The Temple Priestess Extract
Bentreshyt stood from her sleeping mat, unwrapped her blanket and quickly dressed. She opened the door to where it was gradually brightening, and crossed to the bathhouse with Isetweret walking alongside. There they bathed with Bentreshyt cleaning thoroughly using soap, and after rinsing she got out of the water to take a towel and dry herself, while Isetweret also dried. After dressing, Bentreshyt and Isetweret walked to the kitchen where Isetweret took a cup of beer and a plate of bread, and then they walked to the temple and along the back staircase to the storeroom. Bentreshyt packed an incense pipe, lit it and took the candle to join Priest Antef and the other male priests. Priest Antef prayed to the four cardinal points and then Isetweret and Bentreshyt entered the chapel of Goddess Isis while bowing. Bentreshyt lit the candle, removed the blue cover and knelt beside Isetweret who prayed and laid out their offering. They left the chapel while facing Goddess Isis and bowing, all the way to the staircase. Bentreshyt returned the incense pipe to the storeroom and followed Isetweret up the stairs and outside to where it was brighter and warming. Although Bentreshyt had done this many times, it still was a great honour as they walked to the Priestess Quarters.
Wab priestesses brought breakfast of bread, honey and cups of milk while casual conversations filled the room.
"What are your plans for today?" Isetweret asked Bentreshyt.
Bentreshyt, now that she'd learn to read and write, and long ago mastered her roles in each festival except for The Mysterium, sometimes had little to do, except for one thing. "I'll go to the Lotus Garden and practice singing."
Bentreshyt finished her meal, and while many priestesses walked to the Per-Ankh she walked to the Lotus Garden on a glorious, sunny morning, as always with a number of cats wandering around. Bentreshyt sat cross-legged close to the lake to watch several ducks swimming and sometimes bobbing beneath the water. In the background, four or five white geese waddled. Bentreshyt watched this for some time and then thought she should sing.
Oh people and gods above
She is the only lady
Reverence for Isis
She gives birth to the day
Reverence for Isis
The lady of the west and the two lands
Reverence for Isis
She is the great eye of Ra in the provinces
Reverence for Isis
You offer the dear and precious for the king of Kemet
Upper and lower
Oh my only lady
Reverence for thee
"That was very good," a man with a deep voice said.
Bentreshyt turned her head and had to shade her eyes to see who it was – goodness! She went to stand but stumbled while he laughed – also deep and manly. Feeling awful, Bentreshyt did stand and bow, head down with her hands extended.
"What's your name, Little One?" Nisou-Beti, Men-Maat-Ra asked as Bentreshyt stood straight.
"My name's Bentreshyt, Your Majesty."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a priestess to Goddesses Isis for these past ten years."
"You must have been young."
"I was aged four when I first came here." Bentreshyt wondered if this was going too far. "I know you built this temple but you haven't often been here."
His Majesty smiled. "We have won many wars and our borders are secured, and, at last, I can see the progress on building this temple."
"This is a wonderful temple."
"This temple would be nothing but a shell without priests and priestesses, like you."
That was lovely.
"Can you sing more for me?"
"Yes I can, Your Majesty."
To Horus, Oh mighty Heru-wer, I offer my praise.
Bright son of Geb and shadow-cloaked Nuit, beloved of Hathor,
great lady of gold. Oh eldest of the falcon-gods,
ancient of worship, ancient of name. O Horus
whose left eye is the sun, whose right shines as the moon,
I call to you for favor, I call on you for strength.
Yours is the courage to seek out strife, to war with
the wicked who would corrupt the work of maat.
Yours is the nerve to face what may come, whatever
the chances, whatever the risk. Yours is the will
to persevere through any misfortune, any restaint.
Yours is the heart to fight the good battle,
to struggle and strive and to succeed. Oh Horus,
mighty Heru-wer, overcomer of obstacles,
share with me, Oh god, your gift of determination.
"You have a fine voice, Priestess Bentreshyt. What does a priestess for Goddess Isis do?"
"Two of us worship Goddess Isis in her chapel in the temple, at sunup with a prayer and an offering, at midday with a prayer, and at sundown with a prayer and an offering. I recently made my decision to stay here and continue this."
"Good for you."
"It's strange how life can take twists and turns, and then you find yourself where you belong."
The ducks noisily skimmed across the water and flew away, while Bentreshyt turned her head to see the geese watching. She had a thought.
"Perhaps wab priests were coming to catch them for our dinner!" and Bentreshyt laughed.
His Majesty laughed too.
"Well, if we have roast goose tonight," Bentreshyt said. "You'll know where this came from!"
"Yes, I will know. I don't want to further disturb you from your singing, Priestess Bentreshyt. Enjoy your day, Little One."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
He turned and Bentreshyt watched him walk away. A few moments later, Isetweret approached.
"That was Nisou-Beti, Men-Maat-Ra."
"That was, and this is his temple."
"Yes, of course."
Nisou-Beti was aged about 50, and although his gaze was penetrating, beyond that he was pleasant and friendly, and particularly handsome with big eyes, thick lips, a ready smile and eyes that sparkled. Surely he was attracted to Bentreshyt's blonde hair and blue eyes, but that didn't matter because she'd vowed to remain untouched, and besides, Nisou-Beti was married and adultery was a sin. They could be friends, though, and Bentreshyt hoped she would see more of Nisou-Beti while he was here, at his temple still under construction.
Invisible Chains Extract
Set in the Occupied Palestinian Territory of The West Bank, this extract involves the Ajlouni family who live in three adjacent houses in Israeli-controlled territory to the east of Hebron City. In the early hours of the morning they receive unwelcome guests.
After praying late at night, Zeinab lay in her bed, while in the living room Baba still prayed. Zeinab rolled onto her side to sleep, when suddenly there was hammering on their backdoor. Then Zeinab heard men's voices outside, speaking Hebrew. Baba came to her room.
"Zeinab; get dressed and wake Mama."
When Baba left, Zeinab swiped her phone to see the time was 1.33. She took off her nightgown and quickly pulled on a dress, and then her cap and hijab fastened at her throat. She went to her parent's room while Baba was in the kitchen with Israeli soldiers. Zeinab switched on the bedroom light and shook Mama.
"What?"
"Israeli soldiers are here. Baba said you must get up."
"I'll dress. Please wake Zakariyah and Rawan."
Zeinab went to their room and shook both.
"Israeli soldiers are here; you must get up."
"The children...," Rawan said.
"I'll wake them."
"They can't see me like this," Rawan said. "I'll dress.
Zeinab left her second-oldest brother and his wife to dress. Zeinab passed where eight soldiers in uniform and wearing black masks filled the kitchen; looking dangerous with their automatic rifles ready. Zeinab tried to ignore that as she went to wake Zakariyah and Rawan's young children sharing two rooms, and Mama was up, waking Zeinab's younger brothers and sisters.
Amal woke with a start, wondering what it was. Then she heard loud banging on the front door of their home. Abdallah stirred as Amal climbed out of bed to go to the door.
"Who's there?"
"Open up; it's the Israeli army!" a man shouted in Arabic.
"I need to dress."
"If you don't open the door we'll blow it up!"
Amal pulled her prayer cloak over her nightgown and then went to unlock the door as Abdallah came alongside, for many soldiers in black masks and carrying rifles to burst into their home. Maybe 15 or maybe even more. Four soldiers aimed their rifles at Amal and Abdallah,
"Give us your ID cards and your mobiles," a fifth solder said in Arabic.
No! "My phone has personal things on it."
One soldier aimed his rifle close to Amal's head.
"Get your mobile phone."
Amal wondered if they would shoot her, so she went with Abdallah to their room to get her phone while a soldier followed. Abdallah handed across his ID and phone as Amal held her phone tight.
"Give me your phone," the soldier ordered.
"It has pictures and personal things on it."
The soldier tried to force it out of Amal's hand.
This wasn't right. "Get your officer," Amal insisted.
Another soldier closed. "I'm the officer," he said in bad Arabic. "Unlock your phone and let me see."
Amal did that, and opened the picture gallery while the officer looked on. He then grabbed it and put it on top of the wardrobe. They didn't bother with Amal's ID card.
"What are your names?"
"I'm Abdallah Ajlouni and this is my wife, Amal."
Then Inas, woken by light or noise in the room, started to cry. Amal picked up her baby and tried to comfort her.
"We're going to search your house," the soldier who spoke good Arabic said.
"Please don't wake our children," Amal said as she comforted Inas by patting her back. "Our children will get scared if they see you."
That didn't stop those soldiers from searching, but fortunately not the children's room who still slept.
"Where's your brother, Harbi?" the soldier asked Abdallah.
"He lives in the house across from us."
A solder grabbed Amal and dragged her to the television room, while another soldier led Abdallah. Two more soldiers brought Yamen into the room with his wrists tied in front with a zip tie. Those two soldiers tied Abdallah's wrists the same way with a zip tie, and then they led Abdallah and Yamen away.
Diala woke and then realised men were in their house, shouting. Harbi got out of bed and opened the door to their bedroom, while Diala's daughters all woke and started to cry. Diala didn't know what to do as eight soldiers, all wearing black masks and two leading big, savage dogs, burst into their bedroom.
"Mama!" Lujayan cried out while Diala picked up her baby, Ayala, to comfort her.
Two soldiers pointed their rifles at Harbi's head.
"Leave him be!" Diala ordered. "Get away from him!" That was wrong.
Those soldiers took Harbi by his arms and led him out of the room, while Diala went to follow but two more soldiers grabbed her arms to stop her. They closed the door leaving Diala with her children, all crying, and only then did Diala realise Lujayan had wet herself with fear. Still holding Ayala, Diala knelt to comfort poor Lujayan who sobbed quietly.
"It'll be alright; you'll see."
"I'm scared, Mama."
"I know, but this won't be for long."
Diala waited for about 20 minutes until the door opened and two soldiers came in.
"Give us you and your husband's mobiles and ID cards," he said in Arabic.
Diala went to their bedside tables to take her and Harbi's mobiles and ID cards to hand to the solder, but he put Diala's ID card back.
"You have to come with us."
"Are you the officer?" Diala asked.
"You have to come with us."
Diala guessed they were being taken to one of the other houses.
"Let me put their shoes on."
"No!"
Diala tried anyway but other soldiers pulled her away. The children all began crying as soldiers led Diala carrying Ayala, while Linda and Lujayan held Diala's legs to be protected, especially from the dog which one soldier let walk close. Diala was terrified of that vicious-looking dog as they were taken to Abdallah's and Amal's home about 20 metres away, with the children crying all of the way. Soldiers took Diala and her children to the television room where Amal nursed Inas. Abdallah and Yamen, their wrists tied with tip ties, were also there but two soldiers led them away. Diala, with all of her children crying, didn't know what to do.
