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Transcript of the interview between Samira Ahmed and Eliot Crace, broadcast on , 21 June 2023.

SA:

This year marks the twentieth anniversary of the death of one of the UK’s best-loved children’s authors. Miriam Crace was the creator of the Little People series of books about a miniature family who are devoted to helping ‘the bigguns’ – which is how they describe the rest of humanity. She wrote sixty-three adventures during her lifetime and Netflix have announced a deal reputedly worth two hundred million dollars to bring the characters to the screen. Eliot Crace is her grandson and a published writer himself. He has just been named as the author of three continuation novels that will feature the detective Atticus Pünd, created by Alan Conway. Eliot is with me in the studio now.

Eliot, we’ll come to Atticus Pünd in a minute, but first I’d like to ask you about your grandmother. You grew up in Marble Hall, near Devizes, which was the house where she lived and worked. I imagine you must have had quite an unusual childhood? EC: Well, that’s one word for it, Samira. I was born in Marble Hall – well, in a hospital near Marble Hall – and I was there until my grandmother died and my parents moved to a place in London. To be honest, we couldn’t wait to get out of there. By ‘we’, I mean my brother and sister and me – and everyone else, really. SA: Miriam was born in 1920 and was home-schooled by her father, who was a deacon in the town of Ilminster, Somerset. For several years, she was the church organist. Apparently, she got the idea for the Little People from an image in a stained-glass window, and many of her books have connections with the church calendar. She was married to Kenneth Rivers, a junior civil servant in the Department of Agriculture – although due to the success of her books, she preferred to keep her maiden name. He was, of course, your grandfather. Do you have any memories of him, Eliot? EC:

We never saw very much of Grandpa. He sort of kept himself to himself. He was interested in taxidermy and he used to spend hours in a room in one of the towers, fiddling about with stuffed animals. I remember one in particular – a kingfisher. He hadn’t actually stuffed that one himself. He’d bought it in a shop in Islington. It was Victorian and you always think of kingfishers as being such beautiful birds, but this one was evil. It sat in its own glass case, which was kept locked. It used to scare the hell out of me when I was a kid. I was frightened it was going to escape.

Anyway, Grandpa stayed in the house after Grandma died, but he didn’t last long without her. My last memories of him are … he was an old man in his eighties, but he seemed older, living on his own in an enormous house, although he had a nurse to look after him. My grandfather was always complaining about her. He didn’t like her. I think she reminded him of my grandmother … My grandparents had separate rooms and I never saw them together. SA: Still, it must have been exciting for you, growing up in Marble Hall. Your grandmother was one of the most famous writers in the world. The Little People brought happiness to millions and you were right at the heart of it all. EC: I was at school. I used to get bullied because I was her grandson. My cousin, Jasmine, hated the Little People. She was named after one of them and … I mean, can you imagine? There was no escape for her … not until she died. But Grandma didn’t care. She was out there, travelling all over the place, meeting famous people, going to parties and film premieres and cruises and fancy hotels, and we were all stuck at home, waiting for her to come back. None of us wanted to be at Marble Hall and she didn’t want us there either. Not really. She just wanted to control us. SA: Did you tell her you wanted to be a writer? EC: Yeah. I once showed her a story I’d written. It was about a boy who travelled into outer space, which was something I’d always dreamed about doing. It was as far away from Marble Hall as I could go. So he builds himself a space rocket using stuff that he’s found at school and around the house – like dustbins and sticky tape and iron filings and all these chemicals that he’s nicked from the chemist in the village. The book was called ‘Space Boy’ and I showed it to her. She said it was no good at all. She laughed at me. She said I had no imagination and no idea how to tell a story. I was ten years old. SA: I have to say, I’m quite surprised. It sounds like you’re painting a very dark picture of her, Eliot. EC: I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you, Samira, but I’m telling you the truth. Just because she wrote these great books, it doesn’t mean she was an easy person to live with. SA: So she didn’t inspire you to write murder mysteries? EC: That’s the funny thing. She did. I was at home when she died and everyone said that it was natural causes because she’d been ill for a while, but I don’t think there was anything natural about it. In fact, I’ve never said this before and I’m probably going to get into trouble, but when I was twelve years old, I saw someone creep out of her room in the middle of the night. I saw it with my own eyes – and the next day she was dead. I can even tell you how they did it, if you’re interested. SA: Go on. EC: They poisoned her. SA: That’s quite an accusation, Eliot. And I wouldn’t want to question your recollections, but, as you just said, you were only twelve years old when Miriam Crace died and it was well known that she had a heart condition. Isn’t it possible that you had more of an imagination than she gave you credit for? EC: I know what I saw, Samira. SA: Did you ever go to the police? EC: I couldn’t. There was no way I could have done that. And I didn’t want to … not then. But things are different now, so that’s what I’m writing about. My new Atticus Pünd novel is set in the South of France in 1955, but it’s inspired by what I saw at Marble Hall and if you read it carefully, I’ve put in a secret message. That’s what Alan Conway used to do. Did you know that? He hid things in his books and because this is a continuation novel, I’m playing the same game. I know that my grandmother was murdered. That’s a scoop for your radio programme. If you can work out the puzzle, you’ll know the truth about what really happened. Right now, there should be some pretty nervous people out there, but that doesn’t bother me. I’ve decided it’s time. SA: Does your new book have a title? EC: I’m thinking of calling it The Man with White Hair . SA: And do your publishers know the secret? EC: Nobody knows except me. And the person I saw. SA: I’m sure we’ll all look forward to reading it. But in the meantime, would you like to tell us which is your favourite Little People book? EC: Little and Often . SA: Why that one? EC: Because it was the last. SA: Thank you. That was Eliot Crace, giving a very personal view of his grandmother, Miriam Crace, who died exactly twenty years ago next Tuesday.

