When I Fall in Love

by Miranda Dickinson

  ‘Bit of an odd one tonight,’ Daisy said.

  ‘Yes, I thought so. We couldn’t sustain the Carnival enthusiasm forever, I guess. I think they’re all still happy, though. Even Sasha seemed to be pacified by the end of it.’

  Daisy laughed. ‘And that’s a minor miracle in itself. I think you and Woody are right about us having something else to aim for. I’ll ask around to see if anyone knows of anything.’

  ‘Thanks. So, how are things with André?’

  ‘We’ve both been so busy lately I haven’t seen that much of him. But when I do see him it’s good.’

  Elsie glanced at her sister. ‘Are you happy, hun?’

  ‘Of course.’ Daisy looked back at her. ‘There are things I’d like to change but work’s good and I love being part of the choir. You should stop worrying about me and consider your own happiness.’

  They had reached Daisy’s car and Elsie stopped walking to face her sister. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  Daisy gave her a knowing look. ‘Working out what happens with a certain hunky graphic designer we know.’

  ‘We’re just getting to know each other.’

  ‘So you said. But I noticed he didn’t hang around for long at the hospital.’

  ‘He said he couldn’t stay. He had to meet a client.’

  Daisy shook her head. ‘Or perhaps it was more to do with the fact that you were cool with him.’

  Elsie fixed her sister with a defiant stare. ‘I was not. We were all concerned about Guin …’

  ‘I saw the way you moved away from him. Dad told me how you hugged Olly when he arrived – but when I got there you were standing as far from him as you could. He says he’s happy to be friends for now, but I don’t know many men who would put up with that amount of uncertainty just for a friend.’

  Feeling cornered, Elsie dug her heels in. ‘Then you obviously don’t have many friends like Olly.’

  Daisy opened the car door and sat inside. ‘Obviously I don’t. Just be careful, Els. I don’t want you to get hurt.’

  ‘How am I likely to get hurt when we’re just friends?’

  Saying nothing else, Daisy closed the door and drove away.

  Her words irritated Elsie all the way home. What had she meant by that? If anything, Olly had merely proved what a lovely man he was by the very fact that he was giving her space. To construe all his actions as motivated by a hidden selfish desire to pursue Elsie only cheapened the help he had given and that was unfair. In fact, everything Olly had done since their agreement to get to know one another had endeared him further to her. He had been increasingly present in her thoughts and she found she was beginning to miss his company when they were apart. He never used his actions to demand appreciation from her – unlike Torin, who appeared to use every act that could potentially be classed as good as a reason to make her feel as if she owed him something in return.

  She stopped at the entrance to her street and checked herself. Why was she thinking about Torin at all? Yes, she would forever be grateful for his assistance with getting Guin to hospital in time, but his belligerent questioning of her motives and the strange text response afterwards proved – if proof were needed – that he was someone she had no intention of pursuing friendship with.

  But had she really been cool with Olly at the hospital? The thought of it sat awkwardly within her as she walked into her house. She went to the kitchen and made herself a mug of tea, pausing to stroke the photograph of Lucas on the fridge as she passed it. Lucas would have understood. He would have understood everything. Cradling her mug, she swallowed back the familiar rush of emotion as she reached out and slid the photograph from its magnetic frame, holding it to her heart as she left the room …

  Next morning, Elsie woke to the shrill ringing of her mobile beside her bed. Wrestling the duvet away from her arms, she picked it up just as the call ended, but it rang again almost immediately.

  ‘Elsie, it’s Danny.’ His voice sounded strained, as if speaking was an effort. ‘The worst thing has happened – my mum’s just told me and …’ She could hear muffled sobs and the concerned tones of his mother in the background.

  ‘Danny, what is it? Tell me!’

  ‘It’s Irene … she’s … oh Elsie, I can’t believe it …’

  Panic gripped Elsie as she waited for Danny to confirm what she now suspected. In the end, it was his mother who gave the news, her son too upset to deliver it.

