![]() I decided that my little boy would be billeted there only I set the graveyard in a country village. I discovered it was where the man who looked after the graveyard lived. When we arrived at the graveyard I noticed a small house through the trees. Her funeral took place on a beautiful day in May. As I was jotting these ideas down, my mother suddenly died. One had crawled under the bed never having slept in one before the other had been sewn into his underwear for the winter. He reminded me of the two little boys my mother had told me about when she had been a nurse in a London hospital during the blitz. ![]() One afternoon, while day dreaming around these colours I saw an image in my head of a small, frightened evacuee standing in a graveyard. ![]() They made me think of youth, vulnerability and earthiness. ![]() ![]() It was while performing at Birmingham Repertory Theatre that I received a telegram from my literary agent telling me it had been accepted for publication. The first draft took three years to write interrupted by acting work, the second draft another year. I carried out research, wrote on trains, in tube stations, theatre dressing rooms, a caravan I lived in while working at a theatre in Devon and on a fire escape in London in the early hours of summer mornings. ![]()
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