One Night, Two Lives , livre ebook

Troubador Publishing Ltd - Victoria Roberts Ann

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

126 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

Suzie, a widow with two grown-up daughters, has made a success of her life - until, at a public event, she is faced by the man she last saw as a teenager, forty years ago. James, once a history student, is now an Anglican priest in Oxford, battling his own demons and trying to mend the sins of the past. When he says he wants to find the child Suzie gave up for adoption in the 1960s, her shock turns to fury. After what he did - and after such abetrayal - how dare he even ask? Determined to spell things out for James, Suzie has questions of her own. The answers change herperspective, but if she agrees to search for her adopted son, she must face her own guilt as well as fears that her son may, in turn, reject her.Over the succeeding months, she and James grow closer. The old attraction isn't dead, and while desire battles with resentment on Suzie's part,James is struggling with principle and belief.From rural Yorkshire to the tragic world of mother-and-baby homes, the past takes Suzie to the bright lights of London, life with her artist husband,and back to recent times in York. But only when she's faced with death in the high Pennines, can she begin to heal; and only when James haslaid the past to rest, can he begin to forgive himself.

Informations

Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	13 juin 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781838599690
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Also by Ann Victoria Roberts

Louisa Elliott
Liam’s Story
Dagger Lane
Moon Rising
The Master’s Tale

Copyright © 2019 Ann Victoria Roberts

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

Matador
9 Priory Business Park,
Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,
Leicestershire. LE8 0RX
Tel: 0116 279 2299
Email: books@troubador.co.uk
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
Twitter: @matadorbooks

ISBN 978 1838599 690

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
To the women who provided the inspiration.
Contents
Author’s Note
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
The subject of unplanned motherhood and its effects is one I explored in my first novel, set in 1890s York. Louisa Elliott was inspired by an intriguing family history, in which two generations of independent and remarkable women became mothers without the protection of marriage.
In recent times, the TV series, Long Lost Family – in which people separated by adoption try to make contact with their birth families – set me thinking about modern times. After watching a couple of episodes, I wanted to know more. What was it like for single mothers, pre-Women’s Lib, who were coerced into giving up their children?
Nowadays, it seems incredible that the subject of sex without marriage was once talked about in whispers, and to be pregnant and unmarried was regarded as shameful. But in Great Britain, before 1967, single women did not have access to the contraceptive pill, and abortion was illegal. Thanks to pressure from women’s groups, the law was changed, both became available, and society’s attitudes gradually began to soften.
Another change in the law occurred in 2005, allowing birth mothers to search for their adopted children. In One Night, Two Lives , these proposed changes prompt James Fielding to contact his former girlfriend, Suzie Wallis.
Suzie and James, like all the characters in this book, are entirely fictional, although what happened to them was harsh reality for untold thousands of people. I was assisted in my research by stories from friends, but most particularly by accounts recorded by Rose Bell for her MA in Public History in 2013, and published online.
http://www.motherandbabyhomes.com/
While writing this book, various sexual abuse scandals have come to light, but one story, published by Scribe in 2017, was significant. South of Forgiveness , by Thordis Elva and Tom Stranger, is a real-life confession by both parties, concerning rape and its aftermath. Their story reinforced my belief that no man escapes his actions entirely.

