Audrey popped her head round the door. ‘Come on, Maisie. There are three seats at the end of a row near the front, so you and me and Doris can sit together.’
‘All right then,’ said Maisie, joining her friends just as the lights in the hall were dimmed. ‘I’ll have to leave you, though, before the choir goes on again.’
‘Our Timothy’ll be playing soon,’ whispered Audrey. ‘I knew you’d want to listen to him.’
‘Yes, of course I do,’ Maisie whispered back, as Luke stepped forward to announce the start of the second half.
The next act was a conjuror; quite a competent one. He was a middle-aged man who was also in the choir, and he had the audience suitably impressed with his yards and yards of silken handkerchiefs, his card tricks and the climax at the end, a rabbit in a top hat.
Maisie leaned close to her friend and whispered in her ear, under cover of the applause, ‘Did you…er, did you see Bruce in the interval?’
‘Er, yes… I did, actually…’ Audrey replied.
‘Did you speak to him?’
‘Only to say hello, that’s all.’ Audrey sounded quite off-hand, almost impatient, in fact.
‘Who is he sitting with? ’Cause he’s not with his mother and father…’
‘No, I know he’s not…’
‘Who is he with then?’
But Audrey did not answer. She was looking ahead, her eyes fixed on the stage instead of turning to look at her friend. Then, ‘Hush, Maisie,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you later. We’ll have to shut up now while Mr Carey does his poem.’
The audience had heard Albert Carey’s monologue, ‘The Green Eye of the Yellow God’ before, on more than one occasion; but as a highly regarded church warden of many years standing they gave him the attention and respect due to him.
‘There’s a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu,
There’s a little marble cross below the town;
There’s a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.’
Loud, if not rapturous applause followed the last verse as Albert Carey bowed and left the stage.
Maisie was beginning to sense some sort of a mystery. ‘You said you’d tell me who Bruce is sitting with,’ she persisted.
Audrey was silent for a moment, then she said, ‘He’s with a friend…from the RAF. He’s wearing his uniform…and so is his friend.’
‘Oh, I see… And did he introduce you to the other young man?’
Audrey looked at her oddly, then, ‘No, why should he?’ she said. ‘I told you, we only said hello.’
‘I just thought he might’ve done, that’s all…’
‘Well, he didn’t,’ Audrey snapped, but immediately she regretted it and turned and smiled at Maisie. ‘I’m sorry… I’m feeling a bit on edge. It’s our Tim next and I suppose I’m feeling nervous in sympathy with him. I hope he’ll be OK. He played his pieces beautifully before we came out.’
‘I’m sure he will.’ Maisie squeezed her friend’s arm, her perplexity about Bruce being put aside for the moment.
Then Luke announced, ‘And now here is Timothy Fairchild to play for us,’ and Timothy took his seat at the piano.
‘Aw, bless him!’ said Maisie, smiling fondly. ‘Doesn’t he look grown-up?’ Timothy was now eleven years old, due to start at the Grammar school in Lowerbeck at the beginning of the September term. He was, in point of fact, only four years younger than Maisie, Audrey and Doris; his sister, Ivy, having been a friend and class-mate of theirs. But the older girls had always made a fuss of him.
‘My first piece is “Sonata in C” by Mozart,’ he announced, quite confidently, in a voice that was still quite shrill and piping. He had recently joined the ranks of the boy choristers at St Bartholomew’s and had been found to have a pleasing voice.
The first movement of the sonata was a popular one with budding pianists and familiar to the audience, many of whom had played it in their youth. Or attempted to play it, because it was not as simple as it at first appeared. The runs and cadences were quite tricky, but Timothy managed them all with scarcely a slip or wrong note.
Maisie found herself remembering the skinny knock-kneed little boy with the wire-framed glasses who had clung so desperately to his big sister when they were first evacuated to Middlebeck. She and her friends had tried to comfort and protect him then; and now he was Audrey’s adopted brother. He had matured considerably since those early days and was no longer so nervous or self-effacing. His sandy hair still stuck up like porcupine quills, being unmanageable if it was allowed to grow longer; but his glasses, which he still needed for his short-sighted pale blue eyes, were more adult ones with a tortoiseshell frame. And that evening he was wearing his first pair of long trousers, grey flannels, with a crisp white shirt and red bow tie.