  ‘I’m good friends with Irene’s daughter Lyn and she called me this morning to say that Irene passed away last night. Apparently it was cancer, but she hadn’t told any of her family. It was only after she had died that her doctor confirmed it. She’s been battling on her own for a long time.’

  Elsie felt the blood drain from her face as inevitable memories from the past joined with her reaction to the news, making her head swim. Cancer. The word every person dreads to hear, whether or not they admit it. How could Elsie not have seen the battle in the old lady, when she had spent so much time watching the disease ravaging Lucas? She swallowed hard as a familiar concoction of emotions beset her: guilt, righteous anger, loss … Remembering where she was, she forced herself to speak. ‘How’s Danny taking it?’

  His mother’s sigh travelled down the line. ‘Badly. Irene had become a really good friend lately and he’s been talking to her a lot. None of his own grandparents are alive, you see, so I think he saw her as a sort of surrogate grandmother.’

  ‘It’s just so awful to think of her suffering alone.’

  ‘I know. Mercifully, the end was quick, according to Lyn. The doctor assured her that Irene wouldn’t have known much about it.’

  Well, that was a blessing at least. Lucas had fought against the inevitable to his last breath. Elsie blinked away tears as the memory assaulted her, fresh as when it had just happened. ‘I’m glad for her family that she didn’t suffer at the end. Give Danny a big hug from me, will you?’

  ‘Of course I will, Elsie, thanks.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do for Irene’s family?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll ask Lyn. It’s dreadful news, isn’t it? You just feel so helpless.’

  Elsie wiped the tears from her face. ‘I know. Thanks for telling me. I’ll tell the rest of the choir.’ Ending the call, she collapsed back into bed, sobbing into her pillow.

  Why hadn’t Irene told anyone she was ill? It explained why she was often an onlooker at choir rehearsals and in recent weeks both Daisy and Woody had observed privately that she was looking thinner than usual. But they had attributed this to her age and never thought for a second that it could be anything more. All the same, the thought of the lovely lady, who spent so much time giving out to others, concealing a secret so terrible was heartbreaking. Perhaps she had wanted it this way: to squeeze every last drop out of her life without feeling she was a burden to anyone, without having to deal with their pity on top of the battle she was already engaged in.

  Lucas had felt this, but his approach had been completely different. To him, other people discovering his condition was unavoidable – especially given his dramatic transformation from a tall, athletic young man to the painfully thin, shaven-headed shadow he became as the cancer laid claim to his body. His way of avoiding others’ pity was to face it down. His merciless humour was his weapon of choice and he wielded it with considerable vigour, which only grew as his physical strength diminished.

  ‘The way I see it, I’m being saved from the pitfalls of older life,’ he would assert, his face alive with determined mischief. ‘I mean, realistically, what would I be missing? I’m saving myself a fortune on the ridiculous sports car I don’t need during my mid-life crisis, the reading glasses I would be prescribed in my fifties, the dreadful cruises I’d end up on when I retired. I’ll never be forced to play golf, sit on a coach trip or pluck unruly hairs from my ears and nostrils. I won’t end up in high-waisted trousers or burgundy-coloured padded gilets I’ve bought from the back pages of a weekend newspaper magazine
. I will never feel the need for a stairlift or those sunglasses that clip over your specs and lift up to make you look permanently surprised. Given all that, do you still feel sorry for me?’

  It was only to Elsie whom he allowed access to his grief for the pleasures of life he would never see – fatherhood, grandchildren and the prospect of fifty blissful years of marriage to the woman he loved more than life itself. But even then, his grief was short-lived, his need to feel in control of the situation summoning his humour back to the fore. ‘Our kids might be completely ugly,’ he would joke, tears still running down his lovely face. ‘Imagine going through life with kids that look like trolls.’

  ‘They would be gorgeous, just like their dad.’

  ‘So you say. I’ve seen some of the odd-looking members of my family. If they inherited my granddad’s massive ears they would be terrifying …’

  Steeling herself, Elsie began to call the members of The Sundaes, the practicality of the task pushing her emotion to one side.

