Ten minutes more and a gong sounded to alert the guests that supper was about to be served and they began to saunter towards the dining tables. Delia took her place, conveniently situated close to the piano. She waited for the hors d’oeuvre to be served and more wine poured and discreetly rose to her feet without anyone from her table immediately noticing.
She began to sing the first verse of the romantic Tudor folk tale – Alas my love you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously – and guests turned round from the tables and then looked at each other, smiling at the unexpected treat. As she took a breath she heard a faint refrain from a violin. It came nearer, and when she turned her head there was Giles Dawson in his evening dress tails and crisp white shirt walking slowly towards her, with the violin tucked beneath his chin and a twinkle in his eyes. Smiling, she continued, her voice soaring with the accompaniment: Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight; Greensleeves was my heart of gold …
Her second song was ‘Flow Gently Sweet Afton’ and again Giles accompanied her, playing softly in the background. After one more melody she took her bow, as did Giles, and then he bowed to her too and taking her hand led her back to her seat at the table. His own seat, which she hadn’t previously noticed was empty, was immediately opposite hers.
‘Thank you very much, Mr Dawson,’ she murmured across to him. ‘That was lovely. How did you know what I was going to sing?’
‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘But I guessed it would be something that you’ve already performed at the theatre. Did you mind?’ His eyebrows rose. ‘I could have made a terrible mistake by playing without being asked. You might have been annoyed with me for pitching in.’
‘Not at all. I was actually more comfortable with the sound of music in the background.’
They both ate their hors d’oeuvre and the soup was brought, after which more wine filled their glasses and the main course of pheasant and duck was served. Delia finished her conversation with her neighbour, a gentleman who had introduced himself as Godfrey, and once more spoke across the table to Giles, murmuring that she would sing again before the dessert.
‘Are you planning on playing again, or was the idea just for the beginning of the evening?’
He shook his head, leaning forward to whisper, ‘It’s your evening, Miss Delamour, not mine. I’d be quite happy to sit here and listen to you, as the other guests will.’ He paused. ‘But if you’d like me to join you it would be a very great pleasure.’
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and said, ‘I was planning to sing “Scarborough Fair”, changing “she” to “he” and so on, and then “The Last Rose of Summer”, finishing with “See Amid the Winter’s Snow” and “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” to remind us that tomorrow is Christmas Day. What do you think?’
‘Excellent,’ he pronounced. ‘All favourites of mine. Perhaps invite the guests to join in?’
‘Then – would you? Although it seems unfair when it’s your holiday time.’ She laughed. ‘The Maritime will be delighted that they’re getting two performers for the price of one!’
‘You are charging a fee?’ he whispered again.
She nodded. ‘I said I would accept just a small fee and my bed and board, but I think I might waive the fee as I’ve been given such a lovely room. And an excellent dinner.’
‘Nonsense!’ he said, his voice still low but adamant. ‘Miss Delamour – Delia! You must believe in your worth. You are a professional performer and have a living to earn. They will expect to pay you just as they will expect to pay the staff serving dinner. I won’t require a fee, of course, because I asked them if I might accompany you as a surprise for you, and it will be a bonus for them if I continue playing; but sometimes,’ he added seriously, ‘by giving, you also receive in kind.’
Delia took a sip of water. ‘You’re right, I know.’
Jenny interrupted their conversation. ‘What schemes are the two of you planning? Your performance was delightful, incidentally. You make a splendid duet. You, Mr Dawson, are lost in the middle of an orchestra.’
‘I’m not proficient enough to be a solo artist,’ he explained. ‘I know my limitations, but I think that Miss Delamour’s voice brings out the best in my playing.’
‘And your playing in my voice,’ Delia said, surprising herself at her boldness; and rising from the table, she added, ‘I would be delighted if you would consider accompanying me once more?’
He rose to his feet and put his hand to his chest, declaring, ‘My pleasure.’
There was spontaneous applause as they took their places by the piano. The candle had been replaced by a fresh one and another candlestick had been brought to stand at the other side of the piano. The lamps in the room were turned down and Giles began playing the old folk tune “Scarborough Fair”. Delia was warmed by the sight of the guests mouthing the words and moving their heads in time to the music.
She began to sing, and the loneliness and sadness of being apart from her son dissolved as she lost herself in the music.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Robin gazed at the kitchen table in astonishment as he took his place between Louisa and Molly. He was dressed in new dark blue cord trousers that came down to his ankles and a pale blue shirt with a collar that showed above the navy blue jumper, all presents that he had opened that Christmas Day morning. He had also received two volumes of Sixpenny Dickens that Jenny had
