Tag WW2

Applause – Margot Dudley’s Story. From usherette to the leading lady of a West End show during the London Blitz in WW2

Madalyn Morgan Leave a comment

APPLAUSE. Margot Dudley’s story and book two in the Dudley Sisters Saga.

Applause: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00J7Y5LCW

‘Look out!  Stop!’

     Margaret didn’t look. She didn’t stop until she was pushed into a doorway. ‘What–?’ was all she had time to say before her body slammed into the door.  With the wind knocked out of her, Margaret gasped for breath.  She struggled beneath the body of a man twice her size until she found a pocket of air, and inhaled deeply.  A combination of sweat and brick dust filled her nostrils.  Her mouth snatched for air and she began to choke.  Her captor didn’t relax his grip.  He held her tightly as tiles from the roof of the once quaint Jardin Café on Maiden Lane, in London’s Covent Garden, crashed onto the pavement where Margaret had been standing seconds before.

     The cracking, splintering sound of snapping slates gave way to a heavier, duller sound like rolling thunder.  With a vice-like grip, the man shielding Margaret took hold of her wrist and threw himself at the door they were leaning on.  The door groaned, and the wood splintered at the side of the antiquated brass keyhole, but it didn’t give way.  Still holding her, the man lunged again.  This time there was a loud crack and the lock buckled beneath his powerful body.  The door burst open, propelling Margaret through its gaping entrance as the chimney from the café’s roof crashed to the ground, missing them by inches. 

     Frightened for her life, Margaret stumbled into the darkness, lost her footing, and slid bottom-first down a flight of stone steps.  The strap on her handbag snapped and the bag flew through the air, scattering its contents over the ancient flagstones.  With the cardboard box of her gas mask digging into her ribs, Margaret came to a halt beneath a huge wooden cross.

     Dazed and bruised, she looked around.  She could see by the beam of daylight shining into the small vestibule that she was in the entrance of a church.  She could hardly believe her eyes.  She had walked down Maiden Lane a dozen times before; she’d had tea in the café, bought postcards from the bookshop opposite to send home, but she had never seen a church.  Now she was sitting at the bottom of a flight of steps looking up at a soulful figure of Jesus on the Cross.

     ‘Have you had enough of life, young woman?’ the burly workman bellowed from inside the door at the top of the steps.

     ‘What do you mean?’ Margaret said, coughing and spluttering.

     ‘That was a bloody stupid thing to do.’

     ‘You’re the stupid one, for pushing me down these stairs.  I could have broken my neck.’ She put her hand up to shield her eyes and peered at him through swirling brick dust.     

     ‘Didn’t you see that bloody great big sign sayin’ No Entry?’

     ‘I didn’t have time to look.’ Margaret put on her best voice, emphasising the aitch in have. ‘I was on my way to a very important job interview and didn’t want to be late,’ she said, in an attempt to justify her stupidity while biting back her tears.

     ‘You could’ve been killed, never mind late!’ the man hollered, and he stormed off.

     ‘I’m sorry!’ Margaret shouted after him, but he had gone.  She could have been killed, and so could he.  The workman had put his life at risk to save her and she hadn’t even thanked him.  As the reality of the danger she’d put them both in hit her, tears welled up in her eyes.  She looked up at the figure of Jesus on the Cross.  Engraved above his head were the letters INRI – Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.  At his feet was a brass plaque with the words Welcome to the Church of St. Saviour.  Margaret burst into tears.

      On grazed hands and knees, Margaret picked up her comb, lipstick and powder compact, which now had a cracked mirror and was covered in brick dust.  Returning them to her handbag, she sat back on her heels and looked at her hands.  How can I go to a job interview looking like this? she thought.  But if I don’t go, the builder who saved my life would have risked his life for nothing.  And what would Anton Goldman say?  I’ve pestered him to get me the interview for more than six months.  

      ‘Anyone would think you don’t want this job in the theatre,’ she said to herself.  She did want it.  She wanted it badly.  Getting a job as an usherette was only the beginning.  One day she was going to be an actress and sing and dance in a West End show.  It was what she had dreamed of all her life.  She was going to be famous and she wasn’t going to let a bit of muck, or a few cuts and bruises, stop her.

