Read Always: You'll Never Walk Alone Online
Authors: Keith Whiting
Always: You'll Never Walk Alone
Always
(A Quadrology)
Book One
You’ll Never Walk Alone
By
Keith L. Whiting
© 2013
Keith L. Whiting
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Thank you for downloading my book. Please REVIEW this book on Amazon. I need your feedback to make future books better. Thank you so much!
This book is based on a life I experienced during a past life regression – If you are interested in exploring your own past lives click the link below to download a free audio guided regression.
Introduction
The book you are about to read is a true story. It is the story of my life in the eighteenth century, and the woman I have loved in the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
In 2005 my marriage had come to an end and I was living alone in Toronto. I came across an ad for a past life regression session. I had read stories about young kids remembering past lives and had recently seen a show on TV explaining how when the Dalai Lama died they would search for the tulku (reincarnate). When the High Lamas believed they had found the reincarnated Dalai Lama, they conducted a test. Several articles, only some of which were owned by the previous Dalai Lama, are placed in front of the child. If he chooses the correct items, this is read as a sign that he is the tulku.
So, my interest piqued, I made an appointment. The session changed my life! I regressed to a life in the eighteenth century. The therapist suggested I write down everything I remembered – The result is this book. Sarah, the girl in the story, is my first wife, who in this life, died of cancer at the age of 40.
The next three volumes are other lives when I loved her.
I look forward to meeting her again!
Keith L. Whiting
Chapter One
England March 1731
The sky was the blue of an English spring, the grass still moist from the early morning dew. As we headed towards the shore, she turned to me and smiled, a moan escaping her throat as she sank to her knees and her life slipped away.
It had taken weeks to find her, and everything I owned had been spent or traded away on the journey. Everything I ever held dear was gone. Was it only five weeks, thirty-five days, since I set out from London? I felt years older. So much had happened, very little of it good.
Six Weeks Earlier
January in London… fog, rain, and that damp cold that starts on your skin then determinedly insinuates its way right through to your very core. When was the last time I felt warm? Sometimes it feels like I’ve been cold every day since I was born. So why am I smiling? Well… She’s been working here for the last six weeks, and for the last five weeks and six… okay seven days, I’ve been smiling.
My name is Stephen Williams. I worked at the Fox Tavern in Shoreditch. John and Sylvie Cooper were my employers, and had been my “parents” for as long as I could remember, my real parents both having died before I ever really knew them. John and my father had grown up together, and John lived up to the promise he’d made to my father, when he’d first become sick, to take care of me. I started work at 6.30 in the morning, leaving for the market to get supplies for the day ahead, then returning to the Fox by eight to clean up the clutter and debris from the night before.
Sarah came up from the country where she’d been working “below stairs” for Lord and Lady Windermere. A reversal of fortune suffered by Lord Windermere made it necessary to cut the staff from twenty-seven to nineteen. Sarah, who’d been working for the Windermere’s since she was just five years old, after ten years of service had never actually met them. So when the decision was made as to who to let go, Sarah being unknown to them was one of the first. Given just enough money to get her to London, and without so much as a goodbye, she was ejected from the only home she’d ever known.
She arrived on the coach from Hampshire, which was forced to make an unscheduled stop outside the Fox, when one of the horses had thrown a shoe. The four passengers, Sarah, Mr. and Mrs. Frobisher, an old couple visiting London for the first time, for their granddaughter’s wedding, which they soon let everyone know they completely disapproved of. “Her husband to be was certainly after the family fortune, and their granddaughter was certainly too innocent and trusting to understand the evil ways of the young men of today”. The fourth passenger was the mysterious Mr. Mortimer, he claimed to be in finance, but seemed unwilling, or unable to pay for anything. So far, he’d borrowed, “to be paid back with a reasonable amount of interest, the cost of dinner, overnight accommodation, and drinks for himself and half the customers in the tavern”. Assuring the Frobishers, “As soon as we get to our final destination, I’ll withdraw the money from my bank, and make up for this temporary embarrassment.”
