She laughs, and the pain of loss recedes for the moment as she gets to her feet, pulling him up with her. ‘Then, let’s save ourselves some time by getting engaged right now.’
Tristram starts to dance one of his famous jigs, creaky legs forgotten. ‘Can I have that in writing?’ he cries, reaching for the nearest paper to hand, which happens to be a party napkin. ‘Have you got a pen?’
Julia shakes her head, giggling. ‘Don’t be silly, Tristram.’
‘No, hang on. I’ve got the one May gave me. Charles’s stupid swanky fountain pen. Here, open the box. It still works; I filled it with fresh ink.’
He leans on a nearby table and begins to write but the ink soaks straight into the napkin as if it were blotting paper. Julia examines the pen’s case while she waits for him to calm down. The satin lining has started to come away at one side and she presses her thumb down on it, feeling a lump. She pushes her finger inside with mounting curiosity.
‘Tristram, I think there’s something in here,’ she says, wriggling out a small tissue-wrapped package.
They stare at each other.
‘Open it for me,’ Julia whispers.
Tristram takes the tiny parcel and carefully removes the paper. There, shining in the glow from the fairy lights, is a beautiful ring. The opals gleam with all the colours of the rainbow and the diamonds twinkle in their ornate filigree setting.
Wordlessly, Tristram reached forward and slides the ring onto the third finger of Julia’s left hand. It’s a perfect fit, as she’s always known it would be. She’s shaking now, tears running down her cheeks.
‘I can’t even begin to explain how this wonderful treasure got in there. We’ll work it out later. But for now, I’ll marry you on one condition, Tris.’
‘And that is?’
‘Dance with me. It’s a slow one, so your knees are quite safe.’
Soft music drifts from the restaurant as Tristram takes Julia in his arms for the very first time. They sway together in the moonlight as the tide flows in, the ring sparkles and the world carries on turning.
The method of making blackberry vinegar is so familiar that there’s no need to open the recipe book. The proportions are easy to remember. A pound of ripe fruit to the same of sugar and a pint of vinegar. The big jam kettle is ready and the glass bottles are sterilised and lined up on the kitchen table, gleaming in the September sunshine. This year there’s been a bumper crop in the sheltered spot at the bottom of the garden.
The blackberries are even plumper and juicier than usual. They’ve already been crushed, and then soaked in vinegar for five days. The smell is mouth-watering. Now it’s time to boil the strained juice. After that there’s just one small addition to be made.
Grinding up the sleeping tablets is a job that needs to be done carefully. None of the precious powder must be wasted and it must only be poured into four of the bottles. That should be enough to last Charles for quite a while. The labels have his name on. This always pleases him. Simple things.
When his asthma is really acute, Charles tends to use what he calls his elixir more quickly and it can make him a bit dopey, but with care, the scheme works well. It means that May can have a good night’s sleep more often than not, without the need to worry about where her errant and somewhat dissolute husband is spending his night-time hours. The young men of the surrounding area are safe for a little while, too.
Finally, the vinegar is ready and the bottles can be sealed. All May needs to do now is to remind Charles not to drink the stuff before driving, and, of course, never to take it on the boat with him. The amount of rum he drinks when he’s on board wouldn’t mix well with the harmless sleeping tablets. That could be a recipe for disaster.
Book Club Questions
* * *
What would you do if you found you were distantly related to May Rosevere and suspected you had inherited her memory-harvesting powers?
Was Julia right to throw herself into a new relationship so soon after Don’s death?
What difficulties might Emily experience in the next chapter of her life in Pengelly?
Is May wrong to steal the memories of her friends and neighbours? Does the end justify the means?
Is the loneliness of the older generation more of a problem in rural communities than towns/cities? Irrespective of this, how can it be tackled?
If May was to visit your home, what would be the most promising source of memories she could plunder, and why?
Is there more to Will’s continued absence than meets the eye?
How important was May’s relationship with Charles, and would she have developed into a different character without it? Does the book’s final chapter change the way you view their marriage?
How important is it to hold on to our precious memories? Does the sort of memory loss that often comes with advanced age have to be a major problem?
What is your own most treasured memory? What would you do if someone tried to ‘harvest’ it?
A Q&A with
Celia Anderson
* * *
What was your inspiration for 59 Memory Lane?
In the beginning when the idea for the book was just a small spark inside a bag of letters, I wanted to show that age is no barrier to adventures, and new love can sneak (or sometimes burst) into our lives at any time with no threat to the old. My family have a history of long, largely contented partnerships and it wasn’t until my first husband David died suddenly that I had to face the fact that my own marriage wasn’t going to get past the silver wedding mark. Everything changed at that time and I gradually developed a different way of prioritising which memories to hang on to and which to let go gracefully. This book began on what would have been David’s 59th birthday, hence the title, and I was supported every step along the way by Ray, who had also suffered great loss and knew the score. The old memories merged with the new.
