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122 pages

English

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Phoebe's life with her granddaughter Kate is turned upside down when she begins to write a book about Thomas A. Beckett. She starts to see strange parallels between her life and that of the saint, as does Kate. The two women become embroiled in historical figures and images from the past.

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Historical fiction

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Publié par	eBookPartnership.com
Date de parution	17 avril 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781908886644
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0124€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Another Life, Another Love
Eileen Stafford
An enthralling novel of intertwining lives, by a very popular storyteller .
Phoebe Kimberley is a respected and successful biographer whose comfortable life with her orphaned granddaughter, Kate, is abruptly turned upside down when she is commissioned to write a new book about Thomas a Becket.
From the first Phoebe perceives strange parallels between her own life, and that of the twelfth-century saint. Kate, too, fresh from school and about to embark on adult life, is intrigued by the story of Thomas and a long-buried romance, and compares it to her own hopeless infatuation with a young man destined for the monastic life.
As the two women become increasingly involved with these historical figures, their dreams are haunted by images from the distant, but strangely seductive past
Acknowledgements
I have received help and advice from many sources during the writing of this book. Thank you first to Dorothy, my agent, for her patience, and to all my friends in the writing group who have listened, criticised and praised, probably in equal parts. I should also like to thank the staff of Canterbury Cathedral for their advice, and the ladies who answered my frequent telephone calls to Pevensey Castle. I must also mention the gentleman who sent me emails describing the delights of hawking, and the priest who gave me insights into training for the priesthood.
Lastly, and perhaps most important of all, I should like to record my gratitude to my late husband for his encouragement, and for the positive faith in this book which he always maintained during the long months of his illness.
By the Same Author
BOUNDARIES - Alix Atkinson / Eileen Stafford 1990
BOUQUET OF BRIARS - Eileen Stafford 1992
RAINBOW IN THE MORNING - Eileen Stafford 1993
DANGEROUS DREAMS - Eileen Stafford 1994
DARK SECRETS - Eileen Stafford 1995
WHIRLWIND - Eileen Stafford 1997
A TIME TO DANCE - Eileen Stafford 2008
That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been Ecclesiastes 3:15
Voices under sleep, waking a dead world Murder in the Cathedral T.S. Eliot
One
Kate Kimberley shouldered her rucksack, tucked her mobile away in an inside pocket and fixed her headphones firmly to her head. She swung out of the school gates for the last time. Life, here I come, she said to no one in particular as the pulsating beat of the latest single reverberated through her brain.
Her friend caught her up. Doing anything special in the hols? she mouthed.
Kate shook her head. Just Devon as usual. Dartmoor, the wilds.
Poor you. We re going to Greece.
Too hot for Phoebe. Kate pulled the headphones down around her neck. Have a great time. Text me.
OK. Don t want to make you jealous though.
You won t. I like Devon. See you!
The two girls parted and Kate replaced her headphones. The throb of the music competed with the racket of the London street. She bounced along the pavement in time with the pounding beat in her head, and she grinned to herself and thought of Dominic, although why this particular piece should remind her of Dommy she couldn t think. He would absolutely hate it. Phoebe wasn t very partial to rock music either. That was what came of living with your grandmother, Kate thought. But it was something you got used to. Kate had never known anything else so it wasn t a big deal either way. From what she d heard, parents were often much more of a problem. Phee was young for her age, pretty cool really considering all she d gone through. Kate often marvelled at her grandmother s energy levels. Throughout all the traumas of bringing her up, with no help at all, she d written the books that fed and clothed the two of them. She had cooked and cleaned and generally coped with the hassle of being a single mum while she was of course no such thing.
Kate sang a few words aloud as she swung along the road. Must make the most of the short journey home, for as soon as she reached the flat she d be bombarded by Radio Three. Phee would have it blaring out from the kitchen. Of course, Dommy preferred Radio Three too. No surprise there. Weeks ago Kate had decided that she must mug up on some classical stuff, and even Gregorian chant, for goodness sake. Dominic professed himself a great devotee of this weird gloomy music. As he was intent on becoming a priest, perhaps that was understandable. Kate frowned. She hated to think of her cheerful, handsome Dommy entering the Church. It was one of the problems she preferred to ignore at the moment. Dominic sometimes brought her complete delight and at other times total despair. Her mood changed suddenly in sympathy with her thoughts, elation giving way to melancholy, a blanket of gloom that no amount of mind-bending music could do anything to lift.