2004
One
At a turn in the road, they crested the rise. Below, in all its Victorian vanity, the town of Iredale was there before them, hugging the valley to either side.
Approaching the venue, one of several hotels overlooking the town, Suzie felt a stab of apprehension. Even at midday, it looked like an advert for Hammer House of Horror. Somehow familiar as they drove up the hill, but how could it not be? She must have seen it dozens of times. But then they were turning again, into a drive flanked by formal gardens, following the signs for the car park.
As her friend locked the car, for a second the two women gazed at each other before breaking into nervous giggles. Suddenly, it was like being kids again, about to embark on a new adventure.
‘You look lovely,’ Cathy said, giving her a hug. ‘Get in there and knock ‘em dead!’
Doors open, a mass of people in the foyer, and thankfully no creepy manservant in sight. Instead, a sharp-suited lad – looked about twelve – took Suzie’s name and directed them towards a stand where her books were on display. The poster, with its golden Spanish landscape – To the Ends of the Earth, by Suzie Wallis – looked good. Until she spotted the addition, bottom left. Oh no, not that photo: Judy Dench crop, a tan that showed every wrinkle, and an inadvisable grin. Taken by those lovely people she’d met at – where was it? Some sun-kissed village along the Camino. By then she’d quite forgotten that missing eye-tooth, the crown lost to a crusty bread-roll on Day 3 of her walk. Could have been worse, though – could have been centre front.
Daughters Jo and Sara had laughed, of course, while the publishers beamed and said it was real, a perfect illustration of what one had to endure whilst away from civilisation.
Losing a crown? It was nothing compared to what she had endured during those weeks on the road.
The publisher’s rep greeted her, and that nice girl from Waterstones, both of them keen to remind Suzie of the other photo on the back cover – the one with groomed hair, make-up, and every tooth in situ.
A few minutes later they were moving on, along to the ‘green room’, where the other authors were gathering for Iredale’s annual Literary Lunch. One was a well-known novelist with half a dozen books to her credit; another, an aging guitarist, solitary survivor of a punk-rock group from the 1970s. Making a beeline for the two older women, he introduced himself as Mick, and – in contrast to his gaunt features and spiked black hair – turned out to be surprisingly kind and witty. Laughing with Cathy, Suzie forgot her nerves. The novelist, she thought, looked like a teacher viewing an unruly class.
They were waiting for a biographer from Oxford. She arrived at last, with her famous actor husband, full of apology for having been held up on the motorway. Suzie wondered aloud how she fitted in, and why they’d each been chosen.
The guitarist leaned towards her. ‘Well, lass, we’re all from God’s Own Country.’ But as the other two women gravitated towards each other, he gave Suzie a wry grin. ‘Not that you’d know it…’
Escorted along a carpeted corridor, Suzie caught her breath as they reached a vast room packed with tables. By her side, Cathy gasped as a wave of applause greeted them. They mounted the steps to take their places at a long table on the stage.
She’d imagined she wouldn’t eat a thing, but with the chief organizer to her left, and the guitarist and Cathy to her right, conversation distracted her from nerves. It wasn’t until the novelist stood up to speak that Suzie began to look around. And that was when her mind focused on the place itself. In the last few weeks, so much had been happening – trips to London to the publishers, followed by local TV and newspaper interviews – she hadn’t had chance to think about today. Other than preparing a speech, of course.
The hotel’s name, for instance, and its oddly familiar aspect. The last time she’d frequented this part of Iredale was during her student days, over forty years ago. Then, she and her art-school friends had longed for cutting-edge design or even something genuinely decrepit to inspire them. To their eyes, the Victorian spa town, with its mock-Gothic hotels and manicured gardens, was simply too boring for words, never mind for what passed as art.
Applause and another introduction, another speech. Half-listening, Suzie studied the room, trying to imagine it at night, without the chairs and tables. Could this be the hotel where they held the Arts Ball that year – and this the ballroom where the jazz band was playing?
More applause. Oh, ye gods, it was her turn to speak .
Swallowing hard, Suzie grabbed her notes, found a smile and rose to her feet. She got through it, although a mention of why she’d started walking – in the wake of her husband Freddie’s death – sounded alarmingly wobbly to her own ears. Even her tale of walking the pilgrim route to Santiago – with mountain climbs, mud-slides, crowded hostels and terrifying farmyard dogs – seemed but a pale reflection of reality. Speaking of kindness – and there was much kindness and humour along the road – she gathered confidence at last. Even made the audience laugh, describing Santiago’s golden angels as something out of Hollywood: supersized Marilyn Monroe lookalikes without the boobs.
She closed by saying the most gratifying part of the walk was reaching the Ends of the Earth – Cape Finisterre – where, like a medieval pilgrim, she’d cast off her clothes and plunged naked into the Atlantic’s rolling breakers. An ending which prompted hearty applause, not least from the ex-rocker.
‘That was cool,’ he said, which made her laugh.
‘Certainly was!’
Weak with relief, Suzie relaxed to listen to the star of the show. At first she thought he was going to be terrible, shuffling his notes and clearing his throat. But it was