Articles liés à Silver Wedding: A family reunion threatens to reveal...
L'édition de cet ISBN n'est malheureusement plus disponible.
Afficher les exemplaires de cette édition ISBN
Extrait :
Anna
Anna knew that he was doing his best to be interested. She could read his face so well. This was the same look she saw on his face when older actors would come up and join them in the club and tell old tales about people long gone. Joe tried to be interested then, too, it was a welcoming, courteous, earnest look. Hoping that it passed as genuine interest, hoping that the conversation wouldn't last too long.
"I'm sorry, I'm going on a bit," she apologized. She pulled a funny face at him as she sat at the other end of the bed dressed only in one of his shirts, the Sunday papers and a breakfast tray between them.
Joe smiled back, a real smile this time.
"No, it's nice that you're so worked up about it, it's good to care about families."
He meant it, she knew, in his heart he thought it was a Good Thing to care about families, like rescuing kittens from trees and beautiful sunsets and big collie dogs. In principle Joe was in favor of caring about families. But he didn't care at all about his own. He wouldn't have known how many years his parents were married. He probably didn't know how long he had been married himself. Something like a silver anniversary would not trouble Joe Ashe.
Anna looked at him with the familiar feeling of tenderness and fear. Tender and protective—he looked so lovely lying there against the big pillows, his fair hair falling over his face, his thin brown shoulders so relaxed and easy. Fearful in case she would lose him, in case he would move on gently, effortlessly, out of her life, as he had moved into it.
Joe Ashe never fought with people, he told Anna with his big boyish smile, life was much too short for fights. And it was true.
When he was passed over for a part, when he got a bad review, there was the shrug: "Well, so it could have been different but let's not make a production out of it."
Like his marriage to Janet. It was over, so why go on pretending? He just packed a small bag and left.
Anna feared that one day in this very room he would pack a small bag and leave again. She would rail and plead as Janet had done and it would be no use. Janet had even come around and offered Anna money to go away. She wept about how happy she had been with Joe. She showed pictures of the two small sons. It would all be fine again if only Anna would go away.
"But he didn't leave you to come to me, he had been in a flat by himself for a year before he even met me," Anna had explained.
"Yes, and all that time I thought he would come back."
Anna hated to remember Janet's tearstained face, and how she had made tea for her, and hated even more to think that her own face would be stained with tears like this one day, and as unexpectedly as it had all happened to Janet. She gave a little shiver as she looked at the handsome easy boy in her bed. Because even if he was twenty-eight years of age, he was still a boy. A gentle cruel boy.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
She didn't tell him. She never told him how much she thought about him and dreaded the day he would leave.
"I was thinking it's about time they did another film version of Romeo and Juliet. You're so handsome it would be unfair to the world not to get a chance to look at you," she said laughingly.
He reached out and put the breakfast tray on the floor. The Sunday papers slid after it.
"Come here to me," said Joe. "My mind was running on the same lines entirely, entirely at all, "at all' as you Irish say."
"What a superb imitation," Anna said dryly, but snuggling up to him all the same. "It's no wonder that you're the best actor in the whole wide world and renowned all over the globe for your great command of accents."
She lay in his arms and didn't tell him about how worried she was about this silver wedding. She had seen from his face that she had already been going on about it far too long.
In a million years Joe would not understand what it meant in their family. Mother and Father's twenty-fifth anniversary. They celebrated everything in the Doyle household. There were albums of memories, boxes chronicling past celebrations. On the wall of the sitting room at home there was a gallery of Major Celebrations. The wedding day itself, the three christenings. There was Grannie O'Hagan's sixtieth birthday, there was Grandpa Doyle's visit to London with all of them standing beside a sentry outside Buckingham Palace, a solemn young sentry in a busby who seemed to realize the importance of Grandpa Doyle's visit.
There were the three first communions, and the three confirmations; there was a small sporting section, Brendan's school team the year he had been on the Seniors. There was an even smaller academic section, one graduation portrait of Anna herself, very studied and posed, holding her diploma as if it were a ton weight.
Mother and Father always joked about the wall and said it was the most valuable collection in the world. What did they want with Old Masters and famous paintings, hadn't they gotten something much more valuable, a living wall telling the world what their life was all about?
