Lady Mabel’s Gold by Simon Caldwell; Gracewing, £20
THE northern mill town of Wigan has an illustrious literary role as the setting for George Orwell’s 1937 investigation/memoir The Road to Wigan Pier.
Nearly a century later another writer is using the locale as his backdrop. Although probably best known these days for rugby league and Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls, Wigan has a rich history encompassing medieval rivalries, the Crusades and the 17th century persecution of Catholics, and it was a major centre of coal mining. At its peak, there were 1,000 pit shafts within five miles of the town centre; it’s a wonder it’s not a vast sinkhole.
Simon Caldwell’s first book, The Beast of Bethulia Park (2022), introduced Fr Calvin Baines, a young man of principle (and something of a hunk) trying to uphold his beliefs while tantalised by an attractive nurse who is not averse to him. His struggle with his male instincts is impressive, though some readers were disappointed that, perhaps because of external pressure to create a romantic success, the ending seemed out of keeping with the tone of the narrative that had been built up.
Caldwell is known to TCW readers as an experienced news reporter and his themes reflect contemporary concerns. In The Beast, a respected medical consultant hastens the journey of elderly and/or troublesome patients into the next world, with echoes of Dr Harold Shipman and the notorious Liverpool Care Pathway.
In Lady Mabel’s Gold, we have a background of the covid event and lockdown. Characters include covid-sceptical nuns, woke police officers, journalists threatened by ‘non-crime hate incident’ reports (the book was written before the recent Allison Pearson controversy); violent criminals pretending to be women so they can be sent to women’s jails; and Muslim child-traffickers. There are not many contemporary novels dealing with such themes; the mainstream publishing industry tends to self-censor in favour of progressive ideology.
Nor are there many current writers dealing in faith, sin, redemption and conscience. It is refreshing to find religion handled as a fact of life rather than an opportunity for mockery. As a Protestant, I am unfamiliar with the theology of St John Henry Newman, Baines’s (and Caldwell’s) hero, but I appreciated the interludes of exposition as well as the inherent morality of the main characters, even when they stray.
Fr Baines returns in Lady Mabel’s Gold, with several of the other characters from the Beast of Bethulia Park (though you don’t have to have read the first book to enjoy the second). These include Jenny Bradshaigh, a freelance journalist, and Emerald Essien, the beautiful nurse. One minor character who appears in both books, but I believe deserves a starring role, is Monsignor Wickham, the vicar-general of Baines’s archdiocese. He is a late recruit to the Church and his worldly background makes him amusingly attuned to modern mores. His gentle but precise interrogation of a possible spy in the camp is a highlight.
Caldwell does not make the mistake of making Baines into a detective-priest, inviting inevitable comparisons with Father Brown and the recent ITV series Grantchester. Baines is involved in the action, but more as an observer and occasional adviser.
Lady Mabel’s Gold starts and ends in the era of the Crusades, when vast amounts of treasure were looted from what is now the Middle East. The main section of the book is set in the present day: a gang of robbers led by an obsessive academic conduct a series of raids on former chantries (chapels endowed for the singing of post-mortem Masses for their founders) in search of one such treasure.
The robbers’ lair is a disused coal mine now being used as a cannabis farm and staffed by workers kept in slave-like conditions. Way below the surface, it has many chambers and branch passages, and provides several moments of genuine tension and one of breathtaking shock. Caldwell’s knowledge of his patch serves him well – the reader has a real sense of the chill atmosphere in the old workings. One scene in a narrow pitch-black tunnel with icy water flowing along it could induce claustrophobia in even the toughest. Several other references are from real life, such as a reclaimed slag heap known locally as the Wutchie. It all adds to the realism of the plot. (Lady Mabel herself lies in effigy with her husband William in Wigan Parish Church of All Saints.)
Two sub-plots take on moral themes. Jenny the reporter has recently given birth out of wedlock. She had already broken off her engagement as her fiancé was not the baby’s father, and she was not willing to pretend to him that he was. She believes that a child needs a father as well as a mother, so she makes the difficult decision to give up her son for adoption. The reader can empathise with her grief as he is taken from her, yet know that she is doing the right thing. In the other storyline, one of the robbers comes to realise that he has taken the wrong path in life and – just in time – repents and gains absolution.
This is an unusual book: a page-turner with a strong moral message. It is satisfying to know that you are in the hands of a writer who will not let you down and cave in to today’s prevalent self-indulgence. That doesn’t mean it is puritanical – there is some sex, but nothing that would frighten the horses – and some disturbing violence, although quite thr worst is the analysis of Christ’s crucifixion, which is almost unbearable to read.
Fr Calvin Baines remains the centre of the book. He’s an interesting, likable and admirable character and I don’t think I’ll be alone in hoping that Simon Caldwell will bring him back in a third book.
This article appeared in the Catholic Herald on April 1, 2025, and is republished by kind permission.
Both Lady Mabel’s Gold and The Beast of Bethulia Park have sold out at Amazon UK but new stock will arrive soon. You can order online now from other platforms such as Waterstones, Foyles, Gracewing and from Amazon.com in the US for quick delivery.
