The Letter 1 page

"Come in, Mandy, my love." Gordon led me into the living room. A cocker spaniel bound over and jumped up at me as if greeting an old friend. I gave it a pat.

"Get down, boy." Gordon gently pushed the dog away. "I hope you don't mind coming to pick me up. I've told my sister this is the last time she dumps Pip on me while she takes her brood on a bucket and spade holiday." But the fondness in his voice and twinkle in his eye belied his words.

I glanced round the room. There were photographs and silver trophies everywhere and books and papers scattered all over the place.

"Sorry about the mess." Gordon hastily gathered up the books and papers from the chairs and dropped them in a corner. "My brother's camping here whilst he sorts out a messy divorce. He's up north on business for a few days at the moment, thank goodness."

As Gordon poured us a drink I wandered over to the window and looked down onto one of those fashionable London garden squares, with cherry blossom trees in full bloom. People sat or strolled about in the warm evening air and children cycled and chased each other with the energy of the young.

"You have a lovely flat," I said as Gordon handed me a drink. We looked at the scene below and turned and looked at each other. He bent his dark head and kissed me. Our first kiss. I closed my eyes and kissed him back. In a flash I could see us getting engaged, the wedding, the country cottage with the white wicket gate and two children, one of each of course.

I drew back and took a sip of gin and tonic,

"You're a very pretty girl, Mandy." Gordon's voice was low and sexy. "As soon as I saw you at the club I wanted to get to know you."

"Did you?" I tried to keep the thrill out of my voice.

"Look, I'm starving," he said. "Give me a couple of minutes to change. Pip and I have only just got back from the office. If you don't mind, I'll take my drink with me."

Whilst Gordon changed I took a closer look at the silver trophies. They were all engraved with the names Jeffrey and Gordon Kirby and were for doubles winning tennis tournaments. The photographs were of Gordon and another man smiling broadly being presented with a trophy.

"I see you've noticed the old snapshot," said Gordon, reappearing,

"I didn't realize you were such a good player," I replied. "Is that your brother?"

"Yes. That picture's well over ten years old. We don't play like that now. We don't look like that now. Now our hair's thinner and our middles are thicker." He laughed at his own joke, which endeared me to him even more.

Gordon slipped his arm round my waist and kissed me. "I've booked a table at the Chinese restaurant round the corner for dinner. I know it's not the most romantic of places but Pip doesn't like being left on his own for long. You do like Chinese, don't you?"

"I love it." I didn't care where we ate. Dinner at a hot-dog stand with Gordon would have won hands-down over dinner at the Ritz with anyone else.

"Won't be a jiffy," said Gordon. "Now, where did I leave my brief-case?" Snatching it up from behind a chair he darted back to the bedroom.

A silver cup standing proudly in the middle of a table in the corner of the room caught my attention. As I bent to take a closer look at the inscription my glance was drawn to 'a pink envelope and matching sheet of paper carelessly flung on top of a heap of post. 'Mr. G. Kirby' and the address were written in large flowery letters on the envelope.

My eyes darted to the letter. Although it was upside down, by turning my head almost off my shoulders, I could just about read it. 'My darling,' it began. With alarm bells ringing I skimmed down the letter without reading it, in search of the signature. I soon found what I was looking for. It was signed’ Fiona'. Fiona. I'd never liked the name. It conjured up a latter day Sloane Ranger, yuppie type, with wall to wall silk scarves.

In a blur of jealousy, hatred and shock, and without a shred of guilt, I started reading the letter.

'My darling, I'm writing this at 2 a.m. You have just left and I want you to know what this weekend has meant to me. You tell me you love me…’

I dragged my eyes off the page and back to the envelope. It was postmarked the 4th. That was Monday. That was yesterday!

"Mandy! I'll be two seconds," Gordon called.

I leapt back from the table in fright and sat down heavily on the sofa. Pip jumped off the armchair where he'd been snoozing and padded over to me, wagging his tail. Sympathetically he rested his head on my lap and gazed up at me. We looked at each other mournfully. ;

"Oh, Pip," I sighed, stroking the top of his silky head.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," said Gordon returning. I tried to compose my features, to erase the shock on my face. He looked good in his navy blazer with brass buttons and beige slacks. Even more so, now I knew he belonged to somebody else.

