I created a family. It began with a name, one that I discovered using census data. The website provides details of the popular surnames of English counties. I picked two – one for each of the families that feature in my book, The Women of Heachley Hall.
Dates became crucial to plotting the story. Who lived in the house and for how long?
Since the story spans over a hundred years, I needed a tool to help me.
Using My Heritage website I constructed a family tree for both families and ensured the relevant characters lived to suitable ages – nothing more embarrassing in having somebody give birth at the age of five or marry in their nineties. My Heritage think it’s a real family. They kept emailing me to ask if I wanted to trace more of my ancestors. Part of me wishes it was real because in writing this book my characters felt very real to me. It must be an author’s affliction to want to turn fantasy into reality.
Now there is only one way to find out who is who and that is to read the book. My Heritage have deleted my tree!
I touched each gravestone in turn and tried to make some connection to my family. Hubert had been buried in India, so I’d no grave to visit for him. John Marsters, my grandfather, rested in a London cemetery. Felicity, cremated in Norwich, my mother likewise in Colchester, and my father’s ashes had been scattered on a Greek island with his lover. Only one other Marsters – Mary, my mentally fractured grandmother – had been buried and she lay next to John, squeezed into his grave. Her only dying wish was to be with her husband. My attempt at sensing a connection, some kind of energy conduit between me and my deceased ancestors didn’t happen. I smirked. What did I expect? I’d known nothing about them, nor cared to until Felicity’s will brought me here.
Only women can discover Heachley’s secret.
5* “The story is beautifully constructed and precious, and it is very satisfying.” – Goodreads reviewer
5* “This beautifully written mystery weaves a spell around the house and the people connected to it.” – Goodreads reviewer
The life of a freelance illustrator will never rake in the millions so when twenty-eight year old Miriam discovers she’s the sole surviving heir to her great-aunt’s fortune, she can’t believe her luck. She dreams of selling her poky city flat and buying a studio.
But great fortune comes with an unbreakable contract. To earn her inheritance, Miriam must live a year and a day in the decaying Heachley Hall.
The fond memories of visiting the once grand Victorian mansion are all she has left of her parents and the million pound inheritance is enough of a temptation to encourage her to live there alone.
After all, a year’s not that long. So with the help of a local handyman, she begins to transform the house.
But the mystery remains. Why would loving Aunt Felicity do this to her?
Alone in the hall with her old life miles away, Miriam is desperate to discover the truth behind Felicity’s terms. Miriam believes the answer is hiding in her aunt’s last possession: a lost box. But delving into Felicity and Heachley’s long past is going to turn Miriam’s view of the world upside down.
Does she dare keep searching, and if she does, what if she finds something she wasn’t seeking?
Has something tragic happened at Heachley Hall?
Miriam has one year to uncover an unimaginable past.
Would you like a free short ghost story to read – Seeing is Believing?