Soldiers led Zeinab and the rest of her household, including Mama and Baba, to their living room, with Zakariyah and Rawan's children crying so much. Poor Rawan tried to calm her children but they were beyond what a mother could do.
"Give us your mobiles," one soldier ordered.
One by one they put their mobiles into a white plastic bag except Zeinab slipped her phone into the pocket of her dress. When the soldier with the bag came to Zeinab, she shook her head.
"You men; give us your ID cards."
Those went into the bag as well.
"We're going to search the house; you have to go outside."
"Can I go to my apartment to get my jewellery?" Muhammad asked.
"No."
While that was happening, Zeinab sneaked into her bedroom to take her cash from the wardrobe drawer, and put that into her pocket before returning to the living room.
Soldiers gathered adults, including Zeinab, to lead all outside, accompanied by Rawan's crying children, and from there they were taken to Abdallah and Amal's home about 20 metres away. In the television room, about ten soldiers guarded Amal, Diala and Diala's children, all screaming with fear; poor things. Zeinab knelt to hug and comfort Linda while Amal comforted her baby, Inas. The rest of Amal's children weren't there – they must still be asleep in their room.
Soldiers led the men: Baba, Zakariyah and Muhammad, out of the room.
"They took Harbi, Abdallah and Yamen away," Amal said. "My children are still sleeping in their room."
To have their homes invaded like that was wrong. Zeinab wondered how long this would take.
Amal watched two female soldiers, one with a huge dog on a leash, approach. Those female soldiers grabbed Amal who had just enough time to hand Inas to Zeinab. They took Amal to her children's room, with Amal being especially careful to keep away from that dog which looked like it would bite her at any moment. As soon as they entered the room, Afaf screamed, and as soon as Afaf screamed, Yazan and Ahmed cried. Ahmed, only age four, got out of bed and clutched at Amal's legs.
"Move away from him," the female soldier without the dog ordered.
The female soldier pulled Ahmed away, so Amal sat him on his bed and knelt in front to hug and comfort her young son.
"Move away from him," the female soldier ordered again.
Amal, scared of the dog, did.
"Now, take off your clothes."
Amal, watching the dog, removed her prayer beads which rattled. The soldier with the dog loosened its lead and it came close. Amal backed away but the wall was in the way – she felt her heart racing fast.
"Take the dog away from me," Amal said. The soldier did nothing. "We're afraid of dogs."
The soldier tightened the dog's lead which pulled it away from Amal.
"Take off your clothes and underwear."
No! "I have nothing on me, and my underwear is light so there's no reason to remove this."
"Take off your clothes and underwear."
Amal couldn't believe this; she felt sweaty despite the cool and her tears ran. "Don't make me do this in front of my children."
"I'll set the dog on you."
"Please don't!" Amal cried. "No, no, no."
"Do it."
Amal, crying, removed her prayer cloak, her nightgown and her panties.
"Stretch your arms right out and turn around."
Still crying, Amal did this.
"Now, get dressed."
The children cried, and Amal cried as she dressed. The female soldier who spoke Arabic opened the door for two male soldiers to take Amal and her children, all crying, to the television room, and then took Amal's and Diala's children to the living room, except for Inas being nursed by Zeinab. They shouldn't do that; Afaf was crying too much.
"Please let me care for my baby," Amal asked.
Amal was shocked they allowed this, but then she was angry that she had to beg to comfort her child in her own home.
Diala wondered what happened in there, but clearly it was bad from the way Amal cried so much.
"What happened?" Diala asked.
"The two female soldiers made me undress and expose myself in front of my children."
"No!"
Two male soldiers took Mama to the bedroom, and closed the door while standing outside. About five minutes later, they brought Mama, her face ashen white, back to the television room.
"They forced me to undress, too."
"That's terrible, Mama."
A soldier came for Diala and she knew she had to go, but she didn't know if she could do this. Trapped in the room that dog was too vicious – Diala stayed glued to the door. Diala had to get out of there – she turned to open the handle.
"Stop!" a female soldier ordered.
"I'm afraid of the dog."
"I don't care. Now, take off your clothes and underwear."
"No, I won't!"
"If you don't take off your clothes and underwear, I'll release the dog."
Diala knew she had no choice as she removed her nightgown and panties.
"Stretch your arms right out and turn around."
Diala did, and despite knowing she had no choice, she couldn't stop herself from crying. It was humiliating and degrading to be treated like that. Diala cried and cried; even when the female soldier told her to dress and then opened the door for male soldiers to take her to the television room.
When soldiers approached, Zeinab laid Inas on the couch who then cried, and Zeinab took her mobile from her pocket and hid it behind a cushion. Zeinab followed the soldier into the room with two female soldiers, both with masks and one with a huge dog on a short lead. Suddenly, a male soldier burst into the room and pressed the barrel of his rifle against Zeinab's head while holding her phone. Zeinab froze.
"What else are you hiding?" he asked. "Admit it!"
As much as Zeinab wanted to say she was hiding nothing more, words wouldn't form.
"Fuck you!" the soldier swore.
Zeinab waited for worse than swearing while wishing she could move or say something,
"Obey those soldiers," he then said, and left the room.
Zeinab heard her father outside, arguing with soldiers.
"Baba, help me!" she called.
"Let me go to my daughter," Baba said.
"Baba!"
"You, undress!" the female soldier without the dog ordered. "Take off everything, including your underwear."
"No I will not!"
"I'll set the dog onto you."
"Do as she says," Diala called from the television room.
As much as she didn't want to, Zeinab undressed, including her panties, and as much as she didn't want to, Zeinab cried.
"Stretch your arms right out and turn around."
Still crying, Zeinab did this.
"Now, you can dress and leave."
Zeinab did, and when she got to the room, soldiers took Rawan to the room to be humiliated, while her children now screamed and cried. Zeinab help comfort Quasai, only four and taking things badly. Rawan returned and didn't say anything, but then, she didn't need to.
Diala felt her heart torn in two by the children in the living room crying so much, especially poor Ayala so young.
"Please let me get my baby."
"No, you must stay here."
"Please."
"I'll get your child."
He left, and returned moments later with Ayala, who Diala hugged, the poor girl. Not long after, soldiers brought all of the children from the living room and then Diala heard soldiers searching there. Shortly after, Diala noticed some soldiers were leaving while a soldier came to the television room.
"You must stay in this room," he said, before leaving.
Diala was terribly, terribly worried about Harbi, but she had no choice. When Diala was sure they were all gone, she looked to Amal.
"We must find the men."
"Yes."
Still carrying Ayala, Diala with Amal went through the house where everything was upended, many things were smashed and the lounge suite was slashed open. They went from room to room but saw no sign of the men, except Diala found a plastic bag with their mobiles where she noticed the time was 5.32. Diala, with Amal, went to her own home where she found Abdallah and Yamen, both blindfolded with their wrists bound with zip ties. Diala went to her kitchen to get scissors to cut those ties.
"Do you know where Harbi is?" she asked.
"They must have taken him," Abdallah said.
Diala felt her eyes watering. That on top of everything else was too much.
Lulu Extract
"Mademoiselle Brooks?"
"Yes," Louise croaked.
"Vous viens avec moi."
"I don't understand."
"He said you must go with him."
Louise then remembered she made love with Michel, and later they drank more champagne. Indeed, they drank a lot more champagne. Louise then realised the police were after her! Fuck! Double fuck!
"Tell him that I need to dress."
"Mademoiselle
Brooks a besoin
de s'habiller."
"Oui."
The policeman left the
room and closed the door. Louise slipped
out of bed, naked except for her tap pants, and gathered her clothes together
to dress, while Michel climbed out to help with the button and zip on the back
of her dress. Michel was decent and she
remembered their sex had been great – he fucked her long and slow the way she
wanted. She wondered why the police were
after her, though.
"Do you want me to
come with you?" Michel asked.
"Can you ask him what
he wants?"
"I can."
Michel dressed before
he opened the door, for the policeman to enter the bedroom. Michel spoke for a moment before turning to
face Louise.
"Your director,
Monsieur Genina, called the police to find you."
That was good; at least
Louise wasn't in trouble, except with Mr Genina!
"I
understand." She looked to
Michel. "Thank you for your company
last evening."
"Can I see you
again?"
Michel was alright but
not that alright. "We'll see. Goodbye Michel."
"Goodbye
Louise."
Louise followed the
policeman along the corridor to the grand hall, with the debris of party
everywhere: glasses and bottles mostly.
Louise was so thirsty!
"Wait a
moment."
The Young Romantics Extract
After a breakfast of freshly baked bread rolls and coffee with milk, Claire carried her writing box up the hill to Villa Diodati on a darkly, cloudy day, where the front had five pairs of glass doors; with the centre pair of doors having a brass ball which Claire rang. Lord Byron's valet approached to open the door which led to a reception room, where with all doors open it would be like an extension of the garden.
"Good morning. Lord Byron asked me to make copies of his poems."
"Good morning, Miss Clairmont. Come this way, please."
Claire entered the villa, to follow the valet to a table and chair in the reception room, with two volumes, a bottle of ink and a note to copy Churchill's Grave and Stanzas to Augusta, clearly for Lord Byron's half-sister, Augusta Leigh. Claire sat to open the more battered volume, and flick through pages until she found Churchill's Grave. She opened the other volume, bare and unused, before readying her quill to copy, like she and Mary often copied Shelley's poems. Apart from the scratching of her quill across the page, the birdsong that morning was truly delightful, with that villa having a particularly fine garden, especially at the rear. Mary loved exploring gardens and finding birds and other wildlife, and she will love it there. Claire then concentrated on her copying, it being a task that required complete concentration, until she reached about half-way of that relatively short poem, but still long enough. Feeling weary, Claire put her quill aside. She needed a break, and it seemed Doctor Polidori wasn't around so that would do no harm. Claire climbed the staircase to explore upstairs, where she found a parlour, a large dining room, a library and a smoking room. Claire climbed to the next level to find two long corridors and closed doors, and light shining from a window at the end. Claire opened the first door on the right; surely a bedchamber overlooking the lake.
"No!" a familiar voice exclaimed.
Claire entered. "Yes," she said as she closed the door behind.
"I said no."
Claire closed on his bed; visible from light spilling around drawn curtains. "Surely you aren't going to refuse me?" Claire knelt on his bed. "Are you sure?" Claire reached behind to untie her dress, and then peel it away from her shoulders. "You can tell me to stop."
