I am delighted to introduce our new VMBooks website, under the brilliant management of my designer Paul Downes, Creative Director of GD Associates in Witney, Oxfordshire. Paul and I have worked together for more than twelve years. I could not have created VMBooks six years ago without his imagination, technical knowledge and experience.
Also crucial to my small team are my magnificent Editor, Debi Alper, whose report on Larkswood transmuted it from good to excellent, thus encouraging the great publisher Orion to buy it; and Andrew Chapman, owner of his company Prepare to Publish in Charlbury, Oxfordshire. Andrew is a fountain of wisdom and guidance in the murky, often dangerous waters of self-publishing.
We are proof that small is beautiful. We hope you will agree.
Photo by Chris Challis Photography
featured work
As the Second World War begins to take its toll, Louisa’s work as a Red Cross nurse is threatened with extinction. Will the same happen to her love affair with Thomas?
Louisa Hamilton arrives at Larkswood to meet her grandfather for the first time. What is Edward hiding from her – and will she find the courage to discover the truth?
As the summer holidays begin, Dan becomes aware of a stranger who haunts his every move. How dangerous is he – and will Dan be brave enough to stop him in his criminal tracks?
Family, friends and lovers dominate this second collection of Valerie’s poems as she explores, remembers and describes special episodes and life-changing events.
latest poetry
At Harcourt Arboretum
My novel Where Peacocks Scream was born in a creative writing class in Oxford. At the end of the third session, our tutor handed out a set of cards on which she’d written various professions: engineer, hairdresser, baker.
She asked us to write a short story about the character we’d been given.
I looked at my card. It said VILLAIN. Immediately I not only had my man, but the outlines of my story. I raced home to write it.
Many years have passed since that moment but the lives of the peacock have not. The male’s magnificent colours only emerge each year in April and May, when he’s courting and needs to impress a mate.
The Trout in Wolvercote, where my novel is set, no longer have the birds, but on 16 October 2026 I found a pair of peacocks at Harcourt Arboretum in Oxford’s Nuneham Courtenay, where more than 30 pairs roam wild and free in acres of very special woodland.
Here is my tribute.
For The Oxford Playhouse
I’ve always adored going to the theatre. As a teenager on Saturday nights I caught the tube from Edgware to Golders Green and watched everything from high up in the gods, imagining myself holding the attention of the sophisticated crowds.
At Reading University we took Lazarus by Pirandello to the Edinburgh Festival where I had to climb out of a wheelchair at the end of the show and walk towards the footlights. One night I managed to hold the audience in a totally enthralled silence: a moment I’ll never forget.
But I turned down an Agent’s offer to join her team. I’m an early bird, up at dawn and reduced to an exhausted heap by early evening. I’d never have survived the demanding evening life of a theatre actor.
As an adult, I’ve been to the theatre whenever I could afford it. I took Sam to Stratford-on-Avon to see his first Shakespearean play, and then watched his first student productions at Cambridge University, astonished by the originality and brilliance of his early work.
The arrival of Covid knocked every theatre visit to smithereens. This poem celebrates my seeing Noel Coward’s The Marquise when it felt safe to do so – and the joyful survival of my local much-loved theatre.
Salute to a Brand New Shed
One of my lifelong passions is gardening. For all the many gardens I’ve owned, I’ve created on a shoestring small but original spaces in which I could drink a cup of coffee, read, write, think, dream and sleep, always with my Cat beside me.
After Sloop died, I felt bereft. The space I was left with seemed to have no heart. I boarded up his cat entrance and replanted the flower beds. But my courtyard failed to enchant me as I mourned, and I lost interest in it.
In March 2026 I decided to give the space a facelift.
I dug up everything and chucked it away. I ordered a brand new shed and erected birdseed hangers for a family of jackdaws. A sprightly, experienced gardener joined my enthusiasm and a brilliant builder of new sheds added to my team.
Now, as this photo of our handiwork reveals, the space is as good as any outdoor dining-room can be in our changing climate. In August 2026 I hosted six Sunday tea-parties, all of them supported by delicious Blenheim Buttery cakes, Earl Grey tea with fresh lemon and lime – and local guests eager to sit, talk and eat under our blazing afternoon sun.
Here is my grateful tribute to our summer heatwave.