Echoes of Grace

by Caragh Bell

  ‘Speaking of karaoke,’ he began, jabbing his thumb in the direction of a noisy group of women in the corner, ‘I just met a girl at the bar called Chanelle. She’s with that hen party over there. She said that there’ll be some karaoke soon. I’m so excited.’

  Samantha groaned. ‘Oh please God, no! Save us!’

  Lydia put her face in her hands. ‘Are you serious?’

  Colin looked insulted. ‘I’d have something to say if I couldn’t sing. I mean, I’m fab.’

  Laura patted his back in encouragement. ‘You are fab,’ she agreed. ‘Just get a round in before you perform. We’re almost out.’

  Colin held up the microphone and tapped the nozzle for attention. ‘It’s been a long time, people. I’m a bit rusty.’

  The hen party cheered.

  ‘I’m going to start with some ABBA.’ He nodded at the DJ and the opening bars of ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!’began to play.

  ‘That’s Colin sorted for the rest of the night,’ said Molly. ‘He’ll sing at least twenty songs. God help anyone else who wants a go.’

  Aurora started to move in time with the music. ‘He’s pretty good,’ she said, clapping her hands. ‘Those women seem to love him.’

  ‘I just watched them have two Jägerbombs in a row. They can’t even see him properly at this stage.’ Molly turned to Lydia. ‘Is he still putting pressure on you about singing at the church?’

  Lydia nodded. ‘He says it at least ten times a day. It’s exhausting.’

  ‘Singing? At the wedding?’ Laura looked aghast.

  Lydia sighed. ‘I still haven’t found a soprano. You know, someone to sing the “Ave Maria” and stuff. He’s been practising for weeks, learning the Latin and reaching the high notes.’

  ‘Good Lord! How on earth will you tell him? I mean, he can hold a tune but he’s no Maria Callas.’ Laura drained her drink. ‘What a pickle.

  ‘I know,’ agreed Lydia glumly. ‘I mean, he’s a good singer and all, but he’ll want to belt out “Purple Rain” at the offertory, complete with air guitar and gyrating hips.’

  ‘Give him another role at the ceremony,’ suggested Samantha, ‘like a reading or a prayer.’

  Colin finished the song and took a deep bow. ‘Thank you, thank you all!’

  The women screamed for more.

  ‘Oh well, I suppose I could do another.’ He winked at the bride-to-be. ‘Right, in the words of Robbie Williams: let me entertain you!’

  The DJ nodded and selected the song.

  ‘Look at him go,’ said Samantha laughing. ‘You know, his church gig could be entertaining.’

  Lydia shook her head. ‘I love him dearly, but that’s not happening. I’ll make him a bridesmaid or something.’

  ‘I don’t think fuchsia red is his colour,’ said Molly seriously. ‘Plus, he’ll find it hard to hold up a strapless gown.’

  ‘Ha, ha.’ Her older sister made a face.

  ‘Last orders!’ shouted the barman. ‘Last orders, get ’em now!’ He rang a bell loudly.

  Colin arrived back to the table breathlessly. ‘Right, the DJ reckons we only have time for two more tunes. I want to do “Empire State of Mind”by Jay Z and Alicia Keys. Mol? Will you do the honours?’

  Molly looked pensive for a moment and then said, ‘No.’

  ‘Sam?’

  ‘You know I can’t sing.’

  ‘Lyd?’

  ‘Same.’

  ‘Laura?’

  ‘Bugger off, Colin.’

  ‘Aurora?’

  ‘Why not?’ She got up. ‘That’s the one about New York, am I right?’

  He held out his hand. ‘It sure is. Now, try your best. I’m so used to performing that I tend to drown out other singers. If I notice that you’re off key or anything, I’ll improvise.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So, as my part is mainly rapping, I might sing the second chorus? You know, to give them the benefit of my voice.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He tapped the microphone once more. ‘I’m nearing the end of the night, ladies,’ he said to the hen party. ‘So, this will be my swan song.’

  They booed and stamped their feet. ‘Keep singin’, darlin’. You’re bloomin’ brilliant!’ called one.

