Henry Christie - Location and a Sense of Place

Henry Christie - Location and a Sense of Place 

 

This is an article which appeared in Shotsmag in July 2015.

Unforgiving is the twenty third entry in my series of crime novels featuring Henry Christie, a detective with the Lancashire Constabulary, who began life as a detective sergeant on what was then the Regional Crime Squad in my first book, A Time For Justice. Henry has risen slowly, and unsteadily, through the ranks to reach the lofty heights of Detective Superintendent and the role of Senior Investigating Officer – and impending retirement – in the latest book.

Most of the novels are set in and around Blackpool, which I once described as ‘the world’s brashest, trashiest seaside resort, alive with daytime fun and night time thrills’ – and Unforgiving is no exception to this.

I like to use real locations for my stories because I believe doing so gives them an anchor of authenticity and something readers can relate to, either from their own knowledge or a bit of research. However, I have been known to take geographical liberties to suit the stories and all errors in that respect are my own doing.

I was a cop for thirty years in Lancashire and although I was never actually stationed in Blackpool I did work in the resort on many occasions, particularly during the 80s and 90s (decades which now seem very long ago!). The first reason I spent time there was because officers from all over the county were drafted in annually to police the huge political conferences that used to be held there, the Conservative and Labour parties alternating their yearly visits, with the Lib-Dems crammed in there somewhere along the line. The police operations were huge, costly, and usually quite enjoyable.

That said, I was an armed officer (with a Smith & Wesson Model 10 revolver by my side) at the Tory party conference in Blackpool in 1985, the year after the Brighton bombing. It was a scary time, with another IRA attack a very real possibility and police snipers on all the roof tops.

In the mid-80s I joined the newly-formed Operational Support Unit and although I was based in East Lancashire at the time, our unit (essentially a go-anywhere, do-anything squad) spent a great deal of time travelling to Blackpool, usually at weekends in summer, to provide local officers with support.

It was about this time I began to see Blackpool as a great setting for crime stories, which were beginning to fester in my mind.

Most serious reported crime in Blackpool is concentrated on a 250 metre-wide strip, running north-south, with the Irish Sea on the right and Blackpool on the left, which is of course the core of the resort; the place where money is prised from people, legally and illegally. I found it fascinating that the majority of crime was committed in the area where people, including families, came to have fun. Many of them were, of course, unaware of anything untoward going on around them. Inland, behind this strip, Blackpool can be quite genteel and middle class, although there are some pockets of great deprivation to be found in high rise flats and on some council estates.

So Blackpool became the setting for the majority of my novels, although I have slowly extended my geography to include much more of Lancashire (and other parts of the world) as Henry’s character grew and his role as a Senior Investigating Officer expanded as the books progressed.

However, when I was planning and writing Facing Justice in 2011, the sixteenth Henry Christie book – which began life during one of the worst winters we’d had for some years, when we were snowed in for almost a week around Christmas 2010 (read the novel, see the link!). I was also looking for a location to suit the story, a village somewhere out in the wilds of Lancashire. Unfortunately I could not find a ‘real’ village in the particular location I wanted to use – up in the far reaches of the Lune Valley. So I invented a village called Kendleton. It was a mix of some of the villages I love in Lancashire, such as Dunsop Bridge, Slaidburn and Newton: picturesque, with a village green, shop and pub, and I put it on a fictitious tributary of the River Lune.

I never really dreamed I would return to the village in subsequent novels, but because of the way Henry progressed in his life – he now lives with the pub landlady – that is exactly what happened and Kendleton has become very much a real village to me. I can vividly visualise it as I write, and it has become, crucially, another character in the stories. I actually love writing about Henry taking his breakfast sandwich and mug of coffee out onto the pub steps in the early morning and watching the mist rise from the village green and maybe spotting a red deer launching itself back into the woodland beyond.

But Kendleton does not exist, other than in my strange mind.

I have had readers approach me during my talks, telling me they have pored over maps of Lancashire to try to find this place without success. I take this as a compliment because it shows just how real a fictional place (and characters) can feel to people, including myself. Although it is a made-up place, it does have an anchor in reality and it is populated by some good, strong characters such as Alison – Henry’s intended – and her daughter Ginny, the inebriated local GP and his farmer friend who prop up the bar of the Tawny Owl like the two old geezers in The Muppets.

But still, the question remains – where is Kendleton?

Some clues: it is located somewhere in north Lancashire in the area where the Forest of Bowland abuts the River Lune Valley, somewhere near Mallowdale Fell (where Henry and his friend Karl Donaldson almost came to grief once). It can be reached by driving out of Lancaster along the A683 and turning right somewhere after the village of Caton and heading into the hills…except you won’t find the road to Kendleton unless you happen to be very lucky. I’m told it appears for just one day every 100 years, or am I just thinking about Brigadoon?

