Paper Dreams , livre ebook

Troubador Publishing Ltd - J. Burton Phyllis

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212 pages

English

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Take a recipe for disaster... Start with an illicit love affair in 1952, add a painful parting and three deaths in 1953. Leave to settle until 2009. Then add a crumbling mansion (Epton Hall), which harbours a scandalous secret... Gradually combine young librarian Katie Nicholson - an incurable romantic trying to get over a failed love affair. Sprinkle a few daydreams, hundreds of books and stir until well mixed. Carefully blend in a friendly housekeeper, some memorabilia and many books, with Katie's weekend away, new boyfriend and a prophetic dream. Add the secret arrival of sinister nephew Harold Hapsworth-Cole, the only known heir to the estate, and throw in the evidence discovered by Katie in the attic, that another heir exists in Canada. Combine fear, violence, and theft of that evidence with Katie's imprisonment in the attic, Harold's growing mental instability and stirmalevolently. The resultant mixture should be an explosion of love, financial expectations, inheritance, terror, greed and attempted murder. Then ENJOY. Paper Dreams is an unusual read, which plays with the reader's emotions. It covers family sorrow, obsessions, inheritance, greed, dreams, nightmares, and attempted murder. But above all, it is a story of people's lives, their loves and how they eventually overcome adversity.

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Romance

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	01 décembre 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781848768154
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

P A P E R D R E A M S
Phyllis J. B urton
Copyright © 2011 Phyllis J. Burton
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.

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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
This book is dedicated to my family, especially my husband Jim, who has given me much love and support during the writing of this novel, and my daughter Julia for her copy-editing expertise.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I acknowledge with thanks, the assistance of Trevor Burton (no relation) with various legal points during the writing of this novel.

THE PROLOGUE
September 1952

What is life? A frenzy.
What is life? An illusion, a shadow , a fiction
And the greatest good is of slight worth
As all life is a dream
And dreams are dreams…
(Pedro Calderon de la Barca – 1600-1681)

* * *

Gerald Hapsworth-Cole’s heart lurched as the huge ship’s siren reminded him that Amy’s departure was imminent. ‘How can I let her go?’ he asked himself. But deep down, he knew that there was nothing he could do or say that would make her change her mind, but he had to try. Feeling frantic, he reached out to embrace the woman standing by his side.
‘Amy, my dearest Amy, what am I going to do now? I love you so much and I just can’t envisage a life without you.’
‘Gerald honey, it’s no use, can’t you see? I have to go home to Vancouver. We’ve been over everything again and again. What choice do we have?’
He looked blankly at her, momentarily lost for words. The inevitability of it all made him feel impotent. He searched her face for hope, but there was none, except for the gathering of tears in the corners of her eyes that threatened to engulf her.
Amy Butler was making the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of his family.
A lump appeared in his throat making it difficult for him to speak. ‘My darling Amy,’ he said in sheer desperation, ‘I can’t…I just can’t believe what I’ve…I’ve done to you and how can I possibly let you go now?’ He hadn’t felt quite so emotional since the day his father had died and coupled with the fact that she now looked more beautiful than ever, made the moment of her departure even more poignant. She looked pale and fragile, just like a porcelain doll and he tightened his grip on her.
‘My dearest, you must know that we really have no choice,’ she said as unrestrained tears now rolled down her cheeks. ‘Just think what would happen if your wife and sons found out about us: it would destroy them all. You must see that it is all…so impossible. I will def…’
A loudspeaker cruelly interrupted their final moments together and obliterated what she was saying. The preparations for the huge liner to get under way had been completed. There was an air of excited tension as people began to walk up the ramp and on to the ship that would be taking them across the Atlantic and away from their families and friends.
‘Honey, I’ll be waving my yellow handkerchief so look out for it and I promise that I will write to you as soon as I reach home.’
‘But Amy, it’s not too late to work something out.’
‘No Gerald, there really is nothing else we can do, can’t you see? I have to go. Goodbye my dearest,’ she said kissing him on the lips. ‘Always remember, even in your deepest and darkest moments, that I love you and that will be the link between us.’
She broke away from him…and was gone.
Gerald was left with an empty void between his arms, loving Amy, wanting her, his whole being crying out for her. He had to stop himself from running after her, but even as his heart cried out in pain, he knew that he had to let her go. He watched her in sorrowful silence as she ran up the gangway before disappearing from his view. After what seemed an age, the huge liner pulled away from the quayside. Panic began to overtake him as he frantically searched for Amy amongst the passengers leaning over the ship’s railings. Then he saw her. She was waving her yellow handkerchief and he waved back putting on a brave face, but inside his heart was breaking. He watched the vessel as it gradually pointed itself in the direction of the open sea. “Come back…come back…please come back,” he wailed inwardly but he knew it was useless: his beloved Amy had gone.
He continued to watch as the ship grew smaller and smaller until finally he saw a faint plume of smoke drifting into the sky, before the ship disappeared over the horizon.
He looked upwards. The sky was leaden and everything and everyone around him seemed as miserable as he was. The puddles under his feet were a testament to the fact that it had been raining hard for some time and he hadn’t even noticed. He pulled up his coat collar and shoved his hands into his pockets. His heart sank. Lying at the bottom of one of them was a small box containing his farewell present for her. It was a diamond solitaire ring and a symbol of his enduring love for her. How could he have forgotten to give it to her, he asked himself? With a huge sigh, he pulled his sodden grey trilby hat further down on to his head, turned and walked sadly back to his car.