  Colin smiled modestly. ‘It’s been a pleasure. Now, I have a special guest. Everyone welcome Aurora!’

  The women screamed in response.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for your support.’ He paused and closed his eyes. ‘My raison d’être is singing on stage. I’m incredibly fortunate that I’m so good at it.’

  ‘Get off the stage, you plonker!’ called an old man at the bar.

  ‘So, without further ado . . .’

  The intro began to play. Colin started to strut around and then began to rap. Aurora watched him in fascination. He bent down and tickled one girl under the chin, then whipped around and did the splits in front of another woman. She squealed and put a pink feather boa around his neck.

  Then came Aurora’s cue to sing.

  Her voice, loosened by all the gin, resonated through the room. The barman stopped polishing glasses and stared at her open-mouthed. The old man at the bar turned around and peered at the young girl singing on the makeshift stage. The women screamed in delight.

  Lydia, deep in conversation with Samantha, stopped dead. ‘Laura,’ she hissed, ‘why didn’t you tell me she could sing like that?’

  ‘Shhhh!’ said Molly and they all fell silent.

  Colin had stopped in his tracks and his mouth fell open. Within seconds, it was his cue to rap again, but he fumbled his words.

  The time came for the second chorus. Aurora nodded at him to continue but he bowed his head. ‘Please,’ he said, gesturing for her to sing instead.

  So, she did.

  The song ended and the crowd erupted. Even the DJ clapped, unused to such talent.

  ‘More! More!’ screamed the hen party.

  Aurora blushed. ‘I couldn’t possibly – it’s far too late . . .’

  The barman held up his thumb. ‘We ’ave time for one more!’ he called over the din.

  Colin bowed out gracefully, fully aware that he had been outclassed. ‘I suggest something by Adele or Barbra Streisand.’

  ‘Please sing “Let it Go”from Frozen,’ pleaded the bride-to-be. ‘It’s my daughter’s favourite song. I’ll record it for her.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Aurora kindly. ‘Would you tell me her name so I can dedicate it to her?’

  ‘Michelle.’

  Aurora cleared her throat. ‘This last song is for Michelle!’

  The crowd cheered. The DJ pressed ‘play’ and the piano intro began.

  Aurora closed her eyes and began to sing. The women moved in sync, waving their arms above their head. When she reached the chorus, everyone joined in. Lydia turned to Colin. ‘Sienna would adore this,’ she said.

  The barman watched the young girl as she sang. This was no ordinary drunken punter, belting out a tune at the end of the night. This girl was special – she had a voice like an angel. He debated whether to video her on his phone. She could well be famous.

  The crescendo began to build at the end of the song. Aurora’s voice climbed the scale easily, never faltering. She threw her head back and sang with all her might.

  The crowd erupted, singing at the top of their voices.

  The song ended. The remaining people in the bar got to their feet and clapped.

  Aurora walked back to the table, her face flushed. ‘That was such fun,’ she said, sipping her drink. ‘I can see why you love it so much,’ she added to Colin.

  ‘You’re amazing,’ he said honestly. ‘I’m super-impressed.’

  ‘Amazing,’ echoed Samantha. ‘How did you hit those notes?’

  Lydia, feeling a bit tipsy, had an epiphany. ‘You must come to Venice,’ she declared suddenly. ‘If I pay for your flights and hotel, will you sing at my wedding in August? Only if you’re free. I mean, I’ll pay you, of course.’

&
nbsp; ‘At your wedding?’

  ‘Yes! It makes perfect sense. You’re Laura’s sister and you’re better than most professionals I’ve heard.’

  Aurora’s face broke into a huge smile. ‘I’d love to, Lydia. What an honour. Would Luca mind? I mean, should you ask him?’

  ‘Not at all. He lets me do what I want.’

  An alarmed Molly stole a glance in Colin’s direction and found Samantha doing the same. Everyone knew that he had his heart set on singing at the church.

  To their relief, he looked delighted. ‘Fantastic,’ he enthused. ‘I thought that I’d have to do the honours. You’ve just taken the pressure off.’ If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it.

  ‘Splendid!’ said Laura. ‘Now I’ll have another ally.’

