Rohan OGrady - Lets Kill Uncle

The Bloomsbury Group: a new library of books from the early twentieth-century chosen by readers, for readers

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JOYCE DENNYS

HENRIETTAS WAR

Spirited Henrietta wishes she was the kind of doctors wife who knew exactly how to deal with the daily upheavals of war. But then, everyone in her close-knit Devonshire village seems to find different ways to cope: theres the indomitable Lady B, who writes to Hitler every night to tell him precisely what she thinks of him; flighty Faith who is utterly preoccupied with flashing her shapely legs; and then theres Charles, Henriettas hard-working husband who manages to sleep through a bomb landing in the neighbours garden. With life turned upside down under the shadow of war, Henrietta chronicles the dramas, squabbles and loyal friendships of a sparkling community of determined troupers.

Wonderfully evocative of English middle-class life at the time never fails to cheer me up
SUSAN HILL, GOOD HOUSEKEEPING

ISBN: 978 1 4088 0281 6 PAPERBACK 7.99

*

HENRIETTA SEES IT THROUGH

The war is now in its third year and although nothing can dent the unwavering patriotism of Henrietta and her friends, everyone in the Devonshire village has their anxious moments. Henrietta takes up weeding and plays the triangle in the local orchestra to take her mind off things; the indomitable Lady B partakes in endless fund-raising events to distract herself from thoughts of life without elastic; and Faith, the village flirt, finds herself amongst the charming company of the American GIs. With the war nearing its end, hope seems to lie just around the corner and as this spirited community muddle through, Lady B vows to make their friendships outlast the hardship that brought them together.

Anyone who wants to get the feel of the period must read [this]
DAILY TELEGRAPH

ISBN: 978 1 4088 0855 9 PAPERBACK 7.99

B L O O M S B U R Y

E.F. BENSON

MRS AMES

Reigning over a social merry-go-round of dinners and parties, Mrs Ames is the undisputed queen bee of Riseborough. That is, until vivacious new villager Mrs Evans catches the eye of both her son and her husband. Not content with captivating the men in her life, that wonderful creature Mrs Evans becomes not just rival to Mrs Amess marriage, but rival to her village throne. When the whole of Riseborough is invited to Mrs Evans masked costume party, action must be taken. As the date looms, the irrepressible Mrs Ames resolves to seize the chance to win back her position and her man.

An extraordinary study in comedy NEW YORK TIMES

ISBN: 978 1 4088 0858 0 PAPERBACK 7.99

*

PAUL GALLICO

MRS HARRIS GOES TO PARIS &
MRS HARRIS GOES TO NEW YORK

Mrs Harris is a salt-of-the-earth London charlady who cheerfully cleans the houses of the rich. One day, when tidying Lady Dants wardrobe, she comes across the most beautiful thing she has ever seen a Dior dress. Shes never seen anything as magical and shes never wanted anything as much. Determined to make her dream come true, Mrs Harris scrimps, saves and slaves away until one day, she finally has enough money to go to Paris. Little does she know how her life is about to be transformed foreverPart charlady, part fairy godmother, Mrs Harriss adventures take her from her humble Battersea roots to the heights of glamour in Paris and New York as she learns some of lifes greatest lessons along the way.

Mrs Harris is one of the great creations of fiction so real that you feel you know her, yet truly magical as well. I can never have enough of her
JUSTINE PICARDIE

ISBN: 978 1 4088 0856 6 PAPERBACK 7.99

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B L O O M S B U R Y

LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!

Even the pounding of the engines couldnt drown out the sound.

The first mate, leaning against the deck rail of the S.S. Haida Prince, winced. That shrill little voice had been bouncing on his eardrums for three hours.

Cheer up, this is their stop.

The purser joined him, and they stood watching a sea gull waddle along the deck rail.

Its a beautiful place, the first mate pointed to the Island. Well, it wont be for long. Not after they land. This is your first trip on this run, isnt it?

The purser nodded.

It isnt always this bad, you know.

The seagull gave a hoarse shriek of delight, cocked a reptilian-bright eye past his feathered shoulder, then rose to the air, skimming over the choppy waters to the Island.

Ive shipped all over the world, said the first mate, and this is my favorite. Someday Im going to retire to one of these islands. Ill get myself a cottage on the beach, and a nice little sloop. Maybe on Benares - it has a beer parlour. The best salmon fishing on the coast is here.

The deck steward, an exfighter with sloping, powerful shoulders, approached them.

Excuse me, sir, he said. Do you know anything that will dissolve chewing gum? Something that wont dissolve a dog?

The first mate and the purser exchanged glances.

Them? asked the first mate.

Yes, sir. One of the border collies in the hold. Its muzzle is glued together. They just thought hed like a wad of gum, the little bastards.

Try rubbing alcohol, suggested the purser.

And keep them off the bridge! said the first mate, his ears still burning from the captains salty expletives.

He turned to the purser.

When Ive got my masters papers and run my own line, therell be an iron-clad rule: no kids on board unless accompanied by their jailers, and even then theyll be confined to the hold.

They stood gazing at the Island as the ship plowed nearer the dock.

You cant beat these islands, he continued. Get yourself a couple of acres, keep a small vegetable garden, with maybe a dozen fruit trees. A man can live well on next to nothing. Driftwood for fuel, fish in the water, crabs, clams, oysters on the beach, and venison when the Mounties back is turned.

Are you really going to settle on one?

Yes, but not this one.

Why not? The purser laughed. Oh, those kids.

No, said the first mate, not because of them. This island is the most beautiful of the lot, but its cursed.

Who are you kidding?

I mean it, said the first mate. Its hexed. Any of the others, but not this one. And Im not kidding. You can check the records if you want. In two world wars thirty-three men have left it to fight for their country. Only one has come back alive. See that Mountie on the dock? Hes the fellow. All the rest killed, down to the last man. If theres such a thing as a dead island, this is it.

They turned their eyes to the curly arbutus trees crowning the sloping, moss-covered rocks, down to the white sand, with the ocean wind fanning softly and smelling like perfume to an old sailor.

I dont care how beautiful it is. Ive been at sea too long not to be superstitious, and you couldnt pay me to live on this island. Well, Id better check the cargo.

As the first mate went down the companionway, he stopped to remove a fire axe which had been lifted from its wall bracket and left temptingly, blade up, on the stairs. He replaced it and continued, only to glance to the upper deck where a lifeboat was swinging crazily on its davit.

Good God! he said, and bumped into the dining steward.

They left a piece of blueberry pie on a sofa in the lounge! said the steward. Admiral Featherstonehaugh, Retired, Royal Navy, sat on it. He was wearing white flannels. He says hes going to sue the company.

I know, I know, said the first mate. They have also spilled ink on the captains charts.