bit as compelling as Maeve Binchy " - Western Daily Press
An extract from the novel…
'So, the man goes into the doctor's surgery with a shteering, sorry, steering wheel sticking out of his flies.' Fran paused and tried to sip her Mongolian Sunrise, but the startlingly pink cocktail umbrella was everywhere. While her daughter Jane and best friend Linda waited, she squashed it shut and gulped the cocktail in one. Across the table Linda did the same and obviously wished she hadn't. They really should have had coffee to round off the meal, but Linda had decided Fran's geriatric hen night could not end on such a whimper.
Fran rose above the burning in her throat. Around them diners tucked into desserts, served on Clarice Cliff lookalike plates. Would this gallant new art deco corner restaurant 'go' in their conventional little market town once the introductory prices had risen? Who could tell what worked and what didn't? Who could tell? She gripped her glass too tight, trying to grab hold of her spinning thoughts.
Linda said, 'Hope you approve, Fran. I always thought I'd like mine somewhere like this.'
Is this what weddings were all about? Bringing the dreams of others to life? Was that reason enough?
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Practising Wearing Purple
" First class… a delightful novel, full of sympathy, understanding and drama… " - Tim Manderson, Publishing News Press
An extract from the novel…
Kate Maxwell had tried protesting carefully, pointing out that the stopping distance between two moving cars was two seconds. She had also tried ignoring it, concentrating grimly on the scenery instead. Today she almost screamed, 'Why don't you just get into the poor woman's boot and be done with it?'
She didn't of course, but relied instead on the advice given in a book she'd bought on improving communication between husband and wife. Reveal your feelings, it had suggested. 'It frightens me when you drive so close to the care in front,' she said.
'Don't be so bloody silly.' Peter accelerated even closer.inging the dreams of others to life? Was that reason enough?
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Maeve's Afternoon Delight
" a well-written novel which has wonderful characters and brilliant observations on life, marriage and love. " - Catherine Balavage
An extract from the novel…
Monday April 16th 2012
Maeve stood on the porch examining her front door. It looked as faded as a middle aged groupie. ‘You need a makeover’ Maeve said aloud as she shifted the weight of the hand fork, watering can, trowel, and plastic pail of chicken poo that she was taking to the allotment. She loathed brown, faded or not, unless it was soil. And this door wasn't soil.
She felt the sun shafting past the honeysuckle onto her shoulder. The honeysuckle clung to both uprights and sprawled across the roof of the shallow porch. Fresh air and sun was the enemy of the door, of course, but over muesli at breakfast she'd decided to take action regarding Acacia Avenue's front door rule. Just like that. And sod the lot of them. It had been Geoff who had signed the Residents’ Association agreement, not her. And Geoff, bless his little cheating heart, was no longer the man of the house.
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Easterleigh Hall
" love this, you really feel like you know these people. This is a glorious read and one I will be recommending to friends. Read it, buy it or steal it. Okay, maybe not the last one. " - Frost Magazine
An extract from the novel…
‘D'you want it down your back or all over your big head?’ Evie Forbes asked, grinning as she dragged the heavy pan of hot water to the edge of the kitchen range.
‘Now, now, I was just asking if it was ready yet, lass.’ Jack could hardly talk for laughing, setting her off again as she refolded the cloths she had wrapped around the handles to protect against the heat. ‘You scrub your brother's back, pet,’ her mam had said, ‘while I do guard duty. It'll seem less suspicious.’
Her mam would be on the front doorstep of their terraced miner's cottage, her shawl wrapped tight against the early April breeze. She would be pretending to watch for young Timmie as he clattered home in his boots from his surface shift at Auld Maud, Easton's pit. In reality she was waiting to intercept Evie's employer, young Miss Manton, who was likely to come barging in, upsetting the apple cart with the news mother and daughter were waiting for. She'd said nearer three forty-five, but timing wasn't her strong point.