"I know."
Claire smiled to herself. "I know – who?"
"I know, my little fiend."
Claire still smiled as she untied her stays, while Lord Byron – George, sat up to remove his nightshirt. No harm at all.
* * *
Claire stretched, and then rolled onto her side to catch Lord Byron's – George's gaze.
"Surely that was pleasant?" she asked.
"Yes, that was – pleasant."
"We must do this again."
"If you wish."
Now he was Lord Byron again, which didn't seem right. George one moment and Lord Byron the next – she needed a nickname, and then it came to her.
"I shall call you Albé because your complexion is fair, due to you sleeping in darkened rooms all day and only coming out at night."
"You can call me Albé."
"You can call me by a nickname."
"Yes I can, Miss Clairmont, but I don't think I will. Now, how are my copies?"
Claire took the hint. "I will leave you to sleep, while I return to copying."
Claire slid out of bed to dress, and left Albé to continue his solitary slumber.
Friends, Boyfriends and a Sister Extract
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"I need to jailout tonight."
"Me too."
There was one option. "We'll go to Club Paramount."
"Sure. Zendaya can come."
"She's 15."
"We went there when we were 15."
That was true. "We should meet there after dinner, at about seven."
"Yes."
Together, they walked along that road that once was bitumen in days long past, but now was dry dirt and dust in the dry season, and mud in the wet season. Allison looked forward to getting out of jail for a few hours.
* * *
Like most of the so-called nightclubs in Chi-town, Club Paramount was really a beer hall, but it was better than most and within easy walking distance of Zengeza One. To one side was a dirt carpark, although it wasn't terribly responsible to drive to a nightclub that was really a beer hall, drink for hours and then drive home. Wearing her blue t-shirt, dark blue slacks and black sandshoes, Allison leaned against the edge of a planter box with dead weeds while watching Anesu and Zendaya approaching. As they closed, Allison stood, and together they entered the side door into the main bar, smelling of body odour and beer, with tall tables and tall stools, men in small groups drinking beer from bottles they bought at the bar on the far side of the room, where the barkeeper looked Allison, Anesu and Zendaya over. The worst that could happen was to be thrown out. A big television played a football game, with the sound turned quite low and nobody paying the slightest attention. They were all old, jailing out from their marriages for a few hours and didn't appeal in the slightest.
Allison sensed the door open, and turned to see four young guys enter. One went to the bar while the other three took a tall table. This was promising as Allison approached.
"Do you mind if we share your table?" she asked in Shona.
"Feel free."
Allison, Anesu and Zendaya climbed onto the big stools, why bars had such tall stools defied logic, but it was what it was. The fourth guy closed with four bottles of beer.
"What are you drinking?" he asked Allison sitting at the end.
"We'll have Jameson and Coke."
"Aren't you young?"
Allison laughed. "We're old enough. I'm Allison, this is Anesu and this is Zendaya."
"I'm John, this is Munya, this is Edward and this is Anthony."
Allison, Anesu and Zendaya shook hands with all.
"I'll get your drinks."
John walked to the bar, to return with a bottle of Jameson, a bottle of Coke and three glasses. Zendaya poured and handed around. Allison drank – great.
"What work do you do?" Allison asked John.
"We're diesel mechanics at the same workshop, and we all live in Chi-town. What do you do?"
"We could say we're at school but don't tell anyone."
He laughed. "How old are you?"
"We're old enough."
"And you live at home."
"Of course."
"What are you doing, out?"
"I'm drinking Jameson and Coke."
"Me too," Zendaya said.
"I suppose, drinking together and talking like this, we could go further."
Allison sipped while thinking these guys were about 20, unlike that young guy wanting to give her airtime in exchange for a fuck. "If we get on well, we could become boyfriend and girlfriend."
"You could be my girlfriend."
"I could."
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Edward asked Anesu. "You're very pretty."
"We'll see."
"Zendaya, you could be my girlfriend," Anthony asked. "You're pretty."
"There's nothing stopping me from being your girlfriend."
Allison sipped her Jameson and Coke, emptied her glass and poured more. She could date John on weeknights, here and in other places, and later when Bradley passed his degree, Allison would have finished school and would be working by then. Diesel mechanics earned fuck-all, so forever they'd be stuck renting a core house in Chi-town, while Bradley would go further once he found a job. In the meantime, dating weeknights and having spending money for the necessities of life, would help, and John would be happy getting sex, which wouldn't do any harm, and Bradley would continue to get sex, which wouldn't do any harm. At least these guys had money now, and they could dance at The Tanza Nightclub, unlike the UZ which table tennis and chess. Allison thought this would work, and why not these guys? This was Allison's decision, and if John didn't treat her well and buy her things, she would dump him. The same with Anesu and Zendaya, and they knew it. Allison drank her Jameson and Coke while thinking: why not?
Poor Girls Extract
Susan woke and opened her eyes too see Adau watching her. Susan stretched.
"Kudual."
"Kudual."
Susan rolled out of their bed to rummage through her backpack for clean underwear. With her back turned, Susan pulled her nightie and her old pants off.
"Susan!"
Susan turned to where Adau smiled.
"You're gorgeous!"
Susan understood as she pulled her fresh pants on, and then clipped her bra. She decided on a fresh dress, her brown and blue-patterned dress, before bundling her blue dress into her backpack. Susan knelt to find her cigarette pack and lighter, and went outside to light and smoke – beautiful. Adau, in a green-striped dress, came to stand alongside, cigarette in her mouth. Susan flicked her lighter as Adau breathed in. Susan looked around as their camp stirred, with Martha up and Nyamal joining. Susan wondered.
"What's for breakfast?"
"I need to go away," Martha said.
"Me too," Nyamal agreed.
Susan smoked while suspecting Martha and Nyamal used their children to make siko and merissa, and then cleared off until the next order from Tabitha. Oh well. Now, breakfast, and Susan wasn't in the mood for rummaging through bins.
"Let's steal breakfast," she said.
"We can't steal from stall-holders," Martha said. "They make fuck-all."
"We'll steal from the supermarket. Chocolate, chips, snacks."
"How?" Martha asked.
Like the cigarette and lottery shop. Susan undid five buttons and plumped her breasts. "I'll distract the guy at the counter, and you all descend on his shop and strip it."
Martha smiled as she smoked. "I like it."
This was a girl gang. "Just us girls," Susan said.
"If you want."
Susan finished her cigarette, tossed the butt on the ground and stood on it. She went to Elizabeth's tukul and shook her, while Adau woke Roda and Rebecca. Susan outlined her plan, they agreed it should work with a gang of five girls, and Susan was thirsty so Martha opened a bottle of merissa which they shared until the bottle was empty.
"We'll go, now," Susan said, as she took a white plastic bag from past fossicking expeditions, and the other girls took bags too.
"This'll be fun!" Adau exclaimed.
As a group they marched through the market; already packed and chaotically noisy – indeed two women were at each other, shouting insults and abuse in Arabic. African women were generally peaceful, but if you pushed them – well! Susan smiled at their obscenities. Eventually they left the market for the street of banks and mobile phones, calm and quiet by comparison, while Susan continued until the tarred road, where, on the right, was the supermarket, and beyond was another called mini-mart. Susan gathered the gang together.
"Give me a few minutes, and then all together, take everything you can. How do I look?"
Adau peeled open Susan's well-undone dress to expose more of her bra and her breasts.
"You look great!"
Susan went inside to racks of Cadbury chocolates, Crunch chips, Moo cheese snacks, cakes in cellophane wrappers, and a glass-fronted refrigerator with bottled water, Coca-Cola, Pepsi and more, although food was more important. Susan strolled to the proprietor, well aware of his eyes on her. She knew, beyond her cleavage, she was alright.
"Marhaba," she greeted. "I'm lost and looking for directions," Susan said in Arabic.
"What are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for Tecno Mobile. I'm from Yirol where we don't have mobile phones, but now that I've moved here, I need to buy one."
"I understand," he said as he stared at Susan's breasts. "Go out the shop, turn left, and turn left at the next street, and it's along there."
Susan frowned. "Left, and the next street on the left, and along there."
"About a hundred metres on the left."
"I understand. It's busy, here in Juba."
Just then the girls swarmed into the shop and emptied shelves, as Susan turned to look at chocolates, chips, cheese, cakes in cellophane, all being dumped into plastic bags, now bulging. Almost as soon as it started, it was over, as they ran away with the owner in pursuit. Susan checked, but only saw a well-dressed man also staring at her tits.
"Excuse me," as Susan went past to behind the counter, where she put four cartons of Bringi cigarettes and several plastic lighters into her bag. Susan opened the cash drawer and emptied that into her bag, too, before running around the counter, out of the supermarket and towards the market. Running and running into chaos, where they had no chance of chasing her, even if anyone bothered. Susan kept to the right, to eventually emerge at the back of indaya which absolutely buzzed. Susan buzzed.
"Fuck that was great!" she exclaimed in Jieng.
Adau upended her bags, they all did, while Susan felt hungry seeing such treasures.
"What have you got?" Adau asked.
Susan reached into her bag to gather together the banknotes and hold them up.
"Fuck!" Adau snatched the money and counted. "This is seven thousand and some hundreds!"
"He had a busy morning!"
"He did! What else?"
Susan upended her bag for the cigarettes and lighters to fall on the ground. Adau laughed.
"Susan and her cigarettes!"
Susan took the banknotes from Adau, folded them and stuck them into her pocket. She then went to her tukul to get her cigarettes and lighter, to light and breathe in deeply – great. They all sat in a circle while Elizabeth opened a bottle of siko to hand around, as Susan opened a packet of chips – tasty. She crunched them – fantastic! Beside, Adau took a swig of siko, before tearing the purple paper and silver foil wrappers of a block of chocolate and biting it.
"Oh fuck; this is incredible! How did you know?"
"My cousin works in a supermarket in Yirol."
Adau handed the siko to Susan who drank before giving it to Rebecca.
"We've got enough here for breakfast, lunch and dinner," Elizabeth said.
"I've got enough money in my pocket for five more meals."
"Oh, fuck yes!" with a big smile. Elizabeth tore the wrapper on a small cake and bit into it. "This is gorgeous!"
"It's all gorgeous," Rebecca said, as she ate chips before drinking siko.
Only then did Susan realise Martha and Nyamal were gone. That didn't matter; they were a gang of equals, ready to stand up for each other no matter what. Susan finished her chips so took a block of Cadbury chocolate in a purple wrapper. She tore it open and bit – oh fuck! Amazing!
