Here is a review of the book by Pearl Harris, writer, translator, editor and proofreader
TASTER
PROLOGUE
FELICITY GREGORY
“Your
tiny hand is frozen; let me warm it into mine...”
Malcolm Craig cast his eyes over the
first few rows of the audience in St Mary’s Church Hall. There were few
signs of the latest liberated fashions of the twenties amongst the women in this staid, largely
middle-aged crowd. Even most of the young women there were clad in the fashions
and sombre colours of the previous decade. Not many flappers, with bobbed hair
and close-fitting cloche hats were to be found in this conservative crowd. Many
of those in the audience were still mourning the loss of their loved ones who
had died in the Great War or had come home physically or mentally maimed.
Others had succumbed to the Spanish ‘flu pandemic at the end of the decade. The
only vanity the women displayed were cumbersome ornate hats which blocked the
view of the stage to those seated behind them.
He was reaching the climax of the aria
from La Bohème where
his full attention should have been on the delicate high note at the end of the
aria, when he caught sight of Felicity at last. She was further back than he
had expected, seated demurely between her stern father and her scrawny twittery
mother. Her two younger brothers completed the Gregory family party who were
present at St Mary’s especially to hear Felicity’s young man singing.
Malcolm was going to London the
following week to begin rehearsals for the new season of the touring Kings
Opera Company. Despite his outstanding voice, his singing would be confined to
the chorus, with only the occasional small role to fulfil, and although he
would be given leading parts to understudy it was unlikely that many of the
principals would be absent and give him a chance to stand in for them.
He took the last note of the aria in a
delicate falsetto, and the audience erupted into cheers for Mr and Mrs Craig’s’
gifted son. He acknowledged the applause gracefully and drew his accompanist,
the old Church organist and choirmaster, who had known Malcolm since his early
days as a mellifluous boy alto, forward to receive his share of appreciation
for the performance. He looked directly at Felicity and was gratified to see
that she was applauding wildly. With the lights up, he saw that her face
was flushed and her eyes were shining. She was aglow with the unaccustomed
excitement of the occasion. All this applause was for her boyfriend who had
acquitted himself beyond everyone’s expectations in his first solo recital.
Tea would be served to the audience
after the concert, as it was on every occasion. The vicar believed that half
the people present came to enjoy the liberal tea rather than because they were
really interested in the event itself. Already stalwarts of the Mothers’ Union
were gathering in the hall kitchen, competing with the applause as they clattered
cups and saucers into position on the long trestle tables. The last thing
Malcolm wanted to do after his recital was to make polite conversation with his
large family and Felicity and her parents over a cup of weak lukewarm tea and a
slice of seed cake. He wanted Felicity all to himself, to hold her tightly in
his arms and see her rejoice in his good fortune. But he knew he would have to
break the news of his change of career to them before he could relax and enjoy
the success of the evening. He joined his parents and his older brothers and
sisters, as they waited for tea to be served. Already he was feeling far more
nervous about the ordeal to follow than he had been about giving the recital.
“That was wonderful, Malcolm,” said
his mother proudly. ‘You’re as good as a real professional singer now. It
was so good of you to sing for your old friends at St Mary’s and help the vicar
to raise money for the Organ Fund.”
His father growled in agreement and
his older sisters and brothers crowded round him, eager to be associated with
their talented and attractive young brother, who, at the age of twenty, towered
above his parents and siblings.
“Glad you all enjoyed it,” he replied
nonchalantly. “But I could certainly do with more than a cup of tea after that
lot! I’m exhausted!”
The vicar creaked up the stairs to the
hall stage during the tea. He called authoritatively for silence so that he
might give his prepared vote of thanks to Malcolm. He announced triumphantly
that the Church had raised a considerable amount towards the Organ Fund from
the proceeds of the concert. Gloved hands applauded warmly, if mutely, and
Malcolm smiled modestly, silently acknowledging the gratitude of the
congregation.
Some of Malcolm’s old school mates
approached him diffidently. When they were younger they had been his boon
companions, cheering themselves hoarse in support of the local football team,
but now Malcolm’s burgeoning gift set him apart from them, although he himself
had not changed for he had always been able to sing. Since he had begun serving
articles in a Birmingham firm of accountants, studying singing in his spare
time and singing tenor solos for various choral societies, he had not had time
to go to football matches any more. He had also been advised that he could ruin
his voice if he cheered on his team with abandon every week.
He reached Felicity at last, relieved
to see that her parents were momentarily away from her, doing their duty by
mingling with their middle-aged, middle class companions.
“That was beautiful, Malcolm,”
Felicity whispered, as he reached for her hand, warm through her glove, quite
unlike the tiny hand of his recent aria. “My stomach was turning over with
excitement when I listened to you. Were you singing just for me?”
“Always for you, darling,” he replied
hoarsely.
Her red hair shone like a bright cap
on her well-shaped head. She looked pretty, pert and modern with her new
hairstyle, but Malcolm regretted the loss of her unruly curls which she used to
pin up with pretty tortoiseshell clasps. On the few occasions they had managed
to be alone together he had delighted in freeing her hair from the clasps and
running his hands through her shining luxuriant curls as he held her close...
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