HEROES/HEROINES - MARGARET TANNER

THE FRIGHTENED CLOWN WHO BECAME A HERO – MARGARET TANNER

            Jo-Jo looked into the mirror and his eyes brimmed with tears.  His heart was shattered into a thousand fragments, and the bitterness of his loss was overwhelming. He was afraid.  The same sickening sensation of fear he had always felt even as a child, but the crowds were waiting for him to put on a show.

            A clown could not be sad or frightened.  He must laugh, joke and bounce around as if life was one big happy party. No one bothered to look beyond the large red nose or painted face.  If they did so, they would see a man overcome with fear, and slowly dying of grief because Maisie was no longer with him.

            A partnership of thirty years dissolved in a few cruel moments, under the wheels of a hit-run driver’s car. Poor Maisie didn’t stand a chance, not with some drunken maniac skidding around the corner with smoke belching from his wheels.  Lightening fast on his feet as always, he nimbly jumped out of the way, but Maisie, with her varicose veins and hip replacements, was ponderously slow.

            Jo-Jo once aspired to become a jockey.  He was small and wiry enough, but the grotesque lump growing out of his spine like a giant football, and his fear of failure, put paid to those ambitions. His early years were spent in a misery of fear and ridicule.  Children laughed and taunted him, but he was too afraid to stand up for himself. Finally, he decided if he was going to be the butt of jokes and taunts he might as well get paid for it.

            The bitter years of suffering took their toll, and his mind became almost as twisted as the body he so despised.  He longed for, prayed and pleaded with doctors and with God to make him normal, but they never listened.  The older he got the uglier and more fearful he became.

            One day he met Maisie.  She was a plump, darling woman who looked beyond the ugliness of the body and found the real man. She bolstered his confidence and allayed his fears. 

His savior had golden curls, baby blue eyes and fat rosy cheeks that wobbled when she laughed. She possessed melon like breasts, huge backside and fat stumpy legs, but there was not a mean bone in Maisie’s ample body.  Her smile was angelic, her soul that of a saint.  She was a guiding star of goodness, leading him out of the black tunnel of fear and self-loathing into the sunlight. Two fat tears dribbling down his painted cheeks, plopped on to his ruffled collar.

“Never let your audience down,” Maisie always said.

They were a class act, the skinny, sad sack clown and his chubby, pink haired fairy Godmother assistant. Stars of the circus, but how could he face the crowd without her strength and support?  He was terrified. The old cowardice had returned with a vengeance.

            Everyone thought them an odd couple, both on and off the stage. Maisie knew that beneath the clown suit, beat the heart of a sensitive man, and only he knew, the layers of tulle and flab hid a beautiful woman.

            He could hear the crowd chanting.  “We want Jo-Jo. We want Jo-Jo.”

            He scrubbed the tears away with the back of one hand and slapped some more powder over his makeup to hide the smears. With his heart weighed down with grief, he gritted his teeth, mounted his mini bicycle and with a large colorful beach ball balanced on his head, peddled out from behind the curtains.

            “Where’s the old fat fairy?” yelled a kid in the front row.  Jo-Jo felt like ramming the fairy floss the boy was devouring down his throat, stick and all.  He did nothing of the kind, just tossed the ball up in the air and somersaulted off his bike.

“Do it again, Jo-Jo, do it again.” The littlies squealed with delight, while the rest of the audience clapped and stamped their feet.  Jo-Jo continued his routine and his heavy heart lifted with the excitement of the crowd, as he gave the performance of his life.

“I’m doing this for you, Maisie love,” he whispered.  “I’m doing this for you.”

The laughter suddenly changed into shrieks of horror, as a lioness turned on the ringmaster and knocked him to the ground with one powerful leap.  The big cat’s ugly fangs were bared into a snarl as she prepared to attack.

It had been sheer stupidity separating her from her cubs and expecting her to perform so soon after their birth.  The trainers pleaded with the circus owners, but to no avail, they had no compassion for either man or beast working for them.  Money and profit was all they cared about.