* * *

February 2009

The following extract appeared in the obituary column of THE EPTON HERALD on the 29 th February 2009:
“MARJORIE ANN HAPSWORTH-COLE (nee Bettisford) died recently, aged 95. She was the widow of Captain Gerald James Hapsworth-Cole, RN, who, along with his two young sons, died in 1953 under mysterious circumstances. Their bodies were never found. Captain Hapsworth-Cole had been a distinguished sailor who fought in the Second World War, was decorated for outstanding bravery and mentioned in despatches on two separate occasions.
Marjorie Bettisford, a well known debutante and an heiress in her own right, was the only daughter of a wealthy industrialist and following her marriage to Captain Hapsworth-Cole, had lived in Epton Hall , the family’s large ancestral home in Sussex. There has been a Hapsworth-Cole family member living in Epton Hall for many generations.
Because Mrs. Hapsworth-Cole died intestate, a search is being carried out for any surviving family members who, it is understood, will probably inherit the house and the estate.”

EPTON HALL (2009)

A tall dark stranger entered the old house in silence, not quite believing how easy it was to gain entry. He looked around with quiet satisfaction, and a smile gradually suffused his severe features. He had waited so many years for this moment.
His father, Stanley, had been quite happy to forget his origins, but he had not…
P A R T I
Chapter One
Katie

March 2009
‘Simon, speak to me please.’ Katie Nicholson walked out of the Brighton cinema complex on the arm of her fiancé, Simon Brand. She looked up at him. His face seemed to be set in stone and she shivered. It was a cold, clear, frosty night and she drew closer to him, but he immediately pulled away again. A feeling of fear passed through her.
Katie had noticed that Simon’s behaviour towards her had been decidedly odd. What was happening to them? He’d practically ignored her throughout the whole evening. What had she done? What had she said?
‘Wow, that film was great wasn’t it?’ she said, trying to elicit some sort of a reaction. ‘I nearly jumped out of my skin when that lorry exploded.’ Simon didn’t answer and looked the other way. A worried frown spread over her face, because even though it had been an enjoyable and absorbing film, a little worm of worry and doubt had begun to wriggle in the darker recesses of her mind. She’d spent the evening snuggled up against him, but he’d seemed to be distant, distracted and had fidgeted throughout the two-hour long film. ‘Simon, didn’t you enjoy the film? After all you were the one who wanted to come to see it.’
Simon’s reply was non-committal. ‘It was OK.’
Katie was an attractive, fun-loving, vivacious 25 year old, but this evening any thoughts of frivolity had been completely blown away. They drove the 20 miles to her home in Anston in complete and devastating silence. The air felt thick and heavy in the confines of Simon’s small car, despite the fact that the temperature outside was extremely cold even for a March evening and frost glistened on every surface. At any other time, she would have commented on how beautiful everything looked.
Simon pulled up outside Lilac Cottage and switched off the car’s engine. His whole body seemed tense. It was now late evening, but there was enough light from a nearby street light for Katie to see the look on his face when he turned towards her. He looked scared, terrified even. What on earth was going on, she wondered? Was he ill, or had he lost his job? Or was he…?
A sudden thought had made her heart thump. Was he going off her? Had he found someone else? Had he…? Katie’s fears tumbled over one another in an effort to be aired. She’d noticed that he’d been breathing heavily and that now he seemed a little out of breath.
‘Katie?’ he at last managed to say.
‘Yes?’
‘I…Oh shit. I don’t know how to say this.’
‘Come on out with it, Simon’ she prompted. ‘Something’s on your mind, you’ve hardly said a word this