TODAY, WE HAVE THE PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE, AUTHOR JOHN HOWARD, WHO IS SHARING AN EXCERPT FROM HIS NOVEL, 'SECRETS OF SCANDALS PAST' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
EXCERPT
SECRETS OF SCANDALS PAST
“I’m sorry, Anthony, but your mother is a disgrace.” Katherine’s chin wobbled with righteous indignation as she recalled the scenes yesterday which led to a hideous row between the two women and – “Well,” thought Katherine, “never mind what it led to. That’s something that I can keep to myself for now, although my husband will confront these thoughts and feelings he refuses to speak of.” She glared at Anthony across the dining room table, where he had retreated behind the daily newspaper. His only acknowledgment that his wife had spoken was a slight shaking of the pages.
“How long do you plan to hide, Anthony?” Katherine’s tone was goading as she tapped her husband’s copy of The Times. Anthony was not in any mood to quarrel with his pregnant spouse, but an argument seemed as inevitable as another world war. Folding the paper neatly and placing it on the dining table, he stared silently at Katherine and waited for her to make the next move.
“Are you going to say anything, Anthony?”
“You seem to be doing exceedingly well for both of us. Katherine.”
“This is not funny, Anthony, your mother is out of control, and whilst I am carrying our child, I don’t need the stress.” Anthony collected his teacup but changed his mind and replaced it on the saucer.
“Katherine,” he began, “In no way am I attempting to be funny. My comment was an observation. Ever since I returned home last night – Harry’s fine, by the way, you have not shut up. At least my mother had the good grace to go to bed rather than roar at me regarding how bad your evening had been. Mine was not exactly pleasant.”
“Grace! Ha!” Katherine scoffed. “Excuse me?” “And whilst we are it,” Katherine ignored Anthony’s question. “Why is it always all about you and your drunk of a mother! It is always about you two, your feelings, what matters to you. What about me!”
Anthony gave Katherine a blank expression that hid his anger and sorrow. He was thinking about Harry and really needed his wife’s support, although he had to concede that she was right about Jane. He knew that his mother’s behaviour and alcohol consumption was out of control; a mixture of guilt, gratitude and loyalty to Jane had been clouding his judgement all along. Katherine never understood and was no help, always picking away at Jane, whilst ferreting around for information on topics he had no desire to bring up and discuss. He was desperate to focus on the future, how he wished Katherine could help him with that. He glanced out of the window; there was a storm brewing.
“So, it is the silent treatment?” Katherine’s latest comment drew an angry fist from Anthony, who slammed it against the table, rattling the breakfast dishes. The sight of Greir was greeted by an ugly snarl from Anthony, and the under-butler took the hint. Katherine’s blood ran cold as she fought back tears.
“What exactly is it you want me to say? To do? My mother has sacrificed so much for me,” Anthony’s face was red. “Of course I can see what she is, has become, but if you’d been through what she had, I think that you would enjoy the odd drink.” Katherine began to cry, her soft sniffles stung Anthony, who instantly felt guilt.
“I didn’t mean to shout, Katherine. I’m sorry.”
“But it isn’t the odd drink,” Katherine moaned through her tears. “She is always drinking.” Katherine continued to sob, Anthony placed his hand on top of hers in the hope of comforting his wife, only for it to seem to have the opposite effect. “And how would I know what she’s been through, Anthony?” Now it was Katherine’s turn to snarl; her face puffed up, her eyes red. “You and she never tell me anything, although Jane let one or two things slip last night, and I don’t just mean her standards and alleged morals.”
“Katherine, I have no idea what you are talking about.” Anthony was genuinely confused and somewhat flabbergasted to hear his wife swear. “I know, Anthony! I know!” Panic shot through her husband’s bones, had Katherine found out about Isobel? "Katherine, I –”
“Cecile!” Katherine screamed, the chair screeching against the parquet flooring as she got to her feet. “I know all about her! Well, I am so sorry I can’t hold a candle to her in your heart. I have only given birth to your daughter and carry your unborn child.” Katherine stormed out of the dining room, her angry footsteps echoing down the long corridor to the Great Hall. Anthony put his head in his hands, his mother now firmly at the forefront of his mind.
