The final note of the final piece of the concert hung in the air. There was a long silence, and then the audience leapt to their feet with applause. 

Stephen joined them. "Brava, brava!" he shouted.

He had no idea that such a talent resided in Whitby. If she wouldn't agree to join his choir, then maybe he could at least recruit her as a soloist for one of the larger works. Her rendition of Gretchen am Spinnrade had been the loveliest he had ever heard. And her accompanist had... certainly caught his eye, as well. Perhaps he was also interested in vocal music?

After many bows and much applause, Stephen made his way into the line to congratulate the performers. He shook their hands, but was pushed out of the way by the man behind him before he could say anything to them. He sighed and waited in a pew for the crowd to disperse.

When he saw the young singer start to leave the sanctuary, he got up and followed her. "Excuse me, miss!" he called.

If Mabel had a choice in the matter, then she would not reside in Whitby at all. But fate played terrible tricks on people and here she was stuck with a weird grandfather and his goats. But at least she was still able to sing. It had taken her a couple of weeks to pull together the little show, but being up on the stage again was well worth it. As was the praise that came with it.

Once the people started to leave, Mabel had tried to sneak out unnoticed, not to much lack. "I'm sorry Monsieur, no interviews" she replied with a heavy French accent, mistaking him for a reporter of some kind.