I have to admit, until Joel Hames and I started researching locations and themes for The Mine, I didn’t even know there was a history of mining in the county. I’d grown up knowing all about the mines in South Wales, Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire, about Arthur Scargill and the miners’ strike and the UDM in Nottinghamshire rebelling against the NUM and flying pickets and...
You get the picture. I was a child of the 1980s. My knowledge of mining, I have to admit, is based on watching news stories during the infamous strike.
Cumbria didn’t get a lot of attention back then. And so I didn’t even know about the history of local miners, although when you visit the west of the county, the villages are eerily reminiscent of old mining villages in Yorkshire and South Wales. Villages that seem to be stretched out along the one road that runs through them, and often have a quiet air of desolation. (Apologies if you live in one of those villages and know from experience that it isn’t at all desolated; I’m only reporting a feeling that comes over me when I drive through them.)
But our research for The Mine revealed a rich history of mining in Cumbria, along with a geology that, to my mind, makes these mines particularly interesting.
And when Joel and I visited Whitehaven in early 2023, we discovered a number of locations where old mine shafts had been capped off.
The shaft in the photo is the King Pit, right on the coast just outside Whitehaven. It was close to the Haig Colliery Mining Museum, which sadly closed down some time ago so we weren’t able to visit.
But we discovered that the vertical shaft it capped off led down to a horizontal shaft that extended out towards the coast itself... and under the sea.
I’d never really considered that mining had taken place under the sea. How would that have felt? Instead of having metres and metres of solid rock above your head, having a few metres of rock, and then the cold waters of the Irish sea above?
Would that feel more scary, or less? Would water come dripping through the roof of the shaft? Would there be risk of flooding?
It doesn’t bear thinking about. But luckily, Joel and I didn’t have to actually go in one of those mines, because we could read about it, and imagine it.
And that mineshaft extending out beneath the seabed inspired a specific scene in The Mine. One which I won’t tell you about here, as it’s way too far into the book for that not to be a spoiler.
But it wasn’t just that scene that was inspired by what we learned about Cumbrian mining. The whole book revolves around it. Not just the impact it had on the landscape, but the impact it had on communities, and the potential that gives for simmering feuds and rivalries... Fictitious ones, at least.
DI Zoe Finch is settling into her new role in Cumbria CID.
She’s solved her first murder with the help of her new team, averted a potential riot, and is starting to learn who she can trust inside Cumbria Police – and who she can’t.
But when a businessman and former miner is found dead at a new mine that’s the focus of local protest, Zoe is presented with a new challenge.
Her boss is trying to play the death down, and she’s being encouraged to ignore leads by colleagues whose motives seem increasingly suspicious.
Zoe’s sure they’re wrong. But as an outsider who knows little about the town’s history or grudges that stretch back decades, can she get to the bottom of the crime and prevent the killer striking again?
This is the second in the gripping new series featuring DI Zoe Finch from the bestselling ‘Deadly’ series.