The Drowned Village. Kathleen McGurl
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KATHLEEN McGURL lives near the sea in Bournemouth, UK, with her husband and elderly tabby cat. She has two sons who are now grown up and have left home. She began her writing career creating short stories, and sold dozens to women’s magazines in the UK and Australia. Then she got side-tracked onto family history research – which led eventually to writing novels with genealogy themes. She has always been fascinated by the past, and the ways in which it can influence the present, and enjoys exploring these links in her novels.
When not writing or working at her full-time job in IT, she likes to go out running. She also adores mountains and is never happier than when striding across the Lake District fells, following a route from a Wainwright guidebook.
You can find out more at her website: http://kathleenmcgurl.com/, or follow her on Twitter: @KathMcGurl.
Also by Kathleen McGurl
The Emerald Comb
The Pearl Locket
The Daughters of Red Hill Hall
The Girl from Ballymor
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Kathleen McGurl 2018
Kathleen McGurl asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008236984
For my husband Ignatius.
May there be many more Lake District
walking holidays ahead of us.
Contents
Chapter 7: LAURA
Chapter 8: JED
Chapter 9: LAURA
Chapter 10: JED
Chapter 11: LAURA
Chapter 12: JED
Chapter 13: LAURA
Chapter 14: STELLA, JULY 1935
Chapter 15: LAURA
Chapter 16: STELLA
Chapter 17: LAURA
Chapter 18: STELLA
Chapter 19: LAURA
Chapter 20: STELLA
Chapter 21: LAURA
Chapter 22: STELLA
Chapter 23: LAURA
Chapter 24: JED, JULY 1935
Chapter 25: LAURA
Chapter 26: STELLA, JANUARY 1936
Chapter 27: LAURA
Chapter 28: STELLA, 1956
Chapter 29: LAURA
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About the Publisher
It was the same dream. All these years, always the same dream. It was cold, snowing, and she was wearing only a thin cardigan over a cotton frock. On her feet were flimsy plimsolls. The sky was white, all colour had been sucked out of the countryside, everything was monochrome. There was mud underfoot, squelching, pulling at her shoes, threatening to claim them and never give them back. On either side of her were the walls of the houses – only half height now, reaching to her waist or shoulder at most. All the roofs were gone, doors and window shutters hung off their hinges, everywhere was rubble, the sad remains of a once happy life.
And then came the water. Icy cold, nibbling first at her toes, then sloshing around her ankles, and up to her knees. She was wading through it, struggling onwards, reaching out in front of her with both hands, stretching, leaning, grasping – but always it was just out of reach. No matter how hard she tried, she could not quite touch it, and always the water was rising higher and higher, the cold of it turning her feet and hands to stone.
Ahead, in the distance, was her father’s face. Torn with anguish, saying – no, shouting – something at her. She couldn’t hear his words; they were drowned by the sounds of rushing water,