"This is incredible!"
"Yes, it is," Adau said with a big smile.
Susan felt – proud. They knew how to steal, that's why she searched for them, but they didn't know about the treasures of a supermarket, ripe for the taking. Never in her life had Susan enjoyed a morning as good as this – never. As Susan ate her chocolate, this was simply the best.
Poor Girls Ebook and Print on Demand is available at Amazon, Amazon UK and Apple iBooks.
Upon the Sea Extract
Set in Shanghai in 1935, Matthew and Jing have been invited to a ball hosted by Sir Victor Sassoon. There they cross paths with old friend, Mickey Hahn
Like the Paramount was probably the best ballroom in the world, the Cathay Hotel was probably the best hotel in the world, or close to it. It was quite massive at ten storeys, the tallest building on The Bund, and stretching back quite a distance along Nanjing Road, prime real estate if ever their was, although rather plain and grim-looking from the outside. Indeed, many of the buildings on The Bund were built and owned by Sir Ellice Victor Sassoon, who's family made their fortune from trading opium which saw the downfall of China, where he now called Shanghai home.
While the exterior of the Cathay Hotel was plain, except for the pyramid-shaped copper tower high above the front facade, the interior couldn't have been more opulent if they tried. A modern, intricately detailed masterpiece as they crossed the marble flooring of the narrow but towering foyer, Matthew in a white dinner suit which he might or might not need to wear again, and Jing in her most opulent silk cheongsam: red with gold-coloured trim, with red representing good fortune, vitality and happiness, and holding her usual small, leather clutch. Dressed like that, she couldn't have looked more Chinese if she tried, especially carrying a red and gold fan. Further along was the bank of lifts with one which had doors open. They went inside.
"Floor eight, please."
The attendant closed the doors and drove the lift to the eighth floor. They stepped into a sumptuous corridor with the ballroom opposite. Matthew showed their invitation to an attendant in a white uniform, who opened doors to allow entry to a ballroom about half the size of the Paramount; with the dance floor along the centre, and tables to the left and right behind columns. Fancy and ornate while lacking the modern art-deco simplicity of the Paramount. There Matthew stood beside Jing with hundreds of strangers, mostly the British expat community of Shanghai, conversing noisily.
"Glad you could make it," a familiar voice greeted.
Matthew faced Mickey who had a monkey on her shoulder.
"Why are you wearing that monkey?" Jing asked while frowning.
"He's Mr Mills; don't you think he's wonderful? Besides, he's a gibbon. I saw him in a pet shop and I just had to have him! Come with me and I'll introduce you to Sir Victor."
They followed Mickey to a table near the stage. Matthew had seen photographs and there he was, the wealthiest man in Shanghai surrounded by young ladies, even if he couldn't avail himself.
"Sir Victor, these are my friends Matthew Clark and Rebecca Mai."
"Pleased to meet you both," he said in a rich, British accent, but he didn't stand. Matthew closed to shake his hand before Jing did the same.
"Mickey wasn't wrong when she said you will be the most beautiful woman here."
"Thank you."
"What work do you do, Matthew?"
"I represent two Australian government agencies and I'm also a journalist."
"And the companion to the most beautiful young woman in Shanghai."
Matthew thought he'd rub it in.
"All of this in a month."
"A month!" and Victor laughed. "You've made Shanghai home and even helped Mickey."
"We journalists look after each other."
"We do," Mickey said.
"Rebecca, later I would like to talk with you."
"I understand."
"Thank you for inviting us," Matthew offered.
"This is my pleasure."
"I'll show you to your table," Mickey said, "which you're sharing with me. We'll keep as far away from these fuddy-duddy British as we can."
"Is Mr Mills safe?" Jing asked while glancing at the monkey out of the corners of her eyes.
"Not entirely. Don't get too close."
Matthew laughed at that while Jing looked around the room.
"Over there is Clark Gable."
"Where?" Mickey asked. "Oh yes!"
"I will dance with him later."
"How?"
"You watch."
"I've gotta see this."
Matthew glanced towards Clark Gable and recognised someone else.
"That's Joan Crawford sitting opposite Clark Gable."
"This is typical of a Sir Victor Sassoon ball. Now, this is our American table."
"With one Australian and one Chinese."
"I'm sure you're used to this."
"We are."
"Here we have James and Ruby, and Michael and Amy. These are Matthew from Australia and Rebecca from here."
Greetings were exchanged and hands were shook before they took their seats. A wine waiter closed with a bottle of white wine, which he poured while they got to know each other. Shortly after, French onion soup was served. Then red wine was poured before soup bowls were exchanged for duck à l'orange, where everyone agreed that Victor put on the best banquets in Shanghai. Those plates were collected, to be replaced by strawberry fruit tarts, which would have taken some baking. It was a delightful meal with good dancing sure to follow. Indeed, movement on the stage showed dancing was coming up soon
"The orchestra's going to play," Jing said in Mandarin. "I'll get a dance with Clark Gable."
"What did she say?" Mickey asked.
"Watch her."
As music started for a foxtrot, Jing casually crossed the floor, and for sure in that cheongsam she was close to being the most beautiful woman in the room. She closed on her target, where she dropped her fan at his feet. He bent down and she knelt, and after a minute or a bit more, she stood while he got up and took her hand. He led Jing to the dance floor and put his arm around her to dance while she now held her fan in her left hand.
"How did she do that?"
"For a start she didn't have a monkey on her shoulder."
"Mr Mills is a gibbon. She'll remember this dance forever."
"Maybe he'll remember the Chinese woman in the red cheongsam for a few hours. I'll dance with her later."
"Don't forget Sir Victor wants to see her."
"Do you know what that's about?"
"Make sure you go with her."
"Alright."
Jing and Clark Gable took four dances before he spoke into her ear. He let her go for Jing to walk across the dance floor to their table, her face giving nothing away. She sat.
"It was just a few dances."
"Can I have the next dance?"
"You can dance with me now."
Matthew stood to lead Jing to the floor, where they danced for the first time in a fair while.
"I'm sure every woman in the room was watching you," Matthew said in Mandarin.
"I'm sure they were, and now they'll be watching you. You're handsomer than him. I don't like his rough face."
That was one way to describe it, as they danced several dances.
"Do you want to meet with Victor Sassoon?"
"We should, seeing as this is his ball."
"Are you enjoying this ball?"
"I'm enjoying every part of this ball, and especially dancing with you."
"I'm enjoying dancing with you, too."
The song ended.
"We'll see Victor now," Matthew said.
Matthew held Jing's hand as they closed on Victor's table.
"Ah yes, Matthew and Rebecca. Please sit. Ladies...."
Two of his entourage cleared off.
"I noticed the woman in red dancing with an actor, and later dancing with her companion."
"I like dancing," Jing said.
"I noticed that. My hobby is photography where I take photographs of many things, including beautiful women. Rebecca, you're made to have your photograph taken, like you are now."
"In a cheongsam?"
"Yes, and also topless."
Jing frowned.
"Showing your breasts," Matthew whispered in her ear in Mandarin.
"What do you do with these photographs?"
"I keep these photographs as mementos."
She smiled. "You can take photographs of me."
"Thank you for agreeing. Are you free tomorrow?"
"I am free."
"Please come to the penthouse of this hotel, anytime after midday."
"I will."
"Thank you again, Rebecca, I look forward to photographing you."
"I will see you tomorrow, Victor."
Jing stood; Matthew stood too. They crossed to the dance floor.
"Why did you agree?" Matthew asked in Mandarin.
"He could have asked any woman here but he asked me. Besides, he can't do anything so this is just photographs of me. Do you mind?"
Matthew guessed her reasons. "I don't mind."
"Now, I would like to dance with you again."
"And I would like to dance with you, too."
Matthew took Jing for a foxtrot. Indeed many foxtrots and a waltz or two, before they took a break and Matthew encouraged Jing to try champagne, which she liked, and to talk with their table colleagues for a while before dancing some more. Indeed with many dances, quite a few glasses of champagne with Jing getting tipsy and giggly, it was probably time to leave as some couples were. They said goodbye to Mickey and those who remained at their table, and then goodbye to Victor, before heading into early dawn's light. Apart from refugees from Victor Sassoon's ball, there were many late night to early morning revellers on The Bund.
"We ought to have something to eat," Matthew suggested.
"Yes we should," and Jing laughed.
They walked around the corner to Nanjing Road where Kiessling's Cafe was open. They went inside past a Russian waiter in a white apron over a striped shirt and dark trousers, standing at the glass-fronted counter of cakes and pastries, while a Russian waitress in a uniform set tables with her reflection in a mirror that ran along the far wall of the cafe. Matthew and Jing slid along pleated dark red benches either side of a table where Matthew checked the menu before giving it to Jing, just as more revellers came into the cafe. The waitress approached.
"I'll have eggs Benedict with a glass of ginger beer."
"I will have the same."
The waitress wrote in her pad as she hurried off.
"Some people do this every Friday and Saturday night," Matthew said in Mandarin. "Others do this every night of the week."
"I know," and she laughed.
"You shouldn't have drunk so much."
She giggled.
Fortunately their drinks arrived, Matthew was thirsty, and shortly after that, their eggs; nicely cooked. An early breakfast would allow a sleep in, although Jing had to be up and across town in time for her photography. For sure she would feel crook as Matthew ate his eggs accompanied by ginger beer.
Into Smoke Extract
Set in Melbourne in 1919, crime madam Dolly Grey confronts Lorna Kelly (we can thank those furniture removers who recorded for prosperity how this played out).
Les was up to something, Dolly was sure of it. He'd only touched her once or twice in the past two or three weeks and that wasn't like him, and he'd spent more time out than in. He'd had his tarts like any man, but only on the side. Dolly lit a cigarette while she stared out the window and saw Mikey head to his room. That was an idea. She went out beside the washhouse to reach the back room.
"Mikey?" Dolly asked.
He put his head out. "Yes Dolly."
"Can you come inside?"
He nodded his head as Dolly headed to the parlour. They stood facing each other.
"Mikey, you wouldn't know what Les is up to?"
"Up to?"
"You know," and surely he knew. "The tart Les is seeing."
Mikey face dropped. "Oh, Dolly...."
"Don't worry, I won't say a word."
"I don't want to get involved in this."
"So there is someone!"
"I didn't say that."
"You might as well have. Look, I won't tell Les." He was young, 15, and didn't understand these things. "I promise; our secret."
"Alright Dolly. Her name's Lorna, she's 17, and she's staying with Claude at Albert Park."
