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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE

 

03-01-11

12M

p3

The Golden Thread

by

Monica Carly

SYNOPSIS:
    A heart-stopping story about two sisters, 'The Golden Thread' traces the lives of Claudia and Maria, who, as children and then teenagers, are the best of playmates and friends, until one day a handsome Italian enters their lives, causing a rift between them that lasts for almost forty years.
    Despite their close bond, the two girls differ greatly in their character and outlook on life. Claudia is destined for a university education and a teaching career.  Maria, fun loving and absorbed by the latest fashions, has no long term ambitions.
    During her last term at Oxford, Claudia undertakes to give English lessons to Stefano Volpe, a young Italian businessman.

    All goes well until Maria steals the scene, attracting Stefano's attention.

    Annoyed, Claudia decides to ask him to her college summer ball, which proves to be a magical evening, culminating in lovemaking, and, Claudia feels sure, a marriage proposal.
    Claudia is devastated on returning home to find that Stefano and Maria have married and gone to Italy. She also discovers that she is pregnant.

    She cannot forgive Maria, and goes through the torture of handing her baby over for adoption.
    The shattered relationship between the sisters is only healed some forty years later when Claudia's daughter comes back into her life, and events conspire to bring about a reconciliation just in time before Maria dies of leukaemia.

                                                                                            ****

                                                                                      CHAPTER 1
    She stood on the assembly hall stage knowing it was the moment when she must speak, but unable, for once, to find the words.

   The sea of young faces swam before her eyes, wave after wave of children, filling the hall, sitting in precise rows in ascending order of age. The little ones in the front rows gazed up at the members of staff in some perplexity, not appreciating the momentous nature of the scene they were witnessing. The older ones at the back lolled casually on their chairs, bodies unwillingly present, minds elsewhere, longing for the talking to be over.
    “Why’s she leaving? “Craig whispered behind his hand.
    “Cos she’s old,” hissed back Ben.
    “How old d’ you reckon?”
    “Oh, ‘bout a hundred, probably.”
    To the watching children Claudia Hansom, in her dark grey suit and white blouse, her grey hair cropped short in a mannish cut, must indeed have looked at least as old as their grandmothers. Perhaps even older!

    They were used to seeing her firm expression, her upright stance, dark-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose. They were also well aware of their head teacher’s reputation for sternness. This might be her last day at the school but they weren’t going to take any chances. Suppose she decided to keep them in today of all days!   They wouldn’t put it past her. A low profile was best.
    The deputy head teacher had concluded her remarks.

    Brenda Walsingham knew, better than anyone, how much Kingdown Junior owed to Claudia’s total dedication over the past thirty years and in particular as head teacher for the last seventeen. She finished her speech by saying that Claudia would be sorely missed when the new school year began by staff and pupils alike.
    “Here, here!” was the audible comment from members of staff ranged on chairs behind her, senior staff in the front row, lesser fry behind.
    “Like a hole in the head,” was the less detectable comment from Peter Rawlinson whose dedication to duty as Head of Geography had been called in question more than once by Claudia.
    “I cannot help noticing that there is only a very small visual display of your project with Year 5 on Antarctica,” Claudia had remarked, having summoned him to her study. “I would have thought there were countless opportunities for drawings and pictures relating to the climate, the wild life, the stories of exploration. I expected to see far more evidence of your progress by now.”

    “My class did very well last term! Their final assessment was 68% above average!”

    “That may be so, and I agree that was good. But we must build on it quickly - it’s important not to let things slip this term.”

    “She’s on to everything,” he had grumbled, when back in the staffroom for his precious mid morning break, angrily gulping down a cup of coffee and making short work of a couple of KitKats.
    “You can say that again! She doesn’t miss a trick!” Joan Baldwin had had her knuckles rapped when, as teacher in charge of Year 3, she had tried to introduce some basic yoga techniques into her classroom as a way of calming some of the unruly pupils. Claudia regarded it as a waste of valuable class time and told Joan that she did not wish to see it happen again.

    Today Claudia, renowned for her ability to address an audience competently, even at short notice, was clearly ill at ease. She clutched the large bouquet of flowers that had just been presented to her and tried to control the tight band across her chest. The children sensed that their head teacher was, for once, uncertain of herself and it made them feel uncomfortable.
    Meena Patel, in the third row, wriggled in her chair. She remembered the day her father had brought her to school because her mother was in hospital. He wasn’t used to the routine and had left her lunch box behind. Meena, sobbing quietly, had walked down the corridor with her hands jammed into her eyes, trying to stem the flow. Miss Hansom had spotted her and enquired, in a kindly tone, what the trouble was. In no time the secretary had been instructed to try and contact Mr Patel and soon the missing lunch box was produced. The little girl, her happiness restored, had clutched it tightly for the rest of the morning.
    Claudia cleared her throat. “I should like to say a very big thank you to you all. To you, Miss Walsingham, and to all the members of staff, and especially to you children. Thank you for the beautiful card designed for me in the art class, and for all the gifts. You have given me much to treasure.”

     She turned to include the staff as she said, “I shall take special delight in the book on Greece. That was a very thoughtful gift.”

    The presentation of the book, carefully wrapped in blue paper, had taken place earlier in the staffroom. Brenda had handed it over to her with the words, “This is a small token of our esteem and our gratitude for all you have done to keep this school consistently up to a high standard. Please accept it with our love.”

    Claudia let out an involuntary gasp when a beautiful tome entitled The Glories of Greece emerged from the wrapping paper. She quickly turned the pages noting the comprehensive text and the variety of its many photographs and illustrations.
    “You could hardly have given me a more appropriate gift. This will give me hours of pleasure! Thank you so much.”

    She smiled, clearly touched by their thoughtfulness. Normally she kept social interaction with her staff to a minimum. She never discussed personal issues or talked to anyone about her private life. Her colleagues were aware that she lived alone, with Socrates, her cat.

    Once, when Socrates was ill, she had broken her own rule and confided to the kindly reception class teacher, Jane Longman, how worried she was about him and that she would take him to the vet that afternoon. Jane put her head round Claudia’s study door the next day to enquire whether Socrates health had improved, to be rewarded with a fairly brusque, “He’s much better, thank you.” Claudia had then changed the subject.

    On this, Claudia’s last day at the school, a new and surprisingly relaxed mood prevailed. Carried along on a tide of celebratory events she found an unfamiliar warmth and jollity in the way her staff spoke to her. They even teased her a little.
    “So, Miss Hansom, tell us how you will fill all that wonderful leisure time you will have at your disposal. You can always mark some of my books for me, should you find yourself in need of a diversion!”

    The others laughed jovially.

    Mary Salter, the teacher in charge of English, waited for a response, secretly wondering if she had overstepped the mark. But before Claudia could reply Jean Farley, in charge of the Art Room, jumped on the bandwagon.
    “I’d love to have the chance of visiting art galleries whenever I chose. Imagine being able to wallow in all those Old Masters without worrying about the time, or without having to supervise a dozen pupils who can’t see the point of any of it! I do envy you!”

    Had she lost out on the camaraderie that obviously existed in the staffroom?

    The position of head teacher inevitably put you in a lonely place, but this was a necessary part of making it clear who was at the helm. While all the other members of staff exchanged cheery words and banter in the staffroom, she had her own study where people came to her if they needed to speak to her.

    Claudia responded to their questions. “As it happens I do have a project lined up.”….




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