  Cher was already sniffling into a tissue when Elsie arrived for work, the shock of the news still sinking in. And as the day went on, more of The Sundaes gathered – an unplanned meeting to share their grief. As a mark of respect, Cher closed the café at two, allowing The Sundaes to sit quietly together as she made countless pots of tea for everyone. She fussed around, offering slices of chocolate cake, but nobody was hungry. What mattered was that they were together to share in this: to reminisce, to cry, to laugh. As they talked, a surprising picture of Irene began to form. Far from being the shy, disinterested observer she appeared, Irene had been a vital member of the group – a counsellor, confidante and keeper of secrets beyond her own.

  ‘She listened to me,’ Lewis said, staring with hollow eyes at the teacup in his hands, ‘and that’s more than can be said for my family. My mum doesn’t know I’m there half the time.’

  Aoife nodded. ‘I showed her my poems. Some of them I haven’t even shown to Danny.’ She smiled at her boyfriend, whose red-raw eyes glistened with tears again.

  ‘Irene knew every one of Hellfinger’s songs by heart,’ Woody said, causing several involuntary laughs from the room. ‘No, she did. Quoted them to me every week. That woman was a wonder.’

  Elsie bit back tears. ‘She knew about me. I …’ She paused, realising that most of the people in the room actually knew nothing about her own life. ‘I lost my husband nearly two years ago. He died of cancer. Irene knew – I’m not sure how. It meant the world to me to know she understood what it was like to lose somebody like that …’

  The Sundaes stared blankly at her, unsure how to respond to her revelation. Then Lewis nervously stood and crossed the room to give her a stiltedly awkward hug. But the gesture was beautiful and Elsie appreciated it more than she could express.

  Sasha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, raised her hand. All eyes turned to her. ‘She knew the truth about me.’ The room fell silent. Sasha was suddenly as vulnerable as a child; it was a strange sight to witness the usual embodiment of brassiness reduced to a timid girl. ‘I know what you all think about me. You think I’m full of crap, that I’m just a loudmouth. Which I am, but not for the reason you think. At home …’ She stopped, fear flooding her eyes.

  ‘Go on,’ Dee said. ‘It’s OK.’

  Sasha took a breath and stared at The Sundaes. ‘At home, I’m a slave. I don’t speak unless I have to. My mum’s housebound, has been since I was thirteen. And I’m the only one to look after her. Everyone we’ve ever trusted has gone away or done the dirty on us. All her boyfriends, my dad … even my brother who bogged off five years ago. So, I fight them before they get me. Because if I’m not in control it means people can hurt me. I’m not used to people being nice to me – it doesn’t wash, see? Not that it matters much. Most people judge me. But Irene was the first person who listened.’

  Silence remained as the shock of Sasha’s confession sank in. Daisy, Juliet and Cher exchanged glances, Danny and Aoife stared dumbly at her and Sheila sniffed loudly. To everyone’s amazement, it was Woody who spoke first.

  ‘Girl, I’ve been a fool. I judged you and I shouldn’t have.’ He opened his arms wide. ‘Can you find it in your heart to forgive a prejudiced old rocker?’ He stood and approached her.

  Sasha rose uncertainly and accepted his stiff but sincere hug. ‘Not that I think you’re any less of a loser, though.’

  ‘Perish the thought.’

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ Elsie said. ‘I think we all are.’ Around the room murmurs of agreement sounded.

  ‘We should do something to remember Irene,’ Stan suggested. ‘A song or something.’

  Sheila raised a tentative hand. ‘Maybe we could do a concert on the pier again?’

  ‘Or we could offer to sing at her funeral,’ Danny said. ‘My mum could ask Lyn about it.’

  Daisy smiled at him. ‘I think that’s a great idea, Danny. She meant a lot to all of us, so we should do something in her memory.’

  And so, on a sunny August afternoon, The Sundaes gathered at the front of the small Methodist chapel where Irene had been a member since childhood and performed a quiet a cappella version of “I’ll Walk Beside You” as a small congregation of her family and friends looked on. The notes wobbled a little and several of the choir members missed words, but the heartfelt performance was well received by their audience and they returned to their seats feeling as if they had paid a suitable tribute to their much-missed friend.

