Read Online Beauty Chorus, The by Kate Lord Brown - Free Book Online

She stretched
her stockinged feet towards the fire and took a sip of the deep red wine. ‘It was a good year, apparently, not that I know much about these things. He laid down a few cases for my
twenty-first. I’m just celebrating a bit early. We deserve it after the day we’ve had.’ On the kitchen counter next to the remains of the bread and cheese they had bought from the
farmer, there were several other bottles liberated from the Chase cellars. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’ she asked Megan.
    ‘No thanks. Methodist, you know,’ she said smiling. ‘Puss, puss.’ Megan was curled up on the hearth rug, tempting a cross-looking one-eyed ginger tom with a piece of
cheese. As her hand edged closer, he hooked it out of her fingers, catching her with his claws. ‘Ow!’ She sucked the blood from her fingertip. The cat hissed and retreated into a dark
corner. ‘He’s not very friendly is he?’
    ‘What were you expecting? Some darling little kitten with a ribbon around its neck to go with the heavenly cottage?’ Stella said drily.
    ‘I think we should call him Stalin,’ Evie said. ‘He’s red, and he’s clearly a bit of a dictator.’
    ‘Well, as long as he keeps the mice out I don’t care what he’s called,’ Megan said. ‘Stalin it is. I’ll get hold of some fish heads for him in the
morning.’
    ‘Talking of which, we should sort out who’s doing what around here. What are you good at?’ Stella asked Evie. ‘You look like shopping might be your forte.’
    Evie frowned, then realised Stella was teasing her. ‘As it happens, it is a strength. Why don’t I take care of the groceries and cooking?’ She picked up a dusty copy of Wartime Cookery from the table and flicked through the pages. ‘What do you fancy girls … tripe and liver hotpot?’
    ‘Tripe? Yuck.’ Stella screwed up her face.
    ‘Maybe not.’ Evie turned the page. ‘Meat and macaroni pie? Pea soup?’
    ‘That’s more like it.’ Stella sipped her wine. ‘We’ll give you our ration books in the morning. If Evie’s taking care of the cordon bleu, why don’t I
see to the housework and laundry?’ She glanced around the cold and dusty room. The dirt made her anxious. It was as if she could taste the shelter in her mouth again. She took another sip of
wine.
    ‘And I can do the garden!’ Megan’s face lit up. ‘There’s a smashing little veg patch out back. Come March I can do us some beans, sprouts, leeks—’
    ‘Digging for victory?’ Evie stood and stretched, handing Stella a ball of wool that had dropped to the floor. ‘What are you knitting?’
    It took Stella a moment to realise Evie was talking to her. ‘Oh, it’s a little jacket for my son, David.’
    ‘You have a baby?’ Evie looked up, surprised.
    ‘He’s six months old.’ Stella carried on knitting as she talked.
    ‘Where is he?’
    ‘With my husband’s parents in Ireland. I thought it would be safer.’
    ‘Safer? How on earth can you bear to be parted from him?’
    Stella flushed, the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘One does what one has to do.’
    ‘Is your husband fighting?’
    ‘Richard …’ Stella hesitated. ‘We were in Singapore.’
    ‘No! How amazing!’ Megan perched on the arm of Stella’s chair. ‘What’s it like?’
    Stella thought of the colour, the tropical warmth. ‘It’s beautiful. I was born in India, but I grew up there. Richard was an airman …’
    ‘Was?’ Evie picked up on her tone.
    Stella nodded mutely.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘You must miss your baby too.’
    Stella held up the matinee jacket. ‘Me, and every other mother in the country. You know, I had to sew his name into all his little clothes on the boat on the way over. That’s what
they tell you to do in the leaflet about evacuating children. “If you have made private arrangements, send them away immediately.” They make it sound so simple, like you’re
returning a dress that doesn’t quite fit, or a library book.’ Her