As I write these opening words of the acknowledgements, I’m watching the snow fall outside my office window. When I started writing the book, I had no idea if we were going to have a cold winter or a mild one. Not that it mattered: it’s a fictional book with fictional characters working for a fictional police force. But even though the world of my books is largely made-up, it carries on in a roughly parallel timeline with the real world — albeit one where things like global pandemics can be safely ignored and forgotten about.
In any case, the theme of cold was one that stuck with me throughout the writing of this book. Perhaps it’s a natural result of everyone having spent a year isolated from their family and friends. Maybe it was my own prescient foreknowledge about the cold weather we were going to have (and I’m totally claiming god-like wisdom here). More likely, it was my own fatalistic outlook on the world. Either way, a lot of things in this book were bloody cold, and I’m not just talking about the weather.
When I started writing this book, it was a mild autumn. We hadn’t even had a frost. I genuinely worried that in writing about a cold winter, I was virtually guaranteeing we’d all be walking around in shorts in February and that I’d look quite the tit — and I’m not just referring to the shorts. Thankfully, Old Mother Nature vindicated me.
But, even though I’m most thankful to Zeus and Michael Fish (is he still going? I know Zeus is getting on a bit), there are a number of other, less weather-controlling people I must thank.
As always, Graham Bartlett has been an invaluable resource in helping me make the policing aspect of my books as accurate as possible. The rather dull nature of real-life policing does mean procedural accuracy must often fall in line behind story. After all, the Rutland crime series being mostly set in plush police offices in Nottingham or Derby with a cast of hundreds wouldn’t have quite the same appeal.
Simon Cole, Chief Constable of Leicestershire Police, was incredibly helpful with information on mobile ANPR and helping me out of yet another sticky plot point. Thank you, Simon.
Huge thanks go to Jon Brocklebank, Head Gardener at Barnsdale Gardens for all his help and assistance for the information on forcing roses into out-of-season growth. If anyone is reading this (why would you?) and you’ve never visited Barnsdale Gardens, you absolutely must. It’s much cheaper than a spa, a whole lot more therapeutic, and you don’t need to strip down to your pants if you really don’t want to.
Horticultural thanks also go to Adam Frost for information on the Black Baccara rose. Frosty, I apologise for Caroline’s comments — I couldn’t resist it. Those beers are definitely on me now.
One of the things I’ve been keen to portray most accurately in this series is Caroline’s struggle with cancer. For this, my thanks go once again to my friend and nurse (in the general sense — she’s not my nurse) Jo Clarke, who is rather too enthusiastically interested in cancer for me to feel comfortable speaking to her any more than once every couple of months.
One or two readers quite fairly pointed out that the police wouldn’t risk having a seriously ill officer on duty, and that there’s a huge duty of care from the police service. I hope no-one thought I was implying otherwise. Again, this is a situation where sometimes story leads and everything else follows. Caroline’s someone who tends to keep the severity of her own issues very much to herself. In any case, the books would be really rather dull if they consisted of a few hundred pages of Caroline sitting at home with a hot water bottle, watching Homes Under the Hammer.
On feedback, one resident did contact me to inform me that the viaduct is — actually, I think you’ll find, Mr Croft — in Northamptonshire. Although most of it is indeed in the fair county of Northants, the northern stretch of the viaduct that divides Seaton Meadows is very much in Rutland. Honestly. Look on a map.
You might have spotted in the blurb on the back of the book that I refer to the viaduct here as Welland Viaduct. Prior to the book’s launch, a couple of people contacted me to tell me the viaduct is actually called Harringworth Viaduct, and it was clear I knew nothing of the local area, having given myself away with such a death-penalty-inducing error. As you’ll have just read (unless you’ve skipped to this bit), locals in the book — as in real life — refer to it as Harringworth Viaduct. I’ll let you in on a little secret: so do I. Most people do. Unfortunately, the majority of official sources seem to agree its ‘proper’ name is Welland Viaduct. I know. I know. I don’t like it either. But with the books being sold in numerous countries around the world, it felt right that the blurb should use the viaduct’s more official name, and for the characters in the book to use the local sobriquet.
On the subject of dead bodies and viaducts, I need to thank Dr Samantha Pickles, Senior Lecturer in Forensic Science at the University of Bedfordshire, for all the help and information she provided. If you ever need to know what state a dead body would be in after spending a few hours under a freezing cold viaduct, Sam’s your girl.
To Lucy, Beverley, Jacob, Joanne, Helen and my mum for reading early copies of the book and not laughing too much while they offered their feedback — thank you.
To Nick Castle for a fantastic cover — thank you.
Thanks also to Jim and Xander for being top-drawer assistants and general dogsbodies. I couldn’t do half the things I do without those chaps keeping me on the straight and narrow.
If you’ve not yet listened to the audiobooks of the Rutland series, you really must. They’re absolutely fantastic. Enormous thanks go to Andy Nyman for bringing the books to life with his narration, and to Craig and the whole team at WF Howes for making it possible and being kind enough to publish the series in audiobook.
Thanks also to Rosie, Jonathan and everyone else in the film & TV department at PFD for all the work you’re doing on trying to get the series on TV. It’s been such a challenging year for that industry, and I appreciate everything you’re doing.
Huge thanks must go to all of the local, independent retailers in the East Midlands who’ve been supporting the series by stocking signed paperbacks. After the tough year they’ve had, nothing gives me more pleasure than seeing them do a roaring trade.
I’m absolutely certain there are people I’ve missed. Quite a lot of them, I imagine. It would be really handy if I kept a list of people I needed to thank while writing each book, so I could make sure I remember them all when it comes to writing the acknowledgements. To be fair, this time I did at least start a list, but then I forgot about the list itself, which made the whole plan rather redundant. If your name is missing from this rambling list of acknowledgements and you’re absolutely certain I don’t think you’re a pillock, this one’s for you: THANK YOU.