You were the last one here, before I closed the door of Burntcoat. Before we all closed our doors. In the bedroom above her immense studio at Burntcoat, the celebrated sculptor Edith Harkness is making her final preparations.
'A dark and brilliant novel about love, art and fragility in a time of crisis.'
Sarah Moss
'Wonderful . . . The writing goes down smoking hot onto the page.'
Andrew Miller
You were the last one here before I closed the door of Burntcoat, before we all shut our doors.
In the bedroom above her immense studio at Burntcoat, the celebrated sculptor Edith Harkness is making her final preparations. Her life will draw to an end in the coming days.
Downstairs, the studio is a crucible glowing with memories and desire. It was here, when the first lockdown came, that she brought Halit. The lover she barely knew. A presence from another culture. A doorway into a new and feverish world.
