So, I’ve been reading an article on the the Writer Unboxed website which says: “Stop Being Afraid of Posting Your Work Online”.
As it looks like I about to the way of self-publishing wend, I thought I’d give you a sneak preview of the book’s prologue ahead of publication next year. It’s all strictly copyrighted of course but, here goes, hope you enjoy it. The whole book will be available in e-format from about Easter, with hardcopy to be released in time for the WW1 centenary. This is unless the publisher decides to save me from a few months of production editing!
Anon, good friends.
Prologue
(Christmas Eve 1914, Singleton, West Sussex)
“What has happened here tonight must never be spoken of. Do you understand, Leo?”
For a minute I think I have misheard and, still clutching my throat, look up at the doctor in disbelief. My throat is bruised and burning sore and my attempt to protest produces nothing intelligible. My feelings must be apparent, however, for the doctor suddenly leans closer.
“Listen to me, Leo.” He says, as though to a stupid child. “This is very important. You must promise me that you will tell no one what happened here tonight. No one.”
“Stephen almost killed me”. My voice comes at last; it is a relief to hear it, small and shocked as it is. I swallow painfully, still feeling the vicar’s hands at my throat.
“Please Leo.” Stephen’s wife sits beside me and squeezes my hand until I look at her. “If this gets out we will be ruined. He will lose his living; they will lock him up as a madman. We have a child, Leo.”
She turns her pale, shocked face to mine, pleading my silence. The taste of blood in my mouth distracts me. My world has been turned upside down this evening and yet I think it is this that upsets me more than anything else. The still-rational part of my mind reassures me that I must have bitten my tongue but still my stomach contracts with dread.
Somewhere in the room a clock chimes, ten o’clock.
“I must prepare for Midnight Mass.” Taking refuge in routine, I stand up and turn to the door, struggling against the dizziness that sends the room dancing about me.
“You must promise me, Leo.” Forrester catches my arm; stops me from falling, stops me from leaving.
“No one must know what has happened here tonight”
My mind is distracted; I feel the pressure of Forrester’s grip but my thoughts are on the parish church and a dozen other practical considerations. In less than an hour my Christmas congregation will arrive to sing their carols; my parents will be in bed by the time I get home. I must be careful not to disturb them.
“I will have to cancel the early service tomorrow.” My voice echoes somewhere beyond me, addressed to no one in particular. “If…if my voice holds out tonight I could manage the others myself. I…I will say he is ill.”
“I know you will do what’s right, Leo.” Forrester releases my arm and turns towards Eleanor. I look around me; at Eleanor sobbing quietly, at Forrester’s implacable resolve. An hour ago I would have called them friends but now they have closed ranks, shutting me out. Now it is not just my bruised throat that makes it difficult to speak.
“You mean I agree to keep quiet and we all go on as before?”
Forrester nods solemnly. “I know how you must feel, Leo, but Stephen has done a lot for you over the years.”
“He was my friend.” I think of Stephen’s silences, his uncharacteristic irritability, of the war service I turned down, only this week, at his request.”
“You don’t know how I feel.”
“Nothing’s changed.” Eleanor pleads. “He thinks the world of you, Leo, you know that. But he isn’t well; you must have forbearance, forgive this…this…”
“Everything has changed.” The bitterness in my voice strikes me though the sentiment itself is nothing new. “I cannot stay here, I will not.” Defiant now, my eyes linger on each of them in turn; the wife and the brother standing together against me. There is no fighting them. “Nothing can be as it was before…” I swallow the blood in my mouth. “But I will keep your secret.”
© J. Lee Dean 13th August 2013
Pen Poised 