“Oh, Mother, what have you done,” he muttered in a tone that reeked of defeat and desperation.
Harry stood outside of his mother’s bedroom door and felt like the frightened little boy he once was. Memories of the elite boarding school he had attended but hated and it’s imposing and terrifying headmaster assailed him. Returning to the present, Norris had informed him that his mother wished to speak to him in her bedchamber, and Harry was well aware it was not out of concern for his wellbeing following Harry senior’s death. He thought of Anthony, who was someone that did care for him, yet all he could do was betray him with his illicit relationships, not to mention… he needed to stop thinking like this and deal with the here and now.
If the note his father had written before exiting the world, all he had even been, or thought he was, would mean nothing. Because of it, he felt he had no right to his family’s inheritance; it made him a social pariah, a nobody. Would Ariadne agree with the last thoughts of his father, Harry pondered. His mother had never shown him any love, any affection, but would she want her eldest child usurped and the Hewson-Greaves fortune – founded upon the dowry which she had brought to the marriage – put in danger? The sudden thought encouraged Harry to knock again, achieving the desired outcome of hearing, “Enter” from the other side of the closed door. Harry complied with his mother’s command and walked into the room with all the courage and aplomb he could muster. He stood and watched the woman who had given birth to him, yet possessed not a single maternal feeling, as she sat at her dressing table, her back to him. He waited for her to instigate a conversation that was not going to be pleasant.
The bedroom was a ploy, a non-neutral ground that would make Harry feel uneasy, something his family had done his entire life. The influence of the room was a bastion to the late Victorian and early Edwardian period, art deco was viewed as almost working class to Mrs Hewson-Greaves, who turned to face her son. The tight knot that sat on top of her head was perfectly placed as always, and today’s choice of bodice, which sported frilly cuffs and its usual high collar, was tucked into a long skirt. Harry’s mother looked her usual pale, expressionless self, as she sat rigidly in her chair as though she was about to pose for a portrait. Fond of the odd game of cards, Harry always believed his mother would have made an excellent player, given her refusal to give any emotion away via facial expressions. Although he had his own ace up his sleeve that she didn’t yet know about.
“Mother,” Harry broke the silence, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling a desperate urge to organise a funeral and family affairs, Harry. Life goes on.” Mrs. Hewson-Greaves was as cold as ice in her response.
“Not for Father.” Harry shot back in his typical way that often led people into thinking he was being humorous, an idea his mother was currently subscribing to.
“Same old Harry,” Mrs. Hewson-Greaves’ tone was not friendly. “Injecting his wit when it is not called for or needed.”
“I was merely stating fact, Mother.”
“Fact!” she snapped, “The fact is my husband is dead and things need to be sorted. I have no time for your weak emotions or feeble attempts to cheer people up.”
“You asked to speak to me, Mother.” Harry was bullish in his retort. “What exactly do you want with me?” Surprised, Mrs. Hewson-Greaves was impressed with her son for showing what appeared to be some backbone, though she would never let him know that. “We had a few visitors last night. My eyesight is not what it once was, but my hearing is as potent as ever.”
Harry’s stare never left his mother as he awaited the outcome of what was an interesting gambit. “I heard a German accent. Why?”
“A man named Werner entered our home and promptly announced that his father had died.” He watched and waited for his mother to react. The seconds stretched into minutes, and Ariadne Hewson-Greaves remained silent. If Harry had thought his mother was going to tell him the things he needed to know, he was mistaken.
“Mother,” Harry began boldly. “What do you intend to do? With the estate, the business? Given that you must know of my father’s feelings, or lack of feeling that he had for me. I need answers. I’m owed answers.”
