Tallulah Thursday

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 ***** Review on Amazon

For what exactly is the nature of this love that everyone searches for”, 12 Nov. 2015
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This review is from: Tallulah Thursday (Kindle Edition)

Part historical thriller, part psychological insight into the mechanism of love and relationships this is an excellent read.

With flourish, confidence and poetic style often exquisite, Victoria Mosley conjures up elaborate psychological profiles and complex situations. As in Shakespeare, her romantic leads are doomed, battling against Fate…Sex, love and money the weapons in their struggle.

Egyptian Queens & Chelsea playboys, Moses obeying blindly his God, all face the tragedy of the human condition, Love being the only ultimate & possible salvation.



Egypt is in political  turmoil now, but three thousand years ago in the court of Pharaoh Akhenaten and his beautiful Queen Nefertiti, Ptahmose the High Priest known to the Biblical world as Moses is about to change the course of history forever.  In Twenty First Century London the  mysterious Tallulah Thursday has always felt  that she just doesn’t belong, in the society that she was born into . Who is the mysterious lover that she begins to dream of and how does she unravel the enigma of the lost Queen Nefertiti the most beautiful woman the world has ever known.

Tallulah Thursday is a love story but it is also the  Odyssey and personal quest of one very modern woman searching for a meaning to her life in the fallen debris of a past civilisation where nothing is ever exactly as it seems. In the Ancient world  the darkness and chaos of the ”before time”  was kept at bay by ritual and prayer  to the old Gods, but the old Gods have been put aside and Tallulah’s journey takes her into the vortex of the past for which there are no maps and no assurance of returning intact.


Chapter 3


He first saw her on a Thursday, yes it was a Thursday a week ago, although the week seems like a lifetime now, he can’t imagine ever having not known her. When he is actually at last sitting opposite her sipping his espresso and she tells him her name is Tallulah, he laughs and calls her Tallulah Thursday. She bows her head in acquiescence, smiling, happy that he has begun to think of her as his own property. What is in a name?  What is in this name? It is only her ‘ren’: her original secret name that is important to her, all the other names she has taken or given herself have come and gone like the waves on the seashore . She has felt them as the sea foam on a storm swept day, as a bird migrating across the desert, as a drop of moisture in a cloud floating southwards. But always returning and returning to the one place that she knows as home .She has had so many of these words applied to her over the years, so many efforts to pinpoint her in matter, to earth her here incarnate in human form,  to prevent her wings from singing as they pulse open and soar into the night sky. Yes each one seems to describe a different fragment of her character and a separate piece of the textured layers of stained glass that constitute her soul nature. So she smiles and fixes her great black eyes on him and continues her story without a pause.

She is explaining something but not too much, about herself to him with that soft slow pulsing voice of hers, a voice that seems to come from the very cavern of his dreams, a voice that he has always known and never discovered until now. His knees are weak and he feels the hardness of desire throbbing between his legs, he wants to grab her now and carry her away with him to a beach or a hotel on the edge of the world where no one can disturb them. But she is telling him that she is a dealer in Art and Antiquities that is how she makes her money, finding treasures that other people seek, and sometimes treasures that she herself likes to keep. Her work carries her all over the world and she gets to meet with Princes and crooks, a dark and seedy underworld of collectors that she floats through like a mysterious angel. Everyone in the ‘business’ knows where her shop is on the crest of the bridge in the Kings Road. It’s window usually displaying one single piece of excellence that might cost a King’s fortune.

Jean Jacques isn’t really listening at all although snippets of what she is saying seep through to him as if from a very long distance away he is totally engrossed in watching the sweep of her hands with their elegant painted nails. Wondering about the huge diamond ring on her finger about who gave it to her what did it mean if anything? He tries to touch the narrow gold bracelet encircling her wrist, the gold of a colour and texture that he has never seen before, but she moves her hand quickly out of his reach and for a moment the smile freezes on her lips and he feels like he has been given an unspoken warning .


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