I wanted to write about how war, trauma and death affect people: the idea of someone being ripped out of the fabric of existence and how that changes every other thread. I’ve thought a great deal about how war often creates a hollow absence rather than a death, particularly when there is no body: when people are cut off from each other and simply ‘disappear’. My great-uncle died at El Alamein; his body was never returned home. I know that his sisters (my grandmother and my great-aunt) and his widow were all desperate to visit his grave, hoping it might close the raw wound left by his absence. But seeing the grave only made his loss more haunting. The inscription on the wooden cross that marks his grave reads, Where the road breaks off and the signposts end.
In some ways, he continued to exist because he simply disappeared. I don’t think they ever stopped hoping for his return.
Which brings me back to the Italian Chapel, the barriers built in Orkney in the Second World War and the way that war changes people and landscapes for ever.
To the people of Orkney, who maintain their beautiful memorial, and to the Italian prisoners who built the barriers and the chapel: thank you.
Acknowledgements
This novel wouldn’t have come into being without inspiration from my incredible editor, Jillian Taylor, who, when I said I wanted to write a story about wartime imprisonment, showed me pictures of the Italian Chapel and spent a lunchtime enthusing with me about the creation of art during war. Over the next two years, Jill has continued to be the most inspiring, exacting, wonderful and insightful editor, guiding me through the process of rewriting most of the novel multiple times, without ever losing her enthusiasm for my work. It’s impossible to articulate quite how empowering it is to have an editor who believes in me so absolutely, and my thanks to you will always feel inadequate.
Endless thanks also to my equally brilliant agent, Nelle Andrew, who pushes me to find and write the best story I can, who always tells me the truth (however painful that might be), and who is fearless and utterly indefatigable on my behalf. Superwoman: I feel ridiculously lucky to have you in my corner.
Thanks to my first and most enthusiastic cheerleader, my lovely mum, Sue Lea, who fed my childhood reading obsession and continues to talk about books with me. To my sister Annabelle, who reads so much of my work and is so enthusiastic and kind; to my sister Sophie, who is so enthusiastic and sarcastic.
Enormous thanks to Bill Gurney, for brilliant and brutal advice and so many laughs. Sadly, your critiques are always spot on.
Huge thanks to my amazing friends Cathy Thompson and Sachin Choithramani for reading an early draft and being so kind, patient and perceptive over wine. And enormous thanks to the lovely Luisa Cheshire for providing such insightful advice on the draft and all my other writing woes. Thank you to Nicky Leamy for reading parts of this and being so encouraging, and to the rest of Gin Club, for being endlessly kind, funny and supportive: Laura Baxter, Jane Guest, Alison Hall and Adele Kenny. I adore you all.
I’m very lucky to have a number of wonderful friends, who provide constant support and advice. The alphabetization of your names is no reflection of who I love most. Thank you to Holly Alexander, Sandy Ameer Beg, Jen Bayley, Penny Clarke, Jo Davies, Andrea Docherty, Hazel Fulton, Anna Hardman, Jackie Hope, Bansi Kara, Sarah Lewsey, Luke Moore, Emma Ritson, Sarah Richardson, Duncan Vaux, Robert Ward-Penny, Claire Williams. And thank you to my book-club friends: Harriet Gott, Claire Revell, Jenny Mitchell-Hilton and Jane Tracey. Thank you to Helena Lönnberg for the lovely (fictitious) ritual of sprinkling a line of salt across the doorway. Thank you to Nana (Pam Lyddon) for all the love. Thank you to Liz and Doug Day for your constant love and kindness towards my lovely boys. Thank you to John Wood for all your support and co-parenting.
Thank you to all the bookshop owners who have been so tireless in supporting my writing, particularly Mog and Pauline at Warwick Books, Tamsin and Judy at Kenilworth Books and all the staff at Waterstones in Leamington.
Thank you to my Warwick Writing Programme friends: Gonzalo Ceron Garcia, Tim Leach, Sarah Moss, Lucy Brydon, Will Eaves, Maureen Freely and David Morley.
Thank you to Orkney Library, for letting me browse articles and photographs in the archives for hours, and for answering so many of my questions.
I’m hugely grateful to the whole talented team at Penguin, Michael Joseph – I feel so lucky to have such endless champions of my work: Laura Nicol, Jen Porter, Bea McIntyre, Hazel Orme, as well as Jane Kirby and the rest of the wonderful rights team; thank you all. And thank you to my brilliant US editor, Erin Wicks, and all the team at Harperbooks. I’m so very lucky.
The biggest thanks of all to the people who have to live with me: to my sons, Arthur and Rupert, who never (outwardly) resent sharing me with books and are always keen to talk about stories with me. You’re wonderful and incredible: the best things I could ever hope to make. I’ll try to be better for you.
And to Roger: confidant, cheerleader, tireless reader, best friend, lovely twat. Everything I write about love starts with you.
Bibliography
Before starting this novel, I read widely about
