To Eugenie Furniss at 42 for taking me on and working tirelessly on the manuscript with such insight and dedication, and for making the process a joy, always.
To Jenny Parrott and the team at Oneworld, for publishing this novel and championing it with such enthusiasm. To Sarah Terry for her painstaking and faultless copy-editing. To Kate Appleton, Lucy Cooper, Beth Marshall Brown, Paul Nash and Mark Rusher. I know it takes an army to get a book out there, so thank you so much to you all.
To my mother, Eithne, for encouraging me to write, for reading endless drafts and for giving constructive advice: a precarious tightrope for a mother to walk… Get on and write yours now.
To my father, Peter, though I can’t bear that you’re not here to see it published, thank you for being so encouraging of all my endeavours always. I think, Dad, you would have applauded me if I’d written the phone directory.
To the Short Ladies, for starting me on my publishing journey and for helping me along the way, with advice, love and humour.
To my best girlfriends – you know who you are. You are my sisters and I couldn’t do a thing without you, nor, in fact, would I want to.
To my brothers – thanks, Tom and Jack, for making me eternally ballgirl, wicketkeeper, goalie, in all our games growing up: a bookworm’s dream. And for all the rest too.
To Arys and Jemima, for all your help keeping the show on the road.
To Scroopey and to Sarah. It was at your house that I first saw those two de László portraits all those years ago: the early, early kernel of a story.
To the Beaumonts: for allowing me in to Bywell – and for being the absolute opposite of the family that Jean marries into. You are all heart and love and laughter, and I adore you all.
To Wenty, thank you for encouraging me when I first told you I was going to write this; thank you for your patience, and for giving me the time and the support to see it through – and for much, much more.
And lastly to my children – Wenty, Walter and Nancy – for putting up with my squirrelling myself away for a long, long time, particularly when I am not sure you had a clue what I was up to. You can now buy the book in a shop, which I think is all you really wanted to know.