Moon's an Illusion

Edwina Thomas

Description

Every family has a story to tell - some more interesting than others...Based on true events surrounding one family,The Moon's an Illusionfocuses on how life can go terribly wrong on the basis of one bad choice and one single mistake. Set in the strait-laced 1920s, the story revolves around one affluent family and how each member's choices tear the family apart. More than just the scandals, this is a story of a family in crisis, with many strong characters with stories to tell.One daughter brings the family's name into disrepute by claiming to have been raped. This claim sets events into motion that pits family against family, with revenge taken by the accused. His people are violent, unpredictable and will draw no line to take their so-called justice on the daughter and everyone she loves.Another daughter finds happiness, only to lose it, and as a result is committed to a mental asylum. Later she remarries one of the most eligible and handsome men in town - but disaster strikes again when it's revealed she had a brief affair with an Egyptian man who claimed to have psychic powers. The affair results in catastrophic consequences for everyone. Scandal and shock surround the family yet again, estranging the daughter from the people she loves. The once close-knit family breaks apart - all because of a few decisions that ripple down to affect everyone.This emotionally-driven story has various twists and turns, and the pace is relentless as it drives towards the inevitable conclusion, with skeletons falling out of many cupboards along the way. Its general appeal and the breadth of the subjects it covers will appeal to readers who enjoy both character-based stories and general fiction.

Sujets

• Historical romance

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 15 mai 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781789011418
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

The Mo o n ' s a n Il lu si o n

The Ripple Effect




Edwina Thomas


Dedicated to my mother, Alice


Copyright © 2018 Edwina Thomas

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries
concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This book is a fictional dramatisation based on a true story. As names have been changed, any resemblance to actual living or deceased persons or actual events are purely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, places, some events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination.

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ISBN 9781789011418

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The Moon’s an Illusion
I come as always, ever reliable, to return like clockwork.
Sometimes I shine brightly, sometimes I can’t even be seen, but I’m always there, shining down at night, watching.
Some think my presence is beautiful, some think the way I look at times is ominous. No one can touch me, they can just gaze, and wonder.
I can stand out against the dark night sky; sometimes I am invisible to the naked eye, but I am always there, peeping through at the big planet in front of me. I wonder too about the beauty of what I can see, and try to understand. Is the Earth an Illusion…?

