The Proposition

Thank you very much Alethea for having me today.

In 2015 I joined an Anzacs on the Western Front tour, visiting the battlefields where my grandfather and thousands of other Australians and New Zealanders served during World War One. It was incredibly humbling to see thousands of graves of young men who never came home – and many of those graves inscribed “Known Only to God”.  That made me wonder if, in the thick of battle when bodies were unrecognisable, could a soldier take the identity discs of a fallen comrade.  I contacted London’s Imperial War Museum and Australia’s War Memorial in Canberra and was told it was possible but the chance of being caught very high and the penalties very harsh.  That was good enough for me to write my third book, The Proposition.

Blurb –

They met on the eve of a battle. One enlisted to avoid prison, the other enlisted to avoid the money lenders. On the bloodied fields of France, Harry Connelly collapses beside the corpse of Andrew Conroy. It is a risk, a hanging offence, it’s his only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs.

Now Andrew, he is just another face in post war London until a letter arrives with a proposition. Accepting is out of the question, refusing pushes him into a nightmare of greed, blackmail and murder. To survive he must live this lie without a mistake, until Lacey, her secrets and the truth.

Excerpt –

“Excuse me, call of nature.”

           The niggling coil of unease had been growing and now, as Andrew watched the dining room door close behind Elliot, his instincts were jabbing at him. His host had been charming and hospitable. Last night, after a delicious dinner at Browns Hotel, they’d touched on their family connection, unsure of what to say without offending the other. Elliot had twirled his glass between his fingers. “My grandparents made a lot of money from the textile industry, my father sold seventy percent of those businesses and invested in other profitable enterprises. To put it simply, he was a very astute, successful businessman, but I’m afraid he was not a good husband and father. He cared little for us and it distresses me that he cared even less for you and your mother.”

               Today, Elliot had proudly introduced him to his pride and joy, a dark grey Austin-20hp and they’d motored smoothly out of London and onto the soft Essex countryside. When they’d stopped at Thaxted’s Swan Inn for lunch, Elliot had commented, “Every spare acre in Essex has been growing vegetables, doing their bit for the war effort and rationing.” When they continued on to Saffron Walden, he’d pointed to his left, “Railway station, a branch line from Audley End. Made a big difference to this town.”  They’d stopped briefly in High Street, then through the marketplace, bumping over cobblestones to a wider road and finally stopping at the entrance of a large Victorian house. He’d been shown to his room overlooking  the rear of the house with its garden rows of vegetables. Elliot had apologised again, business to attend to and please make himself at home. Not used to the substantial meals, he’d slept until five pm. At seven pm, he’d joined Elliot in the dining room where silver serving dishes containing roast beef, baked potatoes and green vegetables sat on spirit warmers.

               “Very informal this evening,” Elliot had said breezily. “I asked my daily help to prepare something easy for us, so please, help yourself.”

               The only time his host’s friendliness disappeared was when the daily help tapped on the door to tell him she’d answered the phone and left the message on the phone pad.

Something was very wrong, or perhaps he was too jumpy from living on this tight rope of lies. The door opened again.

               “Much more comfortable,” Elliot grinned and sat down. “More wine?”      

               “No thank you, I might not be able to climb the stairs, but I must thank you for another very pleasant evening.”

               Elliot’s grin disappeared. “It’s time to discuss the business proposition which will give us both what we want.”

               “I confess I was intrigued when I received your letter,” Andrew replied guardedly. 

               “You will perform a service and if that service is completed satisfactorily, I will pay you three hundred pounds and pay your outstanding debts.”

               Andrew went perfectly still. “Perform a service?”

               “You will impregnate the woman I married.”

Buy Links –

https://www.amazon.com/Proposition-Jan-Selbourne-ebook/dp/B087LNZS4S/

Author bio –
Jan Selbourne grew up in Melbourne, Australia. Her love of books and history began as soon as she could read and hold a pen. Her career started in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting then a working holiday to the UK brought that history to life. Career, marriage and children followed, pushing the writing urge onto the backburner, Now retired, Jan indulges her love of writing and travelling - when she can afford it.  She has two adult children and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

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