The Railwayman's Wife

by Ashley Hay

Genres: Historical Fiction; Literary Fiction; War & Military

Synopsis

Three people, struggling to come to terms with great loss after the end of the war, search for peace in a small town's library in a heartbreaking novel of love and loss and the healing power of memory and words. In a small town on the land's edge, in the strange space at a war's end, a widow, a poet and a doctor each try to find their own peace, and their own new story. In Thirroul, in 1948, people chase their dreams through the books in the railway's library. Anikka Lachlan searches for solace after her life is destroyed by a single random act. Roy McKinnon, who found poetry in the mess of war, has lost his words and his hope. Frank Draper is trapped by the guilt of those his treatment and care failed on their first day of freedom. All three struggle with the same question: how now to be alive. Written in clear, shining prose and with an eloquent understanding of the human heart, The Railwayman's Wife explores the power of beginnings and endings, and how hard it can be sometimes to tell them apart. It's a story of life, loss and what comes after; of connection and separation, longing and acceptance. Most of all, it celebrates love in all its forms, and the beauty of discovering that loving someone can be as extraordinary as being loved yourself.

Publisher: Washington Square Press

Print pages: 288

Sample

Railwayman’s Wife

1

SHE SITS, her legs folded beneath her. The fingers of one hand trace the upholstery’s pattern while the other hand holds the pages of the book.

It could be any day, any year: call it 1935, 1938, 1945, or somewhere decades away in her future. Perhaps it’s the day after her wedding, the day after her daughter’s birth, the last day of the war, the last day of her life. Whenever it is, Anikka Lachlan is reading, swallowed by the shapes and spaces made by rows of dark letters on pale paper. She wets one finger, not slowly, but absently, and moves it to turn the next page.

From outside, across the roofs of this small town, comes a sharp line of noise—a train’s brakes and the squeal of wheel on rail, metal on metal. Ani looks up from the page but at nothing, and at nowhere, as if the room she’s sitting in and the rest of this whole cacophonous world do not, at this moment, quite exist.

The sound fades. The silence holds. She looks down, and finds the next word.