Excerpts from Foxden Acres. Book 1, Chapter 1, The Dudley Sisters Saga.

Madalyn Morgan Leave a comment

Meet Margot, Claire and Ena in Bess Dudley’s story about friendships, loyalty, love and loss – and starting again.


An excerpt from Foxden Acres, Chapter One.

Bess fled down the stairs and ran across the marble hall to the front door.  She turned the handle, flung open the door and was through it in a flash.  She spun on her heels and pulled the large brass knob, until she heard the door click shut.  Holding onto the doorknob to steady herself, she caught her breath.  ‘Done it!’

     ‘Done what?’ someone standing behind her demanded. 

      Bess froze.  A wave of panic went through her.  She needed to compose herself – and quickly.  She lifted her head, stood as tall as she could, and turned to face her inquisitor. 

     ‘Who are you and what are you doing?’ he barked. 

     Bess opened her mouth, but was too shocked to speak.  The man standing in front of her was James Foxden, her brother Tom’s childhood friend and heir to the Foxden Estate.  She made a dash for the semi-circle of stone steps that would take her down to the drive, but James Foxden sidestepped and blocked her passage.  He threw down his cigarette, and without taking his eyes off her, ground it beneath the sole of his shoe.  ‘I asked you a question.  Who are you and what are you doing here?’ 

     ‘That’s two questions…  Which would you like me to answer first?’  

     James Foxden didn’t reply but kept looking at her, the frown lines on his forehead deepening.   ‘Just a minute…?’ 

     Bess watched the expression on James Foxden’s face turn from a scowl to a look of surprise. Then he roared with laughter.  ‘It’s young Elizabeth, isn’t it?  Tom’s sister?’  He extended his hand in formal greeting.

     Bess’s eyes flashed.  ‘Yes, I am Tom’s sister.’  Taking his outstretched hand, she thought how full of himself Tom’s old friend had become.  ‘Bess Dudley, how do you do?  Your father invited me to study in the library,’ she exaggerated, ‘and I lost track of the time.  Goodbye.’ 

    ‘Don’t go.  I haven’t seen you for years, not since I moved to live in London.  I hear you’re down there too, at a Teachers’ Training College.  How are the long and lonely corridors of academia?  How are your parents, your sisters?  How’s Tom?  Father tells me he’s doing a terrific job in Suffolk.’ 

     Bess wasn’t sure whether James Foxden was being patronising or whether he was genuinely interested in her family.  She gave him the benefit of the doubt.  ‘My parents are well, thank you, so is Tom.  He’ll be at home now; he’s here for the New Year.’

     ‘Good, perhaps we can–?’  At that moment an elegant young woman with black hair styled in a fashionable bob, wearing an evening gown of cherry-red velvet, appeared at the door – and James let go of Bess’s hand.

     Acknowledging Bess with a smile, more polite than friendly, the young woman looked coquettishly at James. ‘James, you promised me this dance.’  Then, without waiting for a reply, she half-walked, half-waltzed back to the ballroom, but didn’t enter.  She stood in the doorway, swaying to the music. 

     Bess turned to leave.  ‘Do you have to go?’ James asked. ‘Come and join the party.’ 

     ‘Thank you, but I’m not dressed for a party.’  Bess held her only winter coat firmly in place so the simple grey shift beneath it couldn’t be seen.  ‘Besides, my parents are expecting me.’

     ‘Of course.  Wish your family a happy New Year and give Tom my best.  Tell him to come up when he has time and we’ll go to the Crown for a drink – it would be good to catch up.’  James stood aside to let Bess pass.  ‘Will you be safe walking home on your own?’ he asked as she drew level.

     Her heart was thumping so loudly in her chest, she felt sure he’d hear it. ‘Yes, I’ll be fine.  I love walking home on nights like this,’ she said, gazing up at the full moon in the clear winter sky.  Sensing James was watching her, she brought her focus back to earth and for the longest moment found herself looking into his eyes. 

     Embarrassed by the intimacy of the situation, she said, ‘Happy New Year,’ which broke the spell, and she ran down the steps. 

