Category: simon westow

New Year, New Book, New Series

On By chrisnickson2In Blog, Cathy Marsden, simon westow2 Comments

First of all, a happy 2025. May it bring you healthy and happiness and a sense of calm.

But…new year, new series?

It’s true, I’ve dropped hints and more on here about it. With No Precious Truth (out April 1) I’m shifting to the Second World War and Leeds in 1941.

To begin, I should say I wrote an entire unpublished novel with Cathy that detailed her start with the Special Investigation Branch. And I discovered that she, the era and the situation would not leave me alone. She demanded I write more. The last time that happened was with Annabelle Harper, so draw your own conclusions.

Cathy Marsden was born and raised in Leeds, growing up on Quarry Hill until the family was rehoused to the brand-new Gipton estate in 1934. The city and its people is in her blood – more than she realises at first. Her father receives a pension, lungs ruined by mustard gas at Arras in World War 1. Cathy is a policewoman, a sergeant. She’d been in charge of six female police constables and reporting to a female inspector – at least until September 1940, when she was seconded to the Special Investigation Branch, which had opened a small Leeds office in the summer. The idea was she’d show the five men in the squad around the city. The SIB was made up of former police detectives who’d joined the army or been in the reserve, only to end up in the military police, and then SIB. They have army ranks, are supposed to carry sidearms, and work out of a small office in the Ministry of Works office on Briggate.

Where was that? Does this look familiar?

Now take a look at this. It was supposed to be the flagship Marks & Spencer store, but it was requisition by the government for the ministry.

Entrance right here.

The secondment was meant to last three weeks. In that time Cathy proved to be vital to the squad. Working in plain clothes, with her local knowledge, her skills have chance to blossom and the period is extended until she’s there for the duration.

But there’s one other thing she does. Every Friday evening, from 6-10, she’s a firewatcher at the top of Matthias Robinson’s department store, just up Briggate (it became Debenhams, and just reopened as Flannels).

There have been air raids, but Leeds has escaped the horrors inflicted on other British cities – so far. But how long can that last?

Meanwhile, Cathy and the men in SIB are going to have a very big problem. The first inkling is the return of her brother, who moved to London as soon as he could and is, he’s told the family, a civil servant…well, read for yourselves.

From the corner of her eye, Cathy caught sight of someone else entering the room. Her eyes widened in disbelief. He wasn’t anyone she’d ever expected to see in this place. She folded her arms and glared at him.

‘What the hell are you doing here?

Daniel Marsden was five years older than her, the clever boy who won the scholarship to grammar school. The one who passed everything without seeming to do a stroke of work while she studied deep into the night, struggling with her lessons and failing half her exams.

He was the boy people noticed. They remembered him, asked after him, always full of praise, with Cathy a poor second. When Dan landed a Civil Service job and moved down to London, she’d said nothing, but deep inside she’d been glad to see the back of him. After so many years she had the chance to move out of her brother’s shadow. Even now, his Christmas visits each year felt like more than enough time together, watching everyone gather round him. She’d been quietly relieved when he’d said there was too much going on at the ministry last December to be able to come.

Now he was standing in the office where she worked. He smiled.

‘I like the way you’ve had your hair done. It suits you.’

Cathy felt herself bristle. At twenty-six, she’d spent four years as a woman police constable, then two more as a sergeant, before her secondment to SIB and a move into plain clothes. She’d had to fight for respect every step of the way. It had been the same when she started here. She’d needed to work hard to make the squad accept her. To understand that a woman could do this job. Cathy wasn’t going to let her brother dismiss all that with a flippant comment. Just the sight of him here, where she’d built a place for herself, made the excitement and pride at finding Dobson wither away.

‘I’m so very glad you approve.’

Dan shifted his glance away.

‘He’s been sent,’ Faulkner told her. ‘We’re working with him.’

She turned, fire in her eyes. Like the other men in SIB, Adam Faulkner had been a police detective before the war. He’d been in London, a member of the Flying Squad. They were famous, the best Scotland Yard had; everybody in the country had heard of them. He’d joined the army, eager to defend his country, only to find himself shuffled into the military police. Recruited for the Special Investigation Branch when it was formed the year before, last July he’d been posted to Leeds to set up this new squad. A sergeant, like her, but his was an army rank. A good, fair boss.

‘Sent?’ Cathy asked. ‘What do you mean, sent?’

Faulkner closed his eyes for a second. ‘Your brother is with the Security Service,’ he said.

