They all sang a few old country favourites together, everyone joining in with gusto. Then a farmer’s wife, Mrs Hayle, gave a solo rendition of a haunting sea shanty while Mrs Clewson accompanied her on the piano. She had a good voice but was slightly off tune in places. Still, Caroline couldn’t sing to save her life, so thought it awfully brave of the lady to stand up and give it a try in front of all these people. Then it was Grace’s turn.
‘Now for Miss Grace Morgan,’ the vicar announced, smiling at her, ‘a member of the Women’s Land Army currently based up at Postbridge Farm.’
As Grace went forward, the room hushed in expectation. Several people whispered behind their hands, others stared in fascination at the new Land Girl who had been the talk of the village ever since she arrived.
Caroline knew she would have cringed and sunk through the floorboards to have so many people gaping at her. But Grace paid no attention to the crowd, bending to murmur something to Mrs Clewson as she took her place beside the piano.
‘What are you going to sing?’ one young man called out daringly.
Grace turned his way, smiling. ‘One of our lovely Vera Lynn’s most popular tunes,’ she told him in her clear voice. ‘“We’ll Meet Again.” I’m sure you all know the words, so do join in at the chorus if you like.’ And with that, she nodded to the vicar’s wife to begin playing.
The room fell silent, the crowd mesmerised as her voice soared in the opening lines of the well-known song. Caroline too gave a little exclamation of surprise, quickly hushing it with a hand at her mouth. Although Grace had said she wasa good singer, Caroline hadn’t expected such a beautiful voice.
‘Oh my,’ Tilly whispered beside her.
Caroline glanced at her friend. ‘Awfully good, isn’t she?’
‘Good? I’ll say so.’
As the chorus came along, many villagers joined in with the familiar words, but quietly and respectfully, not wanting to drown out such a glorious voice.
When Grace finished, the applause nearly raised the rafters. She smiled around at them all and gave a little curtsey before returning to her seat. Some called out for her to sing again, shouting, ‘Bravo! Encore, encore!’ but Grace merely shook her head, still smiling, and took a sip of her tea, though it must have been lukewarm by then.
‘Blimey, talk about amazing, Grace,’ Mrs Newton exclaimed, stopping beside their table to congratulate the Land Girl on her singing ability. ‘You should be singing professionally, my girl. That was bloomin’ marvellous.’
Mr Bailey had followed her, and he also stopped to smile at Grace. ‘Thank you for that, young lady. What a lovely voice you have. It brought tears to my eyes.’ He reached across to shake the girl’s hand in a friendly manner. ‘Hope you’re settling in well here in Porthcurno.’
After that, everyone wanted to stop at their table and shake Grace’s hand, or ask questions about where she’d come from and if she’d ever sung professionally, or simply stare at the newcomer, silent and bolt-eyed, too overawed to say a word.
‘I had no idea what a talented singer you were,’ Caroline whispered shyly in her ear when at last the hall started to empty and the wave of hand-shakers and well-wishers werefiling out into the cold October night with their raffle prizes. ‘That took my breath away.’
Grace nudged her in the ribs, grinning. ‘Oh, not you too.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s just I spent my childhood being asked to sing for relatives or the neighbours, and then in the church choir,’ Grace went on. ‘I love singing, but it’s always so painful afterwards, people coming up and telling me how good I am. Honestly, I love singing, but I hate all that attention.’ Abruptly, she stood up. ‘Never mind … Shall we get going? Looks like it’s kick-out time.’ She collected the last cups and saucers on their table and bore them away to be washed up, Caroline hurrying after her with milk jugs and a sugar bowl.
‘I never thought of it like that. But I perfectly understand. It makes me queasy when everyone turns to look at me … People call me shy, but that’s not true. It’s just much easier to say nothing and keep your head down.’ Caroline rummaged in the kitchen for the containers they’d brought down from the farm; Mrs Postbridge would be on the warpath if they failed to take them back home. ‘I won’t say another word on the subject, I promise.’
They walked outside to join the others but found Tilly squeezing into the back of Mr Bailey’s big car beside Violet and Joe Postbridge. Mrs Newton was seated in the front with Bernie at the wheel.
Tilly bit her lip on seeing them emerge from the hall, hesitating. ‘Oh, I’m sorry … Mr Bailey offered me a lift up to the farm. But shall I walk back with you instead? There’s not enough room for two more.’
‘My apologies too, girls,’ Mr Bailey called out, laboriouslywinding down his window. ‘I can come back for you if you’d care to wait fifteen or twenty minutes. I already drove Margaret home to make sure she was safe. Besides, it’s quite a cold night for walking.’
‘Goodness, no, we’ll be fine,’ Grace insisted with a merry laugh. ‘You go ahead. I need a good long walk after that enormous supper anyway. So much food!’ She hesitated, glancing at Caroline. ‘Unlessyou’dprefer to wait?’
‘Tilly, can you hold this on your lap?’ Smiling, Caroline passed the empty containers to Tilly. ‘No, you’re right, we can walk up the hill together,’ she told her new friend, secretly thrilled to have the chance of a proper chat without half a dozen others listening in. ‘It won’t take long.’
Once the big car had pulled away, its engine throbbing deeply in the quiet evening, the two girls were left standing alone outside the parish hall, which was being locked up by the vicar and his church warden. There were a few lads hanging about further along the lane to the village centre, but Caroline and Grace linked arms and strode out together, their breath steaming on the cold night air.
The ground was white with a touch of frost, and now the obscuring clouds had rolled back, the Cornish landscape lay eerily bright under the full moon.
‘I wonder what happened to that fella who got dragged out of the hall,’ Grace mused. ‘Who was he?’
Caroline explained briefly about Mrs Chellew and her estranged husband.
‘They should make it easier for folk like that to get a divorce,’ Grace said, shaking her head. ‘My aunt and uncle, for instance. I’ve never known two happily married people hate each other as much as those two.’
