Margaret Forster once wrote that Daphne du Maurier ‘satisfied all the questionable criteria of popular fiction, and yet satisfied too the exacting requirements of “real literature”, something very few novelists ever do.’ Having read Rebecca a year ago, I knew that du Maurier was particularly talented when it came to creating suspenseful stories, books that have lent themselves to being not only re-read but also re-adpated, again and again, making du Maurier one of the most beloved English language authors I have covered. But it was reading Jamaica Inn this summer that I realised how right Forster was. It’s difficult…