"Come on Pip, your supper's in the kitchen." Gordon held the living room door open and Pip trotted off to dine.

Gordon came up to me, a smile on his face. I stiffened. I was now seeing him in a new light. His eyebrows shot up quizzically.

"I am rather hungry," I said curtly as I turned away and made for the door.

The Chinese restaurant was packed. Gordon oozed charm everywhere, calling the waiters by their first name and exchanging greetings with one or two of the other diners.

I hadn't known Gordon long. Heather, a friend, had dragged me along to her tennis club one evening after work last week. Our game over, we flopped down in the club room for a lemonade and Gordon sauntered over and said hello to Heather. She introduced us. I liked the way he laughed easily and his relaxed manner. I suppose it was love at first sight. For me at any rate. He asked me out for tonight, so here 1 was.

I now looked at Gordon across the table. He was expertly picking up the food with his chopsticks while I was struggling with mine.

I had lost my appetite anyway. It hadn't occurred to me there was anyone in his life. Why this hadn't occurred to me I don't know. All I knew from Heather was that he was a solicitor, divorced and had one child who lived with his ex-wife and her new husband.

"Look, you do it like this." Gordon leaned across the table and put his fingers round mine.

"I think I'll use a knife and fork, if you don't mind," I muttered.

"Is anything the matter, Mandy?" His intent look made me blush. "If I've done or said anything to upset you, please let me know."

I looked at his kind, gentle face and resisted the impulse to tell him I'd seen the letter, to ask who Fiona was. Anyway, I could hardly own up to snooping. How could I confess that I'd scrutinised his mail, and a love letter at that?

"I'm sorry Gordon. I'm afraid I'm not very good company tonight. I've had a frantically busy day. Advertising agencies aren't the quietest places in the world to work in. The only slogan I could come up with was, 'Fudge O'Pudding will seal a meal'. Not very original is it?"

"Let's have coffee back at my place," suggested Gordon, "it'll help you unwind."

I gave this invitation careful consideration. Well, why not? I'd left my car parked outside his block. And it would be the last time I'd see him. If he wanted to juggle two balls in the air at once, well that was his business. But I couldn't possibly be one of those balls.

I gave a pathetic little nod. "Coffee at the flat would be lovely."

Pip gave Gordon an ecstatic welcome home.

I’m going to have to take him for a quick walk round the block," said Gordon. "Would you like to come?"

I shook my head.

"Help yourself to coffee; it's in the percolator in the kitchen."

As soon as they’d gone out I shot over to the letter and snatched it up.

'My darling, I'm writing this at 2 a.m. You have just left and I want you to know what this weekend has meant to me. You tell me you love me. But did I tell, you, Geoffrey how much I love you?'

Geoffrey? Jeffrey! Oh thank heaven! What joy! What bliss! The letter wasn't for Gordon at all. It was for his brother, Jeffrey, and Fiona couldn't have known which way he spelt his name. Of course, as the envelope was addressed to Mr. G. Kirby, Gordon must have thought it was for him and opened it. I've always liked the name Fiona - such a pretty name.

On hearing the key in the front door I flew into the hall and flung my arms round Gordon's neck and kissed him. He held me at arm's length, a look of astonishment on his face.

"You're a funny girl, Mandy," he whispered as he pulled me close.

"Weil," I replied, melting into his arms, "you said the coffee would help me unwind."

( Sandra Golding is identified as the author of this Work)

Assignments :

Ex. I. Answer the questions :

1. What did Mandy see when Gordon led her into the living room ?

2. Why was Jeffrey camping in Gordon’s flat ?

3. How did London garden squares look like that time?

4. What did Mandy dream about during their first kiss?

5. What thing in the middle of the table caught her attention ?

6. How did Mandy feel herself while reading the letter?

7. What would you have done that moment if you were in her place?

8. What did Gordon wear?

9. Why was Mandy upset in the packed Chinese restaurant?

10. Why did Mandy fling her arms round Gordon’s neck and kiss him?

Ex. II. Match the word combinations:

1. give smb./smth. a pat a) drink very slowly

2. fondness in his voice b) brightness in his eyes

3. twinkle in his eyes c) sudden jump

4. in a flash d) touch smb./smth. gently

5. take a sip e) reminded the last day

6. skim the letter f) say rather rude

7. conjured up a latter day g) pull smth. with force

8. drag smth. off h) love in his voice

9. leap back j) in a very short time

10. say curtly k) read quickly

Ex.III. Find equivalents to the following word combinations in the text:

1. don’t give it a second thought

2. look rapidly around

3. popular with the people

4. sudden quick movement of

5. went out very quickly

6. be crowded

7. entered the place for serving

8. like the manner or method

9. choose what to eat

10.close examination of the post

Ex.IV. Give the counterparts for the pieces from the text :

1. scattered all over the place

2. he sorts out a messy divorce

3. in full bloom

4. cycled and chased each other

5. he bent his dark head

6. at a hot-dog stand

7. flung on a top of a heap of post

8. love at first sight

9. a frantically busy day

Ex. V. You have several words in the text that show to the “ movement”,

find and comment them .

Ex. VI. Choose the word that is different.

1. love - adore - dislike - like

2. lead - conduct - escort - leader

3. hope - enjoy - suggest - finish

4. below - down - lower - lesser

5. getting engaged – all engraved – being presented – which endeared

6. caught - bent - drawn - conjured

7. ringing - turning - looking - meaning

8. compose - build - construct - upset

9. curtly - sharply - shortly - healthy

Ex. VII. Put the sentences in the right order.

a) I flew into the hall and flung my arms round Gordon’s neck and kissed him.

b) My eyes darted to the letter.

c) I dragged my eyes off the page and back to the envelope. It was postmarked the 4^th. That was yesterday!

d) Gordon leaned across the table and put his fingers round mine.

e) He held me at arm’s length, a look of astonishment on his face.

f) Gordon slipped his arm round my waist and kissed me.

g) As I bent to take a closer look at the inscription my glance was drawn to a

pink envelope and a matching sheet of paper carelessly flung on the top of a heap

of post.

h) “ Mr. G. Kirby” and his address were written in large flowery letters on

the envelope.

j) I suppose it was love at first sight.

k) “ You tell me you live me”.

Ex. VIII. Open the brackets and use Gerund or Participles.

1. In a flash I could see us _____ ( get engage).

2. Trophies were for _____ (win) doubles tennis tournaments.

3. “ I see you’ve noticed the old snapshot,” said Goedon, _____( reappear).

4. I know it’s not the most romantic of places but Pip doesn’t like _____ (be)

left on his own for long.

5. A silver cup _____ (stand) proudly in the middle of a table in the corner of the

room caught my attention.

6. My glance was drawn to a pink envelope and _____ ( match) sheet of paper

carelessly flung on top of a heap post.

7. With alarm bells _____ ( ring) I skimmed down the letter without _____ ( read)

it, in search of the signature.

8. I liked the way he laughed easily and his _____ ( relax) manner.

9. All I knew was that he was a solicitor, _____ ( divorce) and had one child who

lived with his ex-wife and her new husband.

10. I _____ ( not know) Gordon long.

Anne Boleyn

Where was that boy?

I caught sight of my thirteen-year-old son disappearing into Queen’s House, the L-shaped timber-framed building overlooking the small lawn known as Tower Green at the Tower of London.

Dodging round other sightseers I headed after him. In the first room I came to I found my son busy taping the walls.

“Kevin! What on earth are you doing! You know this building is out of bounds to visitors. It’s half-past-four, and I told you I wanted to miss the rush hour. Now, come on!”

“Half a sec, Mum. I read somewhere about hidden doors. You just have to tap until..”

To our astonishment a wooden panel, the size of a small door, sprung open. On the other side of the panel we could see a short tunnel.

“Look there’s a light down there! Do you see it?” cried Kevin.

As if mesmerized, I followed him down the tunnel until we found ourselves stepping into the open air.

We were back in the grounds of the Tower of London, outside Queen’s House. But this was a very different Tower Of London to the one we had been visiting.

There wasn’t a soul about. We looked at each other in horror. Calming down I gazed round. With sheer relief I saw someone sitting on a wooden bench on Tower Green. “ Come on, Kev.”

Hand in hand we hurried over.

The woman was sitting with her back to us. As we approached we could hear her sobs. Unusually for my son, he hung back. Standing before her, tentatively I put out a hand and gently touched her shoulder. But the woman didn’t seem to notice.

