The Broken Souls Read online

  THE BROKEN SOULS

  By Rivka Spicer

  Published by Rivka Spicer

  Copyright 2012

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the author. Exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

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  Foreword

  There are many historical characters that appear in this book and most of them are fictionalisations of actual people, although I have tried to keep the facts and locations as accurate as possible.

  Egypt – Rameses II (Also known as Rameses (or Ramses) The Great) did rule Egypt for 60 years. One of his many wives was the more well-known Nefertari. He did indeed marry two of his daughters – Meryetamun and Bint’Anath and Istnofret was Bint’Anath’s mother. Both served as chief wives and Bint’Anath bore him a daughter. Rameses built the Temple at Karnak as a showcase for many of his exploits and if you visit there today (as well as the magnificent Hypostyle Hall) you can still see the statues he erected (including the one of Bint’Anath) and the walls carved with the stories of his exploits. They are currently excavating the tomb of his sons in the Valley of the Kings (where the fictional Kim is excavating) but it is believed that this is a dig that will span many years. The scale of the tomb is incredible and it has been almost entirely back-filled with rubble. The Temple of Hatshepsut also exists, as does the Hotel Sonesta on the banks of the Nile.

  Rome – Emperor Marcus Aurelius and his wife Faustina were both real people and legend does indeed state that the Empress had an affair with a gladiator. There are differing versions of events as to what happened but the one I chose to go with matched my story too well to ignore! Commodus, who succeeded his father Marcus Aurelius as Emperor of Rome, was indeed a sick and very dangerous man who occasionally fought in the arena.

  Norway – Odin and Freyja (Freya or Freja) are taken from Norse Mythology. The tale of Brisingamen appears in Norse sagas although I have adapted it for my own needs. In the original Freyja is so overcome with obsession to own the necklace that she agrees to spend a night with each of the dwarves that made it. When Odin discovered her infidelity she was forced to wear the necklace every day as a mark of shame.

  Chapter one

  Jennifer Anderson was a woman on the edge. On top of an awful week at work, having had her house broken into two days previously and a really bad haircut, her boyfriend of two years had just proposed to her in front of their entire joint families and she felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. All she could think was that the least he could have done was waited until she didn’t look like an electrocuted pixie with a crack-habit. The diamond sparkling surreally in front of her was the size of an iceberg and, while it matched the wealth of Tom’s family, she though it was a tad vulgar.

  “Jen?” Tom was starting to look a little embarrassed and Jennifer blinked. It wasn’t as though she really had much of an option.

  “Uh. Okay.” Realising from the disappointment on Tom’s face that a little more was expected, Jen managed a dazzling smile and said a little louder “Yes Tom, I will marry you!” The transition from breathless silence into thunderous applause was so sudden Jen leapt like a startled frog and almost didn’t notice Tom sliding the iceberg onto her finger. It wasn’t until she felt the weight on her hand that she realised what had happened and automatically leaned in to kiss him, thinking absently that the sound of champagne corks popping sounded almost like a military salute at a funeral.

  The following morning, Jennifer winced at opening her eyes to the bright sunlight. She hadn’t managed much sleep and already had a pounding headache. The clock read nine am and she groaned, realising that she had to get up and face breakfast with her parents. Wearily dragging herself out of bed she sloped into the shower in the hopes that it would make her feel a bit more human-friendly.

  Twenty minutes later, feeling marginally better, Jennifer took a moment outside the breakfast room to brace herself for the onslaught she knew would be coming from her parents. Eventually, as ready as she’d ever be, she pasted a smile on her face and pushed through the door.

  “Darling!” Her mother didn’t look like she’d spent the night getting merry on champagne and Jen felt the smallest twinge of irritation. She didn’t have to be that chirpy, although Jen was well aware of the fact that the joining by marriage of the two biggest families in British oil had made her parents unbearably proud. No doubt her father was already working out all the money transfers and negotiations he could make with the new family relations. Jennifer knew she should be happy but suddenly it all seemed a little too much to take in, so she sat and ate and smiled while her mother wittered on about wedding arrangements and engagement parties, nodding in the right places but saying nothing. Finally her mother wound down and Jen took the opportunity to announce that she was returning to her flat in London as soon as she’d eaten.

  “So soon?” Her father was disappointed. “I thought you were staying for the weekend.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got to meet up with Nkara this afternoon and work right through until the show on Tuesday. After the whole bloody fiasco with Le Santaine I’ve got to redesign the whole season’s collection before the show.” Although it was out of her control, Jen had the grace to feel a little guilty. Even at the age of 28 she hated letting her parents down. “As soon as the show is over I’ll be free though. I could come back mid-week and stay until the Pink and Blue ball on Friday night. It’ll give me a chance to finish making my dress.”

  “That would be nice Jen.” Her father smiled warmly at her while her mother scowled at an abbreviation she considered common. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you and sort out the insurance paperwork?”

