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Mrs Cargill

She asks me which branch of the Rural I belong to. I’m just the singer, I say. We share stories.

Her husband died nineteen years ago. She was born in 1934, married at twenty, joined the WI to make friends, the farm was lonely. Four children, ten grandchildren, five great-grandchildren. She likes to play Patience on her computer (not one of those hand-held ones, she says), while watching Murder She Wrote. I wasn’t married when I had my son, I admit, I’m not a church-goer. I go to church, says Mrs Cargill, and that doesn’t bother me a bit.

She drinks Gin and Bitter Lemon.

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