About ‘Connectedness’
TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD, ARTIST JUSTINE TREE HAS IT ALL… BUT SHE ALSO HAS A SECRET THAT THREATENS TO DESTROY EVERYTHING
Justine’s art sells around the world, but does anyone truly know her? When her mother dies, she returns to her childhood home in Yorkshire where she decides to confront her past. She asks journalist Rose Haldane to find the baby she gave away when she was an art student, but only when Rose starts to ask difficult questions does Justine truly understand what she must face.
Is Justine strong enough to admit the secrets and lies of her past? To speak aloud the deeds she has hidden for 27 years, the real inspiration for her work that sells for millions of pounds. Could the truth trash her artistic reputation? Does Justine care more about her daughter, or her art? And what will she do if her daughter hates her?
This tale of art, adoption, romance and loss moves between now and the Eighties, from London’s art world to the bleak isolated cliffs of East Yorkshire and the hot orange blossom streets of Málaga, Spain.
A family mystery for fans of Maggie O’Farrell, Lucinda Riley, Tracy Rees and Rachel Hore.
About the ‘Identity Detective’ series
Rose Haldane reunites the people lost through adoption. The stories you don’t see on television shows. The difficult cases. The people who cannot be found, who are thought lost forever. Each book in the ‘Identity Detective’ series considers the viewpoint of one person trapped in this horrible dilemma. In the first book of the series, Ignoring Gravity, it is Rose’s experience we follow as an adult discovering she was adopted as a baby. Connectedness is the story of a birth mother and her longing to see her baby again. Sweet Joy, the third novel, will tell the story of a baby abandoned during The Blitz.
Author Bio
Sandra Danby is a proud Yorkshire woman, tennis nut and tea drinker. She believes a walk on the beach will cure most ills. Unlike Rose Haldane, the identity detective in her two novels, Ignoring Gravity and Connectedness, Sandra is not adopted.
Author Links
Author Guest Post
Visiting Malaga, what to see & do
I make no excuse for my enthusiasm about the city of Málaga in Southern Spain. It is an hour away from where I live so we visit frequently, but I am still discovering new alleys in the Old Town and beaches to visit. More than just an airport and gateway to the Costa del Sol, Málaga is a cultural destination with amazing art on show. So I set the 1980s story strand in Connectedness in the city to give me even more excuses to walk its streets, drink the coffee and absorb the heady Andalucian atmosphere of Spanish and Moorish influences. I promise; once you have been, you will want to come back.
My Top 5 things to do in Málaga
3 Visit seaside village El Palo in the evening and eat espetos, barbecued sardines, bought from one of the rustic beachside barbecues. The smell is amazing.
4 If you visit Málaga i
n May, you’ll be able to enjoy La Noche en Blanco, a long free evening of cultural events around the city. The Spanish love a fiesta; museums and galleries throw open their doors for free, there is music and dancing in the streets, and everywhere there are special events running into the small hours. If there is something in particular you fancy, sign-up in advance here.
5 Go to the beach. Málaga
has 20km of coastline and many beaches are within easy reach of the city. Read this guide about the best beaches for sunrise, families, walking, relaxing, being quiet, sunset cocktails. Málaga beaches also have great facilities such as loos, showers, restaurants, kiosks, and palm trees for essential shade.
Don’t just visit for the day.
There is never a bad time of year to visit. Málaga is a 24/7 365/365 city.
You’ll be surprised at the prices, eating out is cheap and there are lots of free things to do.
With more than 30 museums, including some of the biggest art names in the world, try one of the smaller specialist museums which include cars, musical instruments, flamenco, glass and football.
Before you book your flights, check out if there is a local event. The crowds can be huge at Easter, Christmas and during the Málaga Fair in August.
When you return home, book your next trip to Málaga.
Further information about Málaga & AndalucÃa
Tourist information at Málaga Turismo – click on the ‘Multimedia’ tab for useful guides to the city, walks and history.
Andalucia.com is a one-stop resource for hotels, restaurants, sports, events, parks, nightlife, excursions, transport and information about living in Southern Spain.
Guide to Málaga combines insider tips with practical advice on visiting the city.
Read my blog about life in the most beautiful hidden valley in Andaluc
Ãa at Notes on a Spanish Valley… nature, birds, food, countryside, day-to-day life in rural Spain.
An extract from ‘Connectedness’
Spain, November 1982
It was lunchtime. El Paseo del Parque, the walkway through the linear park which reached alongside the port to the foot of the tenth century castle of Gibralfaro, was lined with tall palms offering welcome shelter from the sun. A heavy perfume hung in the November air, with not a breath of a breeze to stir the leaves. They were sitting on a bench beside El Jazminero, the sculpture of the jasmine-seller, eating bread and olives, chewing, licking oil off their fingers, and unable to take their eyes off each other, unable to stop smiling.
When I’m old, I want to remember this.
‘Here, querida. Eat.’