Anna had winced whenever they said that to people who came in. She winced now, lying in Joe's arms.
"Are you shuddering at me or is that passion?" he asked.
"Unbridled passion," she said, wondering, Was it normal to lie beside the most attractive man in London and think not of him but of the sitting-room wall back in the family home?
The family home would have to be decorated for the silver wedding. There would be a lot of cardboard bells and silver ribbon. There would be flowers sprayed with a silver paint. They would have a tape of "The Anniversary Waltz" on the player. There would be windowsills full of cards, there might indeed be so many that it would call for an arrangement of streamers with the cards attached as they had for Christmas. The cake would have traditional decorations, the invitations would have silver edges. Inviting people to what? That was what was buzzing around Anna's head. As a family this was something they should organize for their parents. Anna and her sister, Helen, and her brother, Brendan.
But it really meant Anna.
She would have to do it all.
Anna turned toward Joe and kissed him. She would not think about the anniversary anymore now. She would think about it tomorrow, when she was being paid to stand in a bookshop.
She wouldn't think of it at this moment when there were far better things to think about.
"That's more like it. I thought you'd gone to sleep on me," Joe Ashe said, and held her very close to him.
Anna Doyle worked in Books for People, a small bookshop much patronized by authors and publishers and all kinds of media. They never tired of saying that this was a bookshop with character, not like the big chains which were utterly without soul. Secretly Anna did not altogether agree.
Too many times during her working day she had to refuse people who came in with perfectly normal requests for the latest best-seller, for a train timetable, for a book on freezer cookery. Always she had to direct them to a different shop. Anna felt that a bookshop worthy of the name should in fact stock such things instead of relying for its custom on a heavy psychology section, a detailed travel list, and poetry, sociology, and contemporary satire.
It wasn't as if they were even proper specialists. She had intended to leave a year ago, but that was just when she met Joe. And when Joe had come to stay, it happened to coincide with Joe not having any work.
Joe did a little here and there, and he was never broke. There was always enough to buy Anna a lovely Indian scarf, or a beautiful paper flower, or find the most glorious wild mushrooms in a Soho delicatessen.
There was never any money for paying the rent or for the television, or the phone or the electricity. It would have been foolish of Anna to have left a steady job without having a better one lined up for herself. She stayed in Books for People, even though she hated the name, believing that most of the buyers of books were people anyway. The others who worked there were all perfectly pleasant, she never saw any of them outside work but there were occasional book signings, poetry evenings, and even a wine and cheese evening in aid of a small nearby theater. That was when she had met Joe Ashe.
Anna was at work early on Monday morning. If she wanted time to think or to write letters, then to be in before the others was the only hope. There were only four of them who worked there; they each had a key. She switched off the burglar alarm, picked up the carton of milk and the mail from the mat. It was all circulars and handbills. The postman had not arrived yet. As Anna put on the electric kettle to make coffee, she caught sight of herself in the small mirror that was stuck to the wall. Her eyes looked large and anxious, she thought. Anna stroked her face thoughtfully. She looked pale and there were definitely shadows under the big brown eyes. Her hair was tied up with a bright pink ribbon matching exactly her pink T-shirt. She must put on a little makeup, she thought, or she would frighten the others.
She wished she had gone ahead and gotten her hair cut that time. It had been so strange, she had made an appointment in a posh place where some of the Royal Family went to have their hair done. One of the girls who worked there as a stylist came into the bookshop and they had started talking. The girl said she would give Anna a discount. But the night she met Joe at the benefit evening for the theater, he had told her that her thick dark hair was beautiful the way it was.
He had asked her, as he so often did still, "What are you thinking?" And in those very early times she told him the truth. That she was thinking about having her hair cut the following day.
Quatrième de couverture :
Anna knew that he was doing his best to be interested. She could read his face so well. This was the same look she saw on his face when older actors would come up and join them in the club and tell old tales about people long gone. Joe tried to be interested then, too, it was a welcoming, courteous, earnest look. Hoping that it passed as genuine interest, hoping that the conversation wouldn't last too long.
"I'm sorry, I'm going on a bit," she apologized. She pulled a funny face at him as she sat at the other end of the bed dressed only in one of his shirts, the Sunday papers and a breakfast tray between them.