‘And now I would like to play, “Butterflies in the Rain”,’ he said, smiling, as the applause for his first piece died down.
That, too, needed a good deal of dexterity and neat fingering, and he played it with even greater confidence. As he passed the three girls, on his way to join his parents, he grinned and uttered a very relieved, ‘Whew! I’m glad that’s over!’
‘You were terrific!’ said Audrey, sticking her thumb up in the air. ‘Wasn’t he, girls?’
‘I’ll say,’ echoed Maisie and Doris.
‘I’d better go now,’ said Maisie, ‘and tidy my hair and re-do my make-up. The choir’s on again soon.’
‘OK, see you later,’ said Audrey. She gave her a sympathetic sort of smile, and Maisie wondered why.
For the last item of the evening the choir had put together a medley of patriotic songs and ones that had been very popular in recent years. What other way could there be of concluding a concert to celebrate the end of the six long years of war?
‘Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye’; ‘I’ll be seeing you’; ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’. How familiar these songs were, having been heard time and again on the wireless and in dance halls all over the country, and sung by the Forces’ own favourite, Vera Lynn. It was impossible to stop the audience from singing along, although they did not know the words to all the verses.
‘A Nightingale sang in Berkeley Square’; ‘Deep in the heart of Texas’ (one introduced by the American GIs); and, inevitably, ‘There’ll Always be an England’.
‘There’ll always be an England,
And England shall be free
If England means as much to you
As England means to me.’
As everyone joined with great enthusiasm in the final verse, the lights in the hall went on again. There was frenzied clapping and cheering until Luke raised his hand as a signal for them to be quiet, if that were possible.
And Maisie, unable to contain herself any longer, looked to the centre of the hall. She could see Bruce at the end of the row, where she had picked him out dimly before; but now that the lights had gone on she could see he was wearing his blue airforce uniform. And sitting next to him, also dressed in airforce blue there was…a girl! A young woman, to be more correct, several years older than Maisie. A blonde-haired young woman, and as Maisie watched she turned and smiled at Bruce. And Bruce smiled back at her.
Maisie felt sick with the shock and had to restrain herself from gasping and crying out, ‘Oh no…!’ But she knew she must smile, like everyone else was doing, and they still had one more song to sing.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Luke. ‘We would like you all to join with the choir to sing, “Land of Hope and Glory”. You will find the words on the back of your programmes.’
It was a thrilling finale, jubilant and joyous, with several folk in the audience waving Union Jacks high in the air, but it was an emotional moment as well. There was scarcely a dry eye in the audience or choir as they sang the final words.
‘Wider still and wider shall thy bounds be set,
God who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet.’
Maisi
e’s eyes were moist too, but not solely with the patriotic fervour that was gripping everyone. Why had she not realised? Of course; that was why Audrey had been behaving so oddly. And she, Maisie, ought to have known. What a complete and utter fool she was…
Chapter Three
Maisie grabbed hold of her friend’s arm. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve just seen him…with that girl. And I feel such a fool!’
Audrey’s blue eyes were filled with concern. ‘I’m sorry, Maisie; honest I am, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to get all upset, because you had to sing again with the choir. Anyway…we’re jumping to conclusions, aren’t we? We don’t know that this girl is anyone special.’
‘I saw them look at one another,’ said Maisie, ‘all moony and soppy. Oh, Audrey, I’m such a stupid idiot! I don’t even want to go and speak to him now, but I suppose I’ll have to…won’t I?’
Audrey nodded. ‘I think so, or else it’ll look funny, won’t it? Listen…let’s go and get our cups of tea, and then we can go and say hello to him, sort of casual like. I’ll come with you. Just act normal, like you used to when we all went around together.’
