Occupation: Puddlington postmistress
I scraped the last bit of jam from the jar and spread it on a piece of toast as I prepared for my day. Jam is the only thing that makes National Loaf edible. The dreadful grey bread, apportioned to every family in England and dubbed ‘Hitler’s Secret Weapon’, has more wheat husk than flour and tastes like sawdust.
Oh, how I miss our lovely white bread. But, needs must. I finished my cuppa, resolving to get more biscuits from the shop and maybe some tinned peaches. Last week, Florrie ran out of custard creams before I made it to the head of the queue.
Entering the post office, I filled my worn leather satchel with letters, relieved to see no new telegrams had arrived. Having to deliver those devastating missives to my friends and neighbours is the hardest part of my postmistress job. Only yesterday I’d cycled to Sycamore Farm with a telegram for Mabel Hastings, informing her that her son had died when his ship was sunk by a German U-boat.
Heartbreaking.
That’s one good thing about being a spinster; I’ll never know the pain of losing a child. I doubt I could bear it. As I placed the last bit of post in my satchel, I smiled at the return address. Another letter from Ned Robins, the vicar’s son, to lovely Nora Clarke. Ned’s a pilot in the RAF, and he and Nora have been friends since childhood. I wonder how long it will take for them to realize they’re more than friends. I fancy we’ll hear wedding bells sooner rather than later.
I closed the post office door and approached my trusty black Raleigh, ready to set off on my postal round.
“Miss Smith, Miss Smith!” a voice called. ‘Look what I caught!’ eight-year-old East End evacuee Charlie said with a proud grin as he held up a large mackerel.
“Well done!” I brushed back a strand of grey hair. “That will make a lovely meal.”
Charlie beamed while his best friend and fellow London ‘vac scuffed his foot in the dirt. “My fish was too puny to keep,” young Walter said, downcast. “I had to throw ‘im back.”
“Never you mind,” I reassured the quiet lad who’d stolen my heart. “There’s plenty more fish in—”
The air-raid siren blared and I grabbed the boys’ hands and sprinted to my Anderson shelter in the garden.
THE POSTMISTRESS OF PUDDLINGTON
Genre: Historical Fiction 1930s
Release: August 2026
Format: Print, Digital
Purchase Link
Courage, love and survival . . . it’s all in a letter.
1934, Dorset. Nothing gives postmistress Hester Smith greater joy than cycling through the idyllic village of Puddlington, delivering the mail to her neighbours. Bookish Hester has always felt privileged to witness the highs and lows a single letter can bring.
But when war comes to Puddlington’s shores five years later, Hester suddenly finds herself in the devastating position of delivering news that no one should hear. As the community is directly impacted by tragedy on the battlefield and a shocking death occurs in the village, Hester’s spirit and resolve are tested like never before.
Can she and her fellow Puddlington women, including the vicar’s wife and the bohemian lady of the manor, find the courage to face their darkest times and come through a storm that will change their lives for ever?
About the author
Laura Jensen Walker is the award-winning author of twenty-plus books, including the Lefty-nominated Death of a Flying Nightingale, and the Amazon-bestselling, Agatha Award-nominated Murder Most Sweet. Laura, who writes in several genres, is a rabid Anglophile since being stationed in the UK with the Air Force. She lives in Northern California with her family—including two rescue pups—where she drinks tea and dreams of England.