Joe smiled back, a real smile this time.
"No, it's nice that you're so worked up about it, it's good to care about families."
He meant it, she knew, in his heart he thought it was a Good Thing to care about families, like rescuing kittens from trees and beautiful sunsets and big collie dogs. In principle Joe was in favor of caring about families. But he didn't care at all about his own. He wouldn't have known how many years his parents were married. He probably didn't know how long he had been married himself. Something like a silver anniversary would not trouble Joe Ashe.
Anna looked at him with the familiar feeling of tenderness and fear. Tender and protective—he looked so lovely lying there against the big pillows, his fair hair falling over his face, his thin brown shoulders so relaxed and easy. Fearful in case she would lose him, in case he would move on gently, effortlessly, out of her life, as he had moved into it.
Joe Ashe never fought with people, he told Anna with his big boyish smile, life was much too short for fights. And it was true.
When he was passed over for a part, when he got a bad review, there was the shrug: "Well, so it could have been different but let's not make a production out of it."
Like his marriage to Janet. It was over, so why go on pretending? He just packed a small bag and left.
Anna feared that one day in this very room he would pack a small bag and leave again. She would rail and plead as Janet had done and it would be no use. Janet had even come around and offered Anna money to go away. She wept about how happy she had been with Joe. She showed pictures of the two small sons. It would all be fine again if only Anna would go away.
"But he didn't leave you to come to me, he had been in a flat by himself for a year before he even met me," Anna had explained.
"Yes, and all that time I thought he would come back."
Anna hated to remember Janet's tearstained face, and how she had made tea for her, and hated even more to think that her own face would be stained with tears like this one day, and as unexpectedly as it had all happened to Janet. She gave a little shiver as she looked at the handsome easy boy in her bed. Because even if he was twenty-eight years of age, he was still a boy. A gentle cruel boy.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
She didn't tell him. She never told him how much she thought about him and dreaded the day he would leave.
"I was thinking it's about time they did another film version of Romeo and Juliet. You're so handsome it would be unfair to the world not to get a chance to look at you," she said laughingly.
He reached out and put the breakfast tray on the floor. The Sunday papers slid after it.
"Come here to me," said Joe. "My mind was running on the same lines entirely, entirely at all, "at all' as you Irish say."
"What a superb imitation," Anna said dryly, but snuggling up to him all the same. "It's no wonder that you're the best actor in the whole wide world and renowned all over the globe for your great command of accents."
She lay in his arms and didn't tell him about how worried she was about this silver wedding. She had seen from his face that she had already been going on about it far too long.
In a million years Joe would not understand what it meant in their family. Mother and Father's twenty-fifth anniversary. They celebrated everything in the Doyle household. There were albums of memories, boxes chronicling past celebrations. On the wall of the sitting room at home there was a gallery of Major Celebrations. The wedding day itself, the three christenings. There was Grannie O'Hagan's sixtieth birthday, there was Grandpa Doyle's visit to London with all of them standing beside a sentry outside Buckingham Palace, a solemn young sentry in a busby who seemed to realize the importance of Grandpa Doyle's visit.
There were the three first communions, and the three confirmations; there was a small sporting section, Brendan's school team the year he had been on the Seniors. There was an even smaller academic section, one graduation portrait of Anna herself, very studied and posed, holding her diploma as if it were a ton weight.
Mother and Father always joked about the wall and said it was the most valuable collection in the world. What did they want with Old Masters and famous paintings, hadn't they gotten something much more valuable, a living wall telling the world what their life was all about?
Anna had winced whenever they said that to people who came in. She winced now, lying in Joe's arms.
"Are you shuddering at me or is that passion?" he asked.
"Unbridled passion," she said, wondering, Was it normal to lie beside the most attractive man in London and think not of him but of the sitting-room wall back in the family home?
The family home would have to be decorated for the silver wedding. There would be a lot of cardboard bells and silver ribbon. There would be flowers sprayed with a silver paint. They would have a tape of "The Anniversary Waltz" on the player. There would be windowsills full of cards, there might indeed be so many that it would call for an arrangement of streamers with the cards attached as they had for Christmas. The cake would have traditional decorations, the invitations would have silver edges. Inviting people to what? That was what was buzzing around Anna's head. As a family this was something they should organize for their parents. Anna and her sister, Helen, and her brother, Brendan.
