Ann Cleeves: My husband died eight years ago, but he left me a special gift

14 hours ago 5

By Robyn Doreian

November 2, 2025 — 5.00am

Author Ann Cleeves is best known for her Vera Stanhope and Shetland Island book series. Here, the 71-year-old shares her unconventional career path, the true reason she took up writing and how she met her husband, Tim, who passed away eight years ago, leaving her a special gift.

My paternal grandfather, Arthur, was a Welsh miner. It was exciting staying with him and my grandmother, Dorothy, in south Wales, as there was no indoor bathroom in their terraced house; I’d bathe in a tin bath in front of the fire.

My grandfather was very political and a great reader. He encouraged me to tell and write stories. He said I needed to think about characters. I remember making lists of these fictional characters’ traits.

My father, Donald, was named after Ramsay MacDonald, the UK’s first Labour prime minister. Dad was in the air force, but when he returned from World War II he undertook a teaching qualification, as they were desperate for teachers. He had an absolute passion for reading. Small things brought him joy.

Dad was the head teacher of a tiny village primary school in Hertfordshire and taught me, which wasn’t much fun. We moved to Devon, where I went into secondary school. Dad no longer taught me, which meant I was much more anonymous. It was like the sun coming out.

I was a teenager at the end of the ’60s. It was a lovely time. Living so close to the beach, it was all beach parties and a slightly hippie outlook on life.

I was in high school when I had my first serious boyfriend. Andy played guitar and we fell passionately in love. Our relationship lasted quite a while, but after sixth form I took a gap year before university and worked in London while Andy did teacher training – and then dumped me. I was absolutely heartbroken as I thought I’d be with him forever.

I had a few boyfriends at Sussex University, but nobody lived up to Andy. I was studying literature but wasn’t enjoying it. I decided I could read books anywhere, so I left.

A chance meeting in a pub got me a job as an assistant cook on Fair Isle, a remote Scottish island. Tim, an ornithologist who’d just returned from India, came as a visiting birdwatcher. Part of my job at the hostel was to show people to their rooms. I’d noticed he had a bottle of malt whisky tucked into his rucksack, so I thought he’d be worth getting to know.

Tim was charismatic, exciting and full of adventure. We spent a lot of time walking and talking. We kept in touch, mostly by letters. When he returned to Fair Isle the second year I was there, we got engaged. Tim proposed on top of a hay cart while we rode back from helping a farmer.

Tim died in 2017 after going to hospital for a heart condition. I loved him and he was funny. I suppose what he left me were his friends.

Tim got a job as a warden on the tiny tidal island of Hilbre in Merseyside. I decided to do a social work diploma at Liverpool University and to get there I’d walk across in my wellies before the high tide and catch the train to Liverpool. Then I worked as a probation officer. I started writing after I got pregnant because I couldn’t cope with the 1½-mile walk across the sand and rocks to work each day.

I had been published for 20 years before my 2006 novel Raven Black gave me commercial success. The first of the Shetland Island mysteries, it features Detective Inspector Jimmy Perez. There’s an older guy called Jimmy in Fair Isle who’s convinced he’s the real Jimmy Perez. I just play along with it.

Tim died in 2017 after going to hospital for a heart condition. I loved him and he was funny. I suppose what he left me were his friends – in particular, Martin and Paul, a gay couple with whom we’d gone on holiday. They were the ones who scooped me up after he died, and they still look out for me. That was Tim’s legacy, the wonderful friendships he’d made.

I’m enjoying having my own space, but it would be lovely to have someone to go out for a meal with. Sometimes I come home and think, “I must tell Tim that.” But of course, Tim’s not there to tell.

The Killing Stones (Macmillan) by Ann Cleeves is out now.

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