  ‘Knowing Tara Jacob, that’s a good thing,’ said Colin, patting her arm.

  ‘I’ll have to check with Harry my agent, but I’m sure it will be fine.’ Aurora beamed at them all. ‘Just send me the dates and I’ll book that weekend.’

  ‘All’s well that ends well,’ said Samantha. ‘I usually hate all that “Panis Angelicus” stuff, but now I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘Maybe you could sing “Let It Go” again for Sienna – not actually in the church of course!’ said Lydia. ‘She would hero-worship you forever.

  ‘Of course,’ said Aurora. ‘Venice! How wonderful! I’ve never been.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Lydia, delighted. ‘Colin – you can be Chief Bridesmaid.’

  ‘Seriously?’ he gasped. ‘Like, I’ll get to walk up the aisle?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Oh, thank you! It may be my only chance ever, you know!’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so pathetic,’ said Molly.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  William paced the room. Ella was sitting on the sofa, barely moving. The clock on the wall ticked incessantly, each tick bringing them closer to the time: the time her parents were due to arrive.

  Bang on one o’clock, the doorbell rang.

  ‘Right,’ said William, straightening his shirt. ‘Let’s do this.’

  Ella, now almost twenty-four weeks pregnant, had decided to tell her parents. They would inevitably find out and she didn’t want them to hear it from anyone else but her. A few weeks before, she had messaged her mother to come and visit, describing how happy she was and how she’d love to show them her new life. She suggested a long weekend break where they could meet and go for afternoon tea. Perhaps take in a show. Her mother, who still had close friends in London, was easy to convince. Her father initially resisted. Why would he want to go back there? Flights were expensive and he didn’t like this Brexit business at all. However, after a while, he had relented and they were due any minute.

  Arthur Taylor had worked for the British Foreign Office for years. A conservative man in his late sixties, he valued two things: hard work and respectability. His wife, Maureen, was a perfect companion. Quiet and demure, she had hosted dinners and luncheons with grace and style, and had never caused trouble or fracas during their thirty-five-year marriage. Their first-born child, Mark, was a successful attorney in Toronto who made a point of visiting them once a week and was the perfect addition to any soirée.

  Ella was a different story. She had rebelled from day one. The week before they had left for Canada, Maureen had found an empty bottle of vodka, a ten-pack of Marlboros and a bong in her daughter’s room. They sent her to a strict school in Toronto but she didn’t excel. Instead, she became involved with a boy from Moss Park and began to use drugs. Years afterwards, her parents gave her an ultimatum: shape up or shape out. They couldn’t handle her wayward behaviour any more.

  Ella, realising that she was on her last chance, pulled things together. She went to night school and got a job as a copywriter at an advertising agency. It was there that she met Josh. The rest was history.

  Her father held out his arms. ‘Come and give your old dad a hug,’ he said in his clipped voice. She fell into his arms, breathing in his familiar smell. Her mother watched this exchange and waited her turn.

  William hung back, waiting to offer drinks and snacks.

  ‘So, William, you’re a doctor at Great Ormond Street I hear. Jolly fine profession.’ Arthur took a seat on the armchair.

  ‘Yes, Mr. Taylor.’

  ‘Arthur, please.’

  ‘Yes, Arthur. I enjoy it immensely. It’s so rewarding.’

  Maureen beamed at him. ‘It’s so lovely that you two have met up after all this time.’

  Ella glanced at William. She had a cushion in front of her tummy and was finding it hard to look inconspicuous.

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked politely.

  Maureen shook her head. ‘No, my darling. We’ve just come from a late brunch.’

  Arthur shook his head. ‘We’re quite all right, old chap. Now, what’s this great news?’

  Ella stared at her parents for a moment. It was quite obvious that they were expecting an engagement announcement. It seemed like the obvious thing to happen. They looked delighted at the prospect. Their little Ella: a doctor’s wife. It was far better than her previous relationships which included a guitarist in a heavy metal band and an artist.

  Well,’ said William, ‘we do have some news –’

  Ella cut him off. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  There was silence. Arthur’s face darkened to a deep shade of magenta. Maureen’s hand flew to her mouth.