Jo-Jo jumped on to his mini bike and rode between the lioness and the fallen ringmaster. The enraged animal turned her ferocity on to him.  He peddled furiously. This was the most important ride of his life and any mistake would cost him dearly. From the corner of one eye he saw the ringmaster crawling to safety, and even as the beast charged towards him, Jo-Jo somersaulted out of the way.

A net dropping down from the roof of the big-top imprisoned the lion, and the trainers dragged her away.  There was silence for a moment, then the crowds began cheering. 

Jo-Jo the frightened clown was a hero.

In my novel, Allison's War, published by Books We Love. Allison is certainly a great heroine.  

ALLISON’S WAR

In 1916, on the French battlefields, a dying soldier’s confession has the power to ruin the woman he loves. Meanwhile, on the home front, Allison Waverley has to battle shame, loss and betrayal. Can she overcome the dark secrets in her past and find happiness, or will it always elude her?

http://amzn.com/B00JF4YA9E

Margaret Tanner is an award winning author who writes historical romance and westerns.

http://www.margarettanner.com/

SECRETS - MARGARET TANNER

SECRETS - WE ALL HAVE THEM

How many of us have secrets?

I doubt if there would be many people who don’t have at least one secret. I don’t mean of the dark, dangerous variety, but some of us may well have a secret that could place us in danger. Fortunately, I am not one of those.

My secret – I am a chocoholic. How many times have I told my hubby that I no longer eat chocolates, then I sneak off to my several hiding places (not to be divulged on pain of death), where my secret stash is hidden. You should always have more than one hideout for your illicit goodies just in case one of them is discovered. I don’t want to be like Old Mother Hubbard – who went to the cupboard to get her dog a bone, and when she got there the cupboard was bare and the poor doggie had none. Change that to and when Margaret got to her secret stash, the chokkies were gone and she had none. A disaster of that proportion could not be allowed to happen, hence a few hiding places. I call it my insurance policy.

In many families there are secrets that will never see the light of day, except if someone in the family is into Geneology. My sister has unearthed some shocking scandals as she undertook research into our family tree. I swear, I could write a book about it. One of the most shocking secrets was the fact that my grandmother had a baby when she was unmarried and only eighteen years old. The baby died when he was only 6 days old. A couple of years later she married my grandfather. No-one knew that, it remained hidden for 120 years, until my sister unearthed the information during her research.

Another relative spent time in jail in the 1880’s for aiding and abetting Ned Kelly, a famous Australian bushranger (outlaw). Then there were all the “premature” babies that were born to aunts and great aunts. Not to mention one great uncle who had two wives. Then there was a cousin who ran off with a man who was older than her father. That caused a stir. Especially as the man had a wife and 4 children. Still, can’t be all bad, thirty years later, and the couple are still together.

In my experience, and I do have to quantify this by saying I mainly read historical romance because that is what I write, there are often dark secrets lurking in the background. Some of these could be life threatening, in any case at the very least they threaten the hero and heroine’s chance of getting their happily ever after ending.

In my novel, Allison’s War, the heroine’s secret is that the baby she is expecting does not belong to her husband.

 

In A Rose In No-Man’s Land, the hero hides a secret from the heroine. She is broken hearted to find out that he won’t marry her, when in fact he wants to marry her, but can’t because he is being blackmailed by the sister of his dead wife. If he marries the heroine, he risks being hanged for a murder that he did not commit.

In Daring Masquerade, my heroine pretends she is a boy so she can gain employment with the hero. Then, of course, she falls in love with the hero. I mean, what can she do about it?

In my novel, Haunted Hearts, (the only contemporary I have published), the heroine discovers that her father-in-law has been going through her drawers and stealing her panties.

So, you can see that secrets abound in my novels, and I am sure I am not alone in this regard. A secret can drive our stories along, add passion and drama, and keep the reader wondering what is this secret? How can it be resolved? Will the hero and heroine get their HEA?

