Landscape as a Love Letter

I want to take you on a journey through the landscape that inspired The Promise, a story that is as much about place as it is about the people who lived through war, love, and loss.

I was walking on the coast path near the Penpol creek, where I lived at the time, when something caught my eye. Hidden beneath the undergrowth and shifting mudflats were remnants of the Second World War—crumbling pillboxes, the remains of a Home Guard station perched on the cliff, and ivy-clad Nissen huts scattered across Cornish farmyards. It was as if the past had suddenly overlapped with the present, and I could almost reach out and touch it. The past wasn’t something distant; it was there, just over my shoulder. This unexpected discovery of war remnants became the seed for the story that would grow into The Promise.

Cornwall, with its rich layers of history, mythology, and legends, is woven into the very fabric of this novel. From the sacred ley lines to the landmarks of St Brecca’s Church and the sundial, the landscape itself became a character. But it wasn’t just the physical surroundings that inspired me. It was the echoes of the past—the memories shared by family, neighbors, and strangers. These personal stories found their way into the pages, and the landscape of Cornwall, from its skeletal tin mines to its ancient Celtic crosses, shaped the emotions and experiences of the characters.

The setting of Pencallyn House and its surrounding village were inspired by Trebah House and Garden, nestled in the Helford River valley. Here, many American troops were stationed during the war, preparing for the D-Day landings. I spent countless hours exploring these gardens, immersing myself in the atmosphere. The lush, subtropical plants that thrive in this corner of Cornwall stand in stark contrast to the remnants of concrete on the beaches, the remains of embarkation piers, and the widened roads—all silent witnesses to the ugliness of war. These juxtaposed elements—beauty and destruction, life and death—are deeply ingrained in the novel’s setting.

It was here that I found myself pondering the dramatic shift Cornwall must have undergone during the Second World War. For many of the locals, the arrival of American soldiers marked the beginning of the "friendly invasion," a phrase that encapsulates both the excitement and tension that came with it. As I delved deeper into the history of this time, I discovered a wealth of stories—some joyful, others heartbreaking. The struggles of African-American GIs, many of whom faced institutionalized racism, provided one of the most difficult yet essential parts of the narrative. These stories of love, prejudice, and the courage to stand up against adversity inspired the character of Jay Miller, whose experience in Cornwall reflects the real challenges faced by many African-American soldiers stationed here.

The sense of loss—personal and collective—is a key theme in The Promise. As I wrote Nell’s story, I found myself revisiting my own experiences with loss, particularly the loss of my father while I was writing the book. His memories of wartime childhood—stories of gas masks, rationing, and the strange foods of the era—helped shape the character of Estella and gave me a glimpse into the world of wartime children. It’s these personal connections to the past, the threads that tie us to our loved ones and our history, that make the setting of Cornwall so potent in the novel.

The final piece of the puzzle was the people I spoke to—the neighbors, the veterans, the evacuees who had come to Cornwall during the war. One elderly woman shared her memories of how a young African-American GI had been beaten simply for asking a white woman for directions. It was stories like these that helped shape the book, giving voice to the real, often painful experiences of those who lived through this turbulent time.

The Promise is, in many ways, a love letter to Cornwall—its landscapes, its history, and its people. But it is also a way to preserve the memories of those who lived through the war and to keep those stories alive for future generations. The connections we make to places, to people, and to the past are timeless, and I hope that in telling this story, I have captured just a small part of Cornwall’s complex and powerful legacy.