As for the letters, my aunt and uncle, Norman and Sheila (the original Don and Julia) moved to Cornwall at the end of WW2 and lived happily in a village near Falmouth all their own married life. After their deaths, when the amazing cache of memories they’d left behind was discovered, I began to wonder what secret powers and echoes might be waiting within those faded envelopes. Soon, May, Tamsin, Andy, Tristram and Emily popped into my head fully formed.
I also knew of a local lady who had lived a fine and active life until her death at one hundred and eleven, although I couldn’t remember ever hearing her first name mentioned. It was only when I asked her daughter a few research questions when the book was well underway and the characters’ names were already set in stone in my head that I found the lady in question was called Elsie May. I remember my mum telling me about this sparky person who, when her daughter Beryl worried that she was getting a bit too old to make her own mince pies at well over a hundred years old, said crossly that if Beryl wouldn’t go out and buy the ingredients for her, she’d find someone else who would! That’s what my May would have said too, I’m quite sure.
59 Memory Lane is a patchwork quilt of a book, with some truth and a whole heap fiction combined. We all miss Norman and Sheila very much – they were our family’s shining stars; witty, good-looking and full of fun. There’s a special magic about their part of Cornwall that only really happens for me out of season, so I’m aiming to spend more time there in the colder weather over the next few years. It’s a great place to make stories happen.
Have you always wanted to be a writer?
It’s been my dream from when I was a small child, writing stories and terrible doggerel, and when I won a fountain pen in a poetry competition for submitting a poem about a pet, my happiness was complete. Here’s an extract:
I have a little budgie, his name is Perkie-Joe
And when I go to talk to him he waggles to and fro.
He is so green and yellow with a bit of indigo,
And when it comes to night-time, to dreamland he will go.
You can really see the potential for a career in
literature … you can, can’t you? I mean, be honest here.
How do you find time to write? And where do you write when you do?
I made the decision to retire early from my job as assistant head teacher in a primary school after years of teaching in KS2, so now my time is mostly my own. I loved working with the children, especially on their stories and plays, but it’s total bliss to be able to get up very early in the morning and write whenever I like. I’m a big fan of afternoon naps, so on writing days I’m usually busy on the computer all morning and then come back to it for a couple of hours before dinner. I’ve inherited my dad’s beautiful old desk but writing at the big table in the conservatory means I can spread out more (and also stare vacantly at the swans and ducks on the pond behind our house, pretending I’m thinking about the book).
What would you like readers to take away from May’s story?
It would be wonderful if readers felt as if they knew May and the others so well by the end of the book that they wanted to know what happens next in Pengelly, because I’m dying to write a sequel!
Who are your favourite authors and have they influenced your writing in any way?
As a child I loved the imaginary world of C.S Lewis, and still do. Other firm favourites were Laura Ingalls Wilder (Little House on the Prairie etc) and Lucy M. Boston (The Children of Green Knowe series). The writer who influenced me most in writing about younger characters was an American author called Elizabeth Enright. Her series about the Melandy children was hugely inspiring and my set of her books are falling apart; Spiderweb For Two is the perfect children’s mystery.
Mary Wesley, Rosamund Pilcher, D.E. Stevenson, Miss Read, Ruth Hogan and Elizabeth Goudge are all incredibly inspiring in the way they create a cast of characters who live on long after the book ends. Philip Pullman, Elizabeth George, Alexander McCall Smith (the Edinburgh books), Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett and Nikki French are more favourites, and I’m enjoying the Robert Galbraith Strike series. I’m a hobbit fan too, still a little bit in love with Bilbo and his hairy toes.
Since joining the Romantic Novelists’ Association, I’ve discovered a whole host of fabulous authors of romantic fiction and it’s been wonderful to get to know many of them in person – too numerous to mention by name and especially my supportive and very funny Romaniac sisters. All the writers I’ve met in this way are so generous in the way they give their time to talk to less experienced writers and pass on helpful advice. They also understand the importance of cake.
If a movie was made of your novel, who would you cast as your leading characters and why?
The only easy answer to this question is that the two dogs would play themselves. Although they live in Brighton and Shropshire respectively, Buster and Bruno would probably be delighted to star for the price of a few decent bones. Otherwise, I have no idea, other than to grovel to Dame Judi or Maggie, preferably both.
If you could run away to a paradise island, what or who would you take with you and why?
I would be useless without my lovely family – husband, daughters and their blokes. Apart from them, I’d need the best cooking facilities a paradise island could offer, a laptop and internet access, lots and lots of food and wine and an endless supply of books. I’m not really paradise island material though – I get bored lying on a beach these days and my bikini body wouldn’t pass muster unless swathed in yards of sarong. Oh, and I’d miss the rest of the family and my friends, so maybe they could tag along? And can I take my cat, Arthur?