I caught the words, “my daughter, my darling little girl.”

My grip tightened and, slowly, she raised a tear-stained face to me. She was probably in her twenties. It was then I noticed her clothes. Startled, I stepped back. Was she in fancy dress? She looked so strange.

On her head was a black brimless hood, trimmed with pearls. Her hair, which she wore coiled up under the hood, was shining black with a centre parting. A mark on her neck caught my attention. On closer inspection I could see it was a black mole, the size of a small strawberry. Around her neck hung a gold chain.

She was wearing a black dress in what I judged to be damask silk. The bodice was tight-fitting around her slim to show an undergown of contrasting fabric, reached the ground. The square-cut neckline was edged with pearls and the long sleeves were tight-fitting.

Her eyes widened in surprise as we stared at each other.

“Who are you?” I asked rudely. It was then that I realized what her reply would be.

“I am Queen Anne Boleyn.” Slowly she looked me up and down. “And who, pray, are you?”

“Suzy Evans. And this,” I said, pushing a reluctant Kevin forward, “is my son, Kevin. Kevin, this is Queen Anne Boleyn.”

When he burst out laughing I fixed him with one of my sharpest looks. Really,what could Anne Boleyn have thought of the two of us?

“Don’t you see Kev, everything looks different,” I said. “Where are those awful modern office blocks we saw this morning? They were over there, outside the Tower. You remember how we said they spoiled the skyline? And what about the Tower itself? You know it was built by William the Conqueror in 1066?”

Kevin nodded slowly.

“Well,” I went on, “each successive monarch has had something new built in the grounds. But the most modern building here is the house we’ve just come out of – Queen’s House – and that was built in Tudor times. The Tudors ruled England from 1485 to 1603.”

There was something else! What on earth was it? Yes, of course! But I had to be sure. “Come on.”

Clutching Kevin’s arm, I rushed him to the wall of the White Tower where there was a clearer view of the River Thames.

“See anything?” I asked.

He stared at the river, then back at me. “No.”

“That’s it, Kev. Nothing’s there. But shouldn’t there be something? Think!”

“Tower Bridge!” he gasped. “Tower Bridge has vanished!” He gripped my hand. “Oh Mum. What does it mean?”

“It means,” I said, “that she really is Anne Boleyn.”

We headed back to Anne. “Your Majesty,” I began, “what is the date today?”

She gazed at me sadly, her large eyes filled with tears. “Today is the 18th of May 1536.”

“You see,” I said, turning to my son, “Tower Bridge wasn’t built until the reign of Queen Victoria. She didn’t come to the throne until 1837.”

Kevin groaned and flung himself down on the grass.

Dropping down beside him, I reached for his hand. “Don’t worry, darling. Think of it as a big adventure, something to tell your friends at school. When we came to the Tower this morning it was the 18th of May 1992. Now we’ve gone back 456 years in time. We’re in a time warp,” I added cheerfully.

By this time Anne Boleyn had joined us, lowering herself gracefully onto the grass. She was listening attentively. “Witchcraft,” she remarked. “Witchcraft has brought you back in time.”

Kevin sat up at this. “There’s no such thing!” he said hotly. I was glad to see he was back to his old self.

“Nay lad, do not mock,” said Anne. “Women are burnt at the stake for being witches.” Her gaze fell on our clothes. “You’re dressed in the strangest breeches and shoes.” She looked even closer at me. “And Suzy, why are wearing the clothes of a boy?”

“The breeches are called trousers,” I explained, “and the shoes, trainers. It’s nothing unusual for male and female to dress alike.”

Kevin looked at Anne Boleyn. “Why are you here?”

“Kevin!” I shot him one of my “don’t ask awkward questions” looks.

The Queen smiled. “I am a prisoner but I’m allowed to come out here into the grounds of the Tower. I am held yonder in the Lieutenant’s House.” She pointed to Queen’s House, the building from which Kevin and I had emerged, which Henry VIII had recently had built.

It was called the Lieutenant’s House until Queen Victoria’s reign when it was renamed Queen’s House, changing to King’s House whenever there’s a king on the throne. Guy Fawkes was interrogated there in 1605 after the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot to blow up The Houses of Parliament.