I hope you’re intrigued by a female character front and centre in a Leeds WWII thriller. If you’re registered there with my publisher, No Precious Truth will soon be available to read on NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review. If you’re not registered and fancy it, drop me a line and I’ll arrange it.

Or you could pre-order it, of course. Amazon has the Kindle edition of No Precious Truth pretty cheap in the UK and US. UK version here. In the UK, the cheapest hardback price is here. The cover’s pretty great, too.

And of course, the Kindle version of the latest Simon Westow book, Them Without Pain, is pretty decently priced in the UK. Find it here. The hardback is just over a tenner, too.

One final thing: Cathy arrives with her own soundtrack. Find the playlist here, but be prepared to dance and jitterbug.

Something Free For Christmas

On By chrisnickson2In Blog, leeds, simon westowLeave a comment

We’re into December and the end of the year is coming up fast.

Why don’t we close it out with a competition to win a copy of the latest book of mine, Them Without Pain – unfortunately, postage costs mean it’s UK only.

All you have to do it tell me who had the hidden workshop discovered in the book.  Simply reply with your answer and an email address. I’ll select the winner on Thursday, December 12 and it should hopefully arrive in time for holiday reading.

Bonus points if you can tell me why Leeds is such a great city.

Meanwhile, be well, peaceful and happy. Thank you for reading this and my novels. Even if you don’t win, remember that books make great gifts. And they mean even more if they come from independent bookshops.

It’s That Time…Again

On By chrisnickson2In leeds, simon westow, storyLeave a comment

We’re leaping into that season again. Christmas lights switch-ones, Christmas fairs and markets, Thanksgiving in the US, the spectre of Black Friday that lasts for weeks…it all means it’s time to think of presents, and a period when artists of all types tout their works as ideal gifts.

I’m no different standing here like I have a stall in the market and barking out my bargains. But yes, I do feel they’d make good presents for anyone who likes to read, has an interest in history and likes crime novels.

My latest is on sale with Amazon (I know, but…cost of living). At least, it is in the UK. The hardback is £13.61 and the ebook £12.93. That’s a good deal and I still get a full royalty. I’d love to sell more copies of it. I believe it’s a hell of a good story, with great characters, and a foundation in Leeds history (a Leeds goldsmith hanged for treason in 1696) that resonates through the years. You can find it right here – just click the link.

KODAK Digital Still Camera

If you could find your way to buying a copy, even for yourself, I’d be very grateful. And if you don’t have the money, please request it from your local library. They may not have it, but they can order it in.

Above all, though, please enjoy the holidays, be healthy and be well. And thank you for reading.

Bargains, Get ‘Em

On By chrisnickson2In Cathy Marsden, leeds, simon westow, tom harperLeave a comment

A very quick not to say that while No Precious Truth isn’t out until April 1 next year, if you pre-order it on Kindle, the price is £10.39, as cheap as I’ve seen Amazon go an on unpublished book – they’re running it for $14.99 in the US. The link is here. I know, it’s Amazon, but Kindle is the big format. I have one.

If you’re catching up on the Simon Westow series, The Scream of Sins is currently £12.99 ($11.49). Buy it here. The first two in the series are just £2.99 – quite a deal.

For Tom Harper fans, Rusted Souls, the final book in the series is £10.39 on Kindle ($11.49). Grab it here. The first eight books in the series are all low priced for Kindle.

Look, I’m from Yorkshire. Our wallets squeak when we have to open them. We all need to save money.

I hope you’ll buy. Thank you.

The Best Yet?

On By chrisnickson2In Blog, leeds, simon westowLeave a comment

This is a wonderful review to receive. Booklist, a publication that’s influential with librarians (and bookseller) in the US, praised the Simon Westow series as “a real find for historical-mystery fans.” That’s sumptuous enough paise, but the reviewer concludes: “Brimming with Nickson’s trademark period details, memorable characters, and realistic portrayal of life in nineteenth-century England—but also filled with frightening twists, bloody violence, suspense, and danger—this may just be Nickson’s best Simon Westow book yet.”

Best Simon Westow yet? I’ll gladly take that! A reader who’s read it – maybe through NetGalley where it’s available, hint hint – also thought it was the best yet.

Maybe I’m doing something right. Well, there has to be a first time.

If you’re not on NetGalley, you can pre-order the book, which comes out September 3, or ask your library to order in a copy. Believe me, it would all be gratefully received.

If I may, one final request. If you’d care to leave a review somewhere, that would be wonderful.

