Two delightful ladies in 1930s England solve crimes in a way Miss Marple would be proud of.
Churchill and Pemberley are a perfect pair; one stout, one thin, one widowed, one single, both willing to get stuck in and look for answers when mysteries appear.
I'm sure you'll love the banter between these two delightful characters that Emily Organ has created. They are an equal match for one another and also for the other characters in their south England village. The way that Emily writes the Churchill and Pemberley relationship has me chortling regularly and I'm sure you will too as she reads from Puzzle in Poppleford Wood.
This week's mystery author
Emily Organ has been writing historical mysteries for four years, her current series include the Churchill and Pemberley cozy mystery series, which is set in a 1930s English village, and the Penny Green Victorian mystery series which is set in 19th century London.
The first book in Emily’s Churchill and Pemberley series was shortlisted for Amazon UK's Kindle Storyteller Award in 2019.
Emily lives in the south of England with her family.
Learn more about Emily and her books at EmilyOrgan.co.uk.
Press play (above) to listen to the show, or read the transcript below. Remember you can also subscribe to the show on Apple Podcasts. And listen on Stitcher, Android, Google Podcasts, TuneIn, and Spotify.
You can also click here to listen to the interview on YouTube.
Excerpt from Puzzle in Poppleford Wood
“Remind me never to visit the bank again on Compton Poppleford’s market day, Pemberley,” said Annabel Churchill as she sank down into the chair behind her desk. “It’s complete mayhem! Countless yokels have crawled in from the countryside and blocked the roads with their rickety carts and animals, all of which have seen better days. I was trapped for fifteen minutes in a crowd of noisy, gap-teethed rustics with low-set ears. Most of them were wearing smocks. Smocks, I tell you! And I even saw a man in clogs. There’s no excuse for clogs, Pembers. He’d be arrested for looking like that in Richmond-upon-Thames.”
“How fortunate for him that he doesn’t live there, then,” replied Doris Pemberley, a thin, bespectacled lady with a mop of untidy grey hair.
“It’s a different world altogether,” said Churchill, adjusting her string of pearls. “I thought I’d adapted to Dorset life quite well, but every now and again one is reminded of the region’s particular peculiarities.”
“Don’t they have market day in Richmond-upon-Thames?”
“They do, but it’s a much more sophisticated affair up there. People unload their wares from shiny vans rather than carts riddled with woodworm. And the cows and sheep behave with much more decorum.”
“No rustic types?”
“None. You get a few oiks from Hounslow, but no smocks. And definitely no clogs!”
Churchill smoothed down her silver helmet of lacquered hair. She was a large lady with a fondness for tweed skirts and woollen twinsets.
“But you only ever need one pair,” said Pemberley.
“Clogs. Because they’re carved out of wood they go on forever; no need to ever replace them. They’ll still be going strong even after you’ve died.”
“Outlived by one’s footwear. What a thought.”
“And there’s no need for any expenditure on new shoes.”
“An advantage that should not be overlooked. Shoes are such poor quality these days, don’t you find? A few bimbles along the riverbank and the soles are almost worn through. And the days of finding a decent cobbler on every high street are long gone.”
“Clogs are the answer.”
“Only if you’re clinging to the bottom rung of the social ladder, Pembers. If one has any middle-class aspirations at all they’re a distinct no-no.”
“Well, don’t worry, Mrs Churchill. The marketplace will soon be transformed for the unveiling of the statue of Sir Morris Buckle-Duffington next Tuesday.”
“He sounds terribly important.