• Information
• Extract

There was something odd about the village of Enton. Tim Swift felt it the moment he arrived with his dog, Josh.

Who is the weeping woman who wanders the streets at midnight? Why do no flowers grow? And what secrets link them to the mysterious house on Falling Star Hill?

The mystery deepens when Tim meets the brooding owner of the house and an extraordinary girl called Sarre, who take him into a world far stranger than anything he could ever have imagined. Together they plunge through a starway into Tallis – a fantasy realm haunted by ghost armies, wild children, and an inventor from the past – where a brutal duke will stop at nothing to gain more power.

The House on Falling Star Hill is a breathtaking story of conflict and magic.

Reviews: 

'… non-stop action in a well-developed magical world …' BULLETIN FOR THE CENTER FOR CHILDREN’S BOOKS

'The book fairly hums with Molloy’s endless imaginings from the giant spurred birds to the spore-filled killing wind …' TELEGRAPH

'The House on Falling Star Hill sparkles with delightful inventions and magical characters.' INIS

'The story gallops at a breathtaking pace with imagery leaping off the page...' BIRMINGHAM POST

There was something odd about Enton. Tim Swift had felt it the moment he arrived with his dog, Josh, to spend the summer with his grandparents, Peter and Emily Bishop. The sleepy West Country village was best known for its large selection of antique shops and the advanced age of its inhabitants. Peter and Emily had moved there the year before to open a flower nursery. Their new home had once been the village school but there were no longer any children living in Enton.

In recent years all the young families had moved away to find work in other towns. Enton seemed remote, but not far beyond the fringe of hills to the north of it was a motorway, and Tim’s grandfather did a brisk trade with people who thought nothing of driving long distances to wander about the pretty village for a few hours. Apart from a couple of streets of flint and brick cottages, there was a Norman church as well as twelve antique shops, two expensive restaurants, an old-fashioned tea shop called Mistress Witherspoon’s, a general store and The White Hart public house.

With the summer stretching out ahead of him, it didn’t bother Tim much that he was the only boy in Enton. He was used to being alone and was happy enough with Josh for company. As an only child he tended to be a bit shy with boys and girls of his own age. Nor did he care much for team games, although he was a strong swimmer and a good runner. The other boys at his school had mistaken his shyness for lack of courage and nicknamed him Timid, which he hated, mostly because deep down he wasn’t quite sure if he was brave or not.

Tim was of average height, a bit on the thin side, and wore his thick brown hair falling forward in a jagged fringe. His grey-blue eyes were wide and set in a long, square-jawed, serious face. When he remembered, he tried to smile because people were always telling him to cheer up.

But he was generally happy, so his usually sad expression had little to do with his mood – it was just the way his face was made.