Release Date: 15th June 2017
Publisher: Quercus
Publisher: Quercus
Genres: Historical Romance
Rich in detail,
this is a pacy and engaging read, full of cloak and dagger intrigue, beautiful
clothes and romance’ Sunday Mirror on The Dress Thief
From the
award-winning author of The Dress Thief,
comes a love story set in the glittering world of London theatre.
London 1945. A young war widow steps aboard a
train in search of a new life. Clutching the key to a mysterious inheritance,
Vanessa Kingcourt can no longer resist the pull of the old Farren Theatre - an
enchanted place seeped in memories of her actor father.
Now owned by troubled former captain Alistair Redenhall,
The Farren is in need of a Wardrobe Mistress and a new lease of life. With no
experience and no budget for supplies, Vanessa must use her intuition to create
beautiful costumes from whatever scraps of silk and thread survived the blitz.
It's a seemingly impossible task, but a welcome distraction as she struggles to
resist her blossoming feelings for Alistair.
What Vanessa discovers could unravel family secrets sewn
deep into the very fabric of the London theatre scene . . . but will she repeat
the same terrible mistakes her father made? And can she dare to love a man who
will never be hers?
Natalie Meg Evan’s first novel, The Dress Thief, was:
WINNER of the 2014 Festival of
Romantic Fiction's Best Historical Read award
WINNER of the 2015 Public Book
Awards, Athens (Foreign Language Category)
Shortlisted for the 2015 Romance Writers
of America (RWA) RITA Awards
Becoming a published writer was Natalie Meg Evans’ goal
from an early age. Now, she extracts maximum fun from it by writing the kind of
books she has always loved reading. Natalie’s professional experience includes
public relations, freelance copywriting and bookkeeping, and she has also done
stints as a bar-person, encyclopaedia saleswoman and cleaner. Mother to one son
and guardian to two rescued Labradors, Natalie lives in rural north Suffolk,
England’s easternmost county.
EXTRACT
PART ONE
In the Beginning . . .
December 1925, London
What if she died too?
What if she, Vanessa Quinnell, were put into a hole as dark as
this theatre, as cold as the night outside? She reached for her daddy’s hand
but his eyes were on the stage. He was yelling, ‘Come on, Billy-Boy, show us an
ankle!’ His voice cut through the laughter and the music. Daddy had been
an actor once and Mum often said that from inside their home
he could be heard all the way to the churchyard. The Bad Fairy had cursed the
baby princess, before flying up off the stage with a cackle. The King and Queen
were wailing because one day, their little Briar-Rose would prick her finger
and die – unless the curse were lifted. Vanessa knew what it meant to die. You
were put underground and never came up again. The princess’s nursemaid had been
summoned. Broad as a carthorse in a stripy dress and a jelly-bag cap, she was
shaking her yellow ringlets and kicking up her dress to display red-spotted drawers.
In a disturbingly deep voice, she bellowed, ‘Children, we’ll save Briar-Rose
from doom, if with noise we fill this room!’ The Lilac Fairy could reverse the
spell. Did that mean there was hope for her too, Vanessa wondered? Earlier that
afternoon, a doctor had shone a light down her throat and tutted, before telling
Daddy that she must have an operation. Vanessa’s Uncle Victor had had an
operation, and now he was in a hole in the churchyard. But the Lilac Fairy
would make everything all right. They must call her name, the fat nursemaid
told them, particularly the children. ‘Raise your
voices as I count one, two, three – ’
All the children bellowed, except Vanessa.
The nursemaid cupped a hand to her ear and told the children
they weren’t shouting loud enough. She strutted along the front of the stage,
displaying her drawers, and seemed to stare right at Vanessa. ‘Is there a
little girl in the audience who isn’t shouting at all?’ Vanessa let out a
choking sob. She’d tried but her throat hurt too much. Daddy lifted her out of
her seat and held her level with his shoulder. His breath smelled funny. They’d
both had their medicine before they came in to the theatre. Hers came in a
glass bottle and tasted peppery. His came from a silver flask. ‘Come on, Toots,’
he urged, ‘make a wish! Make it happen!’
So she clenched her fists around the playbill he’d bought with
their tickets, and projected her will towards the brightly lit stage. Moments
later, child-fairies in shimmering tunics floated down. Their wings sent out
diamond explosions around Princess Briar-Rose’s cradle. Next, a lady in a
puffball of lilac and silver net descended. Her hair was a cloud of moonlight
curls and the audience drew in an awed breath. Vanessa’s heart slid back to its
proper place. The Good Fairy had come. All would be well.
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