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Easterleigh Hall At War
" Margaret Graham uses her vast historical knowledge to weave a riveting story. Whilst Easterleigh Hall at War gives vivid insights into the horrors of the trenches, the Home Front is brought to life as well, as Evie and Lady Veronica cope with running a convalescent home. Then the telegram boy calls. I read through the night, anxious to know that Jack and Auberon were safe, and that Evie would find true love. Now I can't wait for the next one. " - Frost Magazine
An extract from the novel…
Jack saluted, and began to walk away again. Evie ran after him, snatching at his arm, her shawl slipping from her shoulders. She said urgently, ‘You joined up with Mr Auberon’s North Tyne Fusiliers to kill him for causing our Timmie’s death when he deliberately put him in a dangerous area in the pit, but he’s still with us?’
He grinned down at her, shaking his head. ‘Such an elephant you are, you never forget the rubbish I talk. He was a lad like the rest of us, put in to manage a pit by his bastard of a father. He had no experience and he made a mistake, letting his feelings get the better of him because I was a union man, a thorn in his side. Aye, pet, he punished us for my activities by putting the Forbes family in poor seams, but hate gets to be a habit. It’s a dark and dismal bugger and takes up space inside your mind and maybe… Ah well, we’ll see. You’ve moved on past it, I can see you have. Besides, there are enough shells banging about without me getting involved.’
She blocked his path. ‘That’s no answer.’
He moved her to one side. ‘I’ve got to go, Evie.’ He stooped and kissed her, his dark eyes the same colour as his hair, the coal dust embedded in his skin, his blue scars on his brow, and she could hardly bare to let him go, but she did, watching as he walked on, looking at the cedar tree. He called back over his shoulder. ‘I’m going to see our bonny lad first.’
Evie nodded. ‘Of course you are.’
He waved and walked on, hearing her call, ‘I’ve slipped a package into your pack. Have a look and deliver it when you’re in France.’ He just waved again.
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Easterleigh Hall A House Divided
" Margaret is a historian and her novels are always as educational as they are entertaining. She weaves history and prose together in such a way it leaves you slightly breathless. I found it hard to put this fantastic book down and only did so when motherhood called. It has the great pacing that all good novels have. You can't help but want to race to the end to find out what is going to happen next. Yes it is well written, but that is the least of it. This book is fascinating. I feel the cover lets it down as the interior is riveting and fun. You feel that you know the characters not just because you have read about them before, but because they are so brilliantly brought to life by Margaret's words. With no bias at all I can tell you that this is one of Margaret's best books. High praise indeed considering her back catalogue. Watch out for our interview and day in the life with Margaret soon. Meanwhile buy this book. " - Frost Magazine
An extract from the novel…
‘When?’ she asked. ‘When are you going?’ She released his arms, and stalked towards the garage yard. It was only then he realized the drizzle had stopped and there were patches of blue in the murky grey.
He hurried after her. ‘I’m not sure, Christmas or thereabouts. You mustn’t say anything.’ Now he was the one gripping her arms. ‘Promise me, Bridie. Say nothing.’
She hesitated, checking his face. Could she see the determination he felt? ‘I won’t, but only because you might change your mind.’
He knew he wouldn’t. He was so angry at everything that had happened, and was happening. Democracy was everything, he knew that now; he’d known it when he saw Tim in his uniform and when he’d heard Jack talking about his mother and Aunt Evie fighting for the vote. He knew Lady Margaret had been force-fed as a suffragette - though she had only done it for limited suffrage - votes for the well-bred - but nonetheless, she had done it. His da had fought for it in the war, and his uncles.
Bridie gripped his hand. ‘I’m coming with you.’
He burst out laughing. ‘Don’t be so bloody silly, you’re only sixteen. And a girl.’
‘You’re a pig, James.’ She dropped his hand and ran towards the kitchen steps, James in pursuit. At the top of the steps leading to the kitchen, she said fiercely, ‘Only a girl, eh? I expect that’s what they said to my mother.’
She ran down. At the bottom James caught up with her again, holding her back, whispering, ‘Don’t say anything. Promise me. Let me do it in my own way.’ She said, ‘I promise I won’t tell, but I haven’t said I’m not coming. You’re my best friend, James.’
He wished that was true, though he suspected Tim was the one who really mattered to her. Perhaps that was part of why he wanted to go - she might miss him.
