Maggie's Child (26 page)

Her poetry and articles have been published in various places, in both the UK and Cyprus. Her online presence is in various poetry and writing groups.

Glynis spends her time writing historical novels, poetry and various other projects. When she is not tapping at the keyboard she makes greeting cards to sell for charity, or enjoys a spot of cross-stitch on the back porch. Failing that, she and friends sit chewing the fat over a glass of village wine.

Meet and Tweet with Glynis:
Ghunibee

Facebook Page: 
Glynis Smy

Author Blog: 
Glynis Smy

To purchase more by Glynis Smy:
https://sites.google.com/site/glynissmybooks/

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Future Novels

A sister story to Ripper, My Love - (Ripped Genes) -  is in the planning stages for 2013 and she is currently working on a fourth, The Man in Room Eighteen. The latter is based back in her hometown, and surrounding villages.

Ripper, My Love

Growing up in late nineteenth century East London, Kitty Harper’s life is filled with danger and death – from her mother, her beloved neighbour and the working women of the streets.

With her ever-watchful father and living surrogate family though, Kitty feels protected from harm. In fact, she feels so safe that while Whitechapel cowers under the cloud of a fearsome murderer, she strikes out on her own, moving into new premises to accommodate her sewing business.

But danger is closer than she thinks. In truth, it has burrowed itself right into her heart in the form of a handsome yet troubled bachelor, threatening everything she holds dear. Will Kitty fall prey to lust – and death – herself, or can she find the strength inside to fight for her business, sanity and her future? And who is the man terrifying the streets of East London?

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Amazon Verified Purchase Unknown reviewer from USA

This review is from:
 
Ripper, My Love (Kindle Edition)

RIPPER, MY LOVE, by Glynis Smy, is in no way an ordinary historical romance. Full of twists, turns, and plenty of nail-biting suspense and scares, it seamlessly blends an emotional love affair with a shocking, history-as-it-might-have-been, crime story.

In late Victorian London, talented seamstress and designer Kitty Harper has benefitted not only from society's increasingly modern attitude toward women, but also from her father's and friends' encouragement and devotion. Despite her family's working class status, Kitty is educated, meeting regularly with a tutor, and has saved enough money to open her own seamstress shop. Although reluctantly, her father even allows her to move into the rooms above the shop. Exceptionally gifted in her trade, Kitty has the skill and ambition to design beautiful, fashionable clothing for upper-class women.

Focused on her career, Kitty holds several suitors at arm's length until she meets dashing farmer James Lockwood. Despite his country upbringing, the handsome Lockwood is gallant and attentive. He is quickly as smitten with Kitty as she is with him. But trouble is coming. These are dangerous days; Jack the Ripper has begun terrorizing London - especially Whitechapel, where Kitty lives and works.

Ms. Smy has created a wonderfully Hitchcockian novel; we readers know The Ripper's secrets nearly from the outset. Our characters - especially Kitty and her extended family - do not. We realize (à la Mr. Hitchcock) that the figurative bomb is on the bus. When will it go off? Who will live? Who will die?

One would not imagine any aspect of Jack the Ripper being sympathetic, but Ms. Smy has not only accomplished that devilish feat, she has also kept every loathsome bit of his villainy and treachery intact. We are never quite sure what will happen next, and as the novel progresses, pages get turned faster and faster!

Not only are the characters and plot absorbing, the details of life in London at that time are exquisitely drawn. Without letting the story get bogged down in detail, Ms. Smy creates fully populated, artfully dressed, and atmospheric scenes. The reader is so fully drawn in that one can almost hear the clopping of carriage horses' hooves and feel the chill, surrounding fog.

I highly recommend RIPPER, MY LOVE.

The writing style is excellent and all the characters are strongly drawn. There is humour and grief, passion and heartbreak, as well as cold-blooded planning of murder. It is a story that will stay with me, and therefore I thoroughly recommend it. You will not be disappointed!
Paula Martin, Author.

Ripper, My Love is a well-researched historical... romance, thriller, suspense novel. It definitely cannot be pigeon-holed, as it has so many fine elements to it. The writing is solid, the characters are wonderfully developed and the story line is absolutely intriguing. When you put those three strengths together it means I'm definitely looking forward to the next book!
Mary Metcalfe, Author.

A joy to read , easy to get into and addictively plotted.
Beautifully written and a real page turner.
Amazon reader

If you are not a historical-fiction fan, this isn't a typical, boring book with the non-essential details. It's a well-crafted novel with a good plot. With compelling and yet believable characters and without saying much that would add spoilers, I recommend this to the highest degree.
Len Lambert, Author

I found this book AN EXCELLENT READ,I did not want to put it down. It had a lot of unexpected twists and turns, If this was the Authors first book then I cannot wait for her next one.
Amazon reader

If you've ever thought historical novels are a little bit boring, you really must give this a go -- it's anything but dull! Combining fiction with reality, Smy creates a story with plenty of twists and turns, along with characters you can't help but love or hate in equal measures. I enjoyed the strong, independent heroine who refuses to bow to convention and even sets up her own successful business. Using colourful language, the world of East London comes to life, and you can almost taste the fear and unease that wraps itself around this novel.A wonderful debut, and I can't wait to read more from this author.
Marsha Moore, Author

What an awesome read! I felt like I was transported back to Old England to the impoverished section of Whitechapel. The imagery is so strong that you will feel as if you are walking through the dirty streets of London. I could sense the danger lurking in every corner. Kitty, the main character is well developed and you really come to know her as she brings you into her world.
Roberta Kagan, Author