There was a smaller hall leading off the main one where the Infant Sunday school and informal meetings were held. It was there that refreshments were being served, cups of tea and, as it was a special occasion, homemade shortbread biscuits rather than the usual Nice or digestives. Maisie and Audrey – Doris had gone to find her mother and brothers – collected their tea and biscuits from the table where Mrs Spooner and Mrs Campion were busy pouring out and went to mingle with the crowds of people. Some were standing and some were sitting in little groups, with everyone trying to balance a cup and saucer and a large biscuit without spilling the tea.
They caught sight of Bruce and his friend standing on their own at the side of the room. It was Audrey who led the way to them.
‘Hello again, Bruce,’ she said. ‘Did you enjoy the concert?’
‘Indeed we did,’ replied Bruce. ‘What a talented lot you are… Hello there, Maisie. I saw you up on the stage, of course, but…it’s lovely to see you again.’ He smiled at her, just at her, it seemed, and his brown eyes were so warm and friendly. But she knew that that was all it was; he was pleased to see her again, because she was a friend. Immediately he turned to the young woman at his side who was looking quizzically at Maisie.
‘Let me introduce you to my friend, Christine; Christine Myerscough. We met at the camp, didn’t we, darling? And we are…well, we are very good friends. Christine…this is Maisie and this is Audrey.’
‘How do you do?’ The young woman shook hands with each of them. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. Maisie had the feeling that that was not considered to be correct in posh circles, although a lot of people said it. Christine smiled at them, but it was a cool smile and did not reach her silver-grey eyes…which really were rather lovely, Maisie had to admit to herself.
‘How do you do?’ said Maisie, flatly, but trying to smile. She did not say, ‘Pleased to meet you,’ because she wasn’t, but she felt that something more was required.
‘Have you…have you known Bruce for a long time?’ she asked. (Because he had been writing to her, Maisie, and his letters had not tailed off…not until very recently, she recalled.)
‘Oh, for about six months,’ said Christine. She smiled up at him. She was a small person, only five feet or so in height, much shorter than Bruce. ‘But it seems like much longer, doesn’t it, darling?’ Maisie noted the ‘darlings’ uttered by both of them, and she felt a stab of anguish, and of anger, too.
‘Yes…’ said Bruce briefly, and then he went on, ‘These two young ladies have been friends of mine for a long time, haven’t you, girls? Ever since they came to live here at the start of the war.’
‘Oh… I see.’ Christine looked curiously at the pair of them, her delicately pencilled eyebrows shooting up into her forehead. ‘You were evacuees then, were you?’
‘Yes, we were, actually,’ said Maisie, unable to prevent a shade of belligerence creeping into her tone. ‘But we both live here now, in Middlebeck, don’t we, Audrey? Audrey lives at the Rectory.’ She gave a satisfied nod. ‘The Reverend and Mrs Fairchild are her mum and dad.’
‘Adopted ones,’ explained Audrey.
‘Oh, I see…’ said Christine again. ‘That’s very interesting.’
‘And Maisie’s mother, and her little brother and sister, lived with my parents for quite a while at Tremaine House,’ said Bruce. ‘Mrs Jackson was in charge of the land girls, but she has a draper’s shop now, on the High Street.’
‘Oh, that’s all very…interesting,’ Christine repeated. ‘It’s so nice to meet your old friends, Bruce. And you are the girl who sang at the beginning of the show, aren’t you?’ She turned to Maisie, smiling indulgently and arching her perfect eyebrows. Maisie nodded.
‘What a sweet voice you have, my dear. I do wish I could sing… And you’re the girl who produced the play, aren’t you?’ she went on, looking now at Audrey. ‘How very clever of you. I used to love Alice in Wonderland when I was a little girl. What very talented little friends you’ve got, Bruce.’
‘Come on, Audrey,’ said Maisie suddenly. She could feel herself boiling up inside and her fists clenching into balls. ‘I must go and find my mum and our Joanie and Jimmy. ‘Bye, Bruce… Bye…er, Christine.’
‘Cheerio then,’ said Bruce. ‘Great to see you both again. See you soon, I expect.’
