Where the Waters Meet - welcome to Kelsea Sands!
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Today is publication day for the first book in my tenth series. Take Me Home to Kelsea Sands is set on the Holderness coast in the East Riding of Yorkshire, and there isn’t a witch or a ghost in sight. Well, unless you count the ghosts of the past that haunt us all, one way or another.
It’s available in ebook, audiobook, hardback, large print and paperback, and you should be able to find it on all platforms, as well as through Kindle Unlimited. Don’t you just love this gorgeous cover? I’m so grateful to Boldwood Books and to my cover designer, Debbie Clement, for doing such a wonderful job. (Debbie also did my Tuppenny Bridge covers!)
So, if there are no witches or ghosts, what can you expect to find in Kelsea Sands? Well, this book focuses on Alison. She’s a sixty-two-year-old widow with a grown-up daughter and two granddaughters. They all live in Hull, while Alison’s parents, her aunt and uncle, and her beloved cousin Rosie live in Kelsea Sands, and her other cousin Niall and his family live in the local seaside town of Millensea.
Alison’s at a turning point in her life. She’s feeling fed-up and exhausted, pulled between wanting to be able to help her parents but needing to be on hand to look after her grandchildren when she’s needed. And she’s needed a lot. But then Alison makes a discovery that has her wondering if it’s time she put her own needs first, and when she gets some health news she’s finally nudged into taking action. With the help of Rosie she heads to Kelsea Sands - the place she’s always thought of as home - to begin Project Alison. Twelve weeks to turn her life around and figure out what to do with the rest of it.
Meanwhile, an old, half-forgotten schoolfriend of Alison’s has returned to Kelsea Sands, and while Alison may barely remember him, he certainly remembers her. Rosie jokes that romance might be on the cards between them, much to Alison’s embarrassment.
But Mac has a project of his own to deal with, and the stakes for him are frighteningly high…
As well as their story, you’ll get to meet two very special Highlanders - a mother and son called Ellen Mackenzie and Jamie Fraser. Outlander fans will know why. Jamie’s a handsome, redheaded Highlander, so what else would he be called? These two were inspired by a real life Highland cow called Scarlet, along with her son Sidney. My daughter, knowing how much I love Highland cows, “adopted” them for me last Christmas from an animal sanctuary I support. The photograph below isn’t of those two because I wasn’t sure if I’d be allowed to publish the photos the sanctuary sent me, so this is a stock image, but you can see how beautiful these animals are.
You’ll also find several other animals living happily at Mac’s home, all named after his mother’s literary heroes.
Aren’t they absolutely gorgeous?
Back to the human characters… This series will be all about two families - the Wainwrights and the MacMillans - and their lives and loves. They are ordinary people, living in an ordinary place. There’s nothing fancy or grand about Kelsea Sands, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a particular beauty of its own. Far from it…
The places mentioned in the book are all based on real places. Kelsea Sands itself is inspired by one of my “happy places” - a tiny little village called Kilnsea. Kels Point is based on Spurn Point, which is affectionately known as Yorkshire’s Land’s End. Then there’s Millensea, a faded little seaside town that bears quite a resemblance to Withernsea, and Weltringham - otherwise known as Easington. Sharp-eyed readers will recognise Weltringham from my Christmas novella, The Other Side of Christmas.
Actual places mentioned are Hull and Sunk Island (yes, Sunk Island is a real place!), which give my fictional settings an authentic geographical location.
I thought I’d tell you a bit about why I chose to set my new series in this particular location, which is, after all, quite remote and fairly unknown except to locals (and birdwatchers and nature lovers).
I’d been mulling over several possible settings for it, and the Holderness coast was a main contender as it had that isolated and wild feeling that I was looking for. But it was a particular day out last spring with The Husband that clinched it for me. He’d been off work all week, using up his holiday entitlement before he lost it, and I’d been working, so he hadn’t been anywhere remotely interesting, which seemed a shame.
He suggested a day out, and since that’s a rare thing I agreed. It’s usually me begging for a trip to the coast or countryside, so he must have been really bored. He suggested that we go to Whitby, which is roughly a ninety-minute car ride from home, because he knows it’s one of my favourite places. The weather app said it would be bright and sunny. All looked good.
The morning we were supposed to go out, I woke up feeling drained and – well – meh. I didn’t want to go out. I didn’t want to do anything. I was tired and fed-up and... Well, you get the picture.
But look, I’m not so horrible that I told him that. I mean, I’d been out gadding with my friends a few days prior to that, and I was due to meet up with more friends the following day, braving a seventy-five-minute train journey to do so, so I could hardly tell him I couldn’t be bothered to go out with him, could I? Especially as he’d spent his precious days off doing odd jobs around the house and garden.
But the weather gods were in my favour, because the sky was cloudy, and the weather app said the sunshine was now forecast for the following day. (This turned out not to be true, by the way. A good friend who lives up that way told me Whitby was beautifully sunny after all!)
The Husband bravely said it didn’t matter, and we’d go next week. Or the week after. Then he brightened and said, ‘But we can still go somewhere, can’t we? Even if it’s not Whitby.’
‘Of course we can,’ I said nobly. ‘And I have just the place...’
Which was why we ended up travelling around the Holderness coast, packed lunches jammed in a bag, wrapped up for Arctic conditions as the wind howled and the sky glowered.
No, I know the sky isn’t glowering here, but trust me, it was when we set off!
