Ringmaster

Karen Restaino

Description

The Butterfly Theory - the phenomenon whereby a small change at one place in a complex system can have significant effects elsewhere.A thriller oscillating between three generations...In 1937 Amy's life was consumed by trying to survive, living hand to mouth on a small farmstead in the wild wind-swept hills of the Derbyshire moors high above the village of Castleton, England. Never knowing where the next meal might come from and with the added burden of caring for her aged, alcoholic father, Amy's concerns cannot afford to stray far from the confines of High Oakham Cottage. Out of the blue, a new bright, fresh horizon opens before them in the form of a circus. Amy and her father, being swept away by the arrival of Circus Franconi, are transported by the kaleidoscope of fascination, colour and energy that the circus presents. As the ringmaster traverses his audience with an exciting realm of chaos, surrealism and magic, his long-awaited fantastic finale is yet to be unveiled. Waiting in the wings to explode in a confetti concoction of perfidy and intrigue embroiled in a dark long-forgotten past, the sadistic influence of the ringmaster creeps silently through the very walls of High Oakham Cottage, searching for the best finale ever. As the saying goes, the show must go on...and on...and on...In 2020 a father and daughter, Len and Georgia, move to High Oakham cottage to escape the chaos of London following the tragic death of Len's wife. Their lives turn for the worse when they find themselves embroiled in a mystery that has haunted the locals for years.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 06 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781398452732
• Langue: English