Sarah having spent all her money on the coach fare asked if she could work for her overnight accommodation. John had been about to kick her out when he got a message from Maria, our kitchen helper. Saying that having been knocked up by that no good butcher’s assistant Sean O’Flaugherty, she would not be in tonight, as she and her father would be visiting with the aforesaid Mr. O’Flaugherty in order to convince him, with a good beating if necessary, that the gentlemanly thing to do was to make an honest woman of her. Although in truth, it would take a lot more than matrimony to make Maria an honest woman. So, John being desperate had offered her dinner and a bed for the night in return for ten hours of work in the kitchen.
The next day, Sean O’Flaugherty having agreed to marry her, Maria declared, “An honest woman in my delicate situation could not be expected to work and therefore would not soon return to the Fox”. The regular customers at the Fox meanwhile, had been so shocked to actually get the food they ordered, while it was still hot, and with no fingernails, animal hair or grit as garnish begged John to keep the new cook. Sarah had been with us ever since.
At nine, Sylvie was up and cooking breakfast. “Steve, leave that mess and come and eat.”
Seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year these were the first words I heard her say every morning.
As I cleared away the breakfast dishes Sylvie said, “John will be out all day, so if you and your girlfriend would like to take the rest of the day off I think I can handle things here.”
“What girlfriend?”
“D’you think I’m blind? I may be old but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight yet.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do think it would be nice for Sarah if I was to show her around some of London. She’s never been in a city before so she’d probably enjoy it. Maybe I could take her to St. Paul’s.”
“Alright, just make sure you’re back by four. Here’s a penny so you can treat her to a cake.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Of course not, but I’m sure she’d like some cake.”
“Okay, thanks. But she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Just make sure the fires are set and the beer taps cleaned out. Then you can go out with your girlfr… Sarah.”
A whole day with Sarah! So far, we’d never managed more than a few minutes together.
I cleaned the taps, set the fires then grabbed a bucket of water to wash with. The cold water made my teeth chatter. Standing there with a big grin and chattering teeth, if anyone had seen me, they’d have thought I was a little soft in the head. Although, at this time of the morning it was unlikely anyone would be around. After drying myself and combing my hair as best I could, I climbed the stairs to her room in the Attic. I knocked on the door and waited. My knock was answered by Victoria! Vicky as we all called her, although she insisted on Victoria, had worked at the tavern since long before I’d arrived. Some people said she’d been there since the tavern was built. Some even insisted they’d built it around her! Since the tavern was at least a hundred and fifty years old, that did seem fairly unlikely! Although no one knew her real age, and it would be a brave man that asked, it was rumoured she’d owned the tavern with her husband, who tended to drink any profits that may have been made, and was killed one day when having drunk the profits for the next three years fell down drunk and was run over by a delivery cart!
“What do YOU want?” Vicky wasn’t real friendly at the best of times, unless there was a tip involved. Any time before midday it was best to stay out of her way.
“I need to speak to Sarah.”
“What do you want with her?”
“It’s between me and her.”
“Oh, is it now? Well she’s busy at the moment and doesn’t have time for the likes of you mister. And what’s so important that you have to see her so early? It’s not seemly for a young maid to be seeing ruffians like you before the sun is even up.”
“The sun has been up for hours and…”
At that point, Sarah came to the door, seeing me standing there she smiled and said, “Master Steve it’s so nice to see you, but why are you here so early?”
“Well I…” I looked at Vicky, who just stared back at me.
“Well what do you want? She hasn’t got all day to wait around on you.”
“I, I…”
“You’re not in the navy boy you don’t have to aye, aye me, just say what you’re here to say, and then leave us alone.”
“It’s, it’s…”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Aye, aye, it’s, it’s, is this some sort of new drinking song? If it is you can sing it to us tonight but right now we’ve got better things to do.”
With that, I was left with my nose no more than two inches from the brown strips of paint hanging from the door, which had just been slammed in my face.
Steeling myself to knock once more, the door was opened just as I raised my fist.
“Oh please sir, don’t hit me.” She smiled and stepped out into the hall. The landing was barely big enough for the two of us, so we were forced to stand very close. The fresh smell of her hair and the closeness of our bodies rendered me speechless, and it took me a long moment before finally managing to stammer out.