While Kate was enduring her last day at school, Phoebe was sitting on the edge of her chair in the office of Dudley Pascoe, her literary agent. She listened in disbelief and horror as he outlined his suggestion for her next book.
I have a major coup for you, Phoebe, he said. Thomas Becket.
You re not serious?
Dudley gave her a pained look. A biography has been commissioned. It s yours. I know you can do it.
A twelfth-century saint isn t quite my line of country, she said weakly when he had finished outlining his plans for her next masterpiece. Can t you find me someone more amusing, more attractive, and preferably alive?
Dudley stretched his long legs beneath his desk and regarded her with some amusement. My dear girl, he was one of the most handsome and charismatic men you could hope to meet.
But I shall not be able to meet him, shall I, Dudley! He has been dead for centuries. I have no wish to write a biography of someone who is dead. People are usually more fun when they are alive. She stared at him in dismay. Her previous clients had mostly been media or sporting personalities, and usually pleasant and agreeable. This latest one was something quite different, a subject right out of her experience, and for that matter, her interest.
You will manage it brilliantly, Phoebe dear. Dudley s voice and manner were totally confident. He refilled her glass and his own with the champagne he had ordered especially for this afternoon. He had obviously expected some resistance to his idea. Here s to your certain success, he said. To Phoebe Kimberley, prospective author of a brilliant new biography of Thomas Becket, chancellor of England, Archbishop of Canterbury and saint. This book will hit the headlines and you will become famous. He held his glass aloft and then drank copiously.
Phoebe ignored his optimism. Why, at this particular time, do you want me to write a biography of a long-dead saint?
Firstly, he replied, the commission is from an eminent publisher. That should be a good enough reason, but secondly there is renewed interest in all things religious and super-natural. There seems to be a general feeling going around that life is much more than just the physical and earthy. And thirdly, with so many uncertainties in life these days there s a nostalgic yearning for some golden age, a turning back to the past. Haven t you noticed the media concentration on history? Perhaps we want to know if our ancestors did it better than we did.
Phoebe laughed. You sound very serious, Dudley. Not your usual line at all. And why choose me? You have other, more capable, authors.
Dudley shook his head. None better than you, my dear. Believe me. Your other biographies have been brilliant.
Thanks. I m flattered, and I very much hope that you re right about the success of this new one. That is, if I agree to do it. I can t begin to imagine what my granddaughter will say.
The charming Kate will be intrigued and delighted. I think you told me that she hopes to be a historian or an archaeologist. What could be more fitting?
Phoebe greatly doubted Kate s enthusiasm for this latest project. She was hoping my next character would be some hunky celebrity, she said dryly.
1130
Gilbert Becket is very proud of his stout manor house in Cheapside. Unlike most London homes it is made of stone rather than wood. There are rushes and herbs strewn on the floor and the smell of smoke hangs in the air, combined with the odour of animals and crushed mint and rosemary. It is a big house, a well-to-do merchant s house with a great courtyard, a spacious hall on the ground floor and steps leading to the solar above .
On this winter day in the reign of good King Henry, son of William the Conqueror and nicknamed the Lion of Justice, England is peaceful, and for many men, Gilbert amongst them, there is prosperity. Thomas, Gilbert s son and heir, is with his mother. He has just come home from Merton for the school holidays. He is full of excitement. My father has promised that I may go the horse fair tomorrow, he tells her. I am to have a mount of my own.
Roesa smiles at him indulgently. He is her only son, her favourite child. She remembers the words given to her when she was at prayer. This child shall be great in the eyes of God. She is filled with pride and with fear too, a blackness of mind that sometimes clouds her thoughts. At those times she turns to Mary, her eldest daughter, for comfort .
Mary is a quiet child, fourteen years old and determined to become a nun, and so make her parents proud. She studies Latin with Catherine, their neighbour s daughter .
Catherine! When Roesa thinks about Catherine the blackness deepens. Catherine is a shining star, a bright and beautiful child, and Roesa knows that even at ten years old she possesses that bewitching quality that could be the downfall of her cherished and brilliant son. Already they are close friends, as much as any boy and girl could be, and if Thomas is to be a great scholar and have a brilliant career in the Church, as the visions tell her, then no such entanglements must be allowed. Roesa dreams of Catherine often, and the beautiful, agreeable child is transfor