To hear more about 59 Memory Lane,
follow Celia:
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Recipe:
Spicy Fish Pie
* * *
The two fish restaurants in Pengelly, Cockleshell Bay and Tristram’s Shellfish Shack both have their own recipes for fish pie but sadly, neither will give their secrets away. This is Julia’s own version, perfected over the years.
Ingredients: (Rough quantities to serve 4, can be adjusted to taste, and to size of appetites involved)
4 chunky salmon steaks
A pack of large cooked prawns (250g, or more if you love them desperately)
4-6 parsnips, depending on size.
4-6 potatoes, ditto
1 tbsp cornflour
1 large cooking onion, finely chopped
1 400ml tin coconut milk (the lighter version works just as well)
Chopped fresh coriander
Curry powder of your choice, to taste (approx. 2 heaped teaspoons)
1 teaspoon Marigold Bouillon (optional)
Lots of butter if you’re not being sensible, less is OK if necessary
Milk
Salt & black pepper to taste
Method:
1) Peel the potatoes and parsnips and put them on to boil.
2) Fry the salmon steaks on all sides in butter until not quite cooked through (or use Frylight spray if you want to keep the dish on the healthier side of lard-filled.) Take the skin off to give to the cat/dog/passing seagull and break the fish into large chunks, then scatter it into a deepish lasagne-type dish. Add the prawns.
Note: If you have bought plenty of prawns, you will probably eat a few at this point to go with the hefty slug of chilled white wine the cook should always have at their elbow.
3) Mash the potatoes and parsnips with as much butter as you like and a dash of milk. Season as required.
4) Cook the chopped onion in butter until soft (or in something less indulgent if you must). Add the coconut milk, bouillon powder if used and curry powder. Simmer for ten minutes or so. Thicken with cornflour in a little milk. Pour this sauce over the salmon and prawns and sprinkle most of the chopped coriander over the top, saving some for a garnish if you remember.
5) Spread the mashed vegetables over the fishy mixture and smooth with a fork.
6) Cook for 20-30 mins in a hot oven until brown; about 180 in a fan, but you know your own oven.
7) Garnish with coriander and serve with lemon wedges to squeeze and a selection of vegetables. And more chilled white wine, obviously.
Acknowledgements
Norman and Sheila Poynton, my charismatic aunt and uncle in Cornwall, were the inspiration for this book (and the real-life Don and Julia). They kept every letter written to them post-war and when they died, part of this treasure trove came my way. My mum and her siblings in the Midlands loved to write letters. Their lively correspondence sparked an idea that refused to go away, and so May Rosevere was born. This couldn’t have happened without my beloved cousins: Jill, who was incredibly generous with her parents’ precious memories, and Rosemary and David who shared our family’s gossip and secrets. The extracts you’ve read are mainly fiction … but not all …
Another powerful catalyst was Ruth Hogan’s amazing book The Keeper of Lost Things, which led me to meet my wonderful agent Laura Macdougall. That sentence doesn’t in any way paint a picture of the cork-popping and joyful dancing that followed when Laura offered to represent me.
Working with Charlotte Ledger has also been a delight. Huge thanks to Charlotte and the team at HarperFiction for all their support, editing and advice as 59 Memory Lane took shape and got ready to leave the nest.
Writing friends are priceless, and mine are all sparklers – The Romaniac girls; Catherine, Debbie, Jan, Laura, Lucy, Sue and Vanessa, and also the lovely Amanda James and Christine McPherson put the fun into the sometimes soul-destroying and often exhilarating process of making a book happen. I’m also hugely grateful to my feisty buddy Liz for her loan of the amazing Fighting Cardigan.
Finally, a resounding thank you to all my family and friends who’ve put up with far too much description of the world of Pengelly already, but especially to Laura, Hannah and Ray who provide the gin, cake and, best of all, the love.
About the Author
Celia Anderson lives with her husband and one handsome but antisocial cat in land-locked Derbyshire, but visits her daughters in Brighton as often as pos
sible for a seaside fix. She now writes full-time, having been a teacher and assistant head in her previous life. Other jobs have included packing curtain fittings with mental health patients, sticking ISBN codes on books in a library and finding reasonably safe activities for adolescent boys with severe behaviour problems. Her finest hour was getting a post as a cycling proficiency tutor without mentioning that she couldn’t ride a bike. Celia loves cake, wine, the Eurostar and reading, preferably all at the same time. Her other hobbies all involve food or walking it off.
An enthusiastic member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Celia currently organises the judging for the Romantic Novel of the Year Awards. She spends far too much time on Facebook and Instagram and dreams of one day being strong-minded enough to leave the house without her iPhone.
@CeliaAnderson1
www.facebook.com/CeliaJAndersonAuthor
www.instagram.com/cejanderson
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, ON, M5H 4E3, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
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Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India
http://www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
59 Memory Lane Page 30