Another story about stained glass
Final edits are completed on my latest book – number 15 is set for publication this June!
I need to stop beating about the bush and tell you what it’s called! You may remember it had a working title The Glass Painter – but I’ve got a better one, thanks to some wonderful suggestions from author friends.
DRUM ROLL! It’s going to be called The Colour of Glass. As my editor, Debi Alper, said when I told her, ‘it’s much more intriguing, given that the usual property of glass is its transparency so this title instantly raises questions’.
But today I want to tell you about a stained glass window.
The window has an estimate of £15,000-20,000.
Here’s an extract from my book – I wrote this before I’d heard about this particular Burne-Jones window – apparently she was a favourite subject for him. Without giving away spoilers, Edmund Cutler, my main male character, is commissioned to design and produce a memorial window in the church of St Margaret’s in the Hampshire village where the second half of the book is set (the first takes place in London). The vicar has suggested a window representing St Margaret but Mrs Bowyer, the woman who is funding the work is determined to go down another path.
Here Edmund is speaking to Mrs Bowyer:
‘You mentioned a second window for the local church. Do you have a subject in mind?’
She gave a sigh of resignation. ‘My husband’s name was Algernon so I would have liked it to be Saint Algernon but I’ve been informed by the vicar that there’s no such saint. The name apparently is of Norman origin and means “with moustache” and as my dear Algernon had a full beard that’s clearly not a fruitful avenue to pursue.’ Mrs Bowyer made a tutting noise. ‘I suggested a portrait on the same lines as I intend for the house but the vicar is not minded to agree. He fears a non-religious portrait would set a precedent and has asked instead that we create a window to feature the saint the church is named for.’ Her mouth turned downwards.
‘And that is?’ Edmund leant forward.
‘Not a suitable person to commemorate my husband.’ She sighed again. ‘For a start it’s a woman: Saint Margaret.’ She made her odd jerky little head shake again as though shivering in horror. ‘What’s worse, Saint Margaret is apparently the patron saint of expectant mothers and servant maids.’ She raised her eyebrows in horror. ‘Most inappropriate. My dear Algernon would not have been happy at all.’
Here’s another Burne-Jones window masterpiece which I saw last year in the parish church in Rye. This one once featured on a Christmas postage stamp.
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