SYNCHRONICITY

Do you believe in synchronicity? I'm speaking now about when events in your life go beyond mere 'coincidences' and become something altogether more significant.

This happened to me in a big way from the moment I heard about Dorset's lost village of Tyneham. The series of  'coincidences' that followed on from then seemed odd to begin with, then amazing, then beyond belief - and finally it dawned on me that there must be a purpose behind such extraordinary events.

At my publisher's request, I've documented these as a postscript to my novel OUT OF TIME: Tyneham Revisited, which - along with my other three novels you can find on Amazon by clicking on its title.

I'd love some feedback from you about the synchronicity involved in ensuring that OUT OF TIME came into existence!

FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE

Do you think it’s possible for a sad love story – or, for that matter, any kind of story – to be written from beyond the grave?

If I’d been asked that question twenty years ago I’d have answered with an emphatic “No!” But now – well, let me put the facts before you so that you can judge for yourself.

The first love story ever to deeply affect me was CAMILLE, starring Greta Garbo. The tragic heroine, the handsome lover, the tearful bedroom scene – when have there been more tear-jerking ingredients for a film?

Around the same time I saw GONE WITH THE WIND and wept when Rhett Butler delivered his last line – “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!” Afterwards, once my tears had dried, I mentally re-wrote the line and went on to concoct a satisfactory sequel in which Rhett and Scarlett O’Hara came to their senses, living and loving together more or less in harmony thereafter.

Back, then, to my sad love story and its origins. It all began with my grandmother, who was always something of an enigma for me. I knew that she had once been an actress. I also knew that she had been (and still was) married to my grandfather. But the odd thing was that he lived in Vienna … and she lived in London.

Another odd thing was that they used to live together in a castle in Czechoslovakia! That wouldn’t in itself be odd, except that when I questioned why they didn’t still live there I received the answer that after the Nazis moved out the Communists moved in. What kind of answer was this?

Well, of course I continued questioning and gathered over time that the war had robbed my grandparents of their castle, along with their brewery, bleach works and linen factory, and there seemed to be scant chance of any of these being restored to family ownership.

That bothered me a bit, as it seemed a poor deal from the Communists. What bothered me more, though, was the state of my enigmatic grandmother’s marriage. Didn’t she mind living without Grandpa in London instead of with him in Vienna? And didn’t he mind living without her altogether?

I gained the distinct impression Grandma was glad of the distance between them. ‘Curiouser and curiouser’, as Lewis Carroll’s Alice would have said.

The more I thought about it, the more curious it all became. My curiosity was roused most of all by how they came to meet and marry in the first place.

"I suppose you must have fallen madly in love with him," I mused aloud when the opportunity arose. "Is that why you left the theatre and went off to live in Czechoslovakia?"

“If you say so”, Grandma smiled.

“I’m not saying so!” I responded crossly. “I’m asking you an important question. “Why can’t you just tell me … did you love Grandpa more than you loved the theatre?"

"You’re too curious for your own good, my sweetheart. By all means think that, if it makes you happy.”

"It doesn't. I'll only be happy once I know the truth."

"You won't, you know."

“Why won’t I?”

“Because this was real life – not the kind of story-book endings you like. Some day, though, if your curiosity continues, I expect the truth will be revealed to you and then you might decide to write my life-story.” After reflection she added: “I’d like that.”

Grandma was looking at me weirdly. Uncomfortable under her prolonged scrutiny, I asked her how it could be revealed if she refused ever to answer my questions.

“I won’t always refuse,” she said, “but you’re too young to know the truth yet. When you’re old enough, whether I’m alive or dead, I’ll see you get the answers you’re after.”

Her words were more prophetic than either of us could ever have expected back then. For Grandma had died by the time I felt even remotely equipped to write her life-story – and she had never answered my most crucial questions satisfactorily.

So what was I to do? Although I had never written a biography, I was the published author of a hardback novel - OUT OF TIME: Tyneham Revisited - set in two time-scales simultaneously and the subject of time fascinated me almost endlessly. Could I do some research, then propel myself back to 1919 and live Grandma’s life vicariously?

If I could, I would – but as I’d never have enough hard facts for a biography, a novel it would have to be.