“You aren’t owed a damn thing, boy,” rasped Mrs. Hewson-Greaves. “You stand there confronting me with imbecilic questions and I am the one who has to clear up your father’s mess! Yes, your father, Harry! Whatever that cretin has been saying and believe me, there’s no fool like an old fool – but whatever Henry said or didn’t say, you will continue to act as the grieving son. You are the grieving son, Harry. I cannot afford for you to be anything else. You are the heir to all of this,” she waved her hand around in an expansive gesture, ‘and of the business and all of Henry’s other interests, his stocks and shares, his investments. They are yours, despite what your father thought of you. Yes, he blamed you for being born – you probably know by now that we had to get married, rather than wanted to be married. Your father despised you, that is the truth and I – well – I may not have been a perfect mother, I know that, Harry. I, too, resented you – you, after all, were the reason I ended up in a loveless marriage with Henry! But if the stupid old fool said anything in that note to make you believe you would not inherit what is rightfully yours, do not accept it. Whatever he and I thought of you, however we treated you – you are his heir and nothing and nobody will take that away from you. You will do me the curtesy of allowing me to continue to live in your house and I would hope your father has settled a decent sum upon me so that I may derive an income of some sort, that is all I ask. Apart from your complicity, of course. Never speak of this again to me. I want to hear no more of it and I do not need to know of any grieving German Jews who turn up begging at the door with a sob story.’
Ariadne’s face grew harder and her brief emotional outpouring was replaced by her usual ice-cold demeanour. “You may leave.” She dismissed Harry with a wave of her hand. Harry could do no more than turn and exit his mother’s room with an expression of profound puzzlement and shock written on his pale face.
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BLURB
Eleven years have passed since the fateful events of a Christmas party changed Anthony Crawford's young life forever. Having inherited his step-father's business empire, Anthony now is older, married to Katherine and the father of a daughter, Charlotte. His friendship with his childhood friend, Harry Hewson-Greaves is as strong as it always was when a fight with a stranger changes Anthony's and Harry's trajectory forever.
A string of events - Harry's father's death - seemingly suicide, but raising the suspicions of the police; Anthony's mother's drinking; Katherine's decision to send Charlotte away to school, all conspire to create pressure and tension in Anthony's life, and he turns to Isobel Stark for solace. But when Isobel is threatened by newspaper journalist Lionel Luff, things take a more sinister turn and Anthony become embroiled in a series of events that make Anthony question everything he holds dear and he begins to wonder where the truth ends and deception begins.
When Harry disappears, accused of his father's murder, the reappearance of Heinrich Werner, the stranger with whom Anthony fought, threatens to blow apart Harry's life and the repercussions that has for Anthony and his future make him realise that you can never quite hide away the secrets of scandals past.
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John is a married father of one and also has two stepchildren. Although Liverpool born, John has been a resident of Blackpool for over ten years. Writing was something John enjoyed from an early age, although his first love was football, and in particular, Everton Football Club. Though never quite good enough to turn professional and pull on the Royal Blue, John’s passion for football never waned and paved the way to the written word. John’s interests extend far beyond the beautiful game, and include boxing, film, the theatre and history. An advocate of mental health and talking about issues related to the topic, John has written a number of posts and blogs relating to a variety of subjects. Regarding the subjects of boxing and film, John’s main character of the Crawford Chronicles, Anthony Crawford, is also a keen fan of both and while John insists that Anthony Crawford is not based on him, they are certainly two traits both John and the young socialite have in common. Secrets of Scandals Past follows John's debut, A Scandal of Secrets, and there is more on the way in the Scandal Saga, as well as some other writing projects.
Social Media Links
X link - @JHwritingbooks
Instagram - johnhoward_author
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COMING SOON: On Saturday, 7th November, we are delighted to welcome our guest author, Deborah E Fox, who is sharing an excerpt from her book, 'Cancer Can Go and Do One'.
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