     ‘Happy New Year… 

     By the way,’ he called after her, ‘what was it you’d done?’

     ‘Done?’

     ‘Yes, when you left the Hall you said, “Done it!”’

     ‘Oh, that!’  Bess didn’t stop.  ‘I’d left without being seen.’

     ‘But you haven’t…’ His words were lost in the cold night air.

An excerpt from Foxden Acres, Chapter One.

Bess fled down the stairs and ran across the marble hall to the front door.  She turned the handle, flung open the door and was through it in a flash.  She spun on her heels and pulled the large brass knob, until she heard the door click shut.  Holding onto the doorknob to steady herself, she caught her breath.  ‘Done it!’

     ‘Done what?’ someone standing behind her demanded. 

      Bess froze.  A wave of panic went through her.  She needed to compose herself – and quickly.  She lifted her head, stood as tall as she could, and turned to face her inquisitor. 

     ‘Who are you and what are you doing?’ he barked. 

     Bess opened her mouth, but was too shocked to speak.  The man standing in front of her was James Foxden, her brother Tom’s childhood friend and heir to the Foxden Estate.  She made a dash for the semi-circle of stone steps that would take her down to the drive, but James Foxden sidestepped and blocked her passage.  He threw down his cigarette, and without taking his eyes off her, ground it beneath the sole of his shoe.  ‘I asked you a question.  Who are you and what are you doing here?’ 

     ‘That’s two questions…  Which would you like me to answer first?’  

     James Foxden didn’t reply but kept looking at her, the frown lines on his forehead deepening.   ‘Just a minute…?’ 

     Bess watched the expression on James Foxden’s face turn from a scowl to a look of surprise. Then he roared with laughter.  ‘It’s young Elizabeth, isn’t it?  Tom’s sister?’  He extended his hand in formal greeting.

     Bess’s eyes flashed.  ‘Yes, I am Tom’s sister.’  Taking his outstretched hand, she thought how full of himself Tom’s old friend had become.  ‘Bess Dudley, how do you do?  Your father invited me to study in the library,’ she exaggerated, ‘and I lost track of the time.  Goodbye.’ 

    ‘Don’t go.  I haven’t seen you for years, not since I moved to live in London.  I hear you’re down there too, at a Teachers’ Training College.  How are the long and lonely corridors of academia?  How are your parents, your sisters?  How’s Tom?  Father tells me he’s doing a terrific job in Suffolk.’ 

     Bess wasn’t sure whether James Foxden was being patronising or whether he was genuinely interested in her family.  She gave him the benefit of the doubt.  ‘My parents are well, thank you, so is Tom.  He’ll be at home now; he’s here for the New Year.’

     ‘Good, perhaps we can–?’  At that moment an elegant young woman with black hair styled in a fashionable bob, wearing an evening gown of cherry-red velvet, appeared at the door – and James let go of Bess’s hand.

     Acknowledging Bess with a smile, more polite than friendly, the young woman looked coquettishly at James. ‘James, you promised me this dance.’  Then, without waiting for a reply, she half-walked, half-waltzed back to the ballroom, but didn’t enter.  She stood in the doorway, swaying to the music. 

     Bess turned to leave.  ‘Do you have to go?’ James asked. ‘Come and join the party.’ 

     ‘Thank you, but I’m not dressed for a party.’  Bess held her only winter coat firmly in place so the simple grey shift beneath it couldn’t be seen.  ‘Besides, my parents are expecting me.’

     ‘Of course.  Wish your family a happy New Year and give Tom my best.  Tell him to come up when he has time and we’ll go to the Crown for a drink – it would be good to catch up.’  James stood aside to let Bess pass.  ‘Will you be safe walking home on your own?’ he asked as she drew level.

     Her heart was thumping so loudly in her chest, she felt sure he’d hear it. ‘Yes, I’ll be fine.  I love walking home on nights like this,’ she said, gazing up at the full moon in the clear winter sky.  Sensing James was watching her, she brought her focus back to earth and for the longest moment found herself looking into his eyes. 

     Embarrassed by the intimacy of the situation, she said, ‘Happy New Year,’ which broke the spell, and she ran down the steps. 