Well, I set to work on my research - which was more exhaustive and exhausting than I had ever dreamed it would be – and finally I began to write.

Soon after I wrote my first sentence Marie Howard, my heroine, assumed a life of her own, barely needing me. Words came mysteriously into my head whose meanings I had to check with my dictionary. Characters arrived, larger than life, and played their unforgettable part on the canvas of my imaginings.

Or was I imagining these things as charismatic Marie bewitched audiences and men back in 1919? I had the sense that times past were now resurrected and that the sad love story I was penning was fact rather than fiction. I also had the sense that I was not working alone – that Grandma was at my shoulder from beyond the grave, prompting, prodding … ensuring her story became known.

And one morning I awoke, after the kind of dramatic dreams that had haunted my sleep ever since the start of this project, with my book title illuminated in my head: THE FOREIGNER.

SAD LOVE STORY THEME

This sad love story theme evolved spontaneously! At the beginning, caution thrown to the wind, she thinks they’ll be together forever. And he, awed that such a glorious girl sees something in him worth loving, loves her almost beyond reason.

But he is not free … and this is London in 1919. Is he man enough to risk a scandal that could ruin him? More importantly, dare he risk losing her love, as he feels he might if he loses his place in theatrical society?

In steps an arrogant foreigner who makes up his mind to have her at any price. She might not love him now, but she will in time. Right from childhood, he has always had whatever he wanted – and he wants her enough to fight hard for her.

His has been a charmed life and once again the cards fall in his favor. She suddenly needs a husband and he is more than willing to fill this role. He must simply help her see that he can save her from disgrace. He does this with timely assistance from her harridan mother.

He also makes promises that he has no intention of keeping. These trick her into agreeing to visit his bizarre family castle in Czechoslovakia. There she faces heartbreak far from her soul mate and is forced into a kind of exile by a tragedy that ties her to a country and man she hates.

Over the years she turns into a shadow of the girl who once lit up the stage. Her past recedes into a half-remembered place as war clouds gather and as the Nazis rise to power, terrifyingly re-igniting the life-long enmity between her husband and his evil brother.

But in her dreams she still runs to him … to the man in whose arms she once found such bliss. He holds her till morning, when dreamers need to awaken. Her cheeks, when she awakes, are wet with the tears of yet another parting.

Not knowing, in the harsh reality later of war-torn London, whether he is alive or dead, she finds an old friend who gives her lodging. The pain of separation has been so great that she can’t bring herself to utter his name.

And she has changed! In the intervening years she has changed from a young girl into a careworn woman. Best, then, if he is dead. Better that he only ever knew her as she was back then, than that he should see her again in the present. Accept that it was all just a sad love story.

So – did he die in the blitz? Or maybe he died before that – back in the aftermath of their parting, of a broken heart?

Her friend tells her that his heart did indeed break and that he lost everything after her departure. But, as this sad love story theme develops what is her friend not telling her?

SAD LOVE STORY

It was never meant to be a sad love story!

Back when I was a child at my grandmother's knee, she told me that some day I should write her life story.

I remember assuming that all grandmothers were probably famous actresses who had once lived in a castle in Czechoslovakia!

In short, would anyone be interested in reading about grandma's life?

Years and years later, after she had died, I recalled her wish and resolved to fulfill it. Of course by then I had long realized that grandmothers differed quite a bit and that mine had had an extraordinary story to tell.

But she was no longer around to tell it and as my mother had died too by then, there was nobody close by that I could question. So what was I to do?

Well, with my vivid imagination I reckoned that my best bet was to take the tiny thread from her life that I knew from my childhood - and weave a fictional story around it. So that's what I did!

In the process I needed to do extensive research on both World Wars - and masses more - before I could even begin. Had I known the extent of work involved I doubt I'd have ever started the project. But, once started, there was simply no stopping it!

Then, eventually, when the words were ready to be written - wait for it! They essentially wrote themselves. It was as if they were just waiting somewhere to be poured on to paper. Was grandma giving me a helping hand?

Well, that's the essence of how this sad love story happened! It's now 'out there' as: THE FOREIGNER.