Blackmail by Proxy

By Annette Siketa

On the eve of her wedding, Gloria discovers that her parents have been keeping an astonishing and deadly secret

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annette Siketa
• Release date: Nov 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005352868

Annette Siketa

For those of you who have not yet made my acquaintance, my name is Annette Siketa, and I am totally blind. Were you aware that most blind and visually impaired people are extraordinarily perceptive? To sighted people, this ability must seem like ESP, and I suppose to a certain extent, it is. (I'm referring to the literal meaning of Extra Sensory Perception, not the spooky interpretation.) To compensate for the lack of vision, the brain and the other four senses become sharper, so that we can discern a smell or the identity of an object. I promise you there's no trickery involved. It's simply a matter of adapting the body to ‘think’ in another way.Being blind is no barrier to creativity. Like most things in this world, life is what you make of it, and after losing my sight due to an eye operation that went terribly wrong, I became a writer, and have now produced a wide variety of books and short stories, primarily of the ghost/supernatural/things that go bump in the night genre.So, how does a blind person write a book? On the practical side, I use a text-to-speech program called ‘Jaws’, which enables me to use and navigate around a computer, including the Internet, with considerable ease. Information on Jaws can be found at www.freedomscientific.comOn the creative side...well, that’s a little more difficult to explain. Try this experiment. Put on your favourite movie and watch it blindfolded. As you already ‘know’ the movie – who does what where & when etc, your mind compensates for the lack of visualisation by filling in the ‘blanks’. Now try it with something you’ve never seen before, even the six o'clock news. Not so easy to fill in the blanks now is it?By this point you’re probably going bonkers with frustration – hee hee, welcome to my world! Do not remove the blindfold. Instead, allow your imagination to compensate for the lack of visualization, and this will give you an idea of how I create my stories. Oh, if only Steven Spielberg could read my mind.

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BLACKMAIL BY PROXY

By Annette Siketa

Copyright © 2021 Annette Siketa.

No part of this book may be manipulated, transmitted, or altered by any method or manner whatsoever. All rights reserved. Please respect the authors’ rights. Only through honesty can the insidious practice of illegal copying be curbed.

Distributed by Smashwords

Blackmail by Proxy.

It was on the eve of Gloria’s wedding that the truth came out. We were sitting in the drawing room after dinner, and both my wife and daughter were in girlish mood. They were discussing the wedding presents that had already arrived, one of them being a hideous soup tureen.

Daddy, said Gloria, for as long as I can remember, you always told me that you met mummy in a cabbage patch.

I had the brightest green leaves, said Violet, whose extraordinary eyes matched her name. She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror and added, Though they have withered somewhat over the years.

Gloria kissed her mother’s cheek. Nonsense. I bet you’re still as beautiful as the day daddy married you.

She certainly is, said I, affectionately.

"But, how did you meet?" persisted Gloria.

Violet and I exchanged glances. By no stretch of the imagination could our courtship have been called 'ordinary'. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and said, I don’t see what harm can come of it now. Most of the people involved are probably dead.

The King certainly is. I’ll never forget the sight of him in his pyjamas.

The King? repeated Gloria confusedly. Which King?

She did have a point, for there had been two monarchs since she was born. Edward VII. I looked at my wife. Even if all those involved are now dead, we are still bound by the oath we swore.

Violet bristled. Yes, well, the Home Office does not have a daughter who’s about to be married. She's not a child anymore, Thomas. She deserves to know the truth.

Are you sure? It will be painful, not only for her, but for you.

I know that, she responded quietly. She reached out and stroked Gloria's hair. But if it hadn't ended as it did, this beautiful child would never have been born. We can’t change the past. What’s done is done. Go ahead, tell her.

***

Sir John Dixon was highly respected and a gifted surgeon. He had everything to live for, and yet on the morning of the 16th September 1900, he entered his Harley Street consulting rooms, ordered a pot of tea, wrote several professional letters, and then blew his brains out.

At the inquest, his death was attributed to two factors. Firstly, overwork, and secondly, that he suffered recurring bouts of fever from his time in the tropics. The illness would lay him low for days, during which time he would become irrational, claiming that he had no money. During his last bout of fever, which occurred several months before his death, he added the further claim of being watched.

His first claim was unwarranted. I was 25 and a newly qualified doctor when I first met him. We got on splendidly, and he often invited me to assist at his surgical procedures. His speciality was tumours and abnormal growths, and it never ceased to amaze me how many society ladies regarded a small mole on a chin or