But it really meant Anna.
She would have to do it all.
Anna turned toward Joe and kissed him. She would not think about the anniversary anymore now. She would think about it tomorrow, when she was being paid to stand in a bookshop.
She wouldn't think of it at this moment when there were far better things to think about.
"That's more like it. I thought you'd gone to sleep on me," Joe Ashe said, and held her very close to him.
Anna Doyle worked in Books for People, a small bookshop much patronized by authors and publishers and all kinds of media. They never tired of saying that this was a bookshop with character, not like the big chains which were utterly without soul. Secretly Anna did not altogether agree.
Too many times during her working day she had to refuse people who came in with perfectly normal requests for the latest best-seller, for a train timetable, for a book on freezer cookery. Always she had to direct them to a different shop. Anna felt that a bookshop worthy of the name should in fact stock such things instead of relying for its custom on a heavy psychology section, a detailed travel list, and poetry, sociology, and contemporary satire.
It wasn't as if they were even proper specialists. She had intended to leave a year ago, but that was just when she met Joe. And when Joe had come to stay, it happened to coincide with Joe not having any work.
Joe did a little here and there, and he was never broke. There was always enough to buy Anna a lovely Indian scarf, or a beautiful paper flower, or find the most glorious wild mushrooms in a Soho delicatessen.
There was never any money for paying the rent or for the television, or the phone or the electricity. It would have been foolish of Anna to have left a steady job without having a better one lined up for herself. She stayed in Books for People, even though she hated the name, believing that most of the buyers of books were people anyway. The others who worked there were all perfectly pleasant, she never saw any of them outside work but there were occasional book signings, poetry evenings, and even a wine and cheese evening in aid of a small nearby theater. That was when she had met Joe Ashe.
Anna was at work early on Monday morning. If she wanted time to think or to write letters, then to be in before the others was the only hope. There were only four of them who worked there; they each had a key. She switched off the burglar alarm, picked up the carton of milk and the mail from the mat. It was all circulars and handbills. The postman had not arrived yet. As Anna put on the electric kettle to make coffee, she caught sight of herself in the small mirror that was stuck to the wall. Her eyes looked large and anxious, she thought. Anna stroked her face thoughtfully. She looked pale and there were definitely shadows under the big brown eyes. Her hair was tied up with a bright pink ribbon matching exactly her pink T-shirt. She must put on a little makeup, she thought, or she would frighten the others.
She wished she had gone ahead and gotten her hair cut that time. It had been so strange, she had made an appointment in a posh place where some of the Royal Family went to have their hair done. One of the girls who worked there as a stylist came into the bookshop and they had started talking. The girl said she would give Anna a discount. But the night she met Joe at the benefit evening for the theater, he had told her that her thick dark hair was beautiful the way it was.
He had asked her, as he so often did still, "What are you thinking?" And in those very early times she told him the truth. That she was thinking about having her hair cut the following day.
Desmond and Deirdre Doyle will have been married for twenty-five years in October. It falls to the Doyles' eldest daughter, Anna, to decide how best to celebrate her parents' Silver Wedding. No use asking her sister Helen, living in her London convent, or her brother Brendan, who has chosen another form of exile on a bleak farm in the West of Ireland.
But it is unthinkable not to have a party, even though for the Doyles, family occasions are more difficult than for most. For each of them is keeping up a front, nursing a secret wound, or smarting over a hidden betrayal. And as the day draws nearer, so the tension mounts, until finally the guests gather at the party itself...
'Maeve Binchy is one of the few writers who can pull at your heartstrings... she has a touching belief in goodness, but knows that bad things happen... reading her books is like
gossiping with old friends'
Daily Express
'A joy to read from start to finish'
Best
'Maeve Binchy has a gimlet eye for the seething cauldron of emotions which lies
beneath the surface of everyday life'
Irish Independent
Fiction
Arrow Books
ISBN: 0099498626
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Les informations fournies dans la section « A propos du livre » peuvent faire référence à une autre édition de ce titre.