by Edwina Thomas
Contents
The Moon’s an Illusion
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter twenty
Chapter twenty-one
Chapter twenty-two
Chapter twenty-three
Chapter twenty-four
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter twenty-six
Chapter twenty-seven
Chapter twenty-eight
Chapter twenty-nine
Chapter thirty
Chapter thirty-one
Chapter thirty-two
Chapter thirty-three
My Thoughts
Chapter one
It was the 19th of September; the day that I’d been longing for had almost arrived. Just two days to wait until my sixteenth birthday. The year was 1921; four years after women had finally got the right to vote. Three cheers for Emmeline Pankhurst and all the other strong-willed and brave women fighting for their cause!
Things were changing, especially for women; it was an exciting time in which to grow up. Women were no longer shackled and oppressed by their husbands. Not that any of our family were ever treated like that; on the contrary, Father actively encouraged Mother to be more independent and to learn and do new things. A lot of women who had helped in the war effort were not happy to return to their old lives, much to the displeasure of their husbands and families. Women were certainly finding their voices, and using them, loud and clear. The roaring ’20s were upon us and I wanted to be a part of it!
The excitement had been building up inside me for many days, with the typical thoughts of any sixteen-year-old girl about to start an exciting new chapter in her life. Something I had been dreaming about for months.
I had plans, big plans. I wanted to work like lots of other girls of my age; I didn’t want to sit at home being kept by my parents like some helpless female. I planned to travel; I had never been out of England and I had heard and read many books about the history and elegance of places like Paris, Venice, Rome, or even India to name but a few.
One of my old school friends had gone on a “Grand Tour” of Europe with her family and she came back a different person, always enthusing about the places she’d visited and the people she met along the way. That’s what I wanted to do; maybe my parents would accompany us all, to some exotic and far off places. It would be something wonderful to experience as a family.
I spoke a little French and couldn’t wait to practise it and although I didn’t speak any Italian, apart from the usual pleasantries, I had heard that the male inhabitants were more than willing to teach young ladies their beautiful language…!
There was a big wide world outside our front door, waiting to be explored.
For my birthday, my parents had promised I would be allowed to go to my first dance, accompanied by my two elder sisters, Elizabeth and Helena. I was full of expectation and couldn’t wait! It meant that I would no longer be left behind at home, missing out on all the fun they were having.
Over the last few years, I had witnessed my two elder sisters enjoying some newfound independence and freedom. They were always going out, having the time of their lives, with parties, new friends and of course many admirers. They always seemed to be enjoying themselves in one way or another, and preparing for their next weekend of social events. I was feeling lonely and abandoned. There was a time, not that long ago, when we did everything together. We were so close that we even shared the same bedroom, not because we had to but because we chose to. We’d always been inseparable. I was hurt and envious at times. They didn’t seem to care about me anymore, or at least that’s what I thought. Their lives had changed. The last thing on their minds was a trip to the seaside or a matinee at the cinema on a Saturday afternoon, those days were gone; instead they’d be engrossed in conversation about going to a party or a dance or a trip into town to buy a new party dress.
I was envious when I heard my sisters creeping in late at night after an evening out, giggling and whispering as they crept up the stairs to the bedroom we all shared. They would share secrets and stories with one another of how their evenings had gone, who they’d seen, what they’d done, who had done what, and so on and so on. I would wait up for them to come home, in the hope I’d be included in their chatter. I begged them to share their experiences with me but it was always the same answer, telling me that nothing had happened and, anyway, I wouldn’t understand because I didn’t know the people they’d been with. It was clear to me that instead of being part of their lives, I had become an irritation, and when I wasn’t being told to go away or stop being a nuisance, I had become invisible, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. It was definitely a case of two’s company and three’s a crowd!
Watching my sisters getting ready for parties or dances made me feel even more envious and excluded. I wanted to go with them too, to be part of their lives again. There was only an eighteen-month gap between each of us and I was trapped between what were my childhood days and entering my adult life. As Mother would say, ‘Too old for toys but not old enough yet for boys.’ She was full of these platitudes.
I would watch Elizabeth and Helena as they got ready for an evening out, going through their wardrobes, looking for the perfect dresses, trying on different styles and colours, asking each other’s opinions about what looked the best, only to fling them onto the bed where a small mound of clothes would form. They would be trying on jewellery and curling one another’s hair, creating sophisticated hairstyles, then finishing off “the look” with lipstick and rouge, then a dab of perfume behind their ears; how I felt tortured with envy! I remember the tiny dark blue glass bottle containing the perfume called “Midnight in Paris”, with its silver label and the little black rubber stopper and silver screw-top lid. Just the name took me into another world, which conjured up all sorts of romantic notions in my head.
Soon they’d be gone, and as usual, I would be left with the bedroom in complete disarray and the waft of perfume in the air. As soon as I heard the front door close behind them, I was deflated. I was sick of hearing everyone always saying, ‘You’re only fifteen; your time will come.’ Mother was always saying it and it certainly didn’t make me feel any happier. Elizabeth knew that on hearing it said, I would be furious, so she would say it too, just to annoy me even more. I would say, ‘But Mother you had met Father at my age and you were married at sixteen. I’ve never even had a sweetheart, it’s just not fair.’ Mother’s quick response was, ‘Well, I’m not going to argue with you, that’s your father’s final decision’; what she really meant was that she couldn’t think up a better reason!
The boredom of being at home with just a book to read for entertainment was driving me to distraction. I would sometimes peer out of the bedroom window and watch the trams going by, or people walking along, couples walking hand in hand, or the odd drunk stumbling along the pavement trying to find their way home. Even my little brother wasn’t around for company. James was already tucked up in bed. Mother could see how lonely I was feeling and would do her best to cheer me up or keep me company. She encouraged me to spend the evening with her sometimes if Fa