Every book begins somewhere. For Anna and Esther’s Magic: The Unicorns, it began in the garden on a golden summer afternoon, watching my granddaughters spin stories out of thin air. They didn’t need toys or screens — they had each other, and an imagination that knew no limits.
I watched them for a while, completely captivated. Anna was telling Esther about a horse she’d dreamed about — pure white, with a mane like silver ribbon and a horn that glowed like a little star. Esther was listening with absolute seriousness, nodding along, asking questions. And that was the moment I knew: this was a story that needed to be told.
Writing The Unicorns was a labour of love. I wanted the world of the book to feel real enough to step into, but magical enough to make every reader catch their breath. I wanted Anna and Esther — the real ones and the characters — to be brave and kind and wonderfully themselves.
