Rex Thomas
A passionate intense yearning love is experienced by almost everyone at sometime in their life. Occasionally this love is returned but more often it is rejected, bringing disillusionment, pain, anger and a torment which never really goes away.
Recently psychologists have found that most of us think ourselves as more desirable than others actually see us and so people we regard as of equal desirability may not see it in the same way, leading to the modern term 'delusional romantic attachment.'
Edit Point tells the story of a roller coaster relationship with its euphoria and tragedies detailing the secondment of an award winning television producer sent to investigate the history of an ancient order of monks who seemed to have taken more interest in early science discoveries than their religion.
Shortly after starting the project Tony Des Forges becomes involved in several interweaving relationships including fun loving Karen a young girl seeking affection and Linda a married woman that he can never put of his mind.
Edit Point is a book for all seasons whether for snuggling up with in bed, lazing on a hot sandy beach, chilling out at the weekend or as a travelling companion on the way to work on the bus or train. For the right person Edit Point may be a thoughtful gift.
Review When I was given Edit Point it came with a warning: "You'll hate it'.That warning was totally misplaced, I loved it. This was the most intriguing story I have read.
None of the characters involved behave as you would expect in a novel,the 'hero' is a refreshingly real man with recognisable human responses to temptation and struggles to do the right thing. Can't wait for the second book
Myryll Lacy author/critic
From an early age Rex Thomas has been interested in both the written word and the drama of theatre and cinema then later television production
After many years as a College lecturer Rex set up a successful production company, soon making a reputation for producing innovative quality programmes
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
KAREN
SEPTEMBER 1973
The train began to slow so that the cider apple orchards at Whimple now seemed to slide gently past the window. A few more minutes and the train would arrive at Exeter Central.
Tony Des Forges stretched his legs and yawned. This was the life. At this end of the journey he had the first class carriage to himself, a hire car waiting ready for his own use at the station, a suite booked at one of the best seaside hotels and the freedom to do the only job he cared about.
He yawned again then smiled to himself. Even the late afternoon sun shone benignly down onto the rows of trees outside, perhaps Myrtle had even arranged this change in the weather for him in her usual busily efficient way.
Poor old Myrtle! Not that Myrtle was her real name of course, it was just that after taking her on, the lads at the office cast around for a name that suited her more than Jennifer. Indeed it would be hard to imagine anyone with a less apt name, with her flat chest, nondescript medium length mousy hair, large rimmed glasses and apologetic way of clasping her hands in front of her that made her look like a church mouse.
How unkind he decided, especially as she had wished him a pleasant trip handing him a briefcase packed with all the programme strands and schedules he would need with one hand and a railway ticket with the other. In a rash moment he was almost tempted to kiss the back of the hand holding the cardboard slip but wisely deciding against it.
It wasn’t that she was totally unattractive, perhaps the reverse. In fact if she chose to put on some make up, have her hair styled and highlighted and wear a few trendy bright colours instead of those long creations in the dull browns and dark blues she seemed to prefer it would probably make all the difference.
She didn’t seem to have any noticeable special friends or even a social life, so perhaps she had an aversion to men and given her drab looks this would come as no surprise. A sudden thought struck him, perhaps she was a lesbian, perhaps he should ask her, or again not!
The train topped a rise and went into a tunnel. Tony stared absently back at his reflection in the window.
Strange that he should let his thoughts dwell so long on Myrtle West. No, he must not call her that, even though she was so negative in her own matters and servile in the workplace. It was unkind and unnecessary he silently admonished the image in the glass. He smiled wryly at himself; despite his relaxed mood he looked older than his twenty nine years, the nature of his work must be taking its toll.
Still, he had all his own teeth and hair, albeit with a few grey traces. He’ll be a lady killer when he grows up his Aunt Bea had told a neighbour.