"Bastard! Sorry Mikey. Do you know anything else?"
"Nothing other than Les met Lorna in a cafe where she's a waitress."
"Waitress?" Dolly frowned while she smoked her cigarette before butting it. "What's Les doing with a waitress?"
"Don't tell Les I told you."
"No I won't, Mikey."
"Can I go now?"
"Yes you can."
He left while Dolly paced the parlour. All of Les's past tarts had been whores or past whores, like she was a past whore, which suited what he was. A waitress, unless she was from a bent family or had a bent past, didn't suit Les. Worse that Les was hiding Lorna. Dolly decided to pay a visit on Claude and Pearl to have a chat with young Lorna.
Dolly put on her diamond earrings, pearl necklace and her blue velvet cloche hat to match her dress, grabbed Les's scrapbook, and finally checked her bag before heading out to the rank in Bridge Road where she climbed into the back of the first taxi.
"Twelve Arthur Street, Albert Park."
The driver set the meter before he pulled into the roadway, driving past other cars, trucks and horses and carts. Away from grime-covered brick and bluestone of Richmond to leafy Albert Park, about the same age as Richmond but not as stark. The driver pulled up with squealing brakes, Dolly paid the one and six fare, and stepped out to stride to Claude and Pearl's two-storey terrace house, with a delivery truck parked next door and men unloading furniture. With the hardcover scrapbook under her arm, Dolly used the brass knocker; then waited. The door opened to reveal Pearl.
"So you've got the little tart in smoke here. A nice sister-in-law you are."
"Please Dolly, don't make a scene."
"You should have thought of that before you took Lorna in."
"Come inside and I'll get her for you."
Dolly followed Pearl to the parlour where Pearl was just a moment before she returned with a girl, kind of average build with fair skin, big dark eyes and short, black hair. If anything she looked older than 17 in her face, although she had hard features and thin lips.
"Dolly Grey, this is Lorna Kelly."
Dolly lit a cigarette as she contemplated Lorna. "You know who I am, don't you?"
Lorna nodded her head. "I do."
"You know who Les is?"
"Les said he's a bookmaker."
Dolly laughed. "Les is known as Squizzy Taylor. Have you heard of Leslie Squizzy Taylor?"
"You're lying, Dolly."
Dolly shook her head. "He's a thief, hoodlum, standover man, sly grog wholesaler and brothel protector." Dolly drew on her cigarette. "Do you believe me?"
"I don't believe you."
"I used to be a whore which is how I met Les. Charming, raffish Les, and Dolly who knows her way around crims and whores." Dolly handed the scrapbook over. "Les likes to keep a record of his crimes."
Dolly watched Lorna, eyes wide, flick through pages of crimes and accusations, and a few pictures too. Her fresh, white skin flushed red and colour drained from her lips. About half-way through, Lorna closed the scrapbook and handed it back.
"Now do you believe me?" Dolly asked.
"This doesn't matter. Les says he loves me."
"He's said that to a few tarts in his time, although they were false promises and it'll be the same with you," although that wasn't quite true. Young Lorna was different to Les's past tarts, and keeping Lorna in smoke was different too. Dolly smoked more of her cigarette while Lorna peered from under her fringe. "Lorna, let's have this out with Les."
"Now?"
"Pearl!" Dolly shouted. "Telephone for a taxi for Lorna and me."
"Alright Dolly."
Dolly reached into her bag to take out the packet of Pall Mall and pointed it at Lorna who shook her head. Lorna was so straight she didn't even smoke. They waited in silence until the knocker rapped the front door. Dolly went outside where the delivery men watched.
"You two, piss off!"
They quickly got into their truck and drove away while Dolly led Lorna to the back seat of the taxi.
"Eleven Goodwood Street, Richmond."
It didn't take long to travel from leafiness to grime, brick and bluestone where Dolly paid the fare. Doll held Lorna's skinny arm as she dragged her to the side of Harry's tavern. Dolly pressed the button and waited until Frank let her inside. In the background a two-up game was underway.
"What brings you here?" Harry asked.
"I'm looking for my husband."
"I'll get him for you. Who's this?"
"This is Lorna Kelly."
"Hello," she said.
Harry nodded his head with a big smile before he went out the back. Shortly after, Les appeared and then his face changed.
"Oh Dolly!"
"Thought I wouldn't find her, didn't you?"
"It wasn't that."
"Well why was she in smoke?"
"She's not in smoke now."
"Too right. I don't care about this tart or that tart, except I don't want you to throw away what we've done on a clueless waitress like Lorna here."
"And what have we done?" Les asked with his hands on his hips.
"If it wasn't for me, Les Taylor, you'd still be a two-bob spiv picking pockets and fixing races. Instead you run Richmond and Fitzroy." Silence. "Am I right?"
More silence. "You're right, Dolly," Les eventually said.
"Send this tart back to where she came from."
Les contemplated his patent leather shoes. "That's a problem. You see her parents reported her missing to the police."
"Bloody hell Les! You know how to pick them! Good girls like Lorna don't sleep around before marriage, either." Dolly opened her bag and grabbed her cigarettes, and then it hit her. "You missed out on the best of them."
"What do you mean?"
"Another Kelly, Lilly Kelly, Vera's new girl. She's better looking than Lorna, got her head screwed on straight, and her dad, John Kelly, was a crook." Dolly lit a cigarette. "Like any good whore, Lilly will be better in bed than sweet Lorna here."
"I wasn't looking for Lilly Kelly."
"That's your loss."
"So you say. I'll get rid of Lorna, to make you happy."
"You see that you do."
Dolly turned to walk away.
"Dolly."
She stopped and turned.
"Would you have a problem with Lilly Kelly?"
Dolly broke into a big smile. "For a bit on the side, not at all. If you think we've run our race together, Lilly will do you right in other ways."
"I'll send Lorna back."
"I'm sure you will."
With the scrapbook under her arm, Dolly walked out of the tavern while hoping Les did that. If they'd run their race after 12 years together and Les moved to Lorna instead, that would be a catastrophe for both of them.
Into Smoke Ebook and Print on Demand available from Amazon, Amazon UK and Apple iBooks.
Thunderbolt Extract
By August 1867, Thunderbolt, Mary and Tom Mason had been evading police for some months. After a lucky escape on the 27th of August they decide to head south on the Manilla Road.
After tea and damper cooked by Fred, they returned to their journey with Fred sure the road through Manilla was safe. After a few hours they took a break by the Manilla River and refilled their canteens before returning to their ride. Then Mary heard the familiar sound of a mail coach approaching.
"Get away from here!" Fred ordered.
Fred rode into a shallow clearing in the scrub, followed by Mary, and Tom with the packhorse. The coach rattled by at speed, they were stagecoaches where horse teams were changed at end of each stage. A few minutes later Mary, Fred and Tom returned to the road and gathered together.
"Should we continue along this road?" Mary asked.
"It was just a mail coach."
"Tom?"
"It's alright, Mary."
"I'm just being cautious. I'm too much of a woman!"
"You said it," Tom said.
"Oh, so you're an expert now?"
Tom laughed and Mary laughed too.
"We'll go now," Fred said.
A gunshot out of nowhere startled Mary.
"Get away now!" Fred ordered as another shot shattered the quiet. Mary looked all around but the scrub was too dense, so she used her spurs to get as much speed out of her horse as it would give. Yet another shot and Mary felt a searing pain in her left leg. She bit her lip to muffle a cry as she watched Fred ride through a break in the bush just ahead. Mary followed, urging as much out of her mare as she could, while they climbed a bank and her leg felt truly terrible. On and on, shot after shot; for once, for the only time, a mail coach had an escort following at a distance. Mary shook her head at the irony of that as her leg burned and stung. They reached the top of the bank to canter through bush, around trees and over a fallen tree, jumping a washaway, jumping another tree with Fred pulling away like he usually did. But if Mary could keep in touch with Fred that should be enough, as she rode with her pain worse than she ever imagined possible.
After what seemed like minutes but maybe was an hour or more, they reached open bush where Fred slowed. No gunshots for a while and crushers didn't seem to be following; Mary looked over her shoulder and no sign of Tom either. She drew alongside Fred.
"That was an escort for the mail coach," he said.
"I know. I've been shot."
"Where?"
"I'm shot in my left leg above my knee."
"Can you ride?"
"I can ride, but it hurts and we've lost Tom."
"We lost Tom at the ambush; I don't know what happened to him."
"He might have been shot."
"I hope not."
Mary really hoped Tom wasn't shot.
Fred looked across. "There's blood on your trousers but not too much. We're near Manilla. We'll ride west to grazing country to find a station and get you seen to."
Mary remembered. "You were shot once."
"I was shot behind my leg; God it hurt."
"Fuck, my leg hurts!" Mary exclaimed.
Fred laughed. "Fuck, it hurts when you get shot in the leg!"
"Fuck it does!"
Mary's leg hurt less when she swore, and ladies weren't meant to swear like that but she wasn't a lady. Besides, she'd just been shot and rules didn't apply anymore. For much of that chase they'd ridden from the top of that bank gently downhill, through the foothills of the Great Dividing Range. Now they rode in silence until Mary couldn't stand it anymore.
"I need a drink but I can't dismount."
"Fair enough."
Fred dismounted to give Mary her canteen and drink some from his.
Mary handed her canteen to Fred who stowed it, mounted his horse The Barb, and there they continued in light bushland with Mary deep in thought. She'd been arrested three times, been to gaol twice, been chased by crushers three times and shot at twice, and now she was shot in her leg. She loved Fred: from the time they first met and just as much now, but she didn't know if she could do this anymore. She'd given up her children, lost touch with her father and her brothers and sisters, and eventually she will fall pregnant and that will be the end of it. Mary wondered if she was just prolonging something that was going to die anyway. All those years ago she rode with young Marina, and later with Elizabeth on her back, but Mary doubted she could do that again. No, Mary knew she couldn't do that. For sure crushers would catch her, she couldn't ride madly through the bush with a baby, and then she would end up in gaol.
What had changed? The reward, of course. That was a lot of money, even half for supplying information. Fred's reward increased to 200 pounds, and 50 for his associates Mary and Tom, and then police started appearing everywhere. One thing hadn't changed and never would.
"I love you, Fred."
"I love you, Mary. There's not a woman in the world that comes close to you."
"Don't go too far."
"You've just been shot and still you love me."
Mary sighed while she thought. "Remember Fred, I'll always love you no matter what."
"One day they'll write a book about us: The Captain And His Lady."
