Hey everyone (all approximately 10 of you),

Happy 2023! Can’t believe we’re 20 days in already.

It is no real surprise that my daily vlogging on my book didn’t last very long. It was going okay and then Christmas, full of people and food, happened. I spent time with several good people and ate a lot of good food.

An update on the memoir: I’m going to have to give myself another extension into February because… I have a job now! (sort of). I received my first writerly commission: 6000 words on Ruth Ellis (it was going to be Edith, of course, but circumstances changed and arose and it was decided not to).

Temporarily moving to the Ruth Ellis camp does feel like a betrayal of Edith, but it also highlights just how huge of a miscarriage of justice Edith’s case was. People didn’t want Ruth to hang and she had openly shot her lover on a Hampstead street. It very likely helped that Ruth was born 33 years after Edith, by the 50s attitudes on women and capital punishment had changed. In the 50s there were two recent cases demonstrating the flaws of capital punishment: Timothy Evans and Derek Bentley. Nobody seems to have thought of Edith.

A week ago I (Mum came too) went to London to attend the annual memorial ceremony for Edith. It involved some readings at her graveside, and I was asked to read a letter Freddy had written to her:

“Edie – I want to ask you not to give up hope. I know & you know & some others know also that you should not be in the position that you find yourself. I’m still hoping that the powers that be, will exercise some common sense and displace their suppositions with facts. I know this must be a terrible strain on you, but Peidi mia, don’t lose heart – B.B. [be brave]”

I was also able to meet Rene Weis, author of Criminal Justice: The True Story of Edith Thompson, and Edith’s executor. He is a wonderful man. I’ve been in correspondence with him for over a year now and it was brilliant to meet him at last and find that he really is as kind as his emails suggest.

Extract time. Today’s extract comes from Part I of the memoir, which I realise I have neglected to mention. There’s a film about Edith (Another Life, directed by Philip Goodhew, it’s a great film go watch it it’s on Amazon Prime) and Part I of the memoir consists of me describing this film. As it was recently the anniversary of Edith’s death, it seems appropriate to share this bit. In it, Edith is played by Natasha Little and Avis by Rachael Stirling.

Avis comes to visit Edith in prison. On seeing Edith’s plain grey uniform, Avis’ verdict is “You look like a fashion plate.” They talk about the “petition” that is going, although in reality there never was a petition for Edith, only Freddy. For the first time Edith seems doubtful about her own innocence, referring to her letters: “Adultery, abortion, poison plots. They make pretty sordid reading.”

“There’s no crime in make-believe, Edie.” They talk about Freddy, that Edith stole him from Avis. “There’s nothing to forgive. He loves you.” says Avis with such heart-breaking conviction that I want to reach through the screen and give her a hug. Avis tells Edith not to “lose faith”.

“Do you believe in me Avis?”

“Edie, you’re my sister, you’re a part of me. I love you,” again with the same conviction.

Edith completely changes the subject: “Do you think hem lines are going to go up again?”

Avis laughs at the absurdity of this question, “They can’t do, surely?”

“Not with your ankles, eh Avis?” one last sisterly jibe.

On the way back to her cell, Edith passes Ellis. She says to the wardress, “If this has to happen, this event tomorrow morning, I should like it to be the way you read about it in a book or how they do it at the picture palace. But erm, try to understand that… what I’m trying to say, is that I’m not a storybook heroine I’m just a girl from a hat shop and erm… I might let the side down.”

The hanging takes place. As we leave the execution chamber, Edith in voice-over reads a recent letter: “Yesterday I was thinking about everything that has ever happened, it seems to help in all sorts of way when I do this. I realise what a mysterious thing life is. We all imagine we can mould our own lives – we seldom can, they are moulded for us – just by the laws and rules and conventions of this world, and if we break any of these, we only have to look forward to a formidable and unattractive wilderness.”

We are back home at Shakespeare Crescent, with Avis in the sisters’ bedroom. Dressed in black, Avis holds a photograph of Edith. She opens the box at the foot of the bed, in which are pictures and dolls and books from their childhood. Edith continues in voice-over:

“However, I’m going to forget all that now. I’m going to hope […] I’m going to live in those enormous moments when the whole of life seems bound up in the absolute necessity to win. Thank you very much for writing to me, and helping to keep me cheerful. Edith.” Avis places the photograph in the box and closes the lid.

The screen goes black. We hear Edith laughing, the way she used to. The last moments of the film belong not to her death, but to the life, vivacious, determined, bold life that she lived. She has the last word. I carry that with me as a sign of hope, that the last we hear of her is her laughing, not crying or screaming or begging for her life but laughing, triumphant and gleeful. That is who she was, and who she will continue to be. She lives on and that gives me hope, and a little bit of joy. Hearing her laugh always makes me smile, even though it comes after her death. To me she will always be laughing.

‘Just a girl from a hat shop’, Edith (Natasha Little) in Holloway