Endless Skies
was a long time in gestation, but it all started on a visit to the wonderful
Winteringham Fields restaurant with rooms. If it hadn’t been for the reputation
of the chef patron, Colin McGurran, we wouldn’t have gone there. We’d never
have visited Lincoln either, and these two wonderful places would never have
sparked my imagination.
It’s the skies, you see. Those broad, open skies that seem
to go on forever over Lincolnshire. We arrived on a blisteringly hot day, went
for a walk along the Humber and I was smitten. When I dug a little into the
history of the area I immediately discovered it was where Roman Ermine Street
ended. What a place for an archaeologist to find herself.
But much as I loved my archaeologist, the story took many
versions to gel. It was almost there when Sapere acquired the book, but in my
heart of hearts I knew it could be better. We went back to Winteringham Fields
again for my husband’s fiftieth birthday, and while he spent a day in the
kitchen as his present, I visited the antiques centre at the old RAF base at
Hemswell.
There, finally, everything fell into place. I stood in a
tiny room at the back of one of the buildings, watching the motes of dust dance
in the sunshine. I could almost hear the airmen running down the stairs. A line
of poetry came to me: “Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”
So for this book, the history came last. At Hemswell I bought
a book of first hand accounts from World War Two Bomber Command aircrew. It
gave me an insight into the psyche of these brave men and was further
inspiration.
During the war Hemswell was home to Polish squadrons,
particularly in 1942 and 1943 when they suffered heavy losses. The Poles had
the reputation of being courageous to the point of foolishness but it is no
doubt they made a massive contribution to winning the war. After all they, too,
were fighting for their homeland.
That much is certainly true – as is Hemswell’s reputation
for being haunted – but the personal histories told in Endless Skies are very
much of my own making.
I love a feisty heroine and telling a story from her point
of view is even better. And because of the setting, Rachel just had to be
an archaeologist. I knew she was going to be spirited and in-your-face, but I
didn’t realise quite how much so until I wrote her first piece of dialogue. She
even surprised me and I certainly had to tone down her language in the final
edit.
We’ve all had friends like Rachel, friends who can never
seem to pick the right man, but deep inside Rachel has never wanted to. Men are
almost the enemy, no use to her unless they’re intellectually stimulating or
good in bed (preferably both), and she is sent to Lincoln after a particularly
disastrous affair with her boss. Something clearly has to change and she’s
terrified by the thought it might just be her.
It wouldn’t be a romance if there weren’t men in her life
but inevitably sparks fly. It was fun writing a cast of male characters as foil
for her; the complex and sophisticated property developer Jonathan; the off
limits but besotted student, Ben; and laid back musician Jem. Each have their
part to play as uncomfortable secrets from the past knock harder and harder on
Rachel’s door.
However my favourite character is octogenarian Esther who is
unashamedly based on my own mother. She is Rachel’s link to Hemswell and its
World War Two past and their friendship became pivotal to the story. My mother
died just before I started to write the book, and Esther is my way of paying
tribute to her.
