Diana lives in Bath. She is a journalist, tutor, editor, radio presenter, and Agony Aunt to Writing Magazine.
Her debut novel Don't Think a Single Thought was published in September 2019.
Diana tweets @DianaCambridge
Diana's favourite novel is The Magus by John Fowles, and her favourite novella is The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark. Her top poet is Philip Larkin.
Don't Think a Single Thought
Published in paperback and ebook on 26 September 2019. Also available here as an audio book.
Advanced information sheet here.
"Strange and bewitching" The Lady magazine
"Immersive, gripping... A well-crafted, slow burn story of a talented woman haunted by the conflicts of emotion and ambition – and by her own imagination" Jay Merrick, author of Horse Latitudes
"A chilling page turner set in the playgrounds of the New York rich and famous, where a wealthy doctor's wife is driven to the brink of madness by a horrific childhood memory" Sharon Churcher, author of New York Confidential
"This slim, elegant novel is a delight" Gail Aldwin, author of The String Games
Diana and her book in Writing Magazine, August 2019
PAGE 100 of Don't Think a Single Thought...
She seemed already a corpse. But the machines were keeping her alive, just a little longer. Why?
She approached the bed, touched the figure lying there.
‘I’m Emma, Moira’s friend.’
The woman opened her eyes. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she managed. ‘We often thought of you in hospital, so young.’
Emma’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘So sorry.’
On the windowsill was a photograph of Moira. She looked innocent, studious, friendly. How could she have hated this child? Such an open face.
'Not your fault,’ the woman said. ‘The authorities. Not you. Moira. Did she… when it…?’ Emma knew exactly what the question was. ‘She was laughing,’ said Emma. ‘We were fooling around, having fun. She’d never have known a thing. I remember her laughing… she was one of the most popular girls in the class.’
There was silence. She saw tears slip down the woman’s face.
‘Moira was my good friend. We had lots of good times together.’ That was all Emma could manage before her voice cracked. She reached for the woman’s hand and held it, gently, because it was paper thin. She saw her eyes had closed. Emma stayed on for another ten minutes, then left. The son was waiting.
‘Your mother’s asleep now – we talked a little…’ She felt exhausted.