In the slums of Hull, at the turn of the eighteenth century, lived Will and Maria Foster, constantly fighting a war against poverty,
disease, and crime. Will was a whaler, wedded to the sea, and when tragedy struck, crippling him for life, it was John Rayner, nephew of the owner of the whaling fleet, who was to rescue the family. Will had saved the boy's life on an Arctic voyage and they were offered work and a home on the headlands of Holderness, on the estate owned by John Rayner's wealthy family. And there, Will's child was born - Sarah, a bright and beautiful girl who was to prove the strength of the family.
As John Rayner, heir to the family lands and ships, watched Sarah grow into a serene and lovely woman, he became increasingly aware of his love for her, a love that was hopeless, for the gulf of wealth and social standing between them made marriage impossible.
Against the background of the sea, the wide skies of Holderness, and the frightening crumbling of the land that meant so much to them, their love story was played out to its final climax.

'The HUNGRY TIDE', VALERIE WOOD'S first novel, is set in Hull and Holderness at the end of the eighteenth century against a background of the sea and the treacherous whaling industry. The novel was inspired by the twentieth century plight of the villagers of Mappleton, a small village on the East Yorkshire coast, who campaigned for a sea wall to try and save their village from coastal erosion.
This novel won the first CATHERINE COOKSON PRIZE for FICTION (1992) which was inaugurated by TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS to celebrate the achievement of the late DAME CATHERINE COOKSON. The novel was chosen from five hundred manuscripts and set the parameters for this prestigious award.

Extract from THE HUNGRY TIDE:
The dark water slapped against the supports of the wooden wharves and staiths as the whaler drifted silently up river. The mist which hovered over the water started to lift and, carried by the easterly wind, floated across the wharves and into the gardens of the merchants' riverside houses. Through the quiet streets and alleyways it spread, carrying with it the stench of processed blubber from the Greenland Yards.
On it drifted, spreading wider through the town and reaching into the narrow, grimy Wyke Entry, where it clung to the blackened timbers of the mean old houses that leaned one into another, touching them with dampness.
The entry was silent, save for the rustling and scratching in the heap of rubbish which the wind had blown into a corner, for most of the occupants were still sleeping in the early dawn. Then came the sound of laboured breathing and the pad of running feet which directed themselves into the entry.