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Writing Awake the Dreamweaver
" Wise and inspirational. " - Nikki Gemmell
" This is the book I wish I had read before I started writing. " - Maggie Batteson
An extract from the novel…
Writing Awake the Dreamweaver is a creative journey and you apply your own rules. Set your your own pace. Roads are for travelling along, not for just arriving.
Perhaps you're saying 'All this sounds more trouble that it's worth.'
It's not, I promise you. I want you to create with your unique voice. I want you to weave something glorious from your imagination.
I want you to learn how to play again.
I want you to relax, have fun and enjoy flexing your creative skills.
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The Writer's Springboard
This Creative Writing Handbook is based on my writing courses, and will guide you towards a conscious understanding of the basic techniques of fiction writing. Once alerted to these basic techniques you will be able to springboard yourself onto your chosen writing path, and explore your unique voice with confidence and pleasure.
An extract from the novel…
It is not enough for a writer to have the ability to imagine something profound. The great truth is that the writer has to communicate the product of their creative imagination in an irresistible and accessible form. For that reason it is essential that those of us aspiring to write grasp the basic techniques of the craft, and come to terms with the common structural form.
It is to this form that all creative writing in the western world adheres. What's more, it is a form that has existed as far back as the early Greek civilisation and is familiar to us all, and nothing to be afraid of, or feel worried about. We simply need to remind ourselves of its nuts and bolts.
It is to this form that all creative writing in the western world adheres. What's more, it is a form that has existed as far back as the early Greek civilisation and is familiar to us all, and nothing to be afraid of, or feel worried about. We simply need to remind ourselves of its nuts and bolts.
Why do I say that we are familiar with it? It is the structure that's present in the first fairy tales we ever heard. It is there in the films we watch today, the plays, the radio drama, all the fiction that we read. It is my task to remind you, and help you wield it with confidence and enthusiasm.
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Above Us the Sky
"This is an engaging and entertaining story of love and loss. The attention to detail is superb. I loved that the role of the Women's Institute was included in the novel and you really feel like you are in the submarine, such is the brilliance of her writing. This is a well-written book and a stunning debut. I cannot wait for another Milly Adam's book as this one is educational, entertaining and riveting all at once. " - Frost Magazine
An extract from the novel…
June 1940, Waterloo Station
On one of the hottest days of the year, newly qualified teacher, Phyllie Saunders is evacuated with her school to Dorset.
As she struggles to control the crowd of tearful children, she sees Sammy. Her oldest and dearest friend is on the way to join his submarine, and as he kisses her goodbye, everything changes for them.
But now that war is tearing them apart, is it too late?
Phyllie throws herself into village life, determined to protect and nurture the children in her care. But war leaves no one untouched, and Phyllie will need all the support of the community to help her through the next few years, as she waits and prays for Sammy's safe return.
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Sisters At War
An extract from the novel…
It is May 1940 and the rift between the two sisters, Bryony and Hannah, deepens as the phoney war draws to an end.
Bryony and Hannah are very different. Bryony is happy amongst her family at Combe Lodge, keeping their family airline functioning, as well as bearing the responsibility of her widowed mother and young headstrong Hannah.
Hannah, is another kettle of fish entirely, and is taking a break on Jersey with her mother's relatives when first Dunkirk, and then the occupation of the Channel Islands by the Germans occurs, stranding her on Jersey.
Can Bryony rescue Hannah and her mother as she has promised? Will she survive her role as pilot with the Air Transport Auxiliary? Will Hannah ever grow up and take hold of her life now that it truly is up to her?
Questions, questions…
And what about the love interest… Ah, who knows.
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At Long Last Love
An extract from the novel…
You can't keep an old girl down it seems, because Milly's been at it again.
At Long Last Love features a sultry wartime Soho nightclub singer. Aah, bliss to research…
Delusions of grandeur reigned as I shimmied across the floor crooning. Even the dogs fled which I feel was unnecessary, quite frankly.
Kate's sister appears at the club and Kate feels she must do the sisterly thing and return to the village to look after her niece. It's only for a month after all, so how can she refuse?
