preferring to help him in his workshed than to join in the boisterousness of the Rectory. Caroline obliged with the latest news. Father kept in regular touch with the station commander, and though Fred was not due for leave, itwas arranged that Mrs Dibble and Percy would be able to visit him. The idea of the Dibbles travelling as far as Hertfordshire when Tunbridge Wells was a great adventure was hard to entertain, but they were going to do it, as soon as Lizzie’s baby – now ten days late – was born and she was back on her feet. Agnes, Mrs Dibble reluctantly agreed, would be able to cope with managing the Rectory.
‘ There you are.’ Aunt Tilly pounced as they returned to the group. Unlike Felicia, her face did display what they were enduring on the western front. The Aunt Tilly of her childhood had always looked so meek and mild, and in the selfishness of youth Caroline had never observed the underlying strength in her aunt’s face. That strength, which had seen her through several terms of imprisonment for her suffragette militancy, now supported her in France, and shone over the weather-beaten complexion and deep lines. She looked more fulfilled and content than Caroline had ever seen her.
Simon, who pursued a so far fruitless courtship of her stubborn aunt, obviously agreed, for the moment she moved away to speak to Caroline, he followed. Tilly opened her mouth to protest but he forestalled her:
‘No use, Tilly. I don’t see enough of you to be generous nowadays.’
Caroline laughed. ‘You told me you were over there at Divisional HQ two weeks ago.’
‘That was work, not pleasure.’
Tilly eyed him grimly. ‘The Foreign Office seems to have a great deal of business in the Ypres sector at present.’
‘It does.’ Simon smiled.
Isabel and Robert had arrived by the time they took their seats, and for once Isabel seemed to regain her old animation, her face alive and sparkling with pleasure, whether at being reunited with Robert for a brief while or at being out for the evening in London. No mention was made of the Swinford-Browne move to East Grinstead, with or without Isabel, and Caroline was certainly not going to risk spoiling the evening with questions.
Sitting next to Felicia, and with Aunt Tilly on her other side, Caroline felt she would burst with pleasure. What could compare with the anticipation before the cherry-red velvet curtain rose on an entertainment which one knew would be enjoyable? As the curtain rose to reveal the exotic eastern palace of Kasim Baba, as his servants prepared the feast to welcome the great Chu Chin Chow, colour hit her immediately, not the subtle tones of English decoration, but a blazing stark colour against the white of the palace. She felt almost scorched by the desert sun. From the first burst of song in ‘Here be oysters’ to the unforgettable first appearance of Lily Brayton bursting upon the stage as the sensuous desert woman Zahrat, right through to the Robbers’ March which Caroline immediately recognised from hearing it whistled in the streets, she was entranced.
By the time the performance ended, his sister was amused to see George was almost speechless with wonder, though Caroline thought this was more likely due to the numbers of apparently naked young ladies on stage who plunged in and out of baths, rather than a tribute to the acting of Lily Brayton.
On the whole it was as well Father hadn’t come, Caroline reflected. Had it not been Sunday on the morrow, she was sure he would have done, for he had once had a hankering to go on the stage himself. She tried to imagine him cavorting around in a musical such as this and failed. He had services to take tomorrow, and on Monday she too would be back on duty. She wasn’t looking forward to it, for the hop-pickers from London (far fewer nowadays) had arrived a week ago, and she was exhausted from the extra time and organisation it took to oversee them, let alone the soldiers too.
She had hoped Phoebe
‘ There you are.’ Aunt Tilly pounced as they returned to the group. Unlike Felicia, her face did display what they were enduring on the western front. The Aunt Tilly of her childhood had always looked so meek and mild, and in the selfishness of youth Caroline had never observed the underlying strength in her aunt’s face. That strength, which had seen her through several terms of imprisonment for her suffragette militancy, now supported her in France, and shone over the weather-beaten complexion and deep lines. She looked more fulfilled and content than Caroline had ever seen her.
Simon, who pursued a so far fruitless courtship of her stubborn aunt, obviously agreed, for the moment she moved away to speak to Caroline, he followed. Tilly opened her mouth to protest but he forestalled her:
‘No use, Tilly. I don’t see enough of you to be generous nowadays.’
Caroline laughed. ‘You told me you were over there at Divisional HQ two weeks ago.’
‘That was work, not pleasure.’
Tilly eyed him grimly. ‘The Foreign Office seems to have a great deal of business in the Ypres sector at present.’
‘It does.’ Simon smiled.
Isabel and Robert had arrived by the time they took their seats, and for once Isabel seemed to regain her old animation, her face alive and sparkling with pleasure, whether at being reunited with Robert for a brief while or at being out for the evening in London. No mention was made of the Swinford-Browne move to East Grinstead, with or without Isabel, and Caroline was certainly not going to risk spoiling the evening with questions.
Sitting next to Felicia, and with Aunt Tilly on her other side, Caroline felt she would burst with pleasure. What could compare with the anticipation before the cherry-red velvet curtain rose on an entertainment which one knew would be enjoyable? As the curtain rose to reveal the exotic eastern palace of Kasim Baba, as his servants prepared the feast to welcome the great Chu Chin Chow, colour hit her immediately, not the subtle tones of English decoration, but a blazing stark colour against the white of the palace. She felt almost scorched by the desert sun. From the first burst of song in ‘Here be oysters’ to the unforgettable first appearance of Lily Brayton bursting upon the stage as the sensuous desert woman Zahrat, right through to the Robbers’ March which Caroline immediately recognised from hearing it whistled in the streets, she was entranced.
By the time the performance ended, his sister was amused to see George was almost speechless with wonder, though Caroline thought this was more likely due to the numbers of apparently naked young ladies on stage who plunged in and out of baths, rather than a tribute to the acting of Lily Brayton.
On the whole it was as well Father hadn’t come, Caroline reflected. Had it not been Sunday on the morrow, she was sure he would have done, for he had once had a hankering to go on the stage himself. She tried to imagine him cavorting around in a musical such as this and failed. He had services to take tomorrow, and on Monday she too would be back on duty. She wasn’t looking forward to it, for the hop-pickers from London (far fewer nowadays) had arrived a week ago, and she was exhausted from the extra time and organisation it took to oversee them, let alone the soldiers too.
She had hoped Phoebe
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