I have a treat for you today – Deborah Swift’s new release, The Enemy’s Wife, is on tour, and Deborah has kindly provided an excerpt for you (see below).
You can follow the full tour here:
Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2026/03/blog-tour-the-enemys-wife-by-deborah-swift.html
The Enemy’s Wife by Deborah Swift
‘A fast-paced, beautifully written, and moving story. Refreshing to read a book set in a different theatre of war. Wartime Shanghai jumped off the page’ CLARE FLYNN
1941. When Zofia’s beloved husband Haru is conscripted into the Imperial Japanese Army, she is left to navigate Japanese-occupied Shanghai alone.
Far from home and surrounded by a country at war, Zofia finds unexpected comfort in a bond with Hilly, a spirited young refugee escaping Nazi-occupied Austria.
As violence tightens its grip on the city, they seek shelter with Theo, Zofia’s American employer. But with every passing day, the horrors of war and Haru’s absence begin to reshape Zofia’s world – and her heart.
Can she still love someone who has become the enemy?
Readers love The Enemy’s Wife:
‘A gorgeous novel that will truly pull at your heartstrings‘ CARLY SCHABOWSKI
‘I loved The Enemy’s Wife – a gripping, fast-paced and evocative story about the Japanese occupation of Shanghai during WW2 – and really rooted for the brave and selfless central character, Zofia. Highly recommended’ ANN BENNETT
‘Such an emotional and moving read, grounded in immaculate research that never overshadows the heart of the story’ SUZANNE FORTIN
Buy Links:
Universal Buy Link: mybook.to/EnemysWife
Excerpt from The Enemy’s Wife
Shanghai, 1941
Zofia woke to shouting and gunfire and was out of bed in an instant, gathering together all her belongings.
‘Hilly!’ she yelled. ‘Get dressed!’
Hilly too was on the move, hastily thrusting her clothes into a bag, but they were too late; Japanese soldiers were already in the house, routing everyone from their beds and pushing them out onto the street. Those tenants with Chinese clothing were immediately arrested and taken away in armoured trucks. Those who looked European were frisked for their papers.
Zofia held her passport open, and helped Hilly find hers amongst her mess of belongings.
Hilly was still in a nightdress with a coat on top, the necklace around her neck. ‘Take that off, you might get mugged,’ Zofia yelled. ‘And find your shoes!’
Hilly stumbled into them, but there was no time to take off the necklace.
‘Out, out!’ The Japanese soldiers said, prodding with their bayonets. They shoved everyone onto the street, like sweeping a tide of cockroaches out of a slum. Zofia was prepared, her bag already packed, but Hilly was still trying to find her woollen hat as they were ordered out. Behind her she heard explosions and saw one building engulfed in flames. Chinese people emerged coughing from the textile mill at that end of the street and were swiftly rounded up. They had no choice but to follow the billowing crowd, like flotsam on the tide.
‘Where are we going?’ Hilly kept asking as Zofia was dragged along, Hilly’s arm hooked desperately around hers.
‘We’ll try Mr Carter’s. It’s all I can think of.’
Everyone had the same idea, to head for the International Settlement, but the barrier was a wall of sandbags and barbed wire and guarded by Japanese. They found themselves wedged in a crush of beggars and refugees. Hilly was on tiptoe peering over their heads.
‘I can see Goro!’
‘What?’ Zofia couldn’t see anything, but Hilly was dragging her towards the barrier. Zofia’s arm was almost wrenched out of its socket but she daren’t let go.
No one could go through without showing papers and all the Chinese servants were being turned away, even when they sobbed that their children and relatives were left inside. Word soon spread and a ragged queue of Westerners began to form. From the fevered talk in the queue, Zofia discovered there’d been a raid on Hawaii, and Japan was now at war with the US. At war!
Hilly was dragging her forward but she pulled her back. ‘No,’ she shouted over the din. ‘We have to queue!’
They waited, with Hilly still desperate to go to speak to Goro. Zofia followed her gaze and saw it was fixed on one of the men near the entrance. He was a young man with a thin moustache and a very upright bearing. His mouth was turned down in a frown. He swiped a sobbing Chinese woman across the face with his bayonet when she came too close, and the queue fell back in horror.
Hilly faltered.
When it got to their turn Hilly held out her passport and smiled shyly at him. ‘Look, I’m wearing it,’ she said, pointing to her necklace.
He didn’t react, merely snatched her Austrian passport and glanced at it. ‘Move along now,’ he said in broken English. ‘Next.’
‘Goro?’ Zofia saw the confusion in her face. ‘It’s me, Hilly.’
‘Move along.’ They seemed to be the only English words he knew.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t come to—’ Hilly’s words were cut off as he stabbed the bayonet in her direction so the tip just touched her chest.
Hilly recoiled. ‘It’s me,’ she said again, eyes wide with shock.
He withdrew the bayonet and in one whip-like movement slapped her hard across the face. ‘Whore.’ The English word was unmistakeable.
Hilly staggered and almost fell forward. Zofia could do nothing. Nobody said anything.
Zofia held her breath as her own pass was examined by his companion, a heavier man with a face like iron.
For a moment she thought she’d be turned away. Desperately she explained in Japanese that she was a teacher tutoring American children to speak their language.
He grunted and waved her on. She almost collapsed in relief. ‘Thank you,’ she said in Japanese, almost ashamed she knew their tongue. These men were nothing like Haru, these men were thugs.
Hilly was waiting, one cheek red as fire. It made Zofia so angry she could barely speak. She wrapped an arm around Hilly’s shoulder. ‘It’s all right.’
‘I didn’t go to the park, so he hates me now.’
‘Forget him. Keep your head down, and don’t stare at anybody,’ she said.
‘It’s your fault. You should have let me go with him to Wing On’s.’
‘He called you a foul name. He didn’t deserve you.’
‘Are we really going to Mr Carter’s?’
‘Yes.’ Though she hated to beg. He was her employer, not a friend. Perhaps they would be able to stay a while until the Japanese army had done whatever it was going to do.
Author Bio:
Deborah used to be a costume designer for the BBC, before becoming a writer. Now she lives in an old English school house in a village full of 17th Century houses, near the glorious Lake District. Deborah has an award-winning historical fiction blog at her website www.deborahswift.com.
Deborah loves to write about how extraordinary events in history have transformed the lives of ordinary people, and how the events of the past can live on in her books and still resonate today.
Her WW2 novel Past Encounters was a BookViral Award winner, and The Poison Keeper was a winner of the Wishing Shelf Book of the Decade.
Author Links:
Website: www.deborahswift.com
Amazon Author Page: http://author.to/DeborahSwift
Twitter / X: https://twitter.com/swiftstory
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordeborahswift/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/deborahswift1/
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