The Wistful Atlas
Chapter One The tin mines of Cornwall in 1912 were a landscape of grey sludge and blue water, where the sea ate the cliffs and the workers ate their wages. Bertha Aldridge, thirty-four years old and a senior inspector for the Imperial Customs Service, stood at the edge of the quarry lake near Tintagel, her boots sinking into the wet clay. She was there to audit the Blackwater Palace, a newly...
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