09 Jun Clare Flynn Sisters at War Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour #HistoricalFiction #WW2 #sistersatwar #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub @clarefly @maryanneyarde

FEATURED AUTHOR: CLARE FLYNN

It is my pleasure to feature Clare Flynn as part of The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour being held from May 31st – June 11th, 2021. Clare Flynn is the author of the historical fiction, Sisters at War, which was released by Cranbrook Press on May 1st, 2021 (314 pages). 

Below are highlights of Sisters at War, Clare Flynn’s author bio, and an excerpt from her book.

HIGHLIGHTS: SISTERS AT WAR

Sisters at War

By Clare Flynn

(Blurb)

1940 Liverpool. The pressures of war threaten to tear apart two sisters traumatised by their father’s murder of their mother.

With her new husband, Will, a merchant seaman, deployed on dangerous Atlantic convoy missions, Hannah needs her younger sister Judith more than ever. But when Mussolini declares war on Britain, Judith’s Italian sweetheart, Paolo is imprisoned as an enemy alien, and Judith’s loyalties are divided.

Each sister wants only to be with the man she loves but, as the war progresses, tensions between them boil over, and they face an impossible decision.

A heart-wrenching page-turner about the everyday bravery of ordinary people during wartime. From heavily blitzed Liverpool to the terrors of the North Atlantic and the scorched plains of Australia, Sisters at War will bring tears to your eyes and joy to your heart.

Buy Links:

Universal Link  ♠  Amazon UK   ♠  Amazon US   ♠  Amazon CA   ♠  Amazon AU   ♠  Kobo 

AUTHOR BIO: CLARE FLYNN

Clare Flynn is the author of thirteen historical novels and a collection of short stories. A former International Marketing Director and strategic management consultant, she is now a full-time writer.

Having lived and worked in London, Paris, Brussels, Milan and Sydney, home is now on the coast, in Sussex, England, where she can watch the sea from her windows. An avid traveler, her books are often set in exotic locations.

Clare is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, a member of The Society of Authors, ALLi, and the Romantic Novelists Association. When not writing, she loves to read, quilt, paint and play the piano.

Social Media Links:

Website  ♠  Twitter   ♠  Facebook   ♠   Amazon Author Page  ♠  Goodreads   ♠  Instagram   ♠  LinkedIn   ♠  Pinterest  ♠  BookBub 

EXCERPT: SISTERS AT WAR

They were off the north coast of Ireland when the torpedo struck. Less than twenty-four hours out of Liverpool. U-47 had one torpedo left and was returning to Germany, when the zig-zag course of the Arandora Star caused the U-boat captain to guess that it was an enemy ship.

At six in the morning, Paolo was asleep on the top deck. He was woken by a loud dull thump, as the missile smashed straight into the engine room, breaking the back of the ship. Men were thrown into the sea, spewed out like ash from a volcano.

In the chaos and shock that ensued, Paolo saw that some of the lifeboats had been damaged by the explosion.  The ship was listing sharply, rendering the lifeboats on the uppermost side of the ship unlaunchable – swinging uselessly on their davits over the deck rather than the sea. Those that were usable were being lowered in a frenzy of panicked activity. Prisoners, guards, crew, and some of the men who had been pitched overboard, were pulled inside them.

Many of the Italians were too terrified to move. Paralysed. A number of elderly men appeared too frail and shocked to do anything; others were screaming that they couldn’t swim. Most of the Italians were on the lowest deck and had further to climb through the ship towards safety, by which time most of the functioning lifeboats were full or on the water, requiring a jump. Some of the cabin doors on those lower decks had jammed as a result of the explosion, leaving men trapped inside.

The early morning air was rent with screams of ‘Aiuto!’ – help me! – or desperate cries of prayer and pain. This motley band of mainly blameless men: hoteliers, caterers, hairdressers, waiters, shopkeepers, and doormen, were still in shock from being torn from home and family when they had committed no crime. Most were over fifty – several in their sixties and seventies – and now they were bewildered participants in a sea battle they’d never expected.

One of the crew handed Paolo a life jacket and he spotted Alfonso several feet away. The grocer looked wretched, his eyes hollow, his face gaunt. Paolo grabbed another jacket and pushed his way through the crowd towards his friend.

‘We must get into a lifeboat. There are still spaces,’ he told him. ‘The ship is sinking. We must get in a boat now.’

But by the time he and the shocked Signor Giordano reached the last of the lifeboats, it was already full and being lowered towards the sea.

Paolo looked about. The ship was going down. His years as a seaman left him in no doubt. ‘We’ll have to jump.’

‘I can’t swim,’ Alfonso said. ‘I never learnt.’ Around them, men were diving or jumping into the sea, but there were hundreds of others rushing around on the deck in a blind panic, fuelled by terror. German voices mixed with English, and Italian. Those deciding to take their chances in the sea seemed to be predominantly German – many of them merchant seamen like Paolo, or British guards and crew, while the elderly Italians stubbornly refused to budge, clinging onto the rails. They couldn’t believe that it could possibly be safer in the water than here on the – now steeply sloping – deck.

‘I’ll help you.’ Paolo tugged his arm, desperate. ‘You have to jump. Please, Alfonso. I beg you. It’s our only chance.’ He indicated the water below where men were bobbing around. ‘Look you can see how the water level has risen up the hull. The ship is broken. Trust me, I’m a sailor. It’s going to sink.’ He tried to control the fear in his voice.

But Giordano clung to the railings, his eyes brimming with tears. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t. You go.’ His face contorted in terror.

Paolo tried to help his friend to put on the life jacket, but Alfonso shoved him away. As he did so the life vest was grabbed by someone else. Below them, the sea was littered with debris, dead bodies, men swimming towards the lifeboats and a growing slick of black oil. The stricken vessel creaked ominously.

‘No. No. I can’t.’ Alfonso’s voice, barely a whisper, dripped fear.

‘Please, come with me, Alfonso.’

‘No!’ He shook his head rapidly, the fear pulsing off him, his eyes wild. Go! Tell my Maria I love her.’ He pushed Paolo towards the railing.

Paolo wasn’t ready to die. Jumping was the only hope he would ever have of seeing Judith again, With one last pleading look at Alfonso, he clambered over the railings and let himself drop towards the waters below.

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