Back in the village she meets the new vicar, OK, yes. He is based on Grantchester's gorgeous James Norton. Is he her ally in this former world of Kate's, one that she left in disgrace? Or does he also turn against her?
And what is Sarah really doing? Surely joining the FANYs doesn't mean she has to disappear as she does, because the month becomes far longer?
I liked writing this novel very much. It drew me into its good heart, and into characters I came to love and realise I meet every day. What's more it is somehow quintessentially English.
I do hope you enjoy it.
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The Waterway Girls
An extract from the novel…
It's October 1943, West London, and Polly Adams is en route to the inland waterways. But hasn't a clue what's in store…
She will manage a narrowboat, and its butty with two others, if she passes the training of course. Perhaps she imagined it would be a life of gentle drifting along the canals? Or is she more sensible? But could anyone imagine the hardship of the work, and the difficulties of living in a tiny space with two other girls. All of whom have their own problems, just as Polly has.
At nineteen, can she manage? Will the totally different life, amongst a totally different culture, after all, this is the ‘boaters’ province break, or make her?
This is the first of a Milly Adams series The Waterway Girls, set on the inland waterways during the 2nd world war, when young robust women were taken on to help carry essential wartime supplies from Limehouse Basin or Brentford up to where they needed to be.
Milly says:
It is a life that has now gone. Our canals are now commonly used as a recreational facility, or for those who have converted the narrowboats to take to a life on the water.
I met a couple of women on a train who knew some people who had done just what Polly is doing. It sparked my interest, in the Inland Waterway trainees, and the boaters. So The Waterway Girls is the result. It's a homage really, to a remarkable period of our history.
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Love on the Waterways
An extract from the novel…
March 1944, West London
Its been five months since Verity Clement fled home for a life on Britain’s canals and she could never have imagined how tough it would get. Yet hauling cargo between London and Birmingham is far easier to face than the turbulence she's left behind.
When the love of Verity's life returns unexpectedly from the front line, she dares to dream of a brighter future. But life aboard the Marigold is never smooth sailing. New recruit Sylvia is struggling with demons from her past while crewmate Polly must carry on in the wake of devastating news. Verity does her best to help, but a shocking discovery is about to turn her own life upside-down.
As the realities of war begin to take their toll, the waterway girls will have to pull together if they are to survive the uncertain times ahead…
Milly says:
It was great to be back in the Waterway girls lives, weaving and dodging to get them to their destination in one piece. But did I?
Ah, read and find out.
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Hope on the Waterways
"Brilliant historical fiction. Engrossing and riveting. " - Frost Magazine
An extract from the novel…
January 1945 West London
Sylvia Simpson is flourishing in her role aboard the Marigold and has quickly become an invaluable member of the crew. But as the V-1 and V-2 rockets draw closer, someone from her past is about to burst into their lives.
Now Sylvia must choose between keeping the promises she has made, and remaining loyal to the people she loves the most.
Polly and Verity are still waiting for their sweethearts’ safe return and soon find they have their own battles to fight on the home front.
It will take all their resolve to keep their heads above water, but as long as they stick together there will always be hope.
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Girls on the Home Front
Girls on the Home Front by Annie Clarke, is the first in the Factory Girls series, and howay, is our Annie glad to be writing about this area, and these times in the North East. What times? Ah, pet, the 2nd World War.
Annie Clarke's roots are dug deep into the North East and she draws inspiration from her mother, who was born in a County Durham pit village during the 1st World War and went on to become a military nurse during the 2nd World War. Annie Clarke's mam, Annie Newsome, relayed the tough times of the depression, and the harsh environment of the war: the munitions girls she met, the miners she grew up alongside, the community which sustained them all. And here it is in Girls on the Home Front.
August 1941. As war sweeps across Britain and millions of men enlist to serve their country, it's up to the women to fight the battle on the home front.
Fran had thought she'd marry her miner sweetheart, Stan, and lead a settled life, or as settled as it gets when one's husband is a miner. But war changes things. Near her pit village girls are needed in a newly opened factory, one that pays well, one in which danger is high.