Mary laughed and winced from the pain. "As if someone would write a book about us; we're just two lawless scoundrels!"
Fred laughed long and loud. "There's a homestead," he then said.
Indeed there was a homestead with smoke drifting from the chimney. That fine sandstone homestead was a blessing for sore eyes as they rode to the front veranda.
"Do you need help?" Fred asked.
"Yes I do."
Fred stood beside as Mary clenched her jaw while kicking her feet out of the stirrups, her left leg hurting quite badly, and literally caught her as she dismounted as normal, where Mary held Fred with her arms around his neck. Fred carried Mary to the front door where he used his boot to rap on ornate, carved timber. The maid was half-caste, and dressed in a black and white uniform with her mouth hanging open.
"Good afternoon. I'm Captain Thunderbolt. My wife Mary has been shot in her leg."
"Bring your wife inside and I'll get the master."
Fred carried Mary into a sitting room with furniture like in a shop, the best of everything. Nothing mattered except for warmth as Fred stood by the fireplace, blazing and crackling. The door opened and he was in his 40s and dressed like a flash stockman, in fact dressed like Mary.
"Good afternoon, I'm Captain Thunderbolt although you can call me Fred Ward. I'm after your assistance for my wife Mary who's been shot in her leg."
A woman about the same age as her husband, entered in a beige, plaited woollen dress.
"This woman has been shot in her leg," he said.
"Let me see," as she closed on Mary still in Fred's arms. She frowned.
"It looks like you've lost some blood although I don't think it's bleeding now. I'll call for a doctor. Sorry, my name's Beth Hook and this is my husband Robert."
"I'm Captain Thunderbolt or Fred Ward and this is my wife Mary Ward."
"I'll get a blanket and we'll lay Mary on the couch. Robert, can you send the boy to get Doctor Jackson?"
They left the room while Mary knew the boy was their black boy, who was paid little despite working as hard as any. Beth returned to lay a grey woollen blanket on the couch where Fred knelt to place Mary.
Fred removed Mary's boots, which hurt, and then he unbuttoned her trousers. He eased them over her bottom and pulled them down to her knees, which was awkward.
"Pull them off, Fred."
He did while Beth now knelt.
"What do you think, Captain Thunderbolt?"
"To you I'm Fred. I'm no expert but it looks like a ball passed through Mary's leg.
"That's good?" Mary asked.
"I believe this wound isn't too bad but we'll wait for the doctor."
Sometime later the door opened and he was in his 40s, accompanied by an Aboriginal boy.
"Good afternoon," he said. "I'm Doctor Samuel Jackson."
"I'm Fred Ward, and this is my wife Mary who's been shot."
He peered through round spectacles at Mary's leg. "The ball has passed through and this wound looks quite clean, but I'll probe to be sure."
He took an instrument from his leather bag before kneeling beside Mary. There he 'probed' which was excruciating; far worse than childbirth. Mary clenched her teeth until he finished and looked up.
"There's nothing there. I'll wash this wound with hot water, bandage it so it doesn't bleed again, and I'm sure Mary will be fine."
"I'll get the maid to boil some water," Beth said before leaving the room.
"I'll go to my cart to get bandages."
Dr Jackson left too.
"How long did it take you to recover from being shot?" Mary asked.
"It took a good few weeks before I could ride. These people will look after you for a few weeks."
"You'll have to leave here, Fred."
"I know. I'll make sure you're fine and we'll catch up like the other times. This time, stay away from the main road. Ride to Scone, let people know you're around, and then go to Denison Diggings and wait for me there."
"Alright Fred. I know I don't say this often enough but I love you."
"I love you too and I'm sorry this happened."
"It's not your fault, Fred."
The maid brought a pot into the room with clean linen, while the doctor returned with a calico bag. He used the linen, dipped in hot water, to clean Mary's wound then wrapped it with cotton bandage tied tight. Mary realised her trousers would fit over that.
"Fred, can you get my change of clothes from my saddlebags?"
Fred left the room.
"Doctor, can I wear trousers over this?"
"Yes you can. Keep off your leg as much as possible over the next three weeks, check to see if there's blood on this bandage and if there is, call me. I'll stitch this wound if that happens."
"When do you think I can ride again?"
"I would wait six weeks."
Fred entered the room with Beth Hook.
"I recommend Mary stay in bed for the next three weeks, if this wound doesn't start bleeding she should be fine to ride after six weeks."
"We'll look after Mary until she's fit to ride," Beth said.
"I'll compensate you for this," Fred said.
"Thank you. You're free to stay with us, Mr Ward."
"Thank you for your offer but I don't believe that would be in your interests."
"I understand."
"I know Mary's in good hands so I'll leave when she's settled."
"Don't rush to get on your horse," Doctor Jackson warned Mary. "Extra time resting will save problems later."
"I understand," Mary said.
"You see that you do."
There was no rush; Mary would find Fred easily enough.
"We have a room where Mary can rest. I had the maid make the bed."
Mary knew the maid, like the black boy, earned less than a white person doing that job. Fred carried Mary to the bed where blankets and the sheet were folded aside, and there he laid her. He bent over and kissed her forehead. Then he left the room.
Now with time to think, Mary wondered if she was being dramatic by bringing this to an end, until she remembered those wild rides through the bush, absolutely terrifying, and all the other things that happened over past weeks. Yet Fred, thinning hair and all, she loved him more than ever. Mary sighed. She couldn't leave the only man she'd ever loved. She knew she had to go back when she was able.
Thunderbolt Ebook and Print on Demand available from Amazon, Amazon UK and Apple iBooks.
Overreach Extract
Asha takes Matt to just north of Canberra to explain her heritage
Asha stretched her legs back to lie lightly on him.
"Imagine not one-hundred years ago but one-thousand years ago on this river bank, and over there are lean-tos with elder men and elder women, men and women our ages, children, dingoes, and fires for the cool night to come. Here, away from the camp, we're private when we make love. Now, not one-thousand years ago but ten thousand years ago. Still the same camp: lean-tos, elder men and elder women, men and women our ages, children, dingoes, and fires for the cool to come. And us here making love because this is the eternity of life. Now, not ten thousand years ago but sixty-thousand years ago. Still the camp over there, the friendly chatter, the fires, and us here by the river making love. Can you imagine this?"
It was hard to imagine 60,000 years of the eternal cycle of life but that really happened. Matt had seen pictures of remote camps, taken a hundred years ago or even more recently as remote parts of Australia were explored, where life hadn't changed for 60,000 years. "Yes, I can imagine it," Matt said, with memories of those black and white pictures in his mind.
Asha climbed off to lie on her back beside Matt still on his back. "Baiame tossed an emu egg into the sky, where it struck dry wood and burst into flames, illuminating a dark world for the first time. Baiame saw how much the world was improved by light so he decided to rekindle the woodpile each day. Baiame is the creation god of my people, but like all men Baiame is only half, so Baiame has a wife, Gurigada. Gurigada has a body like rock crystal. Baiame and Gurigada and the other creation spirits of The Dreaming climbed a rope in the sky, and then passed through a fissure between rocks to reach Wandanggangura, the sky world, beside the Murrumbidgee River which we call the Marrambidgery River, where they live for eternity. We on earth have two spirits, warangun the good and harmless spirit, and djir: the darkness we all possess. When we leave this world our warangun spirit has to climb the same rope to reach the same fissure. But the journey from there isn't easy because the entry through the fissure is only revealed from time to time. This entry is guarded by the Moon Man who has a penis so long that he keeps it tied around his body, and the Sun Woman who has a clitoris so big that it covers the fire that Baiame first created. Your spirit must not be afraid to pass the Moon Man and the Sun Woman. Then your spirit will encounter two ancestral men from The Dreaming, both with erect penises. These men will ask questions but your spirit must not answer. They will sing funny songs but your spirit must remain unmoved to pass this test. Then your spirit will encounter two ancestral women who will dance sensually, and again your spirit must remain unmoved. If your warangun spirit passes these tests it will be let into Wandanggangura to be with Baiame, Gurigada and the other creation spirits of The Dreaming.
"Baiame was now living in Wandanggangura, the sky world, hiding in the Yarran Tree surrounded by bushes beside a waterhole, waiting for an emu to come there to drink. When an emu came, Baiame speared the emu which ran some distance before it fell from its injury. Baiame ran after this emu but tripped over the roots of the Yarran Tree to fall hands-first to the ground. Now, follow my fingers," Asha said as she pointed to the millions of stars so clear that night. "See those brighter stars there, there, there, there, there, there; that's
Baiame lying upside-down on the ground, holding the first boomerang which we call a barrgan."Matt frowned as he followed Asha's fingers to the constellation Orion. That could be the outline of a man holding a boomerang or really a barrgan.
"Now, the emu in the sky, which we call Dinawan, is the darkness in the stars there, also fallen to the ground."
That darkness was in the Milky Way. Matt thought he saw something.
"Is the emu is on its back?" he asked.
"Yes it is. As each year passes, season by season the stars move across the sky, showing Baiame and the emu, then Baiame chasing the wounded emu, then Baiame falling over the roots of those stars there which are the Yarran Tree," as she pointed out the Southern Cross, "and now at this time of year, we see Baiame and the emu fallen. The next one is easier. If you look there you'll see a vast galaxy of stars with a gash down the centre. Look," as she pointed.
Matt saw it quite clearly.
"That's the Marrambidgery River beside which our spirits will live for eternity."
"I see that."
"Also you can see in the stars the Rainbow Serpent, which we call Wawi, and the other creation spirits of The Dreaming, but that's not important for you. What's important is you now know where my spirit will go when my time here is complete.
"We First Nations people feel sad about what white people took from us, some feel angry about what's been done and what continues to be done, even by neglect, but we also feel sorry for white people because you have no Dreaming. Poor white people, you have no Dreaming."
"I understand," Matt said; which he did. "Thank you."
"I could sleep naked under these stars tonight, even though it will be cooler later."
"Me too but I don't think we can. But this is an evening I'll never forget."
"Let's lie like this for a while longer."
Matt was in no hurry to leave the stars of The Dreaming.
Overreach Ebook and Print on Demand available from Amazon, Amazon UK and Apple iBooks.
Burrangong Creek Extract
A drug war has broken out in the small town of Young, New South Wales.
As Luke pulled on his uniform, followed by his vest, baton and pistol, he heard the buzz from the Operations Room. There, Young CIB: Detective-Sergeant Keith McDonald and Detective-Constable Ron Jackson, as well as Acting Inspector Kevin Rogers, were in earnest conversation with Leon; officially Senior Sergeant Leon Fowler.
