Could a secret from 1914 end a century of heartache?

A tiny figure stands at the cliff edge - hair flying in the breeze. Grania Ryan is hypnotised by the enchanting vision, unaware this young girl, Aurora Lisle, will change her life in countless ways. For Grania is suffering and has returned to Ireland and the arms of her loving family, in the hope her wounds might heal.

As their paths begin to entwine, Grania's mother becomes deeply troubled … because almost a century of entanglement has brought nothing but terrible tragedy to their two families.

The past is set to repeat its sorrows. A suitcase hidden in the attic of a magnificent house in London during the First World War is where it all began, but could it now hold the key to ending the heartbreak that has beset the Lisles and the Ryans for so long?

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Mary presented herself in front of the drawing-room doors at eleven o’clock prompt and knocked. Mrs Carruthers opened the door.

‘Come in and meet Mr Lisle, Mary.’

Mary did so. Standing by the fireplace was a tall man, who bore a strong resemblance to his younger brother, Sebastian. To Mary’s mind, Lawrence Lisle seemed to have gleaned the best out of their joint gene pool.

‘Good morning. I am Lawrence Lisle. Er . . . Mary, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she curtsied.

‘Mary, there has arisen in this household a . . . delicate situation. And, having consulted with Mrs Carruthers, she thinks you are the one person who may be able to help us with it.’

‘I’m sure I’ll do my best, sir. When I know what it is,’ Mary replied nervously.

‘Mrs Carruthers says you were brought up in a convent orphanage.’

‘That’s correct, sir.’

‘And while you were in the convent, you helped take care of the other children there, especially the younger ones?’

‘Yes, sir, when the babes were left on the doorstep by the poor mothers, I’d help the nuns care for them.’

‘So, you like babies?’

‘Oh yes, sir, I love them.’

‘Jolly good, jolly good,’ Lawrence Lisle nodded. ‘Well, Mary, the situation is this: I have brought home with me from my travels a baby, whose mother, just like those poor women who left their children on the convent doorstep, found herself . . . unable to take care of it. She has asked me to do so, until further notice.’

‘I see, sir.’

‘Now, I have talked with Mrs Carruthers about employing a nursemaid, but she suggested that you might be the person to fulfil the role temporarily. At present, your duties as parlour maid are rarely utilised, and almost certainly won’t be for the next few months to come. So Mrs Carruthers and I would like you to take over the care of the baby immediately.’

‘I see, sir. Well now, how old is this baby, sir?’

‘She must be . . . well,’ Lawrence thought for a moment, ‘I should say she is no more than four or five months.’

‘Right, sir, and where is she?’

‘She’s there.’

He pointed to a small bassinet sitting on a chaise longue at the other end of the drawing room. ‘Go and take a look if you would like to.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

As Mary walked over to the basket and tentatively peered inside, Lawrence added, ‘I think she’s quite attractive for a baby, although I wouldn’t have much experience in these matters. And rather good, too. On the boat-train from France, the child barely whimpered.’

Mary stared at the shock of dark, downy hair, and the pale but perfect complexion. The baby’s thumb was in its mouth and she was fast and contentedly asleep.

‘I fed her just an hour ago,’ commented Mrs Carruthers. ‘She can certainly holler when she wants her grub. I presume you know how to bottle feed a baby and change a napkin?’

‘Of course, Mrs C.’ Mary smiled down at the baby. ‘What is her name?’

Lawrence hesitated, before he said, ‘Anna, her name is Anna.’

‘To be sure,’ Mary whispered, ‘she’s a beautiful little thing. And yes, sir, I’d love to take care of her for you.’

‘Good, then that’s settled.’ Lawrence looked relieved. ‘The baby will be sleeping on the second floor and the nursery has already been prepared. You are to move into it with her today, so you can attend to her feeds in the night. You will be released from all your household duties for the present. You and Mrs Carruthers must buy whatever is appropriate for the child; perambulators, clothes, etcetera.’

‘Did she not come with any clothes, sir?’

‘The mother packed a small bag for travelling. That is all she has. So,’ he indicated the door, ‘I suggest you take her upstairs now and settle into your room.’

‘May I ask you what country this baby is from?’ said Mary.

Lawrence Lisle frowned and paused for a moment. ‘From this moment on, the child is English. If anybody enquires, including any members of the household staff, she is the child of a close friend of mine, whose wife fell sick giving birth to her. Her father was killed in action a month later. I have taken her in as my ward, until her mother is strong enough to care for her herself. Do you understand, Mary?’

‘I understand, sir. And I promise I’ll be taking the best possible care of Anna for you.’

Mary bobbed a little curtsey, left the room and carried the bassinet carefully up the stairs to the second floor. She waited on the landing until Mrs Carruthers joined her.

You’re in here.’ Mrs Carruthers led her down the corridor to a bedroom that overlooked the square gardens. ‘I’ve put you in this room because it’s furthest away from the master. Whatever he may say, that baby don’t half caterwaul if she’s hungry, and I don’t want him disturbed.’