So the action in Unforgiving begins in the reality that is Blackpool and then swings in the latter half of the book to fictional Kendleton, but just because it is a quiet village in the back of beyond, it does not mean that nothing goes on here, as Henry finds out to his cost. In an earlier book, Bad Tidings (the nineteenth book in the series), Henry is warned by his mother, ‘Secrets. All villages have secrets. Lots of them. And they always surface at some time or another. Nothing ever remains secret forever, and nor do the lies…’

Enjoy.

You can find more information about Nick Oldham on his Facebook page.

This is the full transcript of the interview I did earlier this year with Live Magazine

Mary Lee-Slade speaks to local author, Nick Oldham, about his latest release – a novelisation of the Danny Dyer film, Vendetta

Preston based former police inspector, Nick Oldham, has turned from fighting a life of crime to writing about it with his DCI Henry Christie novels. Now, Nick has found inspiration from the big screen. Working with Richwater Films, he has written the official novelisation to their latest British film, Vendetta, which stars Danny Dyer and Vincent Regan.
The novel follows Dyer’s character Jimmy Vickers, an SAS operative back from Afghanistan in mysterious circumstances, following the brutal murder of his father and mother by a feral group of criminals playing havoc in his home town.
How did you get the job of writing the novelisation of Vendetta?
Like most book writers, I am always interested in the possibility of seeing my work transferred to a screen, large or small. To that end I sent one of my early novels to the CEO of Richwater Films, Jonathan Sothcott. I’d done some research on the company and saw they were interested in producing gangster-style films and I thought that my book, ‘The Last Big Job’ might be something that would interest them.
As it happened, Jonathan liked the book, but didn’t feel it was something he could take on as a project. He was good enough to reply to me and I asked him if I could meet up with him and pick his brains about film production, thinking I might be able to become a film producer myself. Again he was good enough to say yes and subsequently we met for a chat in London in June last year.
During the course of our meeting we discussed the film and also novelisations of films and that they seemed to be a dying art form. At one point in the meeting Jonathan gave me a sidelong glance and asked if I would be interested in writing the book of the film Vendetta. I replied, “It would be a thought, wouldn’t it?”
I returned home that evening to find an email waiting for me saying that he’d discussed the idea with Darren Laws of Caffeine Nights Publishing and they were both up for it. The next day I had a call from Darren to discuss it further, then the screenplay for Vendetta was sent to me, the day after that I signed a contract to write the book and the week after I began to do just that!
How did the writing process differ from writing an original book from scratch?
When I write a novel it usually takes me six or seven months to complete. I usually write a draft in longhand, then transfer this to the word processor, editing as I go along. For Vendetta I decided that I would write the novel in the same way, because that’s just how I work.
The big difference with writing a book from a screenplay is that the story is already laid out for you and the writer’s job is to then translate that into a novel that works on its own merit. So as a writer you are tied to the storyline, but within that constraint you can expand and fill in gaps within the story.
One of the things that was alluded to in the screenplay of Vendetta was the main character’s time spent as a special ops soldier in Afghanistan and this is something I took and used as a prologue for the book. I also expanded the backstory of the main character – Jimmy Vickers, played by Danny Dyer – as well as his family, who, without giving anything away, are brutally murdered early in the story. So, though there are constraints, there is also a lot of room to be creative.
How long did it take?
As I said, I usually write a book in six or seven months, but I only had six weeks to complete Vendetta! This was to ensure the novelisation could be published in synch with the film in November. So that was a major challenge!
I planned my approach very carefully and kept to a very tight schedule and did nothing else for that period of time. That said, I had a holiday booked for two weeks at a villa in Menorca on what would be weeks four and five of that period, so I completed the handwritten draft before going on holiday, then packed up the laptop, went on holiday and got up at 8am each morning. While the rest of the villa slept, I typed for more than four hours every day, and by the time the holiday was over, I had the typed draft complete.
It was a great experience and who can really complain about typing by a pool in the sun each day? I spent a further week correcting and editing the draft when I returned home and then had a week in Ibiza to recover!
What input did the film company have on the end product?
None is the short answer to that. They were very pleased with the end result – as was I. Jonathan wrote a very nice foreword and, other than some minor editorial queries, the book that was published was the book I submitted.
From a personal point of view, did you enjoy the story of Vendetta?
The story of Vendetta is right up my street – it’s the kind of tale I love and could read or watch all day long. The screenplay, written by Stephen Reynolds, who also directed the film, was very slick and told the story brilliantly.
A screenplay is completely different than a book and because of that I don’t really think I would have changed the story in any way, because it worked so well and was a joy to read and then novelise.
Was it a challenge not to stray from the film’s plot?
I was asked to write about 60,000 words for the novel (my usual length is about 80,000 words), which does sound like a lot, but it actually isn’t. Because of that there is not much room to stray from the film’s plot, but it was such a well-structured story anyway, there wasn’t really any need to. All I did really was bulk up the characters, rearrange some of the scenes, fill in some gaps and have a real ball with the killings!
Did you meet Danny Dyer and did you write Danny’s character with him in mind?
I haven’t met Danny, although I have had the opportunity to do so, but unfortunately could not make it. It was useful to know a bit about Danny and I was fortunate enough to be able to see a rough-cut of the film, which did help. I imagined him saying the words that were firstly in the screenplay, and secondly, the ones I wrote that were extra.
With the success of Vendetta, will you write any more novelisations in the future?
I have just finished the novelisation of the next Danny Dyer film, which is called Assassin. The film will be released later this year and hopefully the novelisation will accompany it. This is a great hit man story with a bit of a twist by JK Amalou, who also directs the film. It’s another great part for Danny, whose star is very much in the ascendant with his role on Eastenders.
With that complete, have you got any other projects in the pipeline?
I’m just about to start the next Henry Christie novel due for delivery to the publisher, Severn House, at the end of June and I’ve just copy-edited the 21st DCI Henry Christie novel, Low Profile, which will be published at the end of April 2014. I’m contracted to write one more after that, so my year is pretty booked up already.
I know that Vendetta 2 has been announced by Richwater Films and filming will start later this year. Fingers crossed I may be asked to write the novel for that one, and if so, I’ll make time in my already busy schedule.
Nick Oldham’s books are available to purchase at all good bookstores and online

