Jan Selbourne
When history whispers,
I pass it on.
When history whispers,
I pass it on.
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’s a risk, a hanging offence, it’s his only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs.
Now known as Andrew, he is just another face in post war London until a letter arrives with a proposition. Accepting will plunge him into a nightmare of murder, family jealousy and greed.
To survive he must live this lie without a mistake, until he falls in love with Lacey. To keep her he must tell the truth and face the consequences.
5 Stars: "Very accurate in details of the time period, as with all her books. Interesting plot turns leaving you to want to read quickly to find out why or how something happened. I would like to read a follow-up book on this title. I like when the art work fits the story with class, not like some of the tacky pictures publishers put on to hype sex. Outstanding! Hope there will be a sequel!"
Margaret Nyberg
5 Stars: "Jan Selbourne has once again outdone herself with a masterfully written novel of love, lies, intrigue and mystery. The tangled web of lies which the Haines family are dragging Andrew and Lacey into kept me turning page after page to find out the secret behind 'the proposition.' I could not put it down until the very end. A must read!!! If you haven't already read 'Perilous Love' and 'Lies of Gold' by this amazing author I strongly recommend you do."
Jeanette Beardsley
5 Stars: "On the bloody field of battle in World War I, Harry Connelly seeks a way out of his troubles, both domestic and professional. He switches identity with a dead soldier. The soldier is free. Harry, now Andrew, is not. He struggles with his leg wound and unemployment in London until a letter arrives with a proposition. It seems Andew’s life was in even worse shape. Murder, family jealousy and greed now dominates his double’s life. Good thing he used to be a cop. And it’s a good thing he has Lacey, a wartime nurse who is embroiled in the murders, and with plenty of secrets of her own.
Oh what webs we weave when first we practice to deceive! A top notch thriller! I enjoyed the gritty atmosphere, and wonderful characterizations. The intricate plot and these two good people trying to find their second chance against all odds kept me reading deep into the night. I was rooting for them all the way."
Eileen Charbonneau
5 Stars: "When once you once you practice to deceive, what a tangled web you weave is applicable to Ms Selbourne's novel, which begins in France 1918.
While Harry Connelly lit a cigarette, a Canadian division was marching towards Ypres. Tomorrow, at dawn a co-ordinated attack would be launched on the Germans, tanks, infantry, artillery, cavalry and the newly-formed Royal Air force. Everyone, including Harry and his friend Andrew Conway, are scared.
Neither Harry or Andrew know who their fathers were. Harry’s mum “didn’t have it easy She had to live on charity for a while and put up with back-handed comments about women on their own.” Andrew’s mother pretended she was a widow.
At the front an eruption of scorching earth reared up and threw them to the ground. The wound in Harry’s leg will cripple him. Andrew is dead. To escape his past Harry joined the army, now he steals Andrew’s identity disc. If he goes through with his plan he will risk being hanged.
In London in 1919, Harry receives a pension from the military after he receives his Protection Certificate and Certificate of Identity in the name of Andrew Haines Conway born 1892.
When Andrew died, he didn’t know he had a half-brother, Elliot Haines. A letter addressed to Andrew arrives. Andrew and Elliot’s father is dead, When Harry meets Elliot offers Harry a shocking proposition that Harry refuses.
Murder and mayhem, missing letters that are incriminating, romance, an abduction, a traumatised orphan, attempts on Harry’s life and that of the woman he protects ensue.
The Proposition held my attention from the first page to the last when the plot unravelled. I congratulate Ms Selbourne on writing this enthralling novel with believable larger than life characters."
Rosemary Morris
5 Stars: "The Proposition was excellent! I read her other two books (Perilous Love and Lies of Gold) and couldn't wait for book number three! I'd recommend these books to everyone!"
Carol Rising
5 Stars: "I just finished Jan Selbourne's "The Proposition" and...OH MY! I was so drawn into the era of post World War I England and all the intrigue that I was looking over my shoulder at every little creak in the house! (I should never read a murder thriller at night!) The setting and characters are so real; the plot was constantly twisting and turning so I never knew who was the villain or who to trust. If a book can have more than 5 stars, this is it!"