Thank you.

Welcome To Pitfall

On By chrisnickson2In leeds, simon westow4 Comments

I’ve no idea why, but Pitfall Street, a few yards downstream from Leeds Bridge, has long been my favourite street in Leeds. No reason for it. It’s only a few yards long, blink and you miss it as you pass on the Calls.

But I’ve used it in many books – I think it’s there in every Simon Westow – and it has much more history than anyone would imagine today.

Look at it from Leeds Bridge and it’s a gap between building. But look down towards the waterline and you’ll see the openings in the stonework. They let in water for the Leeds Water Engine, designed and built by engineer George Sorocold.

The engine powered the water through lead pipes up to a reservoir in a relatively high point in Leeds, up neat St John’s Church on the far side of the Headrow. From there, pipes made of elm went to the houses of those who paid for it. Piped water was a revelation for the time.

However, Pitfall had been in use long before that – there’s no record of its origin-  with a pair of cloth fulling mills powered by water flowing along the Aire; it might originally have been a path leading to the mills; that makes as much sense as anything. The fulling mills were replaced by a rape seed mill, one of several around town. That in its turn, became the housing for the water engine.

How did Pitfall acquire its name? I wish I knew. It certainly has a sinister aspect. For many years it was simply Pitfall; the Street is much more recent.

But it still holds some kind of magic for me.

And just to remind you, Them Without Pain is published in hardback on September 3. Nod’s as good as a wink, right?

The Real Arthur Mangey – In The Paper

On By chrisnickson2In leeds, simon westowLeave a comment

Happy Yorkshire day, wherever you are. Starting out decidedly wet here, but brighter later, or so they say.

Still, not bad with the Yorkshire Post talking about Arthur Mangey, the hanged man at the root of Them Without Pain. Read it and find out the truth.

Remember, too, you can pre-order from your favourite place or place a reserve at the library. Just over a month until it’s out!

There’s now a link to the article. You can read it here.

A Sneak Peek…At The New Book

On By chrisnickson2In leeds, simon westowLeave a comment

It’s just six weeks until Them Without Pain is published. It’s a twisting tale with its foundation ir real Leeds history, and by the end, one of the main characters will have their life changed completely.

Intrigued? Good. Come on, take five minutes and read a very short extract. You can pre-order it at all the usual places (and indie bookshops are alwasy best). For online, Speedy Hen has the best price with free UK delivery. See it here. I know many can’t afford new hardbacks, but ask your library to get it in for you (and others). It all helps.

Thank you – and enjoy

Jane spotted Simon, dressed in a good suit, and Constable Porter in his best swallowtail coat, with a fresh, crisp stock tied around his neck. Mrs Shields had been right to insist that she wore her best dress; she fitted in. Another man stood with Simon and Porter, someone older, with a sprawl of grey hair and expensive, unfashionable clothes, an eager expression on his face. She touched the gold ring on her right hand that Mrs Shields had long ago given her for luck.

‘This is Miss Jane Truscott’, Simon introduced her. ‘Mr Armistead.’ The man had fine manners, taking her hand and bowing.

‘It’s time,’ the constable said as he glanced at his watch. He picked up a heavy hammer and started to lead the way up the creaking wooden stairs to the galley. Eagerly, Armistead skipped ahead of him.

Jane had been up here before; she knew every crevice of Leeds in her pores. Yet never inside any of the workshops. She watched as Porter selected a rusty old key from a heavy ring of them looped over his arm, and turned it in the lock.

Simon kept his eyes on Armistead. The man was full of anticipation, shifting from one foot to another as the constable opened the door, then scurrying to be first into the room.

He paused, feeling the tiny sliver of fear return at the edge of his mind. Stupid. It was a bright morning, an empty room with others around; there was no danger here.

The workshop was almost bare, only a scarred old wooden table under the dirty window that looked out over Briggate. A thick layer of dust covered everything, cobwebs across the glass and in all the corners. He breathed in the smell of neglect and dereliction, years of scents piled on top of each other. Simon watched Porter gaze around, unimpressed.

Armistead was running his hands across the dirty wooden panelling on the far wall, his face so close to it that he looked to be studying the grain. Very lightly, he tapped his fist against the wood. Simon heard. So did the constable; he raised his head. Hollow. There was space behind there.

‘I can’t see any catch to open it,’ Armistead said.

‘Doesn’t matter. It’s going to come down, anyway. Stand back.’ He was reluctant to move until Porter brought the hammer down close to his hands and he slid away to safety.

