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eBook Category: Historical Fiction/Romance
eBook Description: Set in the socially tempestuous aftermath of World War I, and full of early twentieth-century taboos, love and betrayal, Marion Husband's award-winning debut novel is a passionately written and thought-provoking affair. Protagonist Paul Harris, a homosexual soldier fated to marry the fiance of his dead brother through loyalty, is a deeply tender character drifting into a world he cannot love. Forced to hide his true desires for his sometime lover and former sergeant, Adam, now a butcher, the difficulties that one can only imagine were faced in the post war period by ex-soldiers are laid out sensitively. By no means a 'fully wronged' man, Paul, like the other characters, has his emotional and physical frailties, and rather than force any one point of view on her reader, Marion Husband calmly portrays a balanced narrative allowing the readers to make up their own minds. Through the vivid flashbacks the author highlights the contrasts between events lived and living, and in the sweat, tears and anger of war the same passions rumble with a whole different form of expression. Allowing the characters to develop in effortless prose with a series of graphic sex scenes and realistic dialect, 'the love that dare not speak its name' is explored with true feeling and passionate lust.

eBook Publisher: Accent Press/Accent
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2006

1 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [Secure eReader (recommended)/Microsoft Reader/Adobe - What's this?]: SECURE MICROSOFT READER FORMAT [280 KB] - Requires Microsoft Reader 2.1.1 for PCs, or Microsoft Reader 2.2.2 on Pocket PC 2002 handheld devices. Some older Pocket PCs can be upgraded. Learn More., SECURE EREADER (RECOMMENDED) FORMAT [223 KB], SECURE ADOBE FORMAT [758 KB]
Secure Adobe: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
Microsoft Reader ISBN, eReader (recommended) ISBN: 1905170009

November 1919 Hiding in Adam?s pantry, Paul remembered how he was once forced to eat marmalade at school, a whole pot of marmalade, Jenkins twisting his arms up his back as Nichols held his nose and clattered the spoon past his teeth. He stared at the jar on Adam?s shelf. Its contents were all but finished; only a dark orange residue speckled with toast crumbs and marbled with butter remained. He unscrewed the lid, wondering if marmalade could taste as bad as he remembered. The scent of bitter oranges assaulted him as outside the pantry door his father?s voice rose a little, as close to anger as he ever came. ?He?s not well enough to be out on his own.? ?Doctor Harris, I swear I didn't even know he was home.? ?He writes to you.? ?He wrote occasionally.? Paul placed the marmalade back on the shelf, listening more carefully. That pinch of truth would help the lie down ? that ?occasionally? held the right note of disappointment. His father might almost believe his letters to Adam were infrequent. George sighed. ?If you do see him?? ?I'll bring him straight home.? Paul listened as Adam showed George out, waiting until he felt sure his father had gone before pushing the pantry door open. In a stage whisper he asked, ?All clear?? Adam sat down at the kitchen table. Taking off his glasses he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. ?Jesus, Paul. He knew you were in the pantry. He bloody knew.? He looked up. ?He didn't speak to me. He spoke to the bloody pantry door.? Sitting opposite him Paul reached across the table and took his hand. ?At least you didn't give us away.? Adam drew his hand back. ?He could smell your cigarette smoke.? ?Maybe he thought you'd taken up smoking. Maybe you should.? Paul shoved his cigarette case towards him. ?Calm your nerves.? ?You know I hate it.? Lighting up, Paul blew smoke down his nose. ?Hate what? Lying, smoking or having a one-eyed lunatic hiding in your cupboards?? ?Smoking.? Adam sighed. ?No point hating the rest of it, is there?? Adam polished his glasses on the corner of his shirt. Hooking the wire frames over his ears he smiled at Paul. ?Cup of tea?? ?I should go. He?s had enough worry, lately.? ?Haven't we all.? ?I'd better go.? ?Yes. Of course. Better go.? Neither moved. Paul?s bare toes curled against the cold lino. The kitchen of Adam?s terrace house was always cold, always smelt of yesterday?s frying, always made him want to take boiling, soapy water and a scrubbing brush to the sink and stove and floor. He thought of the stale-biscuit smell in the pantry, the damp in the corners, the nagging suggestion of mice. He shuddered and wiped imaginary marmalade stickiness from his fingers.