The latest Henry Christie thriller Judgement Call is published on 31st October by Severn House - It's 1982 - and Henry is a young cop with a point to prove and an attitude to control. His youthful enthusiasm can sometimes cloud his better judgement. When a series of rash decisions results in disaster, Henry determines to put things right his own way - despite being warned off by his detective inspector. Setting out to smash singlehandedly a dangerous criminal enterprise, Henry's impetuous actions lead to more conflict - and a very real threat to his own life.

The latest Henry Christie thriller - BAD TIDINGS - The possibility of catching a serial killer is the bait used by Detective Superintendent Henry Christie's chief constable to lure him away from his planned Christmas festivities. Henry could have said no - but if there's one thing he can't refuse, it's the chance to bring a murderer to book. In his thirty years with the Lancashire constabulary, Henry Christie has never known a case like this. What he couldn't anticipate was that he would be stretched to the limit both personally and professionally. Unexpectedly stepping into a blood-soaked turf war raging between two local crime families, Henry soon finds himself slap-bang in the middle of a violent situation where his own life is also on the line.
http://tinyurl.com/c8daaoa

Henry Christie series E-books

GREAT NEWS! Very pleased to announce that books 5-8 in the Henry Christie series - that is, 'Backlash', 'Substantial Threat', 'Dead Heat' and 'Big City Jacks' - are to be published as eBooks in the new year. 'Backlash' and 'Substantial Threat' in January 2013, 'Dead Heat' and 'Big City Jacks' in February. More information as I get it, including links, blurbs,reviews, etc ... and even though I say it myself (as I often do) these books are all terrific reads and I'm hugely proud of them and glad to see them available to readers again. That of course means that the first eight books in the series will soon be available and can be read consecutively. The newer ones are, of course, published as e-books soon after they are published as print books and the latest one - Fighting for the Dead - will appear as an e-book in December 2012.

This is the Kirkus review of INSTINCT (reviewed on May 1, 2012) - now available as an e-book from various platforms, including Amazon. Follow the link at the side of the page to take you to Amazon.

A terrorist hunt collides with a homicidal rapist’s spree.
Blackpool Detective Supt. Henry Christie is surveying the crime scene of a raped and murdered teenager when he witnesses the duly warranted shooting of a suspected terrorist sought by MI5, MI6, SIS, Special Branch, Counter Terrorism and his old pal Karl Donaldson, a supersleuth doing undercover work as a legate at the American embassy. While the agencies bicker over which has jurisdiction, another suspected terrorist is collared with bombs strapped to his chest and a detonator in his hand. Does that account for everyone? Donaldson thinks he winged another perp, slowing but not stopping his getaway. Blood droplets and airport security identify him as Jamil Akram, who runs terrorist camps in Yemen, instructs aspiring suicide bombers, and plans events for maximum public outrage and fear. Jamil hustles himself to Gambia, where Boone, a semi-retired smuggler, eventually realizes that the man he’s agreed to pick up is worth a lot more than the sum he agreed on. His blackmail buys him a gruesome, watery grave, the brutalization of his girlfriend Michelle and a spot of vengeance engineered by his drinking buddy Steve Flynn, an ex-cop in Christie’s squad who now takes on fishing charters. Meanwhile, Christie learns that one of the four different sperm deposits in his teenage victim matches Jamil’s DNA. As Christie, Donaldson and Flynn (Facing Justice, 2011, etc.) share information, skullduggery most British comes into play, with more deaths and a cover-up in the offing.
Nobody makes coincidences seem as likely or as deadly as Oldham, who tempers all this mayhem with a new romantic entanglement for recent widower Christie, but also staves off his retirement with the adrenaline rush of the chase.