     ‘Happy New Year… 

     By the way,’ he called after her, ‘what was it you’d done?’

     ‘Done?’

     ‘Yes, when you left the Hall you said, “Done it!”’

     ‘Oh, that!’  Bess didn’t stop.  ‘I’d left without being seen.’

     ‘But you haven’t…’ His words were lost in the cold night air.

Extract: There Is No Going Home – Video 4

Madalyn Morgan Leave a comment

Listen to the beginning of my novel There Is No Going Home.

This is the last of four videos which introduces you to the story.

London 1958, Ena recognises a woman who she exposed as a spy in WW2. Ena’s husband, Henry, an agent with MI5, argues that it cannot be the woman because they went to her funeral twelve years before.

Ena, now head of the Home Office cold case department, starts an investigation. There are no files. It is as if the woman never existed. Suddenly colleagues who are helping Ena with the case mysteriously die… and Ena herself is almost killed in a hit-and-run.

The case breaks when Ena finds important documents from 1936 Berlin that prove not only did the spy exist, but someone above suspicion who worked with her then, still works with her now.

Fearing for her life, there is only one person Ena can trust… or can she?

Watch the first video here

Available to buy on Amazon

Extract: There Is No Going Home – Video 3

Madalyn Morgan 1 Comment

Listen to the beginning of my novel There Is No Going Home.

This is the third of four videos which introduces you to the story.

London 1958, Ena recognises a woman who she exposed as a spy in WW2. Ena’s husband, Henry, an agent with MI5, argues that it cannot be the woman because they went to her funeral twelve years before.

Ena, now head of the Home Office cold case department, starts an investigation. There are no files. It is as if the woman never existed. Suddenly colleagues who are helping Ena with the case mysteriously die… and Ena herself is almost killed in a hit-and-run.

The case breaks when Ena finds important documents from 1936 Berlin that prove not only did the spy exist, but someone above suspicion who worked with her then, still works with her now.

Fearing for her life, there is only one person Ena can trust… or can she?

Look out for the next instalment…

Available to buy on Amazon

Extract: There Is No Going Home – Video 2

Madalyn Morgan 1 Comment

Listen to the beginning of my novel There Is No Going Home.

This is the second of four videos which introduces you to the story.

London 1958, Ena recognises a woman who she exposed as a spy in WW2. Ena’s husband, Henry, an agent with MI5, argues that it cannot be the woman because they went to her funeral twelve years before.

Ena, now head of the Home Office cold case department, starts an investigation. There are no files. It is as if the woman never existed. Suddenly colleagues who are helping Ena with the case mysteriously die… and Ena herself is almost killed in a hit-and-run.

The case breaks when Ena finds important documents from 1936 Berlin that prove not only did the spy exist, but someone above suspicion who worked with her then, still works with her now.

Fearing for her life, there is only one person Ena can trust… or can she?

Look out for the next instalment…

Available to buy on Amazon

Extract: There Is No Going Home – Video 1

Madalyn Morgan 1 Comment

Listen to the beginning of my novel There Is No Going Home.

This is the first of four videos which introduces you to the story.

London 1958, Ena recognises a woman who she exposed as a spy in WW2. Ena’s husband, Henry, an agent with MI5, argues that it cannot be the woman because they went to her funeral twelve years before.

Ena, now head of the Home Office cold case department, starts an investigation. There are no files. It is as if the woman never existed. Suddenly colleagues who are helping Ena with the case mysteriously die… and Ena herself is almost killed in a hit-and-run.

The case breaks when Ena finds important documents from 1936 Berlin that prove not only did the spy exist, but someone above suspicion who worked with her then, still works with her now.

Fearing for her life, there is only one person Ena can trust… or can she?

Look out for the next instalment…

Available to buy on Amazon

5.0 out of 5 stars

An era wonderfully created, a strong heroine, and a gripping read

Ena herself always draws the eye and her actions drive the story, but this book is filled with other very strongly drawn characters. I particularly enjoyed the portrayal of her two colleagues at the cold case department; and I really liked her relationship with Inspector Powell, perhaps one of very few characters she might just be able to rely on.