It is a munitions factory. Against her father's wishes, and with best friends Sarah and Beth, she signs up. It is dangerous work, but as they face the risks, the girls discover that their lives are only just beginning. They develop strengths they didn't know they had, supported by the community. On and on, they go, all of them, the mams, the pitmen fathers, the pitmen boyfriends, and most of all, the girls.
An extract from the novel…
“ The bus rattled their bones and teeth, or so thought Fran, but her stomach was rattling enough with nerves anyway as they headed for the Ordnance Factory, which was so secret that it must have no name and never be talked about.
‘Spark Lane sounds about right,’ she murmured to her friend Sarah, sitting next to her.
Sarah muttered, ‘Well, our Davey should be good with codes, thinking of his crossword solving and setting.’
The bus slewed right around a corner, throwing them to the left. Sitting in front of them, Maisie, who had worked at the Factory for a while, braced herself and yelled, ‘Oy, oy, Bert, steady the buffs, lad.’
‘Lad, eh’ he called back. ‘Wish I were, pet.’
The seats were just wooden slats, and Fran felt the wheels hit every clod thrown from the tractor as the farmhands had roared from one field to another, ploughing while the weather lasted. In the distance she could just see the pitheads of the mines.
‘I’m right nervous,’ Sarah muttered.
Across the aisle, Beth, their other old schoolfriend gripped her hands together and said quietly, ‘Me an’ all, but we’ll know all about it any minute now.’
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Heroes on the Home Front
"Clarke’s tale is one to lift the spirits and touch the hardest hearts " - Northern Echo
Heroes on the Home Front by Annie Clarke, is the second in the Factory Girls series about times in the North East during the 2nd World War.
December 1941, North East England:
It takes courage to risk your life every day.
Despite the recent loss of her father, Sarah is settling well into her new role at the munitions factory working alongside her two 'marrers' Fran and Beth. Her blossoming romance with pitman Stan is a welcome distraction from the dangerous working conditions. But a shocking revelation is about to put everything on the line.
Meanwhile Fran is desperately missing her sweetheart Davey, who has been conscripted to work at Bletchley Park putting his facility with codes to good use. Beth is longing for someone too – and it’s not her husband on the front line.
Mrs Oborne and Bert carry on their love hate relationship, and give us all a laugh, and Massingham pit has its usual starring role, with the slag heap smouldering, the winding gear working, and the pitmen warming our hearts just by being there. And of course Amelia is as irritating as usual. Come and meet them all again.
As the factory girls face hardship on the home front, they will discover that the heroes they need are already by their side.
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Wedding Bells on the Home Front
As the war continues, wedding bells are ringing for the factory girls.
Sarah is happily settling into married life with new husband Stan, whilst Fran is busy planning her upcoming wedding to sweetheart Davey, who is still conscripted to Bletchley Park. With limited resources, the girls must make do to create the perfect day.
Meanwhile Beth has other things on her mind. She hasn’t heard from her husband Bob since he returned to the navy, and she’s starting to fear the worst. And new friend Viola is still recovering from a nasty accident.
Annie Clarke says: I love a good wedding. Happy stressful, someone always misbehaves, and afterwards we laugh about it. Tears, tantrums and hope? Yes indeed.
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Christmas on the Home Front
October 1942
As Christmas approaches, the evacuees decide a pantomime is just what the village of Massingham needs.
Viola loves her new job away from the factory, and hopes that her romance with the handsome Ralph might have a happy ending. Meanwhile, married life is proving tough for Fran and Davey as they are forced apart by war work, and an unexpected arrival on Fran’s doorstep turns her world upside down.
Following Bob’s shock confession, Beth finally feels as though she’s regaining control of her life. That is, until he returns from the navy determined to win her back.
And all the while the children are planning and rehearsing for the pantomime.
Annie Clarke says: It was the best fun ever to come up with crazy and funny lines for these fabulous evacuees. I laughed and laughed, and wished I’d been a star. I positively LIVED each wonderful second. I think in my heart this book is dedicated to children everywhere, who somehow just get on with living and laughing, even when chaos reigns around them, and keep the rest of us going.
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