*

Story in the Daily Mail , 22 June 2023.

HOW WOULD MIRIAM CRACE FEEL TO BE TRASHED BY HER TALENTLESS GRANDSON?

By Kate Greene

Do you remember the Little People books? I read them as a child and, like so many of my friends, they always seemed to bring the smile back to my face when I was down in the dumps.

There was Grandpa Little with his stopwatch that had stopped permanently at teatime. Jack Little, who dreamed of sailing round the world in a teacup. Mr and Mrs Little, who didn’t have first names, but who loved each other so much that they celebrated their wedding anniversary every day.

Later on they were joined by Karim and Njinga Little, who were colour-blind (like their creator in real life) and who genuinely believed that everyone in the world looked the same. I remember reading Little League – where Njinga sneaks into the United Nations and gets everyone to join in a song. It made me laugh out loud.

But it also brought tears to my eyes. If only the world could be more like the way the Little People saw it. That was the genius of their creator, Miriam Crace. She never had an unkind word to say about anyone. Her books had none of the spite or vulgarity you find in so many modern offerings. She saw the best in everything.

So what are we to make of Eliot Crace, who appeared on the BBC Radio 4 arts programme – with some very questionable opinions about his grandmother?

Let’s ignore for a moment the fact that young Eliot seemed to have felt the need to fortify himself before he went on air. His voice was slurred. Some of his pronouncements were incoherent.

According to him, she was mean and uncaring. She was a control freak. Although she paid for her family to live in the gorgeous surroundings of Marble Hall, deep in the heart of the Wiltshire countryside – and her generosity also extended to Eliot’s private education, by the way – he says all he wanted was to get away from her.

I’m not saying that Miriam Crace was perfect. Nobody is. I remember interviewing her long ago, when she was seventy, and she couldn’t wait to get out of the room. She wouldn’t even talk to me until I had given her ￡20! But then, a week later, she sent me a charming note and a receipt from the St Ambrose Children’s Home.

But what exactly is the point in laying into her on the twentieth anniversary of her death? What good does he think it will do?

And then there’s his extraordinary claim that someone in the family might have murdered her! ‘Piffle and poppycock’, as Grandma Little might have said. (And often did!) She had terminal heart disease. Her private doctor examined her after she had peacefully passed away.

Funny, isn’t it, that nobody has ever had a bad word to say about Miriam before. Just little Eliot – who was only twelve years old himself when his grandmother died.

So here’s the question. Is it a coincidence that Eliot Crace is promoting his own book, a new Atticus Pünd murder mystery that he has – mysteriously – been commissioned to write?

And here’s the answer. Probably not!

Eliot Crace has published two crime novels. Their titles were Gee for Graveyard and Gee for Gunfire , about a detective with the unlikely name of Dr Gee.

I’ve never read them myself, but let’s just say that they didn’t exactly set the world on fire. According to the critic of this newspaper at the time, they were ‘poorly written and confused’. It makes you wonder why Causton Books have decided he’s the right man for the job.

Unless, of course, they’re buying into the famous name that it just so happens he’s attempting to drag down.

I quite enjoyed the Atticus Pünd novels, but I’ll tell you this. If you’re thinking of buying me The Man with White Hair for Christmas, please don’t bother. I’m sure it will be Gee for garbage.