Piano Notes

Some of you may be wondering where the music comes from in The Housemaid's Daughter...

I was taught to play the piano by my grandmother when I was about 4 years old. We used a book quaintly called The Progressive Primer for the Pianoforte. I have it still, and you can see from the photo that it has been well-used over many generations in my family! There are Notes to the Teacher on the inside front cover, one of which refers to the illustration of oversized piano keys and hopes that this will "enable little players to see the music more readily".

At first I played the Classics, but then, in my teens, I wanted something more lively and so switched to syncopation and pop. This was the era of the Beatles, the Seekers (remember them?) and Simon & Garfunkel. I happily played everything from Winchester Cathedral to All my Loving, plus a sprinkling of jazz. My teacher at the time encouraged me to play by ear as well, but always said that I would return to the Classics when I had tired of pieces with a heavy beat. She was right. Mostly. Nowadays, I play Chopin and Debussy but also Hoagy Carmichael and George Gershwin, and Ennio Morricone's gorgeous movie themes. Variety, I have discovered, keeps things fresh. I think my grandmother would have approved for although she was a far more accomplished classical pianist than I am, she could never resist a little song-and-dance like "'Neath the Shanty Town Moon"...

Music is a powerful and unifying theme in The Housemaid's Daughter. It provides inspiration and comfort for Ada and Cathleen, as their country lurches towards anarchy. For Ada, it goes further: it helps her find work as a teacher, and it becomes a crucial lifeline for her wild, needy pupils. Ada's signature piece in the book is The Raindrop Prelude by Chopin. You can listen to it on my website. It's a glorious piece, with a simple, haunting melody that builds into a complex central section, before returning to the original theme. I chose it because it seemed to embody so much of Ada's life: simplicity and turmoil, beauty and cruelty. It's also a piece that I have learnt to play, although I will never play it like she does...

In front of the Camera

Isn't it great to have the opportunity to try something completely new?

That happened to me recently when I was asked to film a short clip to introduce The Housemaid's Daughter to book sellers in South Africa, Australia and New Zealand. These good folk will hopefully be enthusiastic about the upcoming publication of the book in their respective countries, and will promote it to their local readers. I will also be doing radio interviews for them closer to the August publication date.

But, for the moment, it was a film clip that was required. Ah, the agonies...
Would I blink at the wrong time? Display some previously unknown mannerism? Forget my lines? I had prepared carefully - rehearsing what I was to say. But I discovered that nothing quite prepares you for the moment when you happily complete one sentence, are ready to glide into the next - and your mind simply goes blank. You have absolutely no idea what to say next, despite all the practice. Character-building, I think it's called. In these situations, it's often a temptation to embroider, to cover the lapse until the required text pops back into your head. This, I have discovered, is a slippery slope: it simply leads to greater disaster. Better to swallow your pride, throw up your hands, and start again.

One of the most important practicalities of the filming was to ensure that there was no outside noise while I was speaking. Given that we were in central London - although about 14 stories up - there was always the chance of interruption, and so it proved. We had to stop and restart a couple of times as sirens waxed and waned below. But we got there in the end, and also managed to film a short clip which will be uploaded to my website in the next few weeks. But maybe not? Do I need reminding that I no longer look as young as I feel?

The Housemaid's Daughter Down Under

In February I was lucky enough to visit Australia and New Zealand for a family wedding. At the same time I managed to meet the folk who will be promoting the novel in that part of the world. And what a pleasure it was because the venue for each meeting could not have been more spectacular!

Just outside Queenstown on the South Island of New Zealand is a beautiful winery called Amisfield, where we sat on the patio amidst marvellous scenery and wondered how NZ readers would respond to a book set in South Africa. There is an interesting connection: many early NZ settlers would have known the kind of dislocation and loneliness that Cathleen in the book felt during her early years in South Africa. So Cathleen's journey may very well strike a chord here, perhaps echoing local family stories passed down to the present day.


From New Zealand, it was on to Australia where I was once again fortunate to have a meeting in a wonderful setting, only this time indoors: the National Gallery of Victoria, just past Federation Square in the centre of Melbourne, and just up from the Yarra River. Here, too, our discussion focussed on the solidarity many local readers will feel with Cathleen in her attempt to build a new life so far from home.

As I left for the UK the next day, I couldn't help thinking about how extraordinary it is that we fly across the world retracing the steps of our forebears, often without appreciating that for them the journey was invariably one-way, and that there could be no change of mind, and no going back. That takes a certain courage.

Next time, getting in front of the camera...