Blink and you might miss her, for Bermudian opera singer Joice Mary Helen DeShield has never been one to stand still for long. Blessed with a lively intelligence, she has always viewed the world as her oyster and embraced its mysteries with enthusiasm.

Joice DeShield's musical story began in early childhood when she took lessons from a Mrs. Conyers, as did her friend and fellow Bermudian musician, Lloyd Matthew. Throughout her school years here she also sang in various groups on local radio stations as well as on ZBM and ZFB TV, as did her sister.

When Ms DeShield transferred from the Berkeley Institute to the Bermuda Institute, which had an excellent" music department, she studied with Virginia Hingley, who proved to be a real inspiration and entered her in competitions. She also earned the first of many accolades for her piano playing: pass and distinction grades in the Royal Schools of Music (RSM) examinations. Later in life she would be thankful for those early years of RSM training.

Meanwhile, she left Bermuda to continue her high school education at the International School for Foreign Students in California where for seven years she hid her musical light under a bushel, only letting it shine at her graduation ceremony when organisers cast about for someone to sing a solo. So astonished was the school at her ability that they wanted to send her to San Jose State College for musical studies, but the teenager declined.

"I was very young, shy, and not pleased with my body, so I decided to go to business college in downtown Los Angeles instead," Ms DeShield says. "I sat the LA state exams - I think I was the only black dot there! - and passed with an 'A' as a certified computer teacher. After that I came back to Bermuda to work."

Here she met and married an Irishman, and as Mrs. Milliken she was hired by the Southampton Princess Hotel, first as assistant manager in the computerised laundry department and then was promoted to Purchasing. Two weeks later, the couple were winging their way to Vancouver and a new life.

First, she worked at the prestigious Jasper Park Lodge, and later as a secretary in University of Victoria's anthropology department - a move that would change her life considerably. One day she happened to hear glorious music filling the air, which she learned was coming from a nearby building. Following the aural trail, the curious Bermudian hid behind the door soaking up the sounds of Karl Orff's opera, 'Carmina Burana'.

"The professor spotted my shadow behind the door, stopped everything and said, 'Another one of my freshman students who is late. Come in'," Ms DeShield relates. "I walked in like a little weak bird and stood at the back of the auditorium. There were 285 freshman in the chorus and it was their first session. The professor then said, 'I need altos', and I replied 'Well, I can sing that'. I had to walk all the way down the steps of the auditorium, hoping I would not fall on the way, and not knowing what I was doing there."

Sitting at the piano, the professor put her through a series of exercises to determine her range and ability, and ultimately pronounced, 'She's got what I want'. Later, when everyone had gone, he asked her: "Where did you get a voice like that?"

It was the beginning of Ms DeShield's long, serious association with classical music and the University of Victoria chorus, in which she sang for many years. She was also a soloist with the Vancouver Bach Society, and sang and recorded with a chamber music group, the Amity Singers.

At the same time the singer embarked on years of part-time studies to enhance her skills and professionalism. There was voice and piano tutoring at the University of Victoria and lieder and opera studies at the Victoria Conservatory of Music.

Later on, with a failed marriage behind her, and a new love whom she met in Victoria, she moved to Courtney, British Columbia. There she spent summers at the Courtney School of Music camps studying opera in a programme that also included public performances.

By now remarried and the mother of two children, Owen and Angelique, the always-in-motion Ms DeShield entered a singing competition and won. Her prizes included a one-year course at a modelling academy. There she gained her professional modelling diploma, and kept secret her vocal talent.

By 1984 she was on the move again - this time to Holland, where she and her children settled in Boxmeer, outside Nijmegen, staying with the sister of a friend. Again, it was to prove a fortuitous encounter for her hostess, a medical doctor, told her about the Statsopera in Amsterdam. One month after her arrival Ms DeShield found herself among 300 hopefuls auditioning for a professional role in the chorus. She remembers the day clearly.

"Because I was a foreigner I had to be better than anybody in my category," she says. "I was the last one at 4 p.m. and I had to sing five opera arias, each between five and ten minutes long, as well as sight read and conduct. I had studied classical Italian art songs and lieder and a lot of oratorio and close harmonies, and I also played piano, so they were very interested. The audition was extensive and overwhelming but, thanks to my Royal Schools of Music training, and Mrs. Hingley and the Victoria Conservatory, I could do it all. They liked my voice and I was hired."