The first blow fell like thunder, dry wood shattering as splinters flew around the room. Simon realized his throat was dry. He was holding his breath in anticipation. From the corner of his eye he saw Jane, standing, silent, gaze fixed on the scene. He’d done right to ask her. Neither Rosie nor Sally had seemed too interested, but she was rapt.

A second blow, then a third turned into a rhythm of booming. By the fifth he’d made a small gap, enough for an arm. Finally, sweating from the effort, the constable lowered the hammer. Space for a man to wriggle through.

Armistead was the first. That was only fair; he was the one who’d been so certain this hidden room existed. A small shout of delight became a wail of horror.

Simon looked at Porter, then squeezed through the hole.

The secret workshop ran the width of the room. No windows. No light beyond the little that came through the gap. Four feet wide at most, hard rat droppings all over the floorboards. A small wooden bench held two rusted pairs of shears and a tarnished silver coin.

The body was sprawled face down across the floor.

Not an ancient wastage of bones and dry, leathery skin. This one was fresh, barely the start of a high summer stink. The rodents and insects had begun to feast on him, but he guessed the corpse hadn’t even been here a full day.

Simon squatted. In the gloom he could make out two pale lines about an inch apart on the back of the corpse’s left hand.

He knew of one man with scars like that. He’d read about them just the day before.

A Non-Pirate Looks At Seventy

On By chrisnickson2In leeds, simon westow2 Comments

A curious title, isn’t it? It’s actually an oblique reference to a Jimmy Buffett song. I’ve never heard it, I’m not a fan of his music, but I always liked of it – the title “A Pirate Looks At Forty.”

But at seventy? Well, that’s coming up fast. Next week. None of the earlier milestones ever bothered me, but this seems to loom very large. A real intimation of mortality.

I’m keeping a tighter focus for my work, concentrating on my novels only, and an occasional album review to remind myself I was once a music journalist, and loved it. Music still moves me, but even in my little corner of it – roots and world music – so much is passing me by. It’s time for younger voices with a different language to brin g it all alive.

But the books…I have plenty to keep me going. The seventh Simon Westow novel, Them Without Pain, is coming out in two months, and I’m moving along with the eighth (eight? I’m not sure how that’s happened). In May next year, you’ll meet Woman Police Sergeant Cathy Marsden and a little down the line I’ll be joining up with her again in Leeds, this time in 1942. Like I say, ample to keep me going.

I do have a definite sense of time passing these days. It doesn’t worry me; I’ve always been a fatalist. Just don’t let me keel over until I’ve finished whatever I’m writing, because I’m the only one with a clue who it ends, and even them, I’m frequently not certain until I’m almost there. Probably a good reason to keep writing. It’s my talisman, my lucky charm.

I was a late bloomer. I’d always written, and published bits and pieces. But I was almost forty before the music journalism became regular and my first non-fiction quickie bio appeared. Quite a number of those followed, but I was 55 when the first novel – The Broken Token – landed in the world. Since then, 36 others have followed, 31 one of them set in Leeds.

I love this place and its history, even if I came to that later, too.

So yes, 70. No banners, no bunting, definitely no party.

Let it come and I’ll make of it what I can.

By the way, before you go, let me tell you a little about this upcoming novel, Them Without Pain.

This one adds an extra layer as it has a real root in local history: in 1696, goldsmith Arthur Mangey created the elaborate ceremonial Leeds Mace. Two years later, he was accused of treason for coin clipping (debasing the coinage), found guilty and hanged. It was a dubious conviction, at best. In testimony, someone claimed he had a secret workshop where he committed his crimes, but nobody searched for it.

In 1825, they knocked down the block where the workshop was supposed to be, and…they found it. Inside were two pairs of metal shears and an Elizabethan coin.

Those are the facts. In the fiction, the room also contains the body of a man Westow has been hunting who stole a set of silver cups made by Mangey. How does the past connect to the death – and who killed him?

It’s Regency noir, as dark as it can get, set in a town polluted by the growing number of factories belching out their smoke. A place where people arrive, hunting for work and pavements covered to gold, to find only scraps. But where the rich have money, and the criminals can be deadly.

If you’re on NetGalley and approved for Severn House, you can read it now (please leave a review!). If not, you can still pre-order it. Independent bookshops would love your business, but all your favourite places will carry it. Speedy Hen has the cheapest British price, plus free UK delivery. Just saying.