“Sylvie has given us the day off, and I was thinking maybe you would like me to show you some of the city.”
“That would be wonderful.” She smiled again. “Just give me twenty minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
I went back downstairs… and paced around the parlour for what seemed like hours, but was in fact somewhere closer to forty-five minutes!
Just when I thought I couldn’t stand waiting any longer, she appeared.
“I, I…”
“Are you sure you’re not in the navy?”
“You look…”
“Yes?”
“Well it’s just… you’re beautiful.”
“Well thank you kind sir.”
She was dressed in a blue dress that I’d not seen before. With her long blonde hair hanging loosely over her shoulders and a scarf at her throat, she looked more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. I felt that grin starting to appear and had to turn away before she saw it.
“It’s still very cold. Do you have a warm coat to wear?”
“Yes right here.” She said, holding up the coat draped over her arm.
Maybe I need to see a doctor. I have a recurring silly grin, and now I can’t see a coat that’s right in front of my eyes!
“Oh right, that’s good. Well we’d better get going. I thought we’d go down to the river first, and then we can head over to St. Paul’s.”
“St. Paul’s? Oh that would be wonderful.”
As I opened the door, a blast of cold air greeted us. Pulling the coat snugly around her throat, she took my arm. I was almost successful in preventing the grin.
Leaving the Fox we took Boswell Lane to Merchant Street and then along Revelstoke. Passing through the market we pushed our way between stalls stacked so close they were almost on top of one another. Rabbits, chickens, pigeons, vegetables, dishes, knick-knacks, cloth of every description, and what seemed like the whole of London buying, selling, bargaining, complaining, arguing, shouting, and cajoling. Mothers with crying babies, husbands with their wives, husbands with other men’s wives, prostitutes offering their services, quacks offering their cures, and the most beautiful girl in the whole of England by my side with her eyes wide, taking everything in.
“Is all of London like this? I’ve never seen so many people. Is it safe?”
“As long as you stay by my side you’ll be fine.” I said, as she gripped my arm tighter.
Leaving the market we travelled along muddy streets and cobbled lanes until we finally reached the river. It was high tide. The river was full of barges plying their trade, merchant ships returning from trading trips in Europe and the recently discovered West Indies, and just about every form of watercraft known to man jostling for space and position. The noise at the river was, if anything, even louder than the market. The difference however, was instead of just accents from across England; here were accents and languages from all around the known world.
We wandered along the river watching boats being unloaded under the watchful eyes of the captains, and listened to the shouts of the sailors and stevedores. Sarah rushed from boat to ship watching the labourers dressed in brightly coloured garments from Asia, the turbaned royalty from Arabia and the rags of the common seamen. Then she suddenly let out a scream and grabbed me.
“What is it?”
She pointed at two Moors coming towards us they must have been almost seven feet tall.
“They’re from Africa, they’re Moors.” I laughed
“But they’re like giants, and I’ve never seen anyone that colour. Is it real?”
“Of course, everyone is that colour in Africa.”
“Where’s Africa?”
“Well I’m not exactly sure. I just know it’s a long way it’s very hot, and they have some of the strangest animals you’ve ever seen. Elephants, giraffes, zebras, tigers…”
“How do you know so much?”
“I’ve seen them.”
“Really, where?”
“They have travelling shows, with all sorts of strange animals, and two headed men, and ladies with beards.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No really, next time they’re in town I’ll take you.”
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
“I promise I’ll show you, honest.” Taking her hand I said, “Come on let’s get something to eat.”
We continued along hand in hand until we came to a vendor I knew and bought two cakes and a mug of strong hot tea.
“How are you today Master Stephen, and who is this lovely young lady?”
“This is Sarah; she’s recently arrived from Hampshire. She works with me at the Fox.”
“Sarah this is Ron.”
“Pleased to meet you Miss Sarah. How are you enjoying the city?”
“It’s quite overwhelming, Stephen is showing me around, we’re going to St. Paul’s this afternoon.”
“Well if you’re going to St. Paul’s, you must visit the whispering gallery. You can whisper endearments to each other.”