  After the service, Irene’s daughter Lyn came up to Elsie and took both hands in hers.

  ‘I don’t think you realise what The Sundaes meant to Mum,’ she said, and Elsie could feel Lyn’s hands shaking around hers as she spoke. ‘You might know that she was a professional singer from the age of seventeen right up to her mid-thirties and she always sang around the house when I was a kid. But she hadn’t sung since we lost Dad over ten years ago. Stopped the day he died. And then she joined your choir and was the happiest any of us in the family had seen in a long time. When I saw her on that stage at the Carnival …’ she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes ‘… it did my heart the world of good. Thank you so much.’

  Elsie was blown away by Lyn’s words. She had always wanted The Sundaes to be about fun and acceptance, but she had never expected to create something that could make such a difference to people’s lives. To know that the choir she had founded had been the catalyst to encourage Irene to sing again was a phenomenal endorsement of everything they had done so far. Woody, however, was less surprised. When Elsie confided her amazement to him, he merely shook his head.

  ‘I told you – we’re the vocal revolution for this town. We’re inspiring song soldiers to seek something greater than themselves, angel. It was bound to happen.’

  Losing Irene had been a complete bolt from the blue and for several weeks the choir seemed to be a little lost for direction. Even Woody’s usual energetic attitude was lacking. Consequently, the choir’s rehearsals became more like social club meetings with the odd song thrown in. Elsie recognised the need for everyone to come to terms with Irene’s death, so she encouraged them to talk instead during rehearsals and, as a result, saw them grow considerably closer to one another.

  During this time, Elsie found herself turning to Olly more and more. It began on the day she learned of Irene’s death, after The Sundaes had left and she was alone in the café with only her conflicted thoughts for company. Without thinking, she had called him and he had hurried to meet her, holding her as she sobbed against him for almost an hour. Then, as the weeks passed, they spent more time together, Olly’s gentle sense of humour and sincere concern for her more comforting than she could have imagined.

  On the first Friday of September, Olly invited her to his apartment in Kemp Town for dinner after work.

  ‘Nothing fancy, just a Thomasina Miers stew I’ve been wanting to try out.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want something “trying out” on me, Olly.’

  ‘Trust
me, Els, it’ll be worth it. And if it all goes pear-shaped, I make a mean omelette.’

  Olly’s apartment was in a beautiful row of white stucco Georgian houses, with black and white checkerboard steps at each entrance, elegantly curved black iron handrails, and lanterns over the doorways that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a BBC costume drama. Elsie loved this part of Brighton – it was the area she had dreamed of living in for a whole summer when she was nine years old after attending a birthday party for a school friend in one of the grand buildings.

  Olly was already busy in the kitchen when Elsie arrived, the delicious aromas of roasting meat, herbs and scented steam filling the room.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, I bought wine,’ he said, holding a bottle aloft.

  ‘I never mind if there’s wine,’ Elsie grinned, accepting a large glass and congratulating herself on her decision to walk here this evening.

  ‘So, how is everyone?’

  She leant against the large Smeg refrigerator, enjoying the sight of her host dangerously juggling plates and cutlery while trying to appear calm and in control. ‘It’s taken a while for the news to sink in, obviously. But everyone seems determined to carry on, for Irene’s sake. Woody and I just need to come up with something else for them to work towards. I’m wondering if we should put on a concert for Cancer Research or something. In Irene’s memory?’

  Olly motioned for her to move through into the dining area of his large, open-plan living room. ‘That sounds like a great idea. I might be able to get my firm to donate some money towards the venue hire, if you like? And if you need any promotional stuff – you know, posters and flyers – you only have to ask.’

  ‘That would be great. Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He set out two places at the table and grinned broadly when he caught her eye. ‘You know, we should be careful. These meetings are becoming scarily regular for us.’

  She tutted. ‘I know. Shocking, eh?’

  ‘Right, the food should be ready. Feeling brave?’ His eyes twinkled.