  William took a seat beside Ella and took her hand in his.

  ‘We’re having a baby,’ he said.

  Ella threw a startled glance at him.

  ‘Are you married?’ spluttered Arthur, getting to his feet.

  ‘No.’ Ella met his angry gaze full on.

  ‘How far along are you?’ asked Maureen.

  ‘Six months or so. I’m almost in my third trimester.’

  ‘What do they say at the agency?’ went on her mother. ‘I thought you came here on a temporary contract. Surely they won’t be too pleased if you take off on maternity leave.’

  ‘They’re fine about it,’ said William smoothly. ‘All’s well.’

  ‘Please be happy for me,’ Ella pleaded. ‘This is a positive thing.’

  ‘Positive?’ her father roared. ‘You’re unmarried and pregnant. I thought your generation were more savvy than this. That child will be illegitimate, Ella. Is that what you want?’ He turned to William. ‘And as for you! Are you a man? You two should’ve made it official right away instead of floundering for months.’

  ‘No, Daddy, it’s not like that,’ Ella interrupted. ‘William’s not responsible. It’s not his.’

  ‘What?’

  Maureen began to fan her face with a newspaper from the coffee table.

  ‘If it’s not William, then who on earth is it?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said quietly. ‘He won’t be on the scene.’

  Maureen wiped a tear from her eye with a white handkerchief. ‘Well, it’s a dreadful shock, Ella. We certainly didn’t expect you to let us down like this.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that,’ she said. ‘But I want your blessing. This baby will be your first grandchild and I want you to be part of its life.’

  Arthur’s mind was racing. He felt torn two ways. His sense of betrayal made him want to explode in anger again and order his daughter from the house. But then there was this young doctor . . . it might be wiser to keep him on board and not offend him.

  Maureen waited for her husband to speak, just as she had been conditioned to do throughout their marriage.

  At last Arthur spoke. ‘We’re not going to lie and say we’re thrilled,’ he began. ‘I can’t understand how feckless the youth are today. However, what’s done is done. At least you’re not alone.’ He gestured to William.

  ‘Exactly.’ William smiled. ‘Right, Ella?’

  Ella jumped. ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She smiled too.

  Maureen focused on her belly. ‘My word, you’re quite large, darl
ing.’

  William pulled her close. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said, kissing her head.

  Ella smiled at him gratefully.

  ‘Right, I’ll ask again,’ said William jovially. ‘Would you like some tea or perhaps something stronger?’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Arthur, I’ve some nice Midleton in the cupboard. Shall we wet the baby’s head?’

  They left an hour later. Ella watched them from the window, her face troubled. William gathered the empty glasses and cups and placed them in the kitchen sink.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’ he asked softly.

  She nodded. ‘I’m fine.’ Suddenly she burst into tears. ‘Oh Will, we can’t go on like this.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Living a lie,’ she continued, ‘My sleeping in your bed and you on the foldaway one. Your life has been put on hold and it’s all my fault.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘I should leave, Will. You’ve gone far beyond the call of duty on this one. I’m not your responsibility. I’m not your problem.’

  ‘Do you want to leave?’ he asked.

  Her eyes met his. ‘I don’t know. I’m beholden to you. You have your job and your life. All I have is Netflix and my daily conversation with that Indian guy at the corner shop. I have nothing to offer in this situation. Not even money. I feel so guilty. I can’t bear to take advantage any longer.’

  ‘That’s my choice. That’s my decision.’

  He walked over to her and grasped her shoulders.

  ‘Look at me,’ he commanded.

  Her head remained hanging.

  ‘Look at me!’ he said again, more forcibly.

  She raised her head reluctantly.

  ‘Do you want to leave?’ he asked.

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Do you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Then don’t mention it again.’ He released her. ‘Let’s take this one day at a time, Ella. I’m quite happy to see this through. Once your baby is born, you’ll be back to normal and more equipped to make decisions. You’ve seen my life. I work, eat, watch mindless TV and sleep. You being here is not an imposition. In fact, it’s nice to have someone to watch David Attenborough with, to be honest.’