Federico held an olive to her lips and, feeling she was in a DH Lawrence novel, she opened her mouth and let him pop the olive inside. They now ate lunch together every college day, sitting on a bench, their thighs lightly side by side in delighted recognition of their growing mutual attraction. Federico’s coyness was attractive, a refreshing change for Justine from the Yorkshire boys who after a week would be pressing her to indulge in a bout of hip-grinding. She liked the old-fashioned flirting. It was sensual, the first time she truly understood its meaning.
They had sort of fallen into food roles. Justine provided the bread, bought from the panaderÃa opposite her flat, a different shaped loaf every day. Pan pueblo, a long oval big enough to feed a hungry family. Pan Andaluz, smaller, with a diamond design on top. Justine’s favourite so far was the creamy Mollete, flat oval bread rolls from Antequera in the hills north of Málaga, often eaten for breakfast; toasted and sprinkled with olive oil, chopped tomatoes and salt. Every day Federico arrived with a tasty accompaniment to go with the pan. Yesterday, slices of jamón so thin they were almost transparent, the wine-coloured ham marbled with white swirls of fat. Before that it was salted almonds and triangles of hard cheese the colour of Indian Yellow, drizzled with oil. Today, a jar of home-cured olives.
Justine had never tasted an olive before she arrived in Málaga.
‘My first time was at a welcome party for foreign students. I went with April, my flatmate.’ She spoke slowly, catching his eye to confirm he understood.
He nodded.
‘Anyway, I’m not good at parties. I don’t know how to talk to someone I’ve never met.’ She paused, remembering how they had met. ‘A dish of olives was passed round and I did what the others did, I took one and put it in my mouth.’
She grimaced. ‘It was bitter.’ She looked at him and he smiled.
‘SÃ, amarga.’
‘And it had a stone in it.’
‘SÃ, hueso.’
Her mother would have been delighted with her behaviour: she hadn’t grimaced or coughed but continued to smile at a tall blond Norwegian student who had introduced himself in perfect English and was now outlining how he intended to be the new Munch. Wanting to challenge his pretentiousness, wanting to spit out the bitter object into a small paper napkin, instead she had nodded politely and swallowed it, stone and all. The next time the small dish did the rounds, she politely refused.
Remember the coffee, Justine. And the fish. They turned out to be lovely.
And so she took one from Federico’s jar, chewed and swallowed. No stone. She gestured to the olives.
‘Bueno.’
Federico smiled that wide smile which made the tiny scar on his top lip disappear.
‘Ah sÃ, these olive mi madre makes.’
Justine had known it. Yesterday’s jamón was from one of his parents’ pigs, the almendras the day before came from his grandparents’ orchard.
‘They are very, dulce. Esweet, yes?’
‘SÃ, sweet.’
‘Esweet.’
She loved the way he said his s’s. And Justine realised as she said the word that, yes, these olives were really sweet. She could taste, she concentrated, lemon, rosemary and something aniseedy. They sat peaceably together, tearing chunks of bread and eating it dry, without butter, in the Spanish way. She was actually starting to prefer it that way. Butter suddenly seemed rich. She chewed slowly, and examined El Jazminero.
‘He is here for to remember all men who sell…’ A pause while he searched for the correct word. ‘It is flower, white, we say jazmin.’
Justine nodded. ‘Yes, jasmine.’
She looked more closely at the statue, a man with a broad tray slung round his neck and yes, there were flowers in his tray. And then she smelt it, the heavy scent in the air was coming from the bushes in the shrubby border behind their bench, the tiny white star-shaped flowers living only a day before shrivelling at nightfall. She got up to read the small sign, a wooden label stuck in the earth. ‘Jazmin Común’. Tomorrow there would be new flowers here, new scent, new lovers.
Is that what we are? Lovers? But he hasn’t kissed me on the lips yet.
She didn’t want to move, wanted to claim this bench as their own, mark it in some way like those she sometimes sat on at home in sheltered spots on the clifftop. The benches with the plaques were always the ones with the best views of the sea.
‘Federico and Justine fell in love here,’ their plaque would say.
His voice broke into her reverie.
‘Mañana mediodÃa I see you here? I want to show you El Cenachero.’ He waved towards another statue, a hundred yards away, of a man carrying a basket hung from a yoke over his shoulders. ‘He is man with fish.’
‘SÃ,’ she smiled. ‘Mañana mediodÃa. El Cenachero.’
If a boy at home asked to meet her for lunch beside the statue of a fisherman, she would have said no.
My Review
A very clever novel that explores our relationship with the environment, as well as the different ways in which we are connected to it and to others. Sandra Danby has chosen two perfect locations, Filey with its windswept coast and Malaga in Spain, both of which appeal for different reasons. I can readily understand how you can be drawn back to your birthplace yet feel more alive under the Mediterranean sun. Throughout the book, there is the suspense of the protagonist's daughter, whom she gave up for adoption. There is a sharp contrast too in the journalist who was adopted as a baby so we see the emotions from both sides. The ending is neatly done and very poignant. This is a book that will stay with you.