Mary gazed in awe at the pretty room. It contained a dressing table and a comfortable wrought-iron bed, with a counterpane spread atop it.

‘Don’t you be getting any ideas above your station, young lady,’ Mrs Carruthers added. ‘You’re only in here because you need to attend to the baby at night.’

‘I won’t,’ agreed Mary quickly, knowing that her sudden elevation in rank might be threatening to Mrs Carruthers’s own position.

‘It’s only temporary, mind. I’m sure that, as soon as he can, the master will want to employ a professional nursemaid. But as I pointed out, with the war on, it’d be like finding a needle in a haystack. I hope you’re grateful that I suggested you for this, my girl. Don’t you go letting me down, will you?’

‘I’ll do my best, Mrs C, I promise you so,’ Mary reassured her. ‘And there’s no need for us to go spending money on clothes for the baby. I’m handy with my needle and thread, and I enjoy sewing.’

‘Right then. Remove your belongings from your old bedroom when you can. There’s a water closet and a bathroom next door. No more pissing in pots for you, my girl. Ain’t you the lucky one?’

‘Yes. Thank you for the chance, Mrs C.’

‘Even though you’re Irish, you’re a good girl, Mary.’ Mrs Carruthers walked to the door then paused. ‘I dunno,’ she said, ‘there’s sommat funny about all this. After you’d left with the baby, the master asked me to call Smith to collect a small suitcase and store it in the attic. He said it was to be held here for the baby’s mum until she arrived to collect it. That little’un doesn’t look English to me,’ she added, peering into the bassinet. ‘Does she to you?’

‘She’s an unusual colour, to be sure,’ agreed Mary carefully. ‘All that dark hair and white skin.’

‘My betting is she’s one of them Russian babies,’ sur- mised Mrs Carruthers. ‘But we’ll probably never know, will we?’

‘Well now, all that’s important is the little pet’s safe and sound with us here,’ said Mary.

‘Yes, you’re right,’ agreed Mrs Carruthers. ‘I’ll see you downstairs later.’

Finally, Mary was left alone with her new charge. She sat on the bed with the baby in the bassinet next to her and stared down into Anna’s tiny face. Eventually, as though the baby knew she was being observed, she twitched, stirred and opened her eyes sleepily.

‘Hello, little pet,’ Mary cooed, looking straight down into the deep, brown eyes. She watched the expression in them change, and realised that the observing was being done by the baby.

Mary grasped the baby’s hand with her fingers. ‘Hello, Anna, I’m here to take care of you.’

It was love at first sight.

Will the printed word endure?
Yes. Without a doubt. For now...

Which newspaper do you read?
The Times

Who/What is your biggest influence?
My family

What books are you reading at the moment?
‘The German Boy’ by Patricia Wastvedt. ‘Mother’s Milk’ by Edward St Aubyn

What books did you read as a child?
Voraciously; Enid Blyton, Lorna Hill, Noel Streatfield

Which literary character would you most like to meet?
Jay Gatsby

Which authors do you most admire?
F.Scott Fitzgerald, Maupassant, The Brontes

Where/When do you do most of your writing?
Whenever my kids aren’t around... anytime, anywhere

What most surprised you during the writing process?
The way the characters take over and ruin a possible, projected plotline

How would you categorise your book?
A well-written page turner

If you could have written one book you haven’t, what would it be and why?
The Great Gatsby

Which of your novels are you most proud of, and why?
Probably The Girl on the Cliff. I forgot about the ‘rules’ and wrote from my heart

Finally, what advice would you give to a writer starting out on his or her career?
Once you begin, get to the end

Who or what always puts a smile on your face?
My kids

What’s your earliest memory?
Vomiting on a coach on the way to Naples at the age of three

Finally, what other writing projects are you working on?
The Light Behind the Window is finished. I’m in a beautiful hiatus of a couple of months before I write the second part of The Light trilogy

Did you have the entire plot in mind from the outset, or did the story develop as you wrote?
I set location and time period and the characters take it from there

How would you like to be remembered?
As a good person, who wrote the odd great story

Have you always wanted to write?
I trained as a ballet dancer. Then I got bed-ridden and instead of talking with my body, I had to use my mind to express myself

Are any of your characters based on real people?
If they are, I’m saying nothing...

How do you spoil yourself?
Dinner with my husband, at home, sans cinq enfants – heaven!

What's your favourite word?
Rosé

What makes you angry?
Injustice, laziness and negativity

Have you ever had any other jobs apart from writing?
Actress, toilet roll rep, mother, insurance saleswoman, ballerina, wholefoods, womenswear and off-licence shop assistant, Coca Cola promoter, professional perfume sprayer... I could go on...

When was the last time you cried?
Probably this morning. I cry at anything

What kind of experience do you want your reader to have?
I want them to cry

Have you even done something you’ve really regretted?
Of course, but I’m not saying what...

What are you proudest of?
My fantastic kids, by a mile...