Jane Corry is a Sunday-Times best-selling author, published by Penguin. She lives in the south west with her second husband and their dog. Her three grown up children are always in and out of the house and she looks after her granddaughter two days a week. Her new book is called BLOOD SISTERS: a story of sisters, best friends, lies, love and prison.
Jane Corry by Justine Stoddart
I had an imaginary friend when I was small. He was called Peter and lived in our one and only loo. He disappeared when I was seven, soon after my sister was born. I’d been hoping for an older brother. (My maths has always been terrible.) Now I’m glad I have a sister.
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t write. I still have scraps of paper with little poems and stories in very childish writing. When I was 17, I won a poetry competition in The Harrow Observer. It was a bitter sweet moment as my first boyfriend had just broken off with me.
When my first marriage ended, I took a job as writer in residence of a high-security prison. I’d never been inside a prison before and I was terrified – especially as I didn’t have a guard. I wore the keys of the prison (plus a whistle) on my belt. Every time you went onto a wing, you had to unlock two lots of double doors. These were so heavy that during my first week, I nearly lost a finger. The prisoners were very nice to me apart from one who stalked me, another who made inappropriate sexual remarks (until the others shut him up) and a third who yelled at me. I got a bit scared when I lost a murderer’s poems. He was understandably upset. But then I found them again – big relief. One day, I came into work and there was a hushed air. One man had killed another. It brought everything home.
My best friend died when she was 52. We met when we had our first children. That creates a bond. She was my other sister. My mother died from ovarian cancer when she was 56 . I think of her every day. A spiritual friend has taught me to say a list of ‘thank you’s’ each morning when I wake up.
I became a single mother when my youngest was 14. It taught me a lot. My children and I are all very close. My boys are writers too. Four years later, I married a bachelor family friend. Every now and then, we meet up with my first husband and his wife for lunch.
My daughter and I have an inbuilt intuition. Once I had to have a mole removed from my head but didn’t tell the children. When my daughter came back from school, she said ‘Mummy, I had a terrible headache this afternoon…’
Three years ago, I started swimming in the sea (in a wet suit, bought from my local newsagent). I’m always a bit scared but it’s gives you the most exhilarating feeling. Then I cycle home for a shower and hot chocolate.
I’m scared of heights. Once I tumbled down a London escalator. I wasn’t hurt but now I have to hover at the top and wait for someone to go in front of me to block the view.
I haven’t eaten meat since 1997. I can’t tell you why. It’s too personal.
I look after my grandaughter for two days a week. The responsibility is both daunting and a privilege. I didn’t realise how much you could love a grandchild until she was born. My own grandmother lived with us until I was 12 and then we moved round the corner. Proximity creates a special bond.
