Valerie Wood

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Award winning author of romantic historical novels

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The last few days of the year 1860 there was ice in the Humber and for the following two weeks navigation was hazardous.  The conditions were unprecedented, the locals said and all agreed that the whole year had been an extremely difficult one.  There had been many fires in the old town of Hull that year but the worst had been in March when at two o’clock one morning a raging fire tore through ta wine merchants warehouse near the ancient Ho;y Trinity church completely destroying the building.  Casks burned and bottles of fine whine shattered and alcoholic vapours shrouded the street.  In October the steamer Arctic was wrecked with the loss of six lives and it was the general opinion that it would be a relief to see the end of the year.  Surely things couldn’t get much worse.  On the evening of 23 December it was snowing in the poorer part of Hull. The pristine flakes settled as grey sludge across the dismal courts and alleyways, adding an austere and shadowy gloom to the misery within the dilapidated buildings which housed the malnourished the sick and the despairing.  ‘Fetch Granny Walters’ Pollys mother groaned ‘And tell her to be quick’.......Across on the other side of town it was also snowing.  The feather-like flakes drifted down and landed so gently that they piled in soft layers until it seemed that a flimsy white blanket had transformed the elegant houses into a mystical fantasy scene.  ‘Mama!’ Rosalie gazed out of the second-floor window on to the street below ‘Its still snowing!’...Behind her daughters back her mother grimaced in pain.............

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