  “Daddy I’m fine.” Jen assured him, despite the pang of heartache she felt over the things that had been stolen. “I’ve already got my accountant on it and Tom’s had some people in to clear up and redecorate. It’s all sorted. Honestly.” Her father shrugged.

  “At least let me have a few words to people I know and see if we can’t prejudice one or two press reports concerning a certain fashion house.” Jennifer grinned wickedly.

  “Now that you can do. That’ll teach them to steal designs.” Her father grinned back.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jennifer recalled the conversation as she was driving back to London from the family seat in Berkshire and her rage seethed anew at Le Santaine. At least she’d found out in enough time to repair the damage, she mused. Jen was a designer, a well-known designer, and her clothes were in huge demand. One of her rivals had somehow obtained the designs for this season’s House of Anderson clothes and blatantly ripped them off. It left Jennifer and her colleagues in an awful position. Either they pointed fingers without being able to prove anything and end up with egg on their faces at the catwalk fashion show and photo shoot on Tuesday, or they worked like slaves to come up with something radically different and hoped no-one noticed that the collection was a little rough around the edges. They’d opted for the work-like-slaves option and consequently Jennifer was on the way to meet her best friend and Fabric Guru, Nkara, for a business lunch.

  She was a few minutes late, but as always Nkara was already seated in her own little pool of serenity in the bustling coffee-house and didn’t mind when Jen turned up as long as she did eventually. Placing he
r coffee on the table, Jen hugged Nkara quickly and got right down to business, looking at the fabric designs Nkara had come up with.

  “I like these.” She decided finally after much deliberation, laying out fifteen or so swatches of cloth on the table. “I can work with those colours, they layer beautifully in most combinations.”

  “I’ll get the machines on it right away.” Nkara leaned back in her chair, enjoying the crazy rush around her. “How was the party last night?” She asked and Jennifer winced again.

  “Tom proposed.” She admitted meekly and Nkara choked.

  “I hope to God you said no.” she blurted out before she realised what she was saying and Jen sighed.

  “I didn’t have much of an option really. He asked in front of everyone. Anyway, I guess it’s about time I grew up and realised it’s probably the best offer I’m going to get. Love isn’t that world-shattering heart-bursting experience we all dreamed about as little girls. It’s a good match.”

  “A girl your age shouldn’t be so jaded, but as long as you’re happy...” Nkara said automatically, but her eyes said it all. They poured disappointment across the table and Jen had to look away before she gave in and said something she’d regret. They sat for a few minutes in silence and then Nkara began to laugh.

  “I can’t believe anybody would propose to you looking like that!” She howled. Jen cracked a smile and before long she was laughing too. The stylist had cut her wavy hair far too short and as a result it stuck out at all odd angles, despite every attempt to tame it.

  “I’m going to see Alexandra this afternoon.” She giggled eventually. “It’s the pink and blue ball on Friday so I thought I’d have extensions put in to weigh it down until it’s grown out.”

  “Oh good. The electric haystack look isn’t in this season.” Nkara chuckled. “Go for something funky. You can always take it out afterwards.”

  “You want to come along and advise? They have a great coffee machine at the salon.”

  “Sure.” Nkara grinned. “I may have to take before and after pictures for posterity though. The amusement value of your hair is priceless.”

  “Thanks.” Jen hid her smile behind a glower. “Shut up and drink your coffee. We’ll be late.”

  They went down to Camden town to a salon run by a friend of Jen’s from Design college and within three hours had the funkiest hairstyle in town. In honour of the pink and blue ball, one of the biggest charity events of the year, the stylist had softened Jen’s honey blonde locks with pastel pink and blue extensions in between the ones that matched her hair. As they grabbed a taxi back to the studios, Nkara studied the effect.

  “Suits you.” She commented as a cab pulled up to the Kerb. “You should keep it like that.” Jen shrugged.

  “It’ll take me a while to get used to having long hair.” She admitted. “I’ve had short hair so long it feels a little weird.” She directed the cabby to the studios and half an hour later they were back to work trying to get everything ready for the shoot.

  That night Jen went home and surveyed the damage to the flat caused by the burglars. The sight of it made her feel nauseous and violated and she angrily began tidying up the mess, reminding herself that she had to call the insurance company. The Police had provided her with a reference number that she needed to pass on to them and if she didn’t do it first thing she’d forget. Tom had already had the locks changed but they were still trying to evaluate exactly how much had been taken. The thieves had gone for electronics and the small amount of jewellery Jen had lying about on her dressing table. She was just immensely grateful that all her work was backed up on an external hard drive and that the majority of her jewellery had been in the safe. They had turned over the flat looking for the safe, hence all the mess. The sight of the diamond on her hand infuriated her even more as she kept catching it on things. Eventually she removed it and stuffed it in a pocket to think about later.

