The idea for this book came to me in a dream. Sort of.
Let me explain.
It was one of those mornings when you wake up and you need just another five minutes in bed, you know? So, on waking, I simply turned on to my side, snuggled in under my quilt, and closed my eyes…
And in that second, in my mind’s eye I saw a group of people sitting around a dinner table – and somehow I knew everything about them.
There is a married couple, with their twins, Annie and Lewis, aged twelve years old. And a woman who the twins have never ever seen. She is their mother’s sister, and her name is Sheila. The twins are understandably curious. Who is this woman? And if she’s their aunt, why have they never met her?
Somehow I know this happens in a remote town in the far north-west of Scotland. And somehow I know this is a place steeped in religion. A location where terrible things have happened in the past … Vikings … the Reformation … witch hunts … I see a little round, white church – built that way so there is nowhere for the devil to hide – with a patch of bare earth outside where nothing ever grows…
Then, in my dream state I watch as Annie experiences something terrifying. Her aunt’s face almost judders – as if being viewed through a faulty television screen – and Annie can somehow see through her skin to the bones beneath – and she knows, she KNOWS, that her aunt is dying of cancer. And to add more shock to the situation, her aunt isn’t even remotely surprised when Annie blurts out her diagnosis – indeed, her expression betrays the fact that she almost expected it.
I jumped out of bed – got to my desk – and started to tease out the story a bit more.
Who exactly was this aunt?
Why was she estranged from her sister’s family?
What happened to Annie – some kind of premonition? Will it happen again?
Why isn’t Sheila surprised?
Why was this happening to Annie – and why now?
Sssh – are you listening?
The Murmurs.
