Ive written all my life, but only became a published novelist in 1997. Before that, I wrote short stories and newspaper articles for pin money while doing a series of naff jobs. In fact Ive had twenty seven jobs and been sacked from nineteen of them for writing when I should have been working. Ive been, among other things, a shop assistant, waitress, cleaner, secretary, factory worker, market-researcher, nanny, bookseller, night-club dancer, civil servant, blood donor attendant, fruit-picker and barmaid. Im now, apparently, a Real Writer.

Writing for a living is wonderful - a dream come true - and I now manage to combine writing novels, short stories and articles with not doing the housework, not doing the gardening, not cooking much, but at least attempting to look after my husband - the Toyboy Trucker - and my daughter and our 17 rescued cats.

I was born in Oxford and have lived in Berkshire, Bedfordshire, Hampshire, Oxfordshire, Northumberland, London and Jersey. I blame my parents both for my itchy feet and my romantic soul. My Dad was a circus clown - Poor Billy, Prince of Laughter Makers - and my Mum who trained as a teacher, came from an army family, and had lived in six countries before she was 15. They met and fell in love while the circus was off the road and my Dad was working as Santa Claus in a department store. My Mum, at home for Christmas, was the fairy in his grotto. I was entranced by the way they met, that they were from such different backgrounds, and that their love for one another managed to survive every obstacle and objection thrown in its path. Every book Ive written has their story at its core.

I grew up in a Berkshire village, in a tight, happy, secure and very working class community. My childhood was idyllically happy, and my friends from those days are still my best friends now. My novels reflect this community spirit, and all have small groups of people - crossing class, age and gender - who are friends and work