BOOK SYNOPSIS
A haunting Anglo-Saxon time-slip of mystery and romance
Can echoes of the past threaten the present? They are 1500 years apart, but can they reach out to each other across the centuries? One woman faces a traumatic truth in the present day . The other is forced to marry the man she hates as the 'dark ages' unfold.
How can Dr Viv DuLac, medievalist and academic, unlock the secrets of the past? Traumatised by betrayal , she slips into 499 AD and into the body of Lady Vivianne, who is also battling treachery. Viv must uncover the mystery of the key that she unwittingly brings back with her to the present day , as echoes of the past resonate through time. But little does Viv realise just how much both their lives across the centuries will become so intertwined. And in the end, how can they help each other across the ages without changing the course of history?
For fans of Barbara Erskine , Pamela Hartshorne, Susanna Kearsley, Christina Courtenay. “In the best Barbara Erskine tradition
A Shape On The Air is the story of two women 1500 years apart. Can they help each other to achieve their greatest desire? And what if the world they want is not the one that's best for them? University lecturer in medieval studies, Dr Viv DuLac, is deviated when her partner walks out and threatens her home. About to lose everything,drunk and desperate, her world quite literally turns upside down as she finds herself in the body of the fifth century Last Vivianne, who is struggling with the shifting values of the Dark Ages and her forced betrayal to the brutish Sir Pelleas. He is implicated in the death of her parents. Haunted by both Lady Vivienne and by Viv's own parent's death and legacy, can Viv unravel the web of mystery that surrounds and connects their two lives, and bring peace to their lives? A haunting story of lives intertwining across the ages, of the triumph of the human spirit and love lost and found.
This Extract from my book A Shape On The Air is from chapter two, when Dr Viv has time-slipped into 499AD and into the body of Last Vivianne. In the Mead Hall, she finds a scene of drunken destruction and the man she despises and with whom she has been forced into a betrothal, Sir Pelleas
Suddenly he stopped, goblet still raised in his hand as his eyes caught hers at the far end of the hall. He had clearly not missed her at all. The bawdy song petered out and a hush fell through the room . Sir Pelleas with his piercing blue eyes and greasy golden hair stared at her for a moment. Then he seemed to recover himself and raked his fingers through his hair. Vivianne had the oddest feeling of seeing him somewhere else too, somewhere strange, in a small chamber , leaning against a door jamb, a sense of cooking pots with unfamiliar smells and unusual haunting music. She shivered.
“Vivianne, my betrothed,” shouted Pelleas merrily, and the court began to murmur again with relief. He rose quickly and strode across the hall, arms outstretched, the dark heavy cloak stretched like the wings of a vulture hanging from his arms.
He grasped her shoulders with a strong grip but gazed at her face with a lopsided smirk. “Come, my lady, my love. Let us to my chamber. Oh, now that I am battle -victorious and home again, how I long for our hand-fasting ceremony at the next moon, and then I can lie beside you every night.” Then his expression mutated into a leer, and he glanced meaningfully around at his drinking companions, “Or, indeed, on top of you …”
Vivianne shuddered, smelling his beery breath in her face, and drew back a little, out of his clutch. He had hardly missed her presence, she thought, clearly revelling in the rowdy company of his thegns.
He reached out for her again, gripping her arms even tighter, his florid sweaty face thrust into hers, and pulled her to him, crushing her into his broad, hard chest. His hands groped her back and as she pulled away he swiftly flicked one hand between them and grasped her breast. She staggered back, pushing against him.
“How dare you, Sir Pelleas. You know that I do not want you. You take my father’s place as chieftain, yet you are nothing – nothing – compared with him.” She raised her hand to slap his face but he caught her wrist. She yelped in pain as he twisted it. But her eyes met Pelleas’s in a stare that she knew was defiant and disdainful. She wrenched her hand from his grip. “You are …”
She felt a firm strong hand on her arm, catching catching her and moving her away. But she caught the flash of anger in Pelleas’s eyes and twisted round to see Roland move to her side, his hand still on her arm. For a moment the hostility between the two men was palpable. Then Pelleas’s body was racked in a loud belch, his stare faltered and she heard Roland speak in his calm, even tone.
“My lord Sir Pelleas, I believe that the scōp has arrived.”
“What? Well. Good,” Pelleas caught his breath and nodded. “And the glǣman also? I feel the need for a bawdy story-teller and jolly musician tonight.” But as he turned away to follow Roland back to his place on the dais, he swung back to Vivianne and, leaning in towards her, he hissed, “As you will, my dear. But mark me, I may find myself a bed-mate elsewhere.” Someone nearby giggled. Pelleas’s face contorted into a sneer. “Do not cross me, lady, or refuse me. We marry as soon as the moon allows. I allowed you that delay because of your …“He flapped his hand towards her lower abdomen. “And then we shall see …”
Vivianne shivered under the threat. He had taken it to the Witan council and her settlement had approved that she, high-born and father-less, be given to her protector. She knew he wanted to breed on her as soon as they were hand-fasted, even before the formal marriage . And there was no more guile for delay she could use.
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