Barbara Baldwin
5 Stars: "In Perilous Love Ms. Selbourne gave us a love story surrounded by the beginnings of a world war. In Lies of Gold she had her characters find love amidst spies and the worst kind of human trafficking. In The Proposition, Andrew Haines and his cousin Lacey Haines find each other in a post-World War I murder mystery.
Harry Connelly, a former policeman who could face charges himself escapes from that situation and a cheating wife by enlisting in the army and going off to fight in France. There he meets lookalike Andrew Haines, on the night before one of the worst battles of the war. The next day, wounded, Harry finds Andrew's corpse. Rather than getting patched up and sent home to face the consequences he'd first run away from, he switches IDs and returns home as Andrew Haines. Little does he know, but he's jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the flames. Not only is Andrew running himself—from huge gambling debts—but his family is the most dysfunctional imaginable. In fact, someone seems to want to kill them.
In walks Lacey Haines, the best of the familial lot by far. Andrew's policeman's heart kicks in and he wants nothing more than to protect Lacey from whatever is wrong in her family. To do so puts himself at risk, too. Discovering the murderer, the skeletons hidden well within the family closets, and how Andrew and Lacey survive it all is a book well worth reading. Thanks for another great story, Ms. Selbourne!"
Dee S. Knight
5 Stars: "What an intriguing story. The horrors of war are so clearly shown. The decision the hero makes has an impact in his life bringing him someone to care about but also involving him in a mystery and murder. I read the book straight through and was sorry to see it end. Kudos to the author!"
Janet Walters
Hundreds of coal braziers spread an eerie glow over the camps and the thousands of men stood waiting. The order to stand-to had come at 3.30am and now they fidgeted, vomited, prayed and gripped their rifles with sweating hands, waiting for the officers and NCOs carrying the precious gallon jugs of rum.
The quarter gill of eighty per cent proof rum burned into Harry’s stomach and spread through his body, filling him with warmth, strength and courage. At 4.05am came the “fifteen minutes”. At 4.15am came the “five minutes”. When the synchronised watches along the seventeen-mile front touched 4.20am, seven hundred artillery guns began their creeping barrage in front of seventy-five thousand British, Australian and Canadian troops.
Their solid lines advanced steadily over the terrain laid bare from years of shelling, gassing and fire. Rawlinson had set a target of an eight-mile advance on Day One and they had the advantage of early morning fog to disguise their tactics. The heavy tanks were now travelling one hundred metres every three minutes and their relentless pounding, the firepower of the infantry and the complete surprise of the attack had the Germans scrambling.
Entering the hilly sector which the tanks found difficult to negotiate, the resistance became fierce. The pounding and smoke intensified as they fought with rifles and bayonets. Screaming, shouting, a tangle of men, booming cannons and rising mounds of earth and they continued to push forward.
By 9.00am they were approaching their first objective when all hell broke loose with deafening explosions. The air was sucked out of their lungs as huge walls of scorching earth reared up, throwing them into a black burning hell.
Harry screamed as excruciating pain tore through his ears, then something slammed into him. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t move. He was dead and the Man he didn’t believe in had despatched him to sinners’ hell. His throat convulsed and gagged on the dirt stuffed in his gaping mouth. Oh Christ, he was buried alive by the huge weight pressing down on him. His heart thumped with terror. Don’t move, don’t swallow, but his throat gagged again, and instinctively he coughed and spat. Frantic, he gasped and coughed again and felt cloth brushing against his face. He was lying on his outstretched arms. Hot tears filled his eyes. Very soon this little pocket of air would be gone, and he’ll die a slow death. No, think, think, push your hands forward. What if he was lying upside down?
