An evocative, life-affirming tale of one woman who decides that she isn’t going to sit by without protest.
A rose garden. A woman with white hair. An embossed envelope from the palace.
Lucy Forrester, for services to literature, you are nominated for a New Year’s Honour.
Her hands shake. But it’s not excitement. It’s rage. For five decades, she’s performed angry anti-war poems, attacked the government’s atomic policies, chained herself to embassy railings, marched to Aldermaston, chanted ‘Ban the Bomb’ and held her CND placard high. Lucy knows who she is. Rebel, anti-nuclear activist, word-wielder, thorn in the side of the establishment. Not a national bloody treasure.
But this public persona is Lucy’s greatest creation. Peel back the layers and, underneath the bohemian lifestyle and the bravado is a frightened child, lying helpless in a state-of-the-art iron lung, overhearing her deadly prognosis, polio. So few people met the child. Fewer remain who caught a glimpse of her.
Whatever this ‘honour’ is – a parting gesture, a final act of revenge, or the cruellest of jokes – it can only be the work of one man. Dominic Marchmont, outspoken literary critic and her on/off lover of fifty years, whose funeral begins in under an hour.
Perhaps, suggests husband Ralph, the invitation to the palace isn’t the insult it seems. Dominic – the man they both loved – was only too aware that for the surviving Nuclear Test Veterans, the sands of time are quickly running out. What if the intention behind his parting gift was to create an opportunity?
Perfect for fans of Margaret Forster, Ali Smith and Penelope Lively, this utterly compelling portrait of the bohemian life of an activist poet, the men she loves, and the issues she fights for will leave you thinking long after you turn the final page.