- ÉditeurArrow
- Date d'édition2006
- ISBN 10 0099498626
- ISBN 13 9780099498629
- ReliureBroché
- Nombre de pages400
- Evaluation vendeur
Acheter neuf
En savoir plus sur cette édition
EUR 15,47
Frais de port :
Gratuit
Vers Etats-Unis
Autres éditions populaires du même titre
Meilleurs résultats de recherche sur AbeBooks
Image fournie par le vendeur
Silver Wedding (Paperback)
Edité par
Cornerstone, London
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Paperback
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Paperback. Etat : new. Paperback. Another unforgettable novel from the bestselling author of Light a Penny Candle and Circle of FriendsAnother unforgettable novel from the bestselling author of Light a Penny Candle and Circle of Friends.'What better books to raise the spirits than the gentle, insightful Irish tales of Maeve Binchy?' HELLO! Magazine_______________An unforgettable novel from the bestselling author of Light a Penny Candle and Circle of FriendsDesmond and Deirdre Doyle's silver wedding anniversary is drawing ever closer, and it falls to the couple's eldest daughter, Anna, to decide how best to commemorate the big day.No use asking her sister Helen, living in her London convent, or her brother Brendan, who has chosen exile on a bleak farm in the west of Ireland.But it is unthinkable not to have a party, even though for the Doyles, family occasions are more difficult than for most. And as the day draws nearer, so the tension mounts, until finally the guests gather at the party itself. . ._______________Readers can't get enough of Silver Wedding . . .***** 'When I read a Maeve, I feel I have come home.'***** 'A clever and insightful read.'***** 'I love her style. Her characters are so rich.'***** 'One of my favorite writers, she understands people in a rare way.'***** 'An excellent read, as always!' Desmond and Deirdre Doyle will have been married for 25 years in October. It falls to the Doyles' eldest daughter, Anna, to decide how to commemorate her parents' Silver Wedding. No use in asking her sister or brother. But it is unthinkable not to have a party, even though for the Doyles, family occasions are more difficult than for most. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780099498629
Acheter neuf
EUR 15,47
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Random House 2006-06-01, London
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
paperback
Quantité disponible : > 20
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre paperback. Etat : New. Language: ENG. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780099498629
Acheter neuf
EUR 10,89
Autre devise
Image fournie par le vendeur
Silver Wedding [Soft Cover ]
Edité par
Arrow
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Soft Cover
Quantité disponible : 3
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Soft Cover. Etat : new. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780099498629
Acheter neuf
EUR 17,64
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Random House
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. pp. 272. N° de réf. du vendeur 5818409
Acheter neuf
EUR 10,92
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Arrow
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Paperback
Quantité disponible : 4
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Paperback. Etat : New. BRAND NEW ** SUPER FAST SHIPPING FROM UK WAREHOUSE ** 30 DAY MONEY BACK GUARANTEE. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780099498629-GDR
Acheter neuf
EUR 11,45
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Arrow
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Paperback
Quantité disponible : 2
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Paperback. Etat : Brand New. 272 pages. 7.80x5.08x0.94 inches. In Stock. N° de réf. du vendeur __0099498626
Acheter neuf
EUR 10,48
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Arrow
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : > 20
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. In. N° de réf. du vendeur ria9780099498629_new
Acheter neuf
EUR 10,72
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Arrow
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. Buy with confidence! Book is in new, never-used condition 0.57. N° de réf. du vendeur bk0099498626xvz189zvxnew
Acheter neuf
EUR 22,66
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Cornerstone
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Paperback / softback
Quantité disponible : 3
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Paperback / softback. Etat : New. New copy - Usually dispatched within 4 working days. Desmond and Deirdre Doyle will have been married for twenty-five years in October. And as the day draws nearer, so the tension mounts, until finally the guests gather at the party itself. N° de réf. du vendeur B9780099498629
Acheter neuf
EUR 13,28
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Silver Wedding
Edité par
Arrow
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0099498626
ISBN 13 : 9780099498629
Neuf
Paperback
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Paperback. Etat : new. New. Fast Shipping and good customer service. N° de réf. du vendeur Holz_New_0099498626
Acheter neuf
EUR 20,80
Autre devise