Today, I am delighted to host Katharine Quarmby on the Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour for her latest release, The Low Road. Katharine has kindly provided an excerpt for your enjoyment. (See below).
You can follow the full tour here:
Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/12/blog-tour-the-low-road-by-katharine-quarmby.html
The Low Road by Katharine Quarmby
In 1828, two young women were torn apart as they were sentenced to transportation to Botany Bay. Will they ever meet again?
Norfolk, 1813. In the quiet Waveney Valley, the body of a woman – Mary Tyrell – is staked through the heart after her death by suicide. She had been under arrest for the suspected murder of her newborn child. Mary leaves behind a young daughter, Hannah, who is later sent away to the Refuge for the Destitute in London, where she will be trained for a life of domestic service.
It is at the Refuge that Hannah meets Annie Simpkins, a fellow resident, and together they forge a friendship that deepens into passionate love. But the strength of this bond is put to the test when the girls are caught stealing from the Refuge’s laundry, and they are sentenced to transportation to Botany Bay, setting them on separate paths that may never cross again.
Drawing on real events, The Low Road is a gripping, atmospheric tale that brings to life the forgotten voices of the past – convicts, servants, the rural poor – as well as a moving evocation of love that blossomed in the face of prejudice and ill fortune.
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mg5RAD
An Excerpt from The Low Road
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Trial day. They shake us awake at dawn, command us to hurry, to dress and tidy ourselves. There are twenty of us on trial at the sessions and we line up, file through the corridors. I count seven gates to be locked, unlocked, locked again, until we arrive at last at a great wooden door and stop. Behind it, as it opens, I see a long brick passage, and we pass through it and into the fortress. The Old Bailey. Eight times a year they hold the sessions there, and the death sentences are handed down after the king has considered and confirmed them.
This is the Middlesex Sessions, and the jurymen file in as we stand up straight in the dock and then the judge comes in, Judge Newman Knowlys, and then the clerk intones the date, 10 January 1822, and our trial starts. The staff from the refuge are there and so is Potter. I look for Maria.
Just for a moment I look sideways at Annie. She holds the edge of the dock, her fingers white, and is trembling. I had forgotten that she had been here before, and that last time Mr Haskin had seen her and looked kindly on her and so her sentence had been respited. I see how she gazes on the jury and the judge, perhaps hoping that again she can dodge punishment, but I refuse to do so. I see how the jurymen are crammed in a stall to our right, and how below us are clerks, lawyers and writers. I look up and see a mirror above our heads. I remember talk in our cell of why this is, that the jury can examine our faces, tell whether or not we are telling the truth. I look up at the chandeliers and see that they are shining bright and for some reason wonder that they are shined to such a buff and how a servant must be put on a high ladder to go up there and balance as they polish. The clerk glares at us, tells us to look forward. He reads out the charges. The minute hand on the large clock ticks round twice before he is finished, for the list of items that we stole is long and carefully detailed. He intones at first, then speeds up and gallops through the list.
“They are accused of stealing three gowns, value nine shillings; eight aprons, value four shillings; three remnants of printed calico, value four shillings; six petticoats, value six shillings; three pair of stockings, value one shilling.; three caps, value sixpence; four shifts, value four shillings; one dresser-cloth, value sixpence; two slips of muslin, value one penny; two combs, value three pennies; two handkerchiefs, value two pennies; one shawl, value ninepence; two pair of stays, value one shilling, and two bonnets, value two shillings, the goods of Edward Forster, Stephen Lushington and Peter Martineaux, trustees of the Refuge for the Destitute; and one gown, value two shillings; one bag, value one pence; two gown bodies, value two shillings; two yards of muslin, value one shilling.; one pocket-book, value one pence, and two yards of lace, value one shilling, the goods of Rachel Clements, spinster.”
How far would all that soiled and dirty washing really have got us, I wonder, as he nods, sits down. Where would we be now if Old Ma had come earlier, and we had gone with her?
Charles Haskin is called first, and he gives his name and his title. I see a writer setting down his account in squiggles I do not understand. He does not look at us once, although I steal a glance sideways, see how Annie gazes at him with those great soft eyes, framed by glistening lashes. She must have done this last time to win him over, reminding him of his poor sister. “I am superintendent of the Refuge for the Destitute, in the Hackney Road. I live in the house, and have the charge of it; Tyrell was admitted first, and Simpkins came to the refuge from this place the following April. I commanded Tyrell to have care of Simpkins, but she abused my trust, as did Simpkins. I sent Tyrell away to service, but her mistress returned her. On the tenth of December, between seven and eight o’clock in the evening, they both left the house without notice, and this property was missed. Between eight and nine o’clock the same night, I found them in St George’s Fields, walking in the road. I took a bundle from Tyrell and Simpkins, containing the property belonging to the institution.”
There are no cross-questions, and he leaves the stand. I wonder where Maria is, for she had been there, she should be a witness. I realise that I have missed her, that quiet companionship we shared, our small jokes; that I should have tried so much harder, that I didn’t need to choose between loving Annie and liking my first friend.
Miss Clements comes next. She has been taken in hand and neatened by someone, I can see it, for her hair is tied back in a neat bun and greased down and not one strand falls out as she speaks. “I am bookkeeper and housekeeper to the institution. The prisoners left the house on the tenth of December. Here is a pocket-book and a gown body in the bag. They are mine, among other items; “they were kept in the counting house.” She brings them out, shows them to the jurymen and I wonder, why do they need to see them? Then she bursts out, “Please have mercy on them, the girls, the poor girls,” and the judge hammers down and she leaves the witness box in tears and I find I am crying too. Poor Miss Clements.
Mrs Clark is next; she climbs up to give evidence with a heavy sigh I recognise. She looks at us both and shakes her head.
“I am the matron. The prisoners left unknown to me; part of the property was under my care. I know it to belong to the Society.”
I am called to defend myself. I cannot, will not hurt Maria or Annie. But there is one person I can lay the blame on. I stare at her. She will never have her now, and nor will the Hardings, and so it was worth it. I stand up and I fix the jury with my gaze. I will not beg. I will blame.
Author Bio:
Katharine Quarmby has written non-fiction, short stories and books for children and her debut novel, The Low Road, is published by Unbound in 2023. Her non-fiction works include Scapegoat: Why We Are Failing Disabled People (Portobello Books, 2011) and No Place to Call Home: Inside the Real Lives of Gypsies and Travellers (Oneworld, 2013). She has also written picture books and shorter e-books.
She is an investigative journalist and editor, with particular interests in disability, the environment, race and ethnicity, and the care system. Her reporting has appeared in outlets including The Guardian, The Economist, The Atlantic, The Times of London, the Telegraph, New Statesman and The Spectator. Katharine lives in London.
Katharine also works as an editor for investigative journalism outlets, including Investigative Reporting Denmark and The Bureau of Investigative Journalism.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.katharinequarmby.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KatharineQ
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/katharinequarmbywriter/
LinkedIn: Katharine Quarmby – Writer, Journalist, Editor – Self-employed | LinkedIn
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/katharinequarmby_/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Katharine-Quarmby/author/B004GH8LS6
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2082356.Katharine_Quarmby
Pam Lecky Books 
Thank you so much for hosting Katharine Quarmby today on your lovely blog.
Take care,
Cathie xx
The Coffee Pot Book Club
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