|
||
|
|
||
| PAPERBACK BOOKS | ||
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Alison Pollock’s many years of writing as a hobby have
resulted in her first published book, ‘Cast a Long Shadow.’ Always having an avid interest in metaphysics, Alison for many years did psychic readings making predictions for the interested with extreme accuracy. Her firm belief that we have all lived before in other
times, places and personae has led to the story ‘Cast a Long Shadow.’ Alison
believes that our encounters with different people from those past lives
continue to impact on our present until those issues with which people are
dealing are resolved. Alison is a widow in the autumn years of her life. During her married life as a bank manager’s wife she lived in many parts of Australia, worked for several different charities and raised her now adult son. In her retirement, she has lived in Buderim on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast for the past ten years and is a member of a local writers’ group, which she says, keeps her disciplined and producing regular literary pieces. PROLOGUE (Australia-
1950) The long day had ended. At last! Now he would have
her to himself. The wedding ceremony, the reception, the endless speeches, the
gushing relatives and the confetti. All over! As
the taxi approached the hotel he stole a glance at her still profile. She was
self-contained for a new bride. He took hold of one gloved hand as it rested in
her lap. As she turned to him he caught an odd expression in her eyes. Surely
not fear? Ridiculous! They were husband and wife…she had nothing to fear, he
loved her! He
reflected on her earlier evasion of his ardent pursuit. What had worn her down,
he wondered. He dismissed the thought with a shrug. He was confident, sure of
himself and his dark good looks which had helped him with his past conquests.
This one was different. No girl before had ever aroused such a raging desire, or
kept him at his distance so long. He
felt triumphant! He had won! The taxi arrived at the small hotel. Here they would
spend their first night. Tomorrow the honeymoon would move to a romantic
tropical isle in the Whitsunday group. There he would possess her, would explore
that beautiful body that now was his. As
they entered the hotel he felt irritated by its shabbiness. It was so hard to
find anything decent in these early post war days. He noticed with distaste the
threadbare carpet, shabby armchair and badly stained wallpaper in the foyer.
God! I hope the bedroom is better. It
wasn’t! The walls were painted a revolting lolly pink with peeling plaster on
the ceiling. On the bed was a chenille bedspread the colour of the walls. She didn’t appear to notice as she entered the
room, standing there peeling off her gloves, slipping off the jacket of her new
blue suit. She was still wearing that confounded ring on her right hand. The
sight of the engagement ring next to the wedding band on the other hand gave him
a proprietorial sense of satisfaction. It was a fine solitaire diamond ring, the
best he could afford. He
looked at his watch it was half past nine. He wondered if this God forsaken
place would stretch to room service at this hour. He doubted it as he glanced
around the room and noted the absence of a telephone. “I’ll
go see if I can rustle up some champagne,” he said to his wife of six hours. “It’s…it’s
alright! I don’t mind if you can’t, a cup of tea would do.” “Tea!
No way! This is our honeymoon, champagne it is.” He drew her close and kissed her hungrily. She
responded quietly. God! What was the matter with her? She was standing there like a marble statue. He
picked up the door key from the table. “I’ll be back soon,” he said flashing her a
smile as he left. She heard the door close. She sank into the only
chair in the room, nervously twisting her new wedding ring. As she had mounted
the hotel stairs beside him, realisation of this final step had dawned on her,
awakened her from the sense of unreality that had pervaded the whole
interminable day. ‘What am I doing here?’ she thought. She had
moved like a sleepwalker all through the ceremony, making the right responses,
accepting kisses of congratulations, smiling until her face ached with the
effort. It had all washed over her, leaving her detached and remote, the happy
chatter of the wedding guests; the silken rustle of her wedding gown; her
father’s loving embrace; his whispered, “Be happy darling,” the reading of
those endless telegrams with their jocular greetings and sick jokes. Even the
void left by the recent death of her mother had failed to touch her. Suddenly
into focus came that odd little incident at the reception. Her favourite aunt,
the one with psychic powers had sat opposite the bridal couple. What had been in
her aunt’s penetrating blue gaze that sparked an instant hostility in her new
husband? Turning to speak to him she had been stunned by the antagonism in his
expression. The words died on her lips. Her aunt had turned away! Had
she imagined this silent exchange? She shook her head as if to clear an
enveloping fog. ‘Don’t
be a fool!’ she chided herself, as she fought a rising tide of panic.
‘It’s just nerves. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.’ It
had all seemed like a dream – an uneasy dream. Here and now was reality, here
in this dreary room with its unshaded light bulb, starkly revealing every shabby
detail. The
door opened. Her husband entered. She
started up guiltily as if her thoughts were visible. They
faced each other and their future.
|
||||||||||||
| All
Prices in Australian Dollars CURRENCY
CONVERTER
(c)2003 Zeus Publications.com All rights reserved. |