The earth beneath him shuddered and soil fell onto his head. The weight above him was shifting, just like the underground coal mines before they collapsed. More soil fell on his arms and the blackness above him turned grey. Scrabbling like a crab, he wriggled upwards and howled in agony when a savage pain sliced through his leg. Gasping and terrified of falling back, he pushed up further into the light. He had no idea where he was.
Dragging the precious air into his lungs, Harry lifted his head to a silent scene from hell. Black roots of trees pointed to the sky and thick smoke poured from huge craters gouged into the earth. Just like the books on the Apocalypse. It took many seconds before his eyes told his brain the craters were dark red and littered with dozens of bloodied, twisted bodies. Some stared up into nothing, some face down. Harry looked behind him and opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. He’d been pinned beneath bodies submerged in the crater still smoking from an exploded shell. The entrails of one body oozed into the bloodied soil and the other body, oh God. Harry’s stomach heaved, he was covered with blood and guts. Using his arms, he lurched forward, bit by bit over the churned earth towards the blackened tree stumps. The ground shook again making him cringe. In the distance, a thick pall of black smoke was covering the rows of men fighting furiously while shells pounded around them, but it was eerily silent. Like the films at the picture house without the words on the screen.
Harry struggled to his knees and almost fainted from the pain in his leg. Closing his eyes, he fell onto his side, breathing deeply, then reached down to feel the blood oozing through his trouser leg. He rolled onto his stomach.
“Come on, move, move.” He dragged himself forward until he came to a mound, but his strength failed. “Give up,” his mind screamed, then his eyes settled on a water canteen half buried in the earth. Pulling it out, he unscrewed the cap and drank. Nectar. Spitting the dirt out of his mouth he gulped the water greedily, feeling it flowing through his body and clearing his mind.
“Oh, Jesus.” The mound was a pile of bloodied bodies with sightless eyes. He couldn’t crawl over them. He couldn’t do it. Crying and wheezing with the pain in his leg he inched around them and looked back. The crater was barely thirty feet behind him. He had to stop. Why crawl to the trees? Stay here. Rest.
The throbbing in his leg forced Harry’s eyes open. If he could crawl to the little rise ahead of him, he’d stop there. Using his elbows to propel him, he inched forward and without warning, the earth gave way. Tumbling down the small slope he fell against a solid lump. A lump in uniform whose blank eyes stared directly into his. Jerking back, he clutched his head as excruciating pain tore through his ears. Moaning, he rocked back and forth until it eased and when he opened his eyes bile ran into his mouth.
Insects were taking up residence in the gaping, oozing chest cavity while the neck and chin, mouth and nose were strangely untouched. The scalp had gone. Harry turned away as his stomach heaved again. Move, move. Inching forward, his fingers touched a shiny object in the churned soil. He stared stupidly at the unscathed cigarette case.
“Oh no!” he turned back and leaned closer to read the name on the identity discs. Andrew Conroy, his service number and C E. The poor scared bastard with no family.
He wanted to move away but his feeble strength failed. He’d rest here for a while. Holding the cigarette case with both hands, he lay back against the crumbled mound. He was so damn tired.
Voices, shouting. He forced his eyes open and everything tilted sideways. Blinking, he squinted at the hazy moving objects, oh yes, the Red Cross stretcher bearers and wagons were picking up the wounded before the ghastly task of removing the dead. Feeble, whimpering cries rose from the churned soil, arms outstretched from the wounded and barely alive pleading to be rescued from this bloodied, silent, wasteland.
Harry looked at the cigarette case in his hand and its owner lying next to him. It was a hanging offence. If he did, there would be no turning back. If he didn’t.
He had no strength and his fingers wouldn’t work. Do it, for Christ’s sake, do it. His chest wheezed, and his weak hands fumbled with the effort of pulling Andrew Conroy’s discs over the gaping skull. His arms ached with the mammoth task of removing his. When it was done, he lay beside the body. He wanted to say something, beg him to understand, but he couldn’t find the words.
A lump was in his throat. “Mate, you are in a better place.”
His tears dripped onto the soil beside the body before he crawled away and put up his arm.
