The Chilbury Ladies' Choir

MRS. TILLING'S JOURNAL

Tuesday, 26th March, 1940

First funeral of the war, and our little village choir simply couldn't sing in tune. "Holy, holy, holy" limped out as if we were a crump of warbling sparrows. But it wasn't because of the war, or the young scoundrel Edmund Winthrop torpedoed in his submarine, or even the Vicar's abysmal conducting. No, it was because this was the final performance of the Chilbury Choir. Our swan song.

"I don't see why we have to be closed down," Mrs. B. snapped afterward as we congregated in the foggy graveyard. "It's not as if we're a threat to national security."

"All the men have gone," I whispered back, aware of our voices carrying uncomfortably through the funeral crowd. "The Vicar says we can't have a choir without men."

"Just because the men have gone to war, why do we have to close the choir? And precisely at a time when we need it most! I mean, what'll he disband next? His beloved bell ringers? Church on Sundays? Christmas? I expect not!" She folded her arms in annoyance. "First they whisk our men away to fight, then they force us women into work, then they ration food, and now they're closing our choir. By the time the Nazis get here there'll be nothing left except a bunch of drab women ready to surrender."

"But there's a war on," I said, trying to placate her loud complaining. "We women have to take on extra work, help the cause. I don't mind doing hospital nurse duties, although it's busy keeping up the village clinic, too."

"The choir has been part of the Chilbury way since time began. There's something bolstering about singing together." She puffed her chest out, her large, square frame like an abundant Field Marshall.

The funeral party began to head to Chilbury Manor for the obligatory glass of sherry and cucumber sandwich. "Edmund Winthrop," I sighed. "Only twenty and blown up in the North Sea."

"He was a vicious bully, and well you know it," Mrs. B. barked. "Remember how he tried to drown

JENNIFER RYAN lives in the Washington, DC area with her husband and two children. Originally from Kent and then London, she was previously a nonfiction book editor.

"A delightful debut."
- People

"This well-written and absorbing tale will stay with the reader for a long time to come."
- Bookreporter

"Compelling and exquisitely wrought."
- Bookpage

"These strong, unforgettable characters will keep you reading late into the night. I could not put this wonderful book down."
- The Missourian

"There's so much happening in Chilbury: intrigue, romance and an unforgettable cast of characters who aren't always as they appear. The Chilbury Ladies' Choir is a charming slice of English wartime life that warms the soul like a hot toddy."
- Martha Hall Kelly, New York Times bestselling author of Lilac Girls

"Lyrical, poetic, emotional, funny, endearing, surprising - it is a masterpiece."
- Veronica Henry, author of An Eligible Bachelor

"The Chilbury Ladies' Choir sinks you deep inside the rich, intricate atmosphere of an English village in the middle of war, when quiet lives are upended and secrets unravel. With her unforgettable characters and vivid narrative, Jennifer Ryan creates the kind of wartime novel that plays out over the intimate territory of the human heart-full of soul, full of hope. You'll be thinking about this book long after the last page turns."
- Beatriz Williams, New York Times bestselling author of A Hundred Summers and The Secret Life of Violet Grant

"World War II in an English village seen through the eyes of the most delicious cast of characters you'll ever meet-The Chilbury Ladies' Choir is a masterpiece of secrets, misdirection, village gossip, and gleeful disregard for anything but the main chance, as the Home Front learns to carry on. Seldom do you find a writer with such a deft touch-Jennifer Ryan sweeps the reader along to the very last page in a remarkable debut. "
- Charles Todd, New York Times bestselling author of the Inspector Ian Rutledge series