This victory meant a permanent move to Amsterdam, where she and her children shared a home with a fellow singer in the chorus.

"I was in the house chorus and made good money. It was the life of Riley," she says. "In fact, my whole life was wonderful from 1984."

As a single, working mother she had to juggle two lives, but a combination of circumstances meant that all went smoothly. The Statsopera ensured she had the best baby sitters, and an elderly couple downstairs "adopted" the children, picking them up from school and watching over them until their mother came home.

Not surprisingly, throughout their school years Ms DeShield also found time to become involved as a hospitality hostess, secretary to the board of governors, and typesetter for the school newspaper. She also made cakes for school fund-raisers, and enjoyed cooking sessions with other mothers.

But the stage was her professional home, and it was here that she shone. In the first year alone she sang in eight operas, including 'Parsifal', 'Don Giovanni', 'Doctor Faustus' and 'Tosca', and in German, Italian, Dutch, Latin and English.

In the ensuing years the list grew steadily longer, and included solo roles, as well as performances under the baton of Holland's top orchestras. Throughout the 1990s she sang with a company called Opera Ahoy in Rotterdam.

Singing in foreign languages comes easily to Ms DeShield.

"I have had 30 years of grammar in various languages," she says. "Shakespeare's old English gave me a big boost in my earlier education, and I also have university English. In addition, I have a lot of classical words in my head. I also speak fluent Dutch."

Culturally, however, the talented Bermudian had much to learn in her new home.

"You have to be conservative and talk in a certain way. You have to know what you are doing or they make a Raggedy Ann out of you," she says. "You cannot go to the Netherlands and expect them to carry you in any way. You have to have something - but then, that's the same everywhere in the world, even Bermuda. It is all part of growing up. I have been through many cultures and I just deal with it."

In her professional world she had to deal with the politics of being a foreigner, but took it in her stride.

"If I was given a solo and a Dutch person wanted a solo I would say, 'Let them have it'. I wasn't interested in scratching eyeballs, but in Bermuda I would be," she says. "For years people were rumbling that I got the part over 300 others. In Holland there is loyalty and jealousy, among other things. It's a dog eat dog world. You can die in that business!"

Those problems notwithstanding, Ms DeShield has some wonderful memories of her Dutch career - enough for a book, in fact, and some of them very humorous. Indeed, while an opera is in progress, things are not always as serious as they seem. For example, during one performance of 'Eugen Onegin' with the Netherlands Philharmonic, a black shoe was suddenly seen moving along the chorus. It had been parted from its owner, and people were kicking it along.

"You could see it moving along out of the corner of your eye. The curtains were billowing and you had to keep singing in Russian," Ms DeShield relates. "The opera was in full flow, then the singer was looking for his shoe and he still had to perform. By then the chorus had moved, we were on our knees, and it ended up by me. Nobody told me what to do with it, so I decided to pass him the shoe and he wound up with three!"

It was also not uncommon for a chorus member to mischievously poke a cupped-hand backscratcher between the legs of a singer or singers during a performance.

In the hair-raising category, Ms DeShield remembers the time she had a solo in a five-hour long performance of Wagner's 'Die Meistersinger'. With hours to kill between appearances, she and a fellow performer decamped to a downtown park to picnic.

They enjoyed themselves so much that they forgot the clock, and just had enough time to don their costumes over their street clothes and scramble on stage. Her companion had a major role, and when he put his arm up the costume sleeve fell down revealing a bright red shirt.

"The audience was loving everything, but the shock in his eyes was unbelievable. He almost didn't make his F! " she says.

Once she was accidentally punched in the face during an opera and had to keep on singing despite the pain.

Now, with her children grown and living on their own in Holland, Ms DeShield has returned home for a while for family reasons.

It is a safe bet, however, that this elegant and charming daughter of the soil will soon be sharing her rich contralto voice with her fellow countrymen.

"If you keep your physical condition up your voice stays," she assures. "A good alto is ripe much, much later in life because it is a deeper voice."