  She arrived at the studio before seven the following morning and for days they worked from sun-up until late into the night, dressing and re-dressing mannequins, sketching designs and keeping the fabric and sewing machines running at full pelt. Jen was sleeping over in the studio catching a few hours kip here and there in between projects and huge black panda eyes said it all about her exhausted state. Everyone was putting in the overtime, from Nkara right down to the cutting floor and Jen was so unbearably grateful she had to hide her tears at every small gesture of kindness like a cup of tea in a weak moment or somebody picking up the phone so she could at least get something finished. Tom was away on business and she was often too busy to take his calls so they never managed to talk for longer than a few minutes at a time.

  By the time Tuesday came round, Jen’s fingers were so sore from cutting, stitching and tweaking she had to wear gloves to the shoot to hide the redness and swelling. The whole team had been up all night and as the models sashayed convincingly up the catwalk as though nothing had happened, almost everyone in Jen’s section slumped in their seats too tired to take notice of everyone else’s collections. Jen wasn’t too bothered; they’d be able to go over the pictures in a few days. Right now she was so relieved that they’d made it, she could have cried.

  “Beautiful collection.” Tessa Donnel congratulated her after the show as they stood around sipping champagne with the models. Tessa had also gone to Design College with Jennifer and the two had become great friends, collaborating on more than one collection. “I was surprised by the Le Santaine collection though. Much better than their usual standard…” She gave Jen a knowing wink. “Don’t worry darling, everyone knows what the bastards did. You’re getting all the credit for it and word on the street is that they’re going to be slated by the press. Serves them right.” Jen managed a wan smile through her tiredness. The champagne was going straight to her head.

  “Was today’s collection really good enough to show?” She asked a little uncertainly. “I can’t bear the thought that all the hard work I’ve done with the fashion house could be crushed because we screwed up this one event.”

  “My honest opinion?” Jen nodded and Tessa grinned. “It was a certain type of genius born out of desperation. Honestly, it was brilliant. Put the rest of us to shame. Besides, House of Anderson is a household name now. One bad show wouldn’t wreck your career – you’re on your way to becoming a superstar.” Seeing the tears welling in Jen’s eyes, she put an arm around her. “I think it’s time you went home and got some sleep.” She said gently, steering Jennifer towards the door. “Is there someone coming for you?” Jen nodded.

  “I’ve organised a driver. You’re right, I could do with an early night. I’ve got to start on a dress for the ball tomorrow. Thanks Tess, you’re a gem.”

  “No problem darling.” Tessa waved her off and as she went back inside felt a small twinge of jealousy. She’d meant every word she’d said about Jen’s collection. Even a last minute rush effort was still better than every other designer in town, Tessa included, and that was a little damaging to Tessa’s pride. It was a shame Jen was so damned nice. She lived such a charmed life she was the sort of girl you’d love to hate.

  Early Wednesday morning, Jen piled herself into her car with all her bags and two rolls of material that Nkara had designed especially for her ball-gown and headed home for a few days. It didn’t take long as it was midweek so the M25 wasn’t too jam-packed. As she pulled up, her parents came out to greet her as they always did, although she was surprised to see her father home. Usually he was in the office in the daytime running his vast business empire. He hugged her while her mother eyed the multi-coloured hair disapprovingly and they went inside.

  “How did the show go?” Her mother asked as they sat in the living room and the housekeeper poured them tea.

  “Really well.” Jen grinned. “We had fantastic reviews this morning – I had a chance to read the papers before I left.” Her mother glowed with pride.

  “I know. I read them too.”

  “Where would you like t
hese?” Another staff-member poked his head round the door with the rolls of fabric.

  “In the studio please John.” Jennifer smiled and the man vanished. The family home was maintained by a whole fleet of people, from the housekeeper to gardener with cleaners and general errand men in between. It wasn’t unusual to have several people at once staying in the eight guest bedrooms with all the international business dealings her father had and maintaining those was a full-time job in itself. As Jen’s career had taken off her parents had made the decision to convert one of the guest rooms into a studio so she could work from home if she needed to get away from London for a while and Jen loved working in there. It was light and airy and it was nice to have tea brought to the room if she was too busy to go make it herself!

  “Was that for your dress?” Her mother asked and Jen nodded.

  “I’ll bring you a scrap down later when I’ve started cutting. It’s beautiful fabric – Nkara designed it for me especially.”

  “I like her.” Jen’s father announced suddenly. “When’s she coming to stay again?” Jen grinned.

  “She’s staying over for the ball, remember? I asked you three weeks ago.”

  “Oh yes, so you did.” He’d clearly forgotten, but he smiled at her warmly anyway. “I’ll make sure it’s written into the house diary. Before I forget, Tom rang this morning to say he hasn’t managed to get any time off work so he’ll have to come up Friday afternoon.”

  “Oh.” Jennifer was a little disappointed. She hadn’t actually seen him face to face since the proposal, although they’d spoken on the phone several times. He had been away on business for much of the week and she’d been too wrapped up in getting everything ready for the show that she had barely been home to shower. There were just some things that needed to be said in person and Jen had wanted it out in the open as soon as possible. Now it would have to wait until the weekend again.