This is not your standard Jack the Ripper story. It's much more than that, romance, tragedy and thriller. It has the added bonus of having a twist to the tale and you don't even have to wait till the end for it.
A wonderful walk through the streets of Vicorian London giving a flavour of life then. But all is not as it seems, danger lurkes in familiar places and secrets are buried deep. The suspense and tension build and just when you thought you knew what was 

A great read and one I would highly recommend.coming next...your wrong. Any more would spoil the story so read it and see what I mean!
Amazon Reader

Chapter 1 (sample)

The Walk Home

Despite the damp air and the arrival of twilight, Kitty, as always, was reluctant to leave her mother's graveside. The caw-caw screech from black hooded crows echoed from the surrounding trees. Their eerie call made her shiver. Dark shapes lined branches; their presence unnerved her. She pulled her shawl around her shoulders and chided herself for not wearing a thicker cape. August appeared to be cooler than in previous years. Kitty brushed her hand lovingly across the top of the gravestone. An hour passed while she stood in St Mary's Cemetery, talking about everyday things. She spoke to the brown mottled slab, wishing it could be the peach-cheeked woman she remembered.

‘It is time to go home now, Mama. I cannot believe five years have passed us by, it seems only yesterday in my heart.’ She traced her fingers over the engraved stone:

Lilly Harper. Wife and Mother. Born 1848. Died 1883.

She hurried through the cemetery and chose the quickest route home via Angel Alley. Arthur, her tutor, would be waiting to start her reading lesson, already an hour late the shortcut became the better option. Her usual route added an extra half hour.

An oval roof of dark brick made the alleyway claustrophobic. The damp cobblestones were slippery underfoot. Four large shadows lined the walls. Even the gas lamps added nothing to the uninviting ambiance. The black domes gave the impression they were looking down at her, like the crows at the cemetery. She knew them to be harmless, but her brain failed to communicate the fact to her legs, and they began to shake.

A bat swooped around her head; Kitty squealed and ducked. In doing so, she stumbled. She reached out to steady herself, and her slim fingers recoiled as they touched the cold slime of algae coating the wall. She twisted her ankle slightly and it throbbed, her dainty button boots were not made for long walks. Her gown would almost certainly be ruined when she balanced against the wall.

What on earth possessed me to wear my best velvet to sit by a graveside?

She had come too far to turn back. On hindsight, she should have visited the grave the following morning, and not altered her routine, although she shared many thoughts that day with her mother and did not consider it a waste of time. Such precious moments. Death snatched her mother from her life, but not the love from within her heart.

Foggy light made her squint. The mustard haze reduced her vision to a few yards ahead. The area underneath the gas lamps attracted several moths. They cast more shadows, this time moving ones. Kitty’s skin tingled; flying insects unnerved her.

She walked past a wooden stairwell and a muffled cry caught her attention. Before she could investigate further, someone grabbed her arm and nipped the flesh under her clothing. Whoever held her made her arm sting. She spotted the glimpse of a black felt hat, overloaded with wilting, torn silk flowers. Her attacker pulled her around until they stood nose to nose, the flowers flopped across the high brow of a toothless woman. She wore a dark stain around her lopsided mouth; smudged red grease paint.

‘Oi, wadcha doin’ on my patch madam, there’s no room for you ‘ere.’ The foul stench from the voice blew onto Kitty’s face. A mix of gin and rotten teeth. Bile threatened to rise. Kitty swallowed hard. If she did not fight it, she would most certainly vomit. Kitty realised she had stepped into the workplace of a prostitute. A Bow Bells whore, with a true Cockney twang,
and
a claim on a dank corner of an inner city alleyway.

‘I am not working your patch. Please let me go, Miss. You are hurting my arm. Let me go and I can get out of here - out of your way. I am not a threat, believe me.’ She heard the plea in her voice. Kitty could not muster indignation, and thought even if she did it might antagonize her attacker. She opted for the weak, trembling voice. The woman continued to grip Kitty’s arm. Her fingers held on vice-like with the strength of a man, not an easy opponent for Kitty, half her size.

The whore belched. A revolting, drunken, unkempt specimen. How any man could spend money satisfying himself with her puzzled Kitty. Her clothes were made from cheap calico, and smelled stale, unwashed.

‘With a voice like that, I believe ya. Git your posh rear end outta ‘ere before I kick it to Kingdom come.’

Her broad London accent sounded much stronger than Kitty’s. Under normal circumstances to be called posh would have made Kitty smile. Never one for being told twice, when the woman released her grip, Kitty ran as best her boots and sore ankle would allow. Their clip-clop sound and the whore's husky laugh rang around the alley. She fought back the tears and concentrated on a small speck of light yards ahead; the much anticipated exit. Kitty focused and put to the back of her mind there was still a long walk to face. At this precise moment, even the company of Arthur in one of his moods would be most welcome.

Come on, Kitty Harper. Stay focused on the light.

Kitty’s heart pounded the more frightened she became, her chest hurt, passing out most definitely threatened. Lying on the ground here was not an option. She bent to allow her lungs the luxury of oxygen. While they filled and the ache subsided, she watched a rat chew on the dead carcass of another. For some strange reason her thoughts turned to the local gossip and the talk of a recent murder, a local woman. Zach, the ragman, told her the woman had been hacked to death. Gang members were responsible. Her friend Brady said he thought the job appeared to have been carried out by a professional. Kitty wondered to what sort of professional he referred. Quite possibly he meant a surgeon. The type of doctor who had removed her mother’s ulcerated leg. Yet surely a medical man would never murder? They were committed to saving lives. Brady was a policeman. Kitty had known him all her life. She was more inclined to believe his version of events. In his personal opinion it was possible a disgruntled Landlord found a way of clearing out their property. Brady’s version, one to be believed, made Kitty thank the Lord her parents earned the money to buy their cottage. They saved hard, and took up the opportunity to purchase the year before she was born.