The more celebrity names the wider the circulation.’ ‘The thing is that Angelica’s reinvented herself as a purveyor of good taste and of Art with a capital A, and the gallery opening’s worth a few columns on that alone.
‘Well, if he’s a front-bench MP with a wife and children in the Home Counties, we’d like to know his name,’ said Markovitch at once. ‘It’s probably guilt money from some ex-lover.’ ‘I don’t know, but it’s one of the things I want you to look into,’ said Markovitch. ‘Oh God,’ said Harry, and demanded to know where Angelica Thorne had got hold of the investment capital to be opening smart Bloomsbury galleries. The gallery’s called Thorne’s, and it’s the latest fling of Angelica Thorne.’ ‘It’s not until next month,’ said Clifford Markovitch, ignoring this. ‘You’re really just a sweet old-fashioned romantic at heart, aren’t you?’ said one of the sub-editors, at which point Harry threw a reference dictionary at the sub-editor, and went off to his editor’s office to point out that he had not joined the staff of the Bellman to report on fluffy Bloomsbury parties. Slosh down over-chilled wine and sandpapery savouries in company with a lot of smug females with too much money and not enough to do? It was hardly in keeping with the image, for God’s sake! Harry observed, with some acerbity, that covering arty society parties was a female thing, and then was so pleased with the disagreeable nature of this remark that he repeated it in a louder voice to be sure no one in the editorial department missed hearing it. WRITING AN ARTICLE on a newly opened art gallery in Bloomsbury was the very last kind of commission that Harry Fitzglen wanted. riveting and hard to put down” ( Portland Book Review). Set in three different time periods across the twentieth century, A Dark Dividing is “reminiscent of Henry James or Wilkie Collins . . .
As Harry uncovers the grim history of Mortmain, he finds himself drawn into a set of interlocking mysteries, each one more curious and disturbing than the last. What exactly happened to Simone’s twin sister Sonia, to whom she had once been conjoined-and who disappeared years before? And how might Simone and Sonia be connected to another pair of conjoined twins, Viola and Sorrel, born nearly a century ago?Įvery question Harry asks points him to the Shropshire village of West Fferna and a ruined mansion on the Welsh border called Mortmain House. Journalist Harry Fitzglen is intrigued by his latest subject, the London artist Simone Anderson, whose enigmatic photographs hint at a mysterious past. A conjoined twin’s disappearance leads a London journalist to a mystery reaching back to the turn of the last century in this “hefty suspense thriller” ( Publishers Weekly, starred review).
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