"Ah, Senior Constable Scott," Inspector Rogers said. "Just the man we need. Yesterday evening as you're probably aware, there were two drive-by shootings at houses occupied by Daniel Stewart, Mike Kelly and their families. Fortunately nobody was injured. I know Stewart and Kelly are suspected of dealing drugs, is there anything else you know of?"
There was. "Rumour has it that Jack Bishop recently moved from Wagga Wagga to here to deal drugs," Luke said. "Bishop is reported to be friends with Trevor Davies of the Devil's Ride Motorcycle Gang, based in Sydney."
"There's the answer!" Detective-Sergeant McDonald exclaimed.
"Not exactly," Luke said. "Being new in town, it wouldn't make a lot of sense for Bishop to create a scene and get us involved. This can only be bad for his business."
"You're uniform branch and we're detectives."
"Alright," Luke said, even though it wasn't alright; more that he had no choice.
"I say we search Bishop's place now and bring everyone there for questioning," McDonald said.
"Excellent idea," Inspector Rogers agreed. "Senior Constable; do you know who lives there?"
"Beyond Jack Bishop, no."
For a search and arresting a number of suspects, we'll need the two of us from CIB and you two, Scott and Hewson. I'll get a search warrant from Magistrate Armstrong and meet you there."
"Well let's go!" Detective-Sergeant McDonald exclaimed. "Where?"
Luke pulled out his notebook to scroll pages. "Bishop lives at 37 Blackett Street."
"Let's go!"
They headed out the door with Luke and Alice trailing.
"Do you need a degree in stupid to be promoted to detective?" Luke asked quietly.
"Luke!"
"We won't find anything because Bishop's not involved."
"His supplier, the bikie gang, might have done it?"
"Even if the bikie gang did this, searching Bishop's house and interrogating Bishop won't discover that."
Luke and Alice reached car 313, to climb in and follow the detectives' unmarked white Holden Commodore to 37 Blackett Street, where they waited for Inspector Rogers to arrive holding the precious search warrant. Luke and Alice were asked to go to the back door in case anyone tried to escape. After heavy knocking and shouting 'police', Luke and Alice were let inside the little, fibro house. By then McDonald had gathered all occupants into the living room: an older man, a woman in her 30s, a teenage girl, and local boy Joshua Ward. Names were taken and recorded by Detective-Constable Jackson: Jack Bishop, Jessica Weaver, Sophie Weaver, and Josh Ward. In the background, watching but not participating, stood Inspector Rogers.
"Well, search," Detective-Sergeant McDonald ordered.
"Be careful with their belongings," Luke whispered to Alice.
With latex gloves they carefully searched that little house, for nothing of course. McDonald scratched his chin. "Roof space," he eventually said.
"Garage," Alice offered.
"That too."
It was agreed the two detectives would search the garage, while Alice got the torch from their car and Luke took a step ladder from the garage to climb into the roof cavity, where with that torch there was nothing more than furnace-like heat. He climbed down."
"Is that all?" Alice asked.
"Nothing there," Luke said.
Back in the living room, Detective-Sergeant McDonald literally scratched his head. "Alright," he said. "We would like to interview you all at Young Police Station."
"What for?" Jessica Weaver asked.
"To ascertain your involvement in last night's drive-by shootings."
"We had no involvement."
"Then your interviews will be straightforward."
"It's alright Jessica," Jack Bishop said. "We agree to be interviewed."
"Adults with us," McDonald said. "The younger two with Scott and Hewson."
Alice escorted Sophie Weaver and Josh Ward to the back of their car. Luke got ready for the short drive to Young Police Station.
Burrangong Creek Ebook and Print on Demand available from Amazon, Amazon UK and Apple iBooks.
Across The Border Extract
At 11 in the evening, True Color could be described in one word: purple! An older style building in stucco, bathed in purple light with a queue at the door. Nuan, dressed in her new, black minidress tight across her upper body and frilly from her waist, joined that queue with Hu. To get into a club like True Color you had to be passed by the security guards, but Nuan knew, dressed as she was, she had no problems with that. Indeed, guards beckoned Nuan and Hu, or Lo and Wen, inside to more purple! Music, dancing, happiness, showgirls in leotards dancing on stages and around poles, and more happiness. The showgirls were European which was one thing Nuan didn't like about True Color. If Chinese girls were half their customers then Chinese girls were pretty enough to dance as their entertainment. Never mind, Nuan went to the bar where, with loud music, she had to bend close to speak. She asked for a gin and tonic and a beer while handing over 40 yuan. She got two glasses, where she gave the beer to Hu who looked out of place. Nuan knew clubs weren't his thing. Nuan moved away from the bar to give others a chance to order, while discreetly surveying the crowd as she sipped her drink through a straw. The queue for the ladies was her best bet. Nuan gave her drink to Hu to mind before easing away to join that queue, where one young woman stood discreetly to one side. Nuan reached into her cross-shoulder bag for a loose bundle of notes, and peeled two away. She drifted close to the young woman to place two 100 yuan notes in her hand. The woman placed a small packet in Nuan's hand. Nuan moved closer.
"I want to talk with you," Nuan shouted in the young woman's ear over the noise of the music.
The woman pulled back so Nuan peeled away two more notes and held them high. The young woman snatched those notes before heading to the ladies with Nuan following. Inside was crowded but there was an empty stall. They squashed in.
"I want your dealer," Nuan whispered in her ear.
"Why?"
"I'm a party girl, like you."
"You're not police?"
Nuan took the packet, stuck her tongue out to put one tablet on the end, and swallowed. She opened her mouth to stick her tongue out with a bright smile as the MDMA took effect. Awesome! The young woman smiled brightly too.
"Alright," the young woman said.
Nuan reached into her bag for the small pad and pen she placed there earlier. The young woman wrote quickly. Nuan read a name, Peng, and a mobile number.
"Thank you," Nuan said. "Great stuff too!"
"It's the best."
"Enjoy your night."
"You too."
Nuan danced her way out of the ladies ready to really dance! Fuck if Hu didn't like dancing, there were plenty of guys and girls who did!
Nuan was about to remove her boots when the buzzer of her door rang. She opened to see Father. That was surprising, given she went to their apartment for dinner last night. After greetings she invited Father in.
"Welcome to my humble home," Nuan said.
Father nodded his head. Nuan's apartment had a living room, with a kitchen at one end separated by a counter where she ate. Through a doorway was her bedroom, while off that was a small bathroom which had a shower, basin and an Asian-style toilet. Quite blandly painted in flat white with a few stains Nuan couldn't fully clean, and gloss white doors and timber trim; clean but a little chipped in parts. Father nodded his head at the picture Nuan bought to hang on the living room wall to hide a crack! He went to the doorway of her bedroom to glance inside, before hurriedly turning away. Nuan had a queen-sized bed which was probably too much detail!
"Would you like a cup of tea, Father?" Nuan asked.
"If that's no trouble," he said.
Nuan filled her kettle, and while it boiled she got out her pot, tea, and two cups with saucers.
"We can sit at this counter," Nuan said.
They sat side by side.
"I heard what happened when you were on patrol," Father said. "I heard you handled things well."
Nuan nodded her head. "I'd never imagined so much aggression and sheer, brute strength. I had to beat the...," she paused. "I had to beat him with my baton while the constables handcuffed him."
"You beat the shit out of him."
Nuan smiled at that. "I had to."
"Methamphetamine, ice, is a scourge. Did you study it?"
"Heroin and cocaine have to be grown, harvested, processed, and smuggled into China. Ice can be made from chemicals available from thousands of factories across China, and especially here in Guangdong Province. It's cheap and freely available, and unlike heroin and cocaine which sort-of zone out users, ice leads to aggression."
"We have a problem with ice addiction which I believe can best be overcome by cutting back on supply and forcing prices up. We can never totally eliminate drugs, but I believe we have to act on ice."
"I'd heard about the aggression, but now that I've experienced it!"
"Ice can be made anywhere, anytime, under the protection of corrupt cadres and corrupt police officers paid to look the other way. What I propose is a taskforce of about twenty whose purpose is unknown except by a few, where in secrecy they're going to shut-down ice production, and break-up the responsible triad gangs so production can't be restarted. I don't want a repeat of Boshe," Father said.
"I understand," Nuan said. In Boshe several years ago now, three thousand from the People's Armed Police Force raided what was called a village but was actually the town of Boshe, to seize three tonnes of ice while arresting a few hundred and the local cadre in charge, who was later executed. Ultimately 10,000 were arrested, but that raid, publicised far and wide and even internationally, made no discernable difference to the production or availability of ice in Guangdong Province. Triad simply continued doing what they were doing at Boshe, elsewhere in the province.
"This has to be done in absolute secrecy," Father said. "If one member of this task force takes one bribe, we may as well not bother. Triad will find out and everything will be moved somewhere else."
"A secret and totally non-corruptible task force?"
"Yes. I have three or four who I absolutely trust, and you. I trust you, Nuan, of course, and you have your degree with honours which already puts you in the upper echelons of our police force. Would you be interested?"
Nuan barely believed that! "Yes I am," she said.
"I can have you transferred, temporarily promoted to Detective-Sergeant Grade One. Also, are there fellow graduates you absolutely trust not to take bribes, no matter the amount?"
Nuan knew one. "I know one male graduate posted to Lufeng."
"Good. Any others? Any women?"
Nuan frowned. "There were very few women so we stayed together, and particularly we did our assignments together. But I don't know them well enough to absolutely trust them that way." Nuan thought. "Men are more straightforward, I think. Men have an objective, solve a case, or in their private lives, find a girlfriend, and then they set out to do that. Women have the same objectives, really, yet it's not so straightforward, if you understand. More mysterious."
"I absolutely trust you."
"That's because I'm your daughter! Why do you want more women?"
"To stop men from acting before thinking."
"That's the same as having an objective and straight away setting out to do it. Women will pause and think."
"I need more pausing and thinking. I intend to infiltrate triad gangs and take them out at the top. There's no point arresting those at the bottom, because these gangs will just restart production somewhere else."
"To infiltrate triad gangs you need women?" Nuan asked; quite surprised.
A pause. "No, I would never ask a police officer to do that. My plan is to negotiate the purchase of large quantities of ice to import into Australia."
"That won't work, Father. Triad import into Australia now, so they won't sell ice to a competitor. Same with New Zealand, the Philippines and many other places. Let's go with places more obscure, like Fiji, Samoa, Vanuatu and New Guinea."
"Good idea. Do you know any women?"
