My memory was once described as ‘formidable’ and I still remember feeling very irate, a number of years ago, when listening to a senior colleague explaining that despite owning her own house, earning her own (good) salary and having her own bank account, she had been told she could not take out a hire purchase agreement without a man’s signature. She was being savvy; the HP agreement was 0% interest, so she realised it would be cheaper to keep her money in her high interest savings account and pay off the cost monthly, but it wasn’t to be. This was not in the distant eons of time but England in the early 1980’s, and I’m very grateful to acknowledge how far we have come! Lola Jaye’s novel supports that claim.

The violence in the prologue of The Manual for Good Wives contrasts with the tender young love expressed in chapter one but is a portent of what is to come. Olu and Temi are young and in love. They are, however, our very own Romeo and Juliet, given that she is an African princess with a duty to fulfil and ‘about to belong to another man’ and he is a humble commoner, albeit well read and ambitious.

This historical saga begins in Africa in 1860 where problems with the British threaten the existence of Temi and her royal family while her impending arranged marriage to a local chief who is ‘older than [her] father’, threatens her happiness.

The narrative shifts to England in the present day: a marriage proposal, unlooked for and unwelcome, the atmosphere tense and uncertain, filled with a veiled threat. Ross wants his own way and Landri is shaken to realise their plans for the future do not align.

There, they make a success of their lives by dint of hard work and business acumen. Theirs is a true partnership which is unusual and largely unrecognized by others.

The narrative alternates from then on, interweaving the stories of Temi, (told in the first person) who, despite being little more than a child herself, is forced into marriage, forced to bear a child she cannot accept, and Landri (narrated in the third person), a successful copywriter who needs time and space to decide what she really wants: both need to escape.

After harsh treatment at the hands of her abusive husband, Temi is reunited with Olu and together, they flee their homeland and make the difficult journey to England, leaving her child with the one woman she trusts to look after her. There, they make a success of their lives by dint of hard work and business acumen. Theirs is a true partnership which is unusual and largely unrecognized by others. They are married, able to buy a beautiful home and, when the time is right, the arrival of a child of their own completes their happiness.

Nevertheless, life in Victorian Britain is almost as much a patriarchy as the one Temi has left and once tragedy strikes, Temi discovers how hard it is for a woman to survive on her own, especially a black woman who is treated with suspicion by many of her own sex, let alone by men. Victorian England was rife with racism and sexism; even Charlotte Bronte – among others – had to publish her work under the male pseudonym, Currer Bell.

The ending comes swiftly and unexpectedly, tinged with both sadness and joy, but it is the only ending there could be.

When Landri runs away, she goes to a house she has inherited. It has been passed down through generations of her family; the will reads that it must be passed on to the oldest daughter and cannot be sold. It is her sanctuary, a place to breathe and think. It is here we discover the link between two strong women. During her explorations of the house, Landri discovers an old leather notebook, once belonging to Temi, her great-great-great grandmother. Drawn to her story, Landri reads the notebook, absorbing every detail and deciphering its cryptic messages. She researches all she can find about her distant relative – a woman, who, legend has it, murdered at least one of her three husbands. For reasons which are slowly revealed, we come to understand why Landri knows so little about her ancestry and we share her fascination with the story of her distant relative.

The abuse a woman may suffer at the hands of her husband need not be physical. Coercive control is a modern phrase and neglect is more often acknowledged today than previously. Both Landri and Temi understand. Divorce was not so common even fifty years ago but that was mainly because women had no option. ‘Upon your marriage, your worldly goods will become your husband’s’ explains The Manual for Good Wives. How then could women support themselves if they chose to divorce an abusive husband or leave an unhappy marriage? Temi is, however, a true survivor. Unable to return home to Africa, with Olu lost to her and Edward, her third husband, proving to be a monster, she has to find a way out. She proves herself resilient and resourceful, ‘a radical babe’.

The characters are believable, their emotional relationships realistically complicated and their ability to overcome the obstacles life throws at them, admirable.

She is a strong woman who has to endure much at the hands of men, even finding herself in court and facing a possible jail sentence, yet she is a lesson to us all. She knows her own worth and despite the hardship she endures, her strength focuses more on hope than misery. Interwoven with Landri’s more modern story, we see how both women find self knowledge and are empowered by the true friends they meet; good people, men and women, who help them to be true to themselves. The ending comes swiftly and unexpectedly, tinged with both sadness and joy, but it is the only ending there could be.

The Manual for Good Wives is integral to the story; each chapter begins with an extract from it and its significance becomes clear about half way through when the identity of its author is revealed. Like many Victorian scripts, we can laugh at the advice now, but only so much.

This is a novel which needs to be read on more than one level: as a simple narrative, it is poignant, captivating and thoroughly enjoyable. The characters are believable, their emotional relationships realistically complicated and their ability to overcome the obstacles life throws at them, admirable. The cameo characters are as vivid and important as the main protagonists and create a full ensemble. The social message delivered is equally important. The cultural differences (of all sorts) which are highlighted, the lessons we have learned, and should continue to recognise, are both thought-provoking and compelling.

Note to Ms Jaye: I would have liked a simple copy of the family tree printed, perhaps, at the beginning, to more easily keep track of the generations.

The Manual for Good Wives is published by Macmillan