---

My first ever published piece of fiction, a short story that won first prize in a Police Review short story competition in 1983. First prize was £150 (I think) and a trip to London to meet and have lunch with Dick Francis and Peter Walker (author of the 'Constable' books that became the basis of the TV series, Heartbeat) Great prize!

HOME AND FAMILY.

The house was on one of those new estates that are being erected everywhere. It was semi-detached and made of red brick, quite tastefully designed within certain economic limits, and the garden had a turfed front lawn which the builder had the audacity to call landscaping. He’d done this at no extra cost.

In all it was good, clean and pleasant, but had no character yet. I supposed that would probably come in a few years time when the meagre saplings had been given time to grow and the plot had been adapted to the individual ideas of the home owner.

Theirs was number four and had been half of the first pair of houses to be constructed, so the road to it had been made up.

Further on, the inhabitants of the newest houses were obliged to run their cars over potholes that must have wrought terrible damage to their shock absorbers. I didn’t envy them at all.

However, they weren’t my problem, so they didn’t matter.

I parked outside and paused for a few seconds to take in everything before venturing to the front door.

The woodwork – the window frames, weather boarding, eaves and front door – was all done in brilliant glossy white which contrasted strongly with the blood red Accrington brick.

The front lawn, turfed and landscaped, had been trimmed already and a flower bed planted all around with pansies and such like. The centre of the lawn had been cut out, the rich black soil turned over but nothing had been planted yet. It would probably have roses there eventually, I thought.

The garage formed part of the house. It’s door was painted white also. On the driveway was a three year old Mini, its metal work gleaming and polished. It could have been brand new.

Reluctantly I released the catch on my seat belt and let it run back on the inertia reel. Then I took my clipboard off the passenger seat, opened the door and got out.

As I walked up the short driveway I brushed some crumbs off my uniform and adjusted my clip-on tie.

I remember thinking I should look as tidy as possible, but even as it went through my mind I countered it. How absurd! If there was one thing that didn’t matter it was my appearance.

The husband answered the door and managed to smile at me. He was a good looking boy, clean shaven, with fair skin and a good head of black hair. He wasn’t much older than twenty.

I learned he was an apprentice draughtsman or architect or something like that. His eyes were a piercing blue, a sort of film star blue.

When you see eyes like those on screen you think, ‘they can’t be real.’ But then you meet someone, like this boy, and they are real.

He was wearing a pale blue sweater – one of those with a leaping panther motif – a floppy collared shirt, jeans and a pair of old fashioned zip-up slippers, which seemed almost ludicrous in relation to the rest of the outfit.

Had it been another time, another place, another incident, I would have remarked on them, made a joke perhaps, but not now.

Why did this have to happen to the best people, I thought.

He led me through into the living room and I felt cold as I glanced quickly round. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. Where was justice?

Sitting on one of the chairs was the wife, hunched over, her head in her hands, long silky hair cascading down, over and through her slim fingers. She looked lost and when she sat up and faced me, I knew she was.

She had a beautiful oval face, clear skin, uncluttered by any blemish – or she would have had, had it not been wrecked by grief and torn apart by misery.

She had put make-up on earlier, that was obvious, because now the mascara had run with tears, leaving black, ugly streaks down her cheeks.

Lipstick was smeared around her mouth. She must have known how bad she looked but couldn’t have cared. I didn’t care either and thought again, acidly, ‘the best people...’

I think she nearly said something and I would have liked to hear her voice – I knew it normally would have been bright and chirpy – but in the end she said nothing, shook her head and gazed blindly ahead, choking back sobs, almost hiccupping with the effort, but remaining silent.

I think I looked at her for almost a full minute, the husband standing just behind me. I was mesmerised, absolutely entranced by beauty engulfed in despair.

The husband coughed and I came to. He led me upstairs. Pointing to one of the bedrooms, he said, ‘I don’t want to go in.’ I nodded, understanding.

Nor did I.

I pushed the door open.

She lay there in the cot barely weeks old, unmoving. A face as beautifully formed as her mother’s, but still. Features all in perfect miniature, eyes, nose, ears, mouth, but still.

I swallowed gently and pulled the sheet over her head.

I didn’t bother calling the body removers. There was no point. I carried her out in the cot and drove to the mortuary with her in the back seat of the panda.

THE END