Jenks locations.

Many of the locations I’ve used in the book do actually exist. I remembered visiting a windswept architectural reclamation yard in the middle of nowhere up near Cambridge many decades ago, which is where we find Jenks at the very start of the book.

It’s funny what memories are triggered when you just let your mind go wherever it wants, and although I haven’t been there for what must be thirty five years, an image came back which had obviously been filed away somewhere in my brain, of a large iron spiral staircase which sat in the middle of the yard, leading up to nowhere - in the book Jenks walks past this. The yard may or may not still be there, and for all I know, so is the staircase.

Twyford Lock in Bishops Stortford certainly exists, and it’s here that Jenks meets his handler James Camburn, and the Red BTS (beyond top secret) file is passed to him. The lock is a tranquil, quiet setting on the River Stort, but in reality is not quite as private as depicted in the book, as there’s an enormous converted mill house overlooking it, but with the benefit of poetic licence, this doesn’t exist in the book, making it the ideal clandestine meeting place.

Old Compton Street and the surrounding areas in London described in the story are obviously all real, but The Huntsman’s Lodge Hotel most certainly isn’t, unless one has been built since I wrote the book. I’d still like to stay there though as it sounds lovely.

France gets a brief mention in the book, in particular the town of Beaujeu where Jenks stops whilst on his sabbatical after leaving the army and before becoming a deadly assassin. It is here he meets a man called Alain who has a small vineyard nearby, and we learn that Jenks offers to take a look at his broken machinery. In return for fixing everything up, Jenks is offered free board and lodging, and stays on until the harvest.

In reality, there is actually an ‘Alain’ who has a small vineyard and produces exceptionally good Beaujolais Villages, far superior to some of the Cru’s available in the region. The vineyard doesn’t produce enough to export, so the lucky French get to keep it all to themselves. I’ve enjoyed two exceptionally pleasant visits after being introduced to ‘Alain’ via a friend of a friend, and somehow lugged 23 bottles back on the Eurostar to the UK in a suitcase which weighed an absolute ton.

And apologies to anyone from Dagenham - it’s really not that bleak, and I’m sure the sun does shine there as much as anywhere else in the area. The only times I visited, the skies were a gunmetal grey, overcast and always threatening rain, which is how it’s (inaccurately) depicted.

Jenk’s house overlooking the mudflats of Whitstable beach is accessed via a private road which leads down to his remote controlled iron gates. There is actually a private road in the area I imagined Jenks lives, just over a tiny railway bridge in Seasalter.

The general store near to Jenks house is actually a great little sub post office crammed with everything thing else you could ever need. It’s here that Jenks stops after his dust-up in Herne Bay to pick up a few essentials.

Just down the road in Whitstable was a wonderful deli I enjoyed many an evening in. It’s here that Jenks meets a certain someone who may well turn out to feature more prominently in the next book - I’ve got all sorts of ideas for her.

Now sadly closed, at the time of writing it looks like it’s in the process of changing hands - either way it’s sure to pop up again in the next instalment.

Without giving too much away, early on in the book Jenks encounters four knife wielding assailants intent on robbing him - needless to say, it doesn’t end well for them.

The action takes place when Jenks stops to pick up his dry cleaning in nearby Herne Bay and takes a shortcut across a desolate and rarely used car park, where the abandoned shopping trolleys outnumber the cars. The car park I imagined when writing that section does exist, but it’s not nearly as bad as described, although I wouldn’t want to walk through it at night, if I’m honest.

His assailants appear from a derelict amusement arcade, and the rubbish strewn scene in the photo I took this morning is actually the rear of a long abandoned arcade.