Extrait

T he R ingmaster
K aren R estaino
Austin Macauley Publishers
2023-01-06
The Ringmaster About the Author Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Circus Franconi 1937 Georgia’s Home 2020 Hope to Mam Tor 2020 Georgia’s Home (Continued) 2020 Hope to Mam Tor (Continued) 2020 Georgia’s Home (Continued) 2020 Home Sweet Home High Oakham 2020 High Oakham Cottage Within These Four Walls 2020 ‘The Ringmaster—Derbyshire News’ Dan’s Circus Franconi Castleton 1937 High Oakham Cottage 1937 Circus Franconi 1937 High Oakham Cottage 2020 High Hopes in High Oakham Cottage 2020 High Oakham Cottage 1937 The Greatest Show 1937 Tiggy-Bob-Down 2020 To Ride an Engine or Two 2020 The Reunion 1937 Feeding the Devil 2020 Another Nightmare 2020 Another Great Show 1937 If Dan Can 1937 Amy’s Decision 1937 Restless in High Oakham 1937 Thick as Thieves 1937 Wheels in Motion 1937 Leo’s Advice 1937 The Clown is in Town 1937 Two Days, Two Nights 1937 Oily Rags, Steam and Kittens 1937 The Cabin 1937 The Clown is in Town (continued) 1937 The Cabin (Continued) 1937 The Clown is in Town (Continued) 1937 Nottingham Fair 1937 Nottingham Fair (Continued) 1937 Pendulum 1937 Last Day of the Fair 1937 Falling Apart 2020 The Traveller’s Rest 2020 Rebecca’s Home 2020 Jake and Joshua 2020 High Oakham Cottage Len’s Visitor 2020 Something in the Air 2020 Hospital Run 2020 Run Rebecca Run 2020 High Oakham Cottage Revisited 2020 Somewhere Near Dunkirk May 1940 High Oakham Cottage Revisited (Continued) 2020 The Chase 2020 Dunkirk (continued) 1940 High Oakham Cottage Unwanted Visitors 2020 The Confrontation 2020 I’m Back High Oakham Cottage 1941 High Oakham Cottage 2022
About the Author
Karen Restaino began her writing career as a playwright with her debut stage play, a Victorian period drama,  A Guinea Too Much , being successfully performed at the Mansfield Palace Theatre in 2003 and her TV drama,  Age Concerned , shortlisted for Channel 4’s  The Plays The Thing  in 2006. The mother of four returned to education shortly after studying for a BA in Theatre Studies at the Rose Bruford College in Sidcup, South London, then went on to attain a PGCE in her home town of Sheffield at Hallam University.
Since then, Karen, now 54, and a grandmother with five grandchildren, had a burning desire to return to writing. The Ringmaster is her first novel, which incorporates her fascination with the art of Theatre with a love of storytelling.
Copyright Information ©
Karen Restaino 2023
The right of Karen Restaino to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781398452725 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781398452732 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2023
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Acknowledgement
Thank you:
Roz, Don, Max and Mini and Grandchildren: Bells, Mia, Lucca, Matty and Issy.
Vito, for your patience and care.
Mum, Kathleen, for your support and encouragement.
Dad, Wilfred, for providing me with the storytelling gene
Barry Heath, for the pen and paper! FYI, Sam and Quirimisu are in here somewhere!
Austin Macauley, for believing in me!
While some actual geographical locations set the scene, all persons and events represented in this book are fictional.
Circus Franconi 1937
A Circus appeared like a snake, gliding silently down from the High Peaks into the Hope Valley. As it descended the hills like a multi-coloured string of beads, a majestic melody drifted towards the sleepy village of Castleton. As the Circus approached, emanating from its convoy of horse-drawn wagons and carriages was an air of vibrant expectation. At its flanks, a modest number of otherworldly people danced along to shimmering trumpeters in an explosion of petals, fluttering scarves and banners. The fanfare was not just a spectacle for a grand entrance into the Hope Valley and the village of Castleton but rather a celebration, a festival of life and art, methodically rehearsed with the precision of a Roman Legion returning home triumphant from battle. The whole ensemble had been choreographed for stimulation, to arouse imagination, stir up intrigue and strategically designed to create misalliance in the souls of even the most conservative of village folk. Trailing behind the procession were elaborately dressed horses and carriages decorated in beautiful bright fabrics, trimmed exotically with ribbons of red and green, golden silks and laces woven in a silvery gossamer thread. Goaded by its handler, a sullen lion wearing a heavily rusted harness swung its head from side to side, nodding and growling at the passing crowd. A line of followers slowly increased as local villagers trotted along behind. Children were incredibly intrigued to discover where the excitement would take them. They cheered when the lion flew at a sleek leopard in its silver harness. A golden-haired African boy riding bareback on a jewelled elephant waved down at the chattering children as they ran alongside the lumbering beast, dodging the animal’s carelessly placed footsteps that fell clumsily beside them, while daring to pat the beast’s hind legs before running off to a safe distance. Comic acts took up the rear, bounding in with juggling tricks and cartwheels, sending un-expecting children scuttling from the monstrous elephant’s strides. Bare-chested, sun-baked Circus men blew kisses to adoring women as they lined the main road to see them strutting by like peacocks. Exotically dressed women in silver bangles and amethyst necklaces danced alongside mysteriously painted carriages, showering crowds and narrow cobbled streets with wildflowers, handpicked along the way: petals, berries, moss and leaves. Long swishing skirts seductively revealed smooth, toned calves and jingling bells about delicate ankles, drawing interested men from their work. The Circus, graceful, mysterious and skilled, elaborate and explosive, introduced itself to the quiet village of Castleton, bringing bewilderment, excitement and awe. Its exit left behind a hum of gossip, anticipation and much to do preparation.
Georgia’s Home 2020
As Len’s Volvo pulled up at the front of High Oakham Cottage, gravel spitting from beneath its wheels like ball bearings as it slowly ground to a halt, he declared with pride and conviction, “Home sweet home!” He leaned back, removed his glasses and yawned, “Do you need to yawn so loudly?” Georgia was tired and hungry, after being stuck on the M1 for hours. Tutting under her breath, she unclipped her seatbelt, sat up slightly and peered over the dashboard.
“So? What do you think?” Len asked without looking at her.
Georgia glanced over at her father and then turned back to the windscreen to wipe away the condensation with the palm of her hand.
In all its glory, the cottage stood silent, dark, abandoned and mysterious, “It looks damp.”
Len thought the tiny particles of quartz and feldspar that cement each stone together appeared to shimmer in the early evening rain. Sighing, he breathed on his glasses, wiped them on his sleeve and put them back on. “They certainly don’t make houses like this anymore.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s solid; built from sedimentary rock, a composition of sand-sized grains of mineral and ancient organic material. It would have been quarried locally at least over two hundred years ago. Oh yes, she’s certainly got some history in her old bones.”
Georgia laughed. “I know enough from years of your long, boring geography lessons to know that the space between the sand grains are made of a rich matrix of silt and clay.”
“Ah, so you did learn something?”
“– And judging by how the lime cement between each stone is severely eroded, the whole building must be really damp.”
“Hmm, well, it’s quite possible. She’s going to need some TLC, that’s for sure.”
“Just like us then?”
“That was the plan from the start, wasn’t it?
Georgia couldn’t help thinking before Len switched off.
the Engine, plummeting the whole building into a pitch-black void, how had time not eroded it away; judging by the shininess of the rain upon the quartz, the cottage must have once shone amazingly in the sunlight. Breaking the silence, Len opened his door to climb out, leaving Georgia to tug at her bag; somehow, it was stuck beneath the passenger seat. Finally, pulling it free, she climbed out exhausted. A woman’s face suddenly appeared out of the darkness, inches from her nose. Georgia jumped slightly and let out a muffled, pathetic yelp that made her feel instantly embarrassed. “Oh my God, you made me jump!”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The woman’s hair, dripping wet and lank, clung to her sallow cheeks like damp straw as she grinned widely and stepped a little nearer to shake Georgia’s hand. “It’s me.” She dropped her head strangely to one side and narrowed her eyes inquisitively. “Where have you been?”
“Travelling up from London. Have you been waiting long?” Georgia gave a quick furtive glance down to the woman’s boots and wondering why she was wearing a skirt that practically swept the ground on a night such as this, hardly water-resistant or warm against the freezing co