If you don’t know, Holderness is a region that contains rich agricultural land and the cutest little villages. It also has one of the fastest eroding coastlines in Europe, if not the fastest. Seriously, it’s scary how much of it has vanished into the sea.
The particular village I wanted to visit was Kilnsea, which sits next to Spurn Point peninsular, straddling the Humber Estuary and the North Sea. Old Kilnsea fell into the sea many, many years ago, taking with it its old church and too many dwellings.
What’s left now is a tiny village of around thirty homes, farms, a Victorian church that’s no longer in use because of the decreasing population, a cheerful and popular pub, a caravan park, the Spurn Bird Observatory, and the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust Discovery Centre.
St Helen’s Church. I wonder what will become of it?
The drive to Kilnsea is always a pleasure, and it was even better when the sun decided to smile on us, and the clouds rolled away leaving clear blue skies in their wake.
We drove up the main road (!) to the car park. There, caravans teeter on the cliff edge and a big sign says, ‘Road Closed’, to which we invariably reply, ‘What road?’
Because there isn’t one from that point. It’s gone. It’s in the sea. Like many Holderness coastal villages, chunks of land have been swallowed by the greedy ocean, and all that’s left are memories and warning signs.
We parked up and walked back down the lane (or main road!) which leads from the North Sea to the Humber Estuary. It’s about half a mile long, and a beautiful walk in the sunshine.
We passed the caravan park entrance, and I wondered, yet again, how long the club house would be standing, and when the brave owners of those cliff edge caravans would lose their nerve and pull back. It feels like a big game of “chicken” at this point.
About halfway down the lane is the small church of St Helen’s, which was built in the mid 1860s. You can push open the creaking metal gate, and go into the churchyard to sit on a bench and admire the view, read the headstones, and, at that time of year, admire the daffodils.
Where the road runs out…
Next to the church is a gate which leads to some woodland. I was in a world of my own as we passed it, but luckily The Husband wasn’t.
‘Look at that,’ he said softly.
I looked. I saw a statue of a deer facing us, and I laughed and said, ‘Very realistic!’
I took some photographs of it and The Husband said, ‘You do know it’s not a statue, don’t you?’
‘Of course it’s a statue.’
How could it be anything else? No real deer would stay still for so long, and stand so close to us, just watching us. Then the “statue” turned and walked away, and The Husband literally had to lift my chin because my mouth had dropped open in shock! Thank God I took some photos (although my camera is rubbish, and I wish I’d videoed it instead.) That scene actually makes it into my book!
I had no i-deer this was real. Ouch!
After a short break in the church grounds, we continued to the river front, where The Crown and Anchor stands. To the left we could see the mouth of the Humber, where the river meets the sea, and the curve of Spurn Point, with its lighthouse. The sun was sparkling on the water, and I sat down on a bench and closed my eyes for a moment, feeling that nothing could make this scene any more perfect.
And then I heard a clip clop of hooves, and a beautiful grey horse walked round the corner. Its rider smiled and nodded, and I thought, Have I died and gone to heaven? Because anyone who knows me knows how much I love horses. At this point it felt like I was creating my own world, including all the things I’d want to see there.
I looked up at the bare branches of the nearby trees, silhouetted against the deep blue sky, and right there and then, I burst into tears.
Yes, I honestly did! In fact, The Husband took a photograph of me crying just to prove it. Cheers, Hubby. (No, I’m not showing it to you!)
But the thing is, I honestly couldn’t help it. A jumble of thoughts ran through my mind: This is so, so beautiful and perfect. It’s only twenty-four miles from home. Why don’t I come here more often? Why do we never appreciate what’s right on our doorstep? How long will it last, because the sea is claiming the land bit by bit, and they can’t keep it at bay forever? And why are there so many angry men in power who seem intent on destroying this beautiful, beautiful world?
The Humber with Spurn Point in the distance
The Husband put his arm around me, and I sobbed, ‘It’s not because I’m sad. Not really.’
And he said, comfortingly, ‘I know.’
And he did. He always does. And I sobbed a bit more because we’ve been through a lot together, and after decades as a couple, he still gets me. In fact, he gets me better now than he ever did. And how did we get so lucky?
All those feelings bubbled up inside me. And that’s when I knew for sure that this was the right place to set my new series, and I gazed out at the mouth of the Humber where it poured into the sea and knew what to call my hero’s house at last.
Watersmeet.
Right there and then, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to be in such a beautiful place, that very few people know about, that doesn’t have glowing write-ups to draw tourists in, doesn’t have amusement arcades, or award-winning fish and chip shops, or a beautiful abbey on a clifftop, or a goth festival. It doesn’t even have a local shop.
But it has deer, and horses, and an old, disused church, and daffodils, and a vanishing coastline, and a mighty river, and views that make your heart sing. And if I’d ever had any doubts about it being the perfect location for my new series they crumbled away, just like the cliffs.
My marketing contact at Boldwood Books came up with the strapline, “Kelsea Sands: Where tired hearts go to heal”. And I thought, That’s it. That’s exactly what it feels like.
When life’s pressing and the news is scary and the bills are landing on the doormat and all I want to do is escape to somewhere I feel safe and happy, I’ll close my eyes and remember that moment. That perfect moment in a perfect place.
So Kelsea Sands is written with love. A constant reminder of how the good things in life don’t have to be grand or expensive, and that, like Alison and Mac in the book, we can find happiness when and where we least expect it.
Sometimes, right on our own doorstep.
Happy reading!