Anne Boleyn had the dubious honor of being the house’s first prisoner.

“Tomorrow,” Anne was saying, “I’m to be executed. See?” she pointed behind us, “there is the scaffold.”

A chill shot through me as I looked at it. I hadn’t noticed the scaffold, but now remembered on our arrival at the Tower seeing the plaque engraved with the names of those who had been executed on that very site.

Kevin gulped. “They won’t give us the chop, if they catch us here, will they?”

After realizing what he meant by this elegant phrase, Anne shook her head.

“The King, my husband, would not do that.”

“Which king is that?” asked Kevin.

“King Henry VIII.”

Kevin’s eyes lit up. “I know all about King Henry VIII, your Majesty,” he boasted. “He had six wives: three Catherines, two Annes and a Jane.” Then, ignoring my black look, he raced on, “and I know what happened to them all: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.”

“Your Majesty, Kevin does exaggerate at times,”

“Mum, you know it’s true,” said Kevin indignantly. “I’ve got it from you.”

“Your Majesty…” I began.

“Please, both of you, call me Anne.”

She really was the most delightful person. And so brave, what with all that angst. “Well, Anne,” I mumbled, “I just wanted to apologize for my outspoken son. I want to spare you hearing the truth.”

She laid her hand on my arm. “Don't fret. Six wives? Well, I am the second.” She looked at us. “Shall I tell you how I come to be awaiting my execution? Now where shall I begin?”

Anne folded her delicate hands in her lap and Kevin and I listened enthralled as she began to tell us about a Welshman called him Owain ap Meridith ap Tewdr. As the English couldn't pronounce this, they called him Owen Tudor. Owen Tudor married Catherine of France, the widow of King Henry V of England.

Owen and Catherine Tudor's son, Edmond, married Margaret Beaufort whose great, great, grandfather had been King Edward II of England.

“Edmond and Margaret Tudor had a son – Henry Tudor – who was born in 1457 in Pembroke, in Wales,” said Anne. “He was to become the father of Henry VIII.”

It appeared that in 1485, when he was twenty-eight, Henry Tudor was involved in a battle at Bosworth Field in Leicestershire with the then King, Richard III. Richard was killed, his crown landing up in the bushes. The upshot of it was, someone then came along, retrieved it, and stuck it on Henry's head.

Apparently he claimed the throne of England through the line going back to King Edward II and was crowned King Henry VII at Westminster Abbey.

“So,” said Anne, “Henry VII was the first of the Tudors.” She thought for a moment. “He ruled for twenty-four years and died on the 21st of April 1509 when he was fifty-two and was buried at Westminster Abbey. He had four children, two boys and two girls, but the eldest, his heir Prince Arthur, died before he did. Therefore, on the death of Henry VII, the second son, Prince Henry, became King Henry VIII – the second of the Tudors – he was seventeen years old.”

Anne went on to tell us something about Henry VIII's background. That he was born across the Thames at Greenwich Palace on the 28th of June 1491. That he'd had a fine education and could speak several languages. He was a keen sportsman and was slim and athletic looking. I didn't have the heart to say that, judging by portraits painted in his later years, a week at a health farm wouldn't have gone amiss.

“Well, Henry wanted to marry,” said Anne, “and the object of his affection was his sister-in-law, Prince Arthur's widow, the Spanish Princess, Catherine of Aragon. A man was allowed to marry his brother's widow and as England was at that time a Catholic country and Catherine was a Catholic also, Henry had to obtain permission from the Pope in Rome who is head of the Church of all Catholic countries. The Pope understood the necessity of royalty marrying royalty, and gave special consent. And so, in June 1509, when Catherine was twenty-four and Henry two-and-a-half weeks from his eighteen's birthday they married. Thirteen days later they were crowned King and Queen at Westminster Abbey. Seven years after that the Princess Mary was born at Greenwich Palace. Thus she became heir to the throne.”

Anne Boleyn paused and raised her right hand to the throat. There was something curious about that hand, something I hadn't noticed before. It had a tiny sixth finger.

