The Other Half of Augusta Hope
Page 31
We’ll go off again, perhaps to Lesvos next, and when Esperanza is old enough, we’ll go to Bujumbura, to the rose farm, to see Wilfred.
The cattle egrets are pecking ticks off the cows’ ears.
I go on planting bulbs.
Teo’s frying prawns over the fire.
Raúl is building a stone wall.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them in.
I can smell saffron and paint on the warm wind.
Parfait comes outside, and he walks over to where I’m digging.
I stand up.
Julia’s silver locket falls, hot, against my chest.
He kisses me.
He tastes of the earth, this earth, our earth, home, nostos.
Acknowledgements
I come from a family of irrepressible storytellers, so perhaps the journey started around the kitchen table all those years ago. Mum (no longer with us, but utterly with us), Dad and Richard – I’m so grateful for your daily stories.
My beloved headmistress, who was (honestly) called Miss Leader, said that books were sacred – and this felt true to me. Books have marked my way, like milestones.
As soon as I could write, I wrote stories. My childhood friends let me read my stories to them on rowing boats, in woodland dens, under willow trees. A few grown-up friends have done the same, over the years, in slightly less interesting places. Some are the same people. Every friend, every pupil, every colleague, in fact, every person who’s cheered me on – you are all living milestones, and you’ve marked my path in the loveliest of ways.
To the endlessly wonderful and endlessly freeing Mark, Charlie and Nina – special thanks for loving me and letting me be.
Thank you to the writer, Niall Williams, the Kiltumper class of November ‘16 and other writerly friends, for your part in the crafting, the dreaming and the believing.
To my school Spanish teacher, Miss (now Dr) Rawlings, whose Hispanic passion ran quiet and deep – and to the hot earth of Andalusia, which never fails to touch my soul.
To my agent, the (somehow) effortlessly extraordinary Sue Armstrong, who spotted Augusta in a crowd – thank you for everything. Heartfelt thanks to the most delightful and insightful of editors, Carla Josephson, and to my publicist, the fabulous and dynamic Ann Bissell. And to the multi-talented Borough Press and HarperCollins teams: Fleur and Katy, brimming with marketing magic, and Holly, designer of the gorgeous gold dragonflies. You’re all brilliant professionals and you’re lovely people too.
About the Author
Joanna Glen read Spanish at the University of London, with a stint at the Faculty of Arts at Córdoba University in the south of Spain. She went on to teach Spanish and English to all ages, and, latterly, was a school principal in London. She has edited a variety of non-fiction books and her short fiction has appeared in the Bath Flash Fiction Anthology. She lives with her husband and children on the River Thames in Battersea, returning to Andalusia whenever it gets too grey.
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