Margaret Tanner writes historical romance for The Wild Rose Press and Books We Love.

http://www.margarettanner.com

 

VACATIONS - HISTORICAL - MARGARET TANNER

MARGARET TANNER’S FAVOURITE VACATION

I have to say I don’t really have a favourite place for a vacation, anywhere is good for me as long as there is plenty of sun, and I am waited on hand and foot, and have lots of yummy food.

Because I write historical romance, vacations are usually the honeymoon for my hero and heroine, but not always.

In my latest release, Allison’s War, which starts a few months before the commencement of the Great War (1914 – 1918), the vacations are a little different.

The first one belongs to the villain of the piece, Phillip Ashfield, an aristocratic young Englishman, the second one is Allison’s honeymoon, and the third one is Allison’s desperate journey to find her son after Phillip kidnaps him.

PHILLIP

Phillip Ashfield uncrossed his cramped legs and stood up to reach into the overhead luggage compartment. What an imposition, having to manhandle his own luggage.

“Good God, man, when you’re in the colonies you have to look after yourself.” He remembered the advice he’d received from Tony, one of his friends from Eton. How true, the Godforsaken bloody backwater.

If his father hadn’t been so ill, he would have refused point blank to come out to Australia. Had his mother not been so distraught about the old man, he would have ignored her entreaties to visit relatives at the back of beyond.

God, it was hot. The temptation to loosen his collar became almost unendurable. He wore the latest summer fashion for 1914, a three-piece suit with a shaped coat that had a vent down the back. His linen, as always, was the finest money could buy. Neither one helped keep him cool in these temperatures.

TOMMY AND ALLISON

The zoo proved to be much larger than Allison expected. The monkeys and giraffes were her favorites. Tommy insisted they have a ride on the elephant, and as the animal swayed along, they got a wonderful view.

“This is fun,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I like hearing you laugh; it’s such a happy sound.”

“I never knew we could have such an exciting time. Such places we’ve seen! I have to pinch myself to make sure it’s not a dream,” she said.

His teasing smile faded, and his blue eyes burned fiercely. “I’ll never forget, either.”

The bears lumbered around in a concrete pit, and Tommy leaned so far over the edge she worried about him falling in. He laughed loudly at this fear, and several people turned to look at them.

“Tommy, shh, people are staring.”

“I’ll give them something to really talk about.” Quick as a flash he pulled her close and kissed her, and she felt hot all over.

“Well, really, how could a young woman cheapen herself so?” A prim matron with two school-aged children complained to her male companion. “Those young larrikins think they can do what they like, just because they’re in the army.”

Allison’s embarrassment gave way to anger. “I happen to like my husband kissing me. At least he’s man enough to fight for his country.”

ALLISON

At the railway station, Allison spoke to the stationmaster and told him about Paul being taken by an English relative, and he promised to make arrangements about seeing to the livestock on the farm.

What a dreadful journey. She wanted to scream at the train to go faster, and by the time they pulled into Spencer Street station her hands shook and her head ached. A young man helped her off with Daphne’s pram, and then she found herself alone on a platform swarming with people.

The last time she’d stood here was with Tommy, as Jim bid them farewell. She hadn’t known it at the time, but she would never see her brother again. She shivered in the Melbourne dusk, and it wasn’t from cold. Dear God, why wasn’t one of them spared to help? Why did both of them have to die? She closed her eyes, and the noise of busy people was blocked out, replaced by the muffled sounds of marching feet, as ghostly battalions passed by on their way to immortality.

It was too late to find Phillip now; they had to get somewhere to stay, first. The only place she could think of was the hotel where Tommy had taken her for their honeymoon. It was dark when they reached the hotel, and by the light thrown out from the street lamps, it appeared the same as it had in 1914.

ALLISON’S WAR (PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED AS WILD OATS) – BLURB

In 1916, on the French battlefields, a dying soldier’s confession has the power to ruin the woman he loves.

Meanwhile, on the home front, Allison Waverley has to battle shame, loss and betrayal. Can she overcome the dark secrets in her past and find happiness, or will it always elude her?

http://amzn.com/B00JF4YA9E