Nuan thought. "Possibly there's one, but I would like to speak with her first." Nuan thought more. "Do you actually need a taskforce of twenty?"
"What are your thoughts?"
"You could have a smaller taskforce of six or seven or even eight, where they bring in other officers just before they take suspects into custody, but those officers don't know where, what or why until the very last moment."
"That would work."
"When does this start?"
"I'll have you and the other officers I've selected, transferred on Monday week."
Nuan finished her tea. "I'll give you the name of the graduate in Lufeng."
She went to her bedroom to grab a notebook and pen. Nuan returned to the counter to write 'Constable Grade One Zhang Hu – Lufeng'. She tore out the page before giving it to Father.
"Thank you, Nuan," he said. "While you'll be transferred temporarily, this doesn't have to stop there. If things work well, what's temporary might become permanent."
Nuan nodded her head in understanding, while her heart raced. So much happening so fast! She thought.
"On Monday week, I'll take a car to drive to Fuzhou," Nuan said. "With luck you may have another woman for your taskforce."
"Thank you."
"What do you think of my humble home?" Nuan then asked.
"You have everything you need and even an airconditioner."
Then it hit Nuan! "Next week, you and Mother should come here and I'll cook."
"Your mother will love that, Nuan."
Indeed she will. Father put the page in the pocket of his shirt before standing. "I'm sorry to interrupt your day off with police work, but I'm sure you understand why. I didn't want to discuss this yesterday when you came for dinner. Today with a clear head and time; this has been fruitful."
Nuan stood. "I'm looking forward to this very much, Father."
Those simple words didn't express how Nuan really felt. Father left while Nuan couldn't get her head around what had just happened. Just last week she joked she wouldn't be aiming her gun at triad bosses anytime soon, but now she may well do that. So amazing! So incredible!
Wenge - Destroy the Old!
Jiang Qing, wife of Chairman Mao Zedong, had a dreadful upbringing, her mother being a concubine hounded from her father's home because she bore him a daughter. She has a burning desire to destroy the Confucian doctrine that women are lesser.
Chairman Mao, sidelined since the failure of the Great Leap Forward, wants to being down his political enemies and take charge of China once more.
Together, Chairman Mao and Madam Qing launch the Cultural Revolution, where youthful Red Guards from middle school and university are charged with destroying the Four Olds, old customs, old beliefs old habits and old ideas, and to bring down accused counterrevolutionaries. The chaos that was unleashed became known as The Red Terror. The world had never seen anything like this before and will never see anything like this again.
Available from Amazon, Amazon UK and Apple iBooks
Ketsumeidan
Japan in the early 1930s is suffering badly after a decade of economic depression. Young geisha Aiko Orikasa is convinced Japan is moving towards war in Asia, and ultimately a war with America. Aiko and police inspector Yuudai Sato work against a military determined to take Japan to total war. But forces are working against them as Japan goes to war in China. Young Lieutenant Kurisu Sato then becomes part of the espionage maelstrom of occupied Shanghai, as ally becomes foe and foe becomes ally; almost day by day..
This is a fascinating tale about a country which instigated a war it could never win, and was then was prepared to fight to the last man and woman to stave off an inevitable defeat.
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Available at Amazon Amazon UK, and Apple iBooks
Blood Never Sleeps
In the chaos of the Syrian Civil War, three individuals see their lives dramatically changed by the rise of Islamic State. Young Adnan Richie and his wife Ranim have their lives turned to hell when Islamic State wins control of Raqqa. Kurdish schoolgirl Sarya Goran joins the Kurdish Women's Militia; determined to defeat Islamic State before they bring their cruelty to her home province of Rojava.
Blood Never Sleeps is about ordinary people dealing with Islamic State in different ways, to eventually converge on Raqqa for that final, dramatic, confrontation.
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Available at Amazon Amazon UK , and Apple iBooks
In Our Memories
By August 1915, the Armenian residents of the city of Urfa know they have few options. With little to lose they wage war on the Ottoman Army for two months, despite being outnumbered eight to one. Defeat is inevitable, after which Anoush Hagopian, one of the survivors of the Women's Brigade, gathers her mother and her children for their deportation to Aleppo. This is one family's story of loss, suffering, and eventually justice
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Available at Amazon Amazon UK , and Apple iBooks
No Darkness
What started as a work posting to Zimbabwe with his African girlfriend, becomes a life and death struggle against the forces of despot Robert Mugabe. Michael Page had no idea that a simple misunderstanding would have such tragic consequences. This is a story set in one of the poorest countries in Africa, where a tyrant deliberately destroys his own country in order to retain power and control.
Available at Amazon, Amazon UK, Apple iBooks and and Apple iBooks
The Adulterous Bride
Many noble daughters of Venice are consigned to abbeys for want of a dowry. In 1426, Filipa Barbagio is sent to San Nicolai di Torcello, where she enjoys the hedonistic lifestyle available to her, until a major scandal at that abbey rocks Venetian society to the core. This is a story of what happened.
Ebook and hard copy Available from Amazon, Amazon UK and Apple iBooks
The Last Great Race
Achille Varzi: one of the most successful of time, hero to his followers, worshipped by the women in his life, driven to succeed. Told partly through the eyes of Varzi and partly by fictional Italian-Australian racing journalist Paul Bassi, we follow the many triumphs and tragedies of Varzi's life: his passionate love affair with Ilse, his tragic morphine addiction, his recovery from his addictions, his marriage to Norma and his re-signing to race for Alfa Romeo.
Only war intervenes, and the story moves to life in Italy as it is bombed by the Allies, and then surrenders to help the Allies defeat fascism. By 1946 Italy is still shattered but life is returning to normal, and no more normal is Achille Varzi winning once more. We follow his many successes until the end of his career, and we all know that he never would have lived in his life in any other way.
It has a wonderful cast of characters, array of nationalities, wonderful places and the cars are so sensual. Even a non-racing enthusiast can follow the action and get caught up in it. Bravo! – Rhonda Swayda author
Available from Amazon Kindle, Amazon Kindle UK, Barnes and Noble
One Hundred Days - Historical Fiction
In 1917, the mud of Flanders soaked up the blood of a quarter of a million men. If the war continued like that, the Allies would lose. One battle turned that around and was the beginning of a hundred days of advances to victory. This is a story about how that was done.
Two Australian soldiers experience the last two years of the Great War. Martin Ward is a lieutenant working alongside Major-General John Monash, and he sees the transition from slaughter at Passchendaele to breaching the Hindenburg Line. Alec Morey is a gunner severely injured in Flanders, and he returns to Australia to watch on in amazement as the Australian Imperial Force plays the major role in victory.
This is a fictional account of a story not well known; using real events, fictional characters and real-life characters to tell the tale of how the Great War was won.
Visit the Amazon Kindle Store or Barnes and Noble to download your copy. View the film clip on YouTube
Maidens in the Night - Historical Fiction
Widowed at seventeen, Mary Kelly takes to the streets to earn a living. Strikingly attractive, strong-willed and stubborn, Mary battles many obstacles just to survive. Michelle Finlay, the driving force behind a refuge for prostitutes, attempts to help Mary but she is turned down every time. With Jack the Ripper on the loose and someone dangerous stalking Mary, what are her chances?
Set in Wales, Edinburgh and the Whitechapel district of London from 1880 through 1888, this is a story of a young woman like many other women at the time, with few choices in life beyond existence. Michelle Finlay knows this and she helps as many young prostitutes as she can, but she cannot help them all.
“I loved the way you brought this woman to life, weaving in the facts of her life and really made her real. I truly enjoyed this work!!” Traci Webber - Reviewer.
Visit Amazon or Amazon UK to order or download your copy of Maidens of the Night
The Governess and the Stalker - Late Nineteenth Century Mystery
Former governess now wealthy widow Michelle Devine has a big problem: a ragged ruffian threatens to kill her. Michelle goes to the police but that ends very badly for her. Michelle and her friend Paul Lawrence are left on their own, and Michelle must find who the ruffian is, why he is stalking her, how far he will go, and how she can stop him.
Set in London of 1879, this is a tale of a young woman badly wronged and that woman’s son, Jesse West, who was raised on a diet of hatred and despair. Jesse intends to kill the governess and her step-children so Michelle must deal with him. But how?
Visit Amazon or Amazon UK to order or download your copy of The Governess and the Stalker
Souls in Darkness - A Mystery Story set in Siberia
Souls in Darkness is the sequel to my first published novel The Red Sun Will Come. Australian Greg Anderson and his Russian wife Tanya Maloff sent gangster Alexsander Lukin to jail and are living safely in London. But the Russian mafia never forget, and Tanya's sister Dina and nephew Marik are kidnapped to lure Greg, Tanya and their friend Alisa Kirkarov to Russia. They know this is dangerous, they know they may pay with their lives, but they know they have no choice.
Once in Moscow Greg and Tanya must skirt the many traps that Lukin has set for them in order to rescue Dina and Marik. Only things go terribly wrong and their quest becomes a battle for survival in bleak and hostile Siberia. And if they survive, if they can defeat the ruthless henchmen Lukin set after them, what of their future? They brought a criminal to justice and still they live in danger. How can they rid themselves of a ruthless mass-murderer who has nothing to lose?
“The novel is interesting and topical. The recreation for an Australian audience of life in another country, particularly one as troubled as Russia, is very good. The representation of a marriage of two individuals between two cultures is interesting.” Margaret Innes - Author.
Visit Amazon or Amazon UK to download your copy of Souls in Darkness
The Red Sun Will Come - A Crime and Romance Story set in Moscow
“A real page-turner” - Monica Dennison, Literary Agent
The Red Sun Will Come is a story combining crime and romance, and which makes some interesting social comments. Australian journalist Greg Anderson lives in affluent Sydney where young men and women seem to have lost their ways, drifting into superficial relationships while lacking commitment to one-another. Frustrated and lonely, Greg Anderson knows it’s time for a fresh start.
Beautiful young Muscovite Tanya Maloff made a terrible mistake when she was too young to appreciate the consequences of what she did. When Tanya’s life spirals out of control she knows it’s time for a fresh start. But fresh starts are hard to come by, and the mistakes of her past almost destroy Tanya and her new Australian boyfriend, Greg Anderson.
“The story offers a cast of characters who find themselves embedded in the folds of an intriguing cross-cultural plot. The reader explores both international social and physical landscapes through a narrative propelled by the protagonist’s observations of a world where lives, ethnic differences, ideals and elements of corruption collide.” Lauren Elise Daniels Prose Editor, Interactive Publications.
Visit Amazon or Amazon UK to download your copy of The Red Sun Will Come
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