“I am a daughter of one of Henry's knights, Sir Thomas Boleyn,” Anne was saying. “When I was a very young girl indeed I was lady-in-waiting to Henry's younger sister when she crossed the Channel to marry King Louis XII of France. Unfortunately Louis had only a year to live and after he died Henry's sister came home. But I stayed on as lady-in-waiting to Queen Claude, the wife of the new King of France, Francis I.”

Anne looked at me. “I have just thought of something. Henry once wrote a book in defense of the Pope and, in 1521, the Pope gave Henry the title Fidei Defensor. This, I am sure you know, is Latin and means Defender of the Faith. The Pope said all future English sovereigns would carry this title. Is it so?”

I nodded. “And since the time of King George I in 1714, FD has been engraved on all coins of the realm.” I rummaged around in my purse and produced a coin. “There it is.”

“Now,” said Anne, “Where was I? Ah yes. In 1523 when war broke out between France and England I returned home. Do you like my hood? I brought the fashion back with me. It's called a French Hood.”

Kevin and I looked suitably impressed, which wasn't difficult as she looked extremely stylish in it.

Anne then told us that on her return to England her father secured a position for her up river at Hampton Court Palace. She became lady-in-waiting to Henry's wife, Queen Catherine of Argon. Catherine and the King had then been married fourteen years.

Anne gazed across the Green, her dark eyes shining. “I remember well the day I first set eyes on the King. He was so tall and handsome, with auburn hair and eyes as blue as the sky. We fell in love. Six years later Henry wanted to marry me. But the new Pope wouldn't grant him a divorce from Catherine. As you know, the Catholic religion does not permit divorce.”

“What happened next?” Kevin asked eagerly.

“The King decides that, from then on, England wouldn't be a Catholic country anymore and, he, the King, would be Head of Church of England, not the Pope,” replied Anne. “Therefore, he didn't need the Pope's permission to divorce his wife. And Parliament passed an Act giving the Archbishop of Canterbury all spiritual power in England.”

Kevin sprawled his long frame out on the warm grass. I could see he was now enjoying this adventure and had taken to Anne. I hugged my knees and listened intently.

“So,” said Anne, “three years ago, in January 1533, Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, said Henry's marriage to Catherine was illegal because Henry had married his brother's widow. Therefore after twenty-four years of marriage they were divorced. But Henry and I already married secretly a few days before, on the 25th of January. From then on Catherine's title was Dowager, Princess of Wales.”

Anne hesitated. I could see she was deciding whether or not to tell us something. “What were you going to say?” I encouraged.

“Just, that, I was expecting our child before our marriage,” she confided. “I suppose you are more proper in your day.”

“Oh no,” said Kevin, “nothing's changed.” We all laughed. “Like a mint?” he said. Kevin and I held our breath as slowly Anne popped the sweet into her mouth. She looked thoughtful as she gave a couple of sucks.

“It's almost agreeable,” she said, and Kevin and I sighed with relief.

“In June 1533,” continued Anne Boleyn, “I was crowned Queen Consort at Westminster Abbey by Thomas Cranmer. And our daughter, the Princess Elizabeth, was born on the 7th of September at Greenwich Palace, such a lovely child, with bright red hair. Of course she became heir to the throne.”

“That's odd,” said Kevin, puzzled. “You said the King has an older daughter, Princess Mary. You said she's the heir to the throne.”

“You're quite right, Kevin. I did say that. But when the King is divorced his children become illegitimate and illegitimate children cannot inherit the throne of England. When Henry divorced Catherine this automatically barred Mary from the throne.” Anne paused. “Now this very day the King is getting a divorce from me. Therefore Elizabeth will be pronounced illegitimate. She will no longer be heir to the throne. She has not yet reached three years, my poor motherless child. And in two days' time, the day after my execution, the wedding is arranged between Henry and the Lady Jane Seymour. She too was once lady-in-waiting to Catherine when she was Henry's wife. Any child Jane has will one day rule England.”

“Anne,” I said, jumping to my feet and snatching up my camera, “please, may I take your photograph?”

“My photograph?” replied Anne, taken aback. “Do I have one? If I have, you may take it.”

I burst out laughing and explained what it was as I arranged her and Kevin side by side near the wall of the White Tower with their back to the River Thames.

“This is witchcraft!” cried Anne in amazement, as she studied the instantly developed snapshot. “I had to sit for hours when I had my portrait painted.”

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 848