arrive. It could only be them because the boy was wearing a cowboy hat and the girl had the kind of brave glow that Delia had observed before in some artists when they were approaching a performance. It was not totally unlike the aura of fear, tempered by defiance, she had witnessed years before when she had accompanied the earlier soldier-husband to watch an execution in Aden, in the last days of colonial rule. The American girl's lack of any artifice surprised Delia. Nothing to label her 'pop star'. No make-up. A plain navyblue turtle-neck jersey and black trousers clothed a good, understated figure. No jewellery, not even earrings, but a pretty belt decorated with small silver and turquoise medallions. A country girl, thought Delia, so confident that she needs no props. One indication of what had made this girl a star.
As the bud of almost any flower or blossom first leaves the carapace of enclosing green, the texture and colour it shows the world is of a delicacy and freshness that is lost almost at once as the bloom develops. The female human face goes through this phase for a very short time and, while it varies immensely from person to person, one can occasionally glimpse it in its most sublime form. Too soon, and it can be spots and oily skin. Too late and the beautician's art may be needed. But Beth possessed, at this very moment in her life, the loveliness that only youth can confer and it made men and women alike stop and stare. Delia had recognised it across the crowded nave of the cathedral. Knowing she had once possessed it herself and what an incomparable gift it had been, she felt slight pangs of regret and envy.
Delia and Lachlan had just been greeted by the Reverend Byng McLeod, the most fashionable and clubbable divine in the Church of Scotland, beloved of television talk-show hosts and his congregation alike. He wore his prematurely snow white hair as Oscar Wilde once had, long and carelessly wavy, as if he judged it his crowning glory. Behind him, musical sounds from an assorted collection of instrumentalists came from the specially erected stage in front of the sanctuary, where all was in place to receive the full orchestra. From both his tone and his manner the Reverend McLeod exuded the self confidence that confirmed that in this cathedral, on this occasion, when presenting this musical programme, there was no impresario, no authority higher than he.
'Sir Lachlan, Lady Morrison, welcome indeed!' He spoke with a diction so musically cadenced, so successful in using the softer felicities of Scottish English, that one half expected him to burst into song.
'We are absolutely thrilled, Lachlan, that you are giving us that solo of yours again this year. I saw your Glee Club rehearsing a little earlier, but I fancy they are now wetting their whistles around the corner at the Silver Thistle. Singing is such thirsty work. Don't worry. I've got the lovely Adelaide looking after them and she'll have them back just now I have not the slightest doubt…'
Looking confidently around, the Reverend McLeod saw Beth and Steve advancing a little hesitantly up the nave. Delia, who had been watching the couple, thought she heard a little neigh of excitement as he tossed his locks from one of his eyes and led her and Lachlan to meet the Americans.
Beth, who had already met with the Reverend, braced herself for the wave of Scottish or British (what was the difference?) effusiveness that she knew was now coming.
'Now Delia, Lachlan, I want you to meet our American star Beth Boothby. If you were sixteen, Delia, you'd already be swooning, I assure you. She is the wonderful new soloist with the Redeemers Choir. And a successful recording artist. Gold and platinum platters, eh Beth? I expect you'll remember the Redeemers from last year? Beth, meet Sir Lachlan and Lady Morrison. He will be singing with you in the Oratorio.' Steve hung back while Beth's hand was shaken but Delia was sizing him up.
'And who is this?' she
As the bud of almost any flower or blossom first leaves the carapace of enclosing green, the texture and colour it shows the world is of a delicacy and freshness that is lost almost at once as the bloom develops. The female human face goes through this phase for a very short time and, while it varies immensely from person to person, one can occasionally glimpse it in its most sublime form. Too soon, and it can be spots and oily skin. Too late and the beautician's art may be needed. But Beth possessed, at this very moment in her life, the loveliness that only youth can confer and it made men and women alike stop and stare. Delia had recognised it across the crowded nave of the cathedral. Knowing she had once possessed it herself and what an incomparable gift it had been, she felt slight pangs of regret and envy.
Delia and Lachlan had just been greeted by the Reverend Byng McLeod, the most fashionable and clubbable divine in the Church of Scotland, beloved of television talk-show hosts and his congregation alike. He wore his prematurely snow white hair as Oscar Wilde once had, long and carelessly wavy, as if he judged it his crowning glory. Behind him, musical sounds from an assorted collection of instrumentalists came from the specially erected stage in front of the sanctuary, where all was in place to receive the full orchestra. From both his tone and his manner the Reverend McLeod exuded the self confidence that confirmed that in this cathedral, on this occasion, when presenting this musical programme, there was no impresario, no authority higher than he.
'Sir Lachlan, Lady Morrison, welcome indeed!' He spoke with a diction so musically cadenced, so successful in using the softer felicities of Scottish English, that one half expected him to burst into song.
'We are absolutely thrilled, Lachlan, that you are giving us that solo of yours again this year. I saw your Glee Club rehearsing a little earlier, but I fancy they are now wetting their whistles around the corner at the Silver Thistle. Singing is such thirsty work. Don't worry. I've got the lovely Adelaide looking after them and she'll have them back just now I have not the slightest doubt…'
Looking confidently around, the Reverend McLeod saw Beth and Steve advancing a little hesitantly up the nave. Delia, who had been watching the couple, thought she heard a little neigh of excitement as he tossed his locks from one of his eyes and led her and Lachlan to meet the Americans.
Beth, who had already met with the Reverend, braced herself for the wave of Scottish or British (what was the difference?) effusiveness that she knew was now coming.
'Now Delia, Lachlan, I want you to meet our American star Beth Boothby. If you were sixteen, Delia, you'd already be swooning, I assure you. She is the wonderful new soloist with the Redeemers Choir. And a successful recording artist. Gold and platinum platters, eh Beth? I expect you'll remember the Redeemers from last year? Beth, meet Sir Lachlan and Lady Morrison. He will be singing with you in the Oratorio.' Steve hung back while Beth's hand was shaken but Delia was sizing him up.
'And who is this?' she
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