The Cottingley Secret by Hazel Gaynor: Exclusive excerpt and giveaway.

Thanks to Harper Collins in Ireland, I have an exclusive excerpt from Hazel Gaynor's latest novel, The Cottingley Secret, published on 7th September. There is also an amazing giveaway of an  early copy of the book and a fairy house, for one lucky winner! Just enter via rafflecopter link below. Open IRL/UK and closes on 25th August. Good luck!

Giveaway Prize

The Blurb

The New York Times bestselling author turns the clock back to a time when two young girls convinced the world that fairies really did exist…

1917: When two young cousins, Frances Griffiths and Elsie Wright from Cottingley, England, announce they have photographed fairies at the bottom of the garden, their parents are astonished. But when the great novelist, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, endorses the photographs’ authenticity, the girls become a sensation; their discovery offering something to believe in amid a world ravaged by war.

One hundred years later When Olivia Kavanagh finds an old manuscript and a photograph in her late grandfather’s bookshop she becomes fascinated by the story of the two young girls who mystified the world. As Olivia is drawn into events a century ago, she becomes aware of the past and the present intertwining, blurring her understanding of what is real and what is imagined. As she begins to understand why a nation once believed in fairies, will Olivia find a way to believe in herself? 

Exclusive Excerpt from The Cottingley Secret:

                   Fairies will not be rushed. I know this now; know I must

                   be patient.

                   Stiff and still in my favourite seat, formed from the

                   natural bend in the bough of a willow tree, I am wildly

                   alert, detecting every shifting shape and shadow; every

                   snap and crack of twig. I dangle my bare feet in the beck,

                   enjoying the cool rush of the water as it finds a natural

                   course between my toes. I imagine that if I sat here for

                   a hundred years, the water would smooth and round

                   them, like the pebbles I collect from the riverbed and keep

                   in my pockets.

                   In the distance I can see Mr Gardner, the man they sent

                   from London, with his round spectacles and bow tie and

                   endless questions. He peers around the trunk of an oak

                   tree, watches for a moment, and scribbles his observations

                   in his notebook. I know what he writes: remarks about

                   the weather, our precise location, the peculiar sense of

                   something different in the air.

                   Elsie stands on the riverbank beside me, her camera

                   ready. ‘Can’t you ’tice them?’ she urges. ‘Say some secret

                   words?’

                   I shrug. ‘They’re here, Elsie. I can feel them.’ But like

                   the soft breath of wind that brushes against my skin, the

                   things we feel cannot always be seen.

                   I know that the best time to see them is in that perfect

                   hour before sunset when the sun sinks low on the horizon

                   like a ripe peach and sends shafts of gold bursting through

                   the trees. The ‘in between’, I call it. No longer day, not

                   yet night; some other place and time when magic hangs

                   in the air and the light plays tricks on the eye. You might

                   easily miss the flash of violet and emerald, but I – according

                   to my teacher, Mrs Hogan – am ‘a curiously observant

                   child’. I see their misty forms among the flowers and leaves.

                   I know my patience will be rewarded if I watch and listen,

                   if I believe.

                  Tired of waiting, Elsie takes her camera and returns to

                  the house, where Aunt Polly is waiting to hear if we

                  managed any new photographs. The others soon follow:

                  Mr Gardner, the newspaper reporters, the ‘fairy hunters’

                  who come to snoop and trample all over the wildflowers

                  and spoil things. My little friends won’t appear just to

                  please these onlookers. They move according to the patterns

                  and rhythms of nature, not the whims of so-called experts

                  from London. Fairies, I understand. These men, I do not.

                  Glad to be alone again, I watch the pond skaters and

                  dragonflies, listen to the steady giggle of the water, sense

                  the prickle of anticipation all around me. The sun dazzles

                  on the water and I squint to shield my eyes as the heat

                  at the back of my neck makes me drowsy and tugs at my

                  eyelids, heavy with the desire to sleep.

                  I press my palms against the bark, smoothed from

                  decades of weather and countless children who have sat

                  here. How many of them have seen, I wonder? How many

                  of them have known? I wait and I wait, whispering the

                  words from my picture book: ‘“There shall be no veil

                  between them, / Though her head be old and wise. / You

                  shall know that she has seen them, / By the glory in her

                   eyes.”’

                  And then . . .

                  The lightest ringing at my ears. The slightest movement

                  of fern and leaf.

                  My heart flutters. My eyes widen with excitement.

                  A flash of vibrant emerald. Another of softest

                  lavender-blue.

                  I lean forward. Draw in my breath. Don’t make a sound.

                  They are here.

The Cottingley Secret is published on 7th September in TPB and ebook format. You can order your copy via amazon link below:

To be in with a chance of winning an early edition of The Cottingley Secret, with a delightful and magical Irish Fairy Door (you just need to believe), just enter via rafflecopter link below:

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