‘Are you home for good now?’ asked Audrey.
‘No…but I’ll be at home for a little while. I’ll be seeing you…’
Audrey hurried to catch up with her friend who was already halfway across the room. ‘Ohhh…’ sighed Maisie, when Audrey stopped her in mid-flight. ‘What d’you think about that then? How dare she…patronise us like that, as though we’re a couple of silly kids?’
Audrey smiled. ‘Well, I suppose she did, a bit. But perhaps she was just trying to be nice. I take it you’re…not very impressed with her?’
‘You’re dead right I’m not! I can’t stand her; I hate her!’ Maisie stormed, but she had the sense to lower her voice.
‘Aw, come on, love,’ said Audrey anxiously. ‘I know you’re upset, you’re sure to be, but you’ll have to try and come to terms with it. She’s probably all right really. She must be feeling awkward, being here for the first time and not knowing anyone.’
‘She didn’t seem like that to me,’ muttered Maisie, ‘and I’ll tell you something; I don’t think she’s right for Bruce.’
‘Well…you’re sure to think that, aren’t you? You’d think that about anybody that Bruce had met.’ Audrey cast a worried glance all around, but nobody seemed to be watching or listening to the two friends. ‘Er…shall we go and find your mum and the kids? I want to tell Joanie how pleased I was with her, and Jimmy, of course; I mustn’t forget him, he behaved so well.’
‘Hang on a minute, Audrey,’ said Maisie. ‘I know you think I’m being biased because I’m jealous about…Christine, and perhaps I am. But I really think she’s not right for Bruce, or his family. I mean…she talks quite ordinary, and she’s got a Yorkshire accent. I think she was trying to hide it, but she has!’
Audrey laughed. ‘So have we. You’re sure to have if you’ve always lived in Yorkshire, and probably she has, just as we have. Bruce didn’t say where she was from, did he? I know he talks nicely, but that’s because he’s been to boarding school. But his parents don’t talk as posh as he does, certainly not his father.’
‘No, it’s not just that,’ said Maisie, shaking her head a trifle impatiently. ‘I felt she was trying to act a bit refined, sort of, but that underneath she’s really quite…ordinary. She wants him, Audrey; I know she does, and she’s determined to get him. She knows he’s the squire’s son and…well, that’s what I think.’ Her voice tailed away, sounding very dispirited and disillusioned.
‘So there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you…’ Brian had appeared at
their side, smiling delightedly when he saw Audrey. ‘My mum and dad want to say hello to you, Audrey… Hi there, Maisie. I enjoyed your song.’
‘Thanks, Brian,’ she replied. She turned quickly towards Audrey. ‘I’m going to find my mum now, and our Joanie and Jimmy. Actually… I’m ready to go home now. I feel…’ she shrugged wearily, ‘just dead tired.’
‘I know; it’s been a hectic day,’ said Audrey, smiling understandingly at her friend, but unable to keep the elation out of her voice at the appearance of Brian. ‘See you tomorrow…’ The next day was Sunday; they were sure to see one another at church. ‘Have a good sleep…and you’ll feel better in the morning.’ Audrey reached out and squeezed Maisie’s hand as she hurried away.
‘Mum…’ She caught up with Lily and the children in the main hall, where they were talking to Luke and Patience, who was holding a very tired little Johnny by the hand, and young Timothy. ‘Are you ready to go now? I mean – you know – when you’ve finished talking?’
The adults looked at her in some surprise, her mother with a little frown of annoyance. ‘In a moment, dear,’ said Lily. ‘There’s no hurry, is there? I was just congratulating Tim on his piano solo. Didn’t he play well? Not that I’m an expert on piano music, or any sort of music, come to that. But it was a real treat, and he says it’s the first time he’s played in front of an audience.’
‘Yes, he played brilliantly,’ said Maisie, aware that her opening words might have been rather abrupt. ‘Well done, Timothy… Sorry if I butted in…’ She looked apologetically at her mother and at Patience and Luke. ‘It’s been a long day and I suddenly felt very tired.’
Down an English Lane Page 4
