Some Kind of Wonderful

by Giovanna Fletcher

  The rest of the choir all cheer in her direction.

  ‘Good!’ Jodie nods. ‘You’ve done the hard bit. Working out your harmonies is the tricky stuff, this is the pay-off!’ she tells us all. ‘Right, are we ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ they all shout.

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper, blowing air out of my mouth and clapping my hands together in a bid to steady the apprehension I’m feeling. Like Albie said, what do I really have to be scared of out there? It’s only singing in front of people who care for us.

  ‘Let’s do this!’ shouts Marie, an elderly lady who lives around the corner from Mum. I regularly see her singing in the fruit and veg aisle in Budgens, so I wasn’t too surprised to see her as part of the choir when I joined.

  ‘Come on then,’ Jodie says, waving her arm in the direction of the door as she climbs down from her pedestal and leads the way.

  The atmosphere is charged and expectant as we shuffle into the room in single file, causing lots of hushing and whispering from our audience. I’m aware of the room being full even though I don’t look up to take in their faces. My focus is on getting in position, which is now on the second row between Susan and Nicola, a young woman who’s just rejoined the group after having a baby. I’m thrilled not to be in the front row any more. Firstly, because it means Susan is now at a much kinder volume on my ears, and secondly because I feel I’m cuddled and empowered by the rest of the choir all around me, rather than right at the front, exposed and alone.

  The music starts. Just for tonight the pianist has been joined by a guitarist, drummer, cellist and violinist. They’re a bunch of his mates (all locals) who were happy to give up their free time to be a part of the evening. We haven’t been able to rehearse together yet, so the sound of a guitar strumming our intro of ‘One Day Like This’ while Fiona at the end of my row takes the opening two lines as a solo is new to my ears. It causes a thrill of delight and fire to surge through me.

  I look up and see Jodie looking at us all, her face alive and bright as her hands jump along to the beat, ready to bring us all in together. My heart jumps in my chest as I take a deep breath and open my mouth, becoming one with the group as we sing the song I first saw them perform last month – the one that moved me to tears. It’s just as emotional now as I deliver it to others. I don’t take my eyes off Jodie. I’m immersed in the sound being created around me, loving the way my voice blends in with those of my new friends and the impassioned joy that’s seeping from each and every one of us.

  As I start to relax I allow myself to take in the faces behind Jodie. People of all ages are crammed into the church’s pews, some are even standing along the back and down the sides. Everyone’s eyes are on us as they cradle their drinks in their hands, clearly captivated by our performance. I spot a woman put an arm around the elderly man next to her, another man taking his wife’s hand as she kisses the head of the toddler on her lap, and a young couple bashfully smiling at each other. We’re inspiring these emotions. It’s pretty magical.

  It doesn’t take me long to spot my family and Connie and Matt at the end of a row two-thirds of the way up the church. Mum, Dad, Ted, Connie, Matt and Stuart are all smiling back at us, their grins reflecting those of the choir. However, I can see that Mum and Dad are both visibly crying too.

  Michelle, on the other hand, notices that I’ve clocked them all sitting there and pulls a comical face of disinterest at me, tapping her hand against her open mouth as though yawning, before breaking into a grin of her own and winking.

  It strikes me that I’m really going to miss the bitch when I leave in a few days’ time. I’m going to miss all of them so very much.

  Movement from the back of the church catches my attention. A quick glance lets me know that Natalia has come along. I hadn’t even told her where tonight’s concert was being held so it’s a pleasant and thoughtful surprise. I force myself to refocus my attention back on our musical supervisor.

  Before long the song finishes to rapturous applause and we’re flying through the rest of our numbers: Christina Perri’s ‘A Thousand Years’, ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ from The Wizard of Oz, John Legend’s ‘All of Me’, Bob Marley’s ‘One Love’, Michael Jackson’s ‘Earth Song’, ‘Climb Every Mountain’ from The Sound of Music, and Pharrell Williams’ ‘Happy’. Each song creates a different reaction from our audience; a reminiscent sigh, an excited cheer of surprise that we’re attempting to perform it. They feed off what we’re giving them, but their response and attention pushes us to deliver even more and give them our very best.

  It whizzes by in a flurry of exhilaration and soon we’re waiting for the introduction to the final song. The piano starts with gentle percussion splashing over the top. When the violin begins creeping in with the melody a chill runs down my spine.

  ‘Fix You’.

  From behind me Albie starts singing the first verse, his gravelly, experienced voice giving a greater depth and meaning to the words of regret, loss, failure, desperation, pain, love and longing. I know this song inside out, but hearing him sing it right now moves me more than I’m expecting it to. A lump forms in my throat. He’s married, happily so far as I can tell, but I can’t help but feel he must be drawing on something real from his own life as he sings the lyrics with so much feeling. I know I shouldn’t but I sneak a peek at Susan beside me and see tears streaming down her face.

  Their son.

  Even though I don’t know the whole story I know enough to see she’s hurting. I search out her fingers and grab her hand, squeezing it tightly. She takes a big intake of breath as she pats my arm with her spare hand. We never really know what others are going through or have been through. Sometimes even the happiest of souls can be the ones suffering the worst pain.

  When we all join in I feel like we’re singing this for each other, about each other. We all have our difficulties, our struggles and heartache. They’re a part of our story. They have a part to play in the people we become, but they don’t define who we are.

  When we’re devotedly singing a promise of leading someone home, of giving someone their life back and putting them together again, I can’t help but think of what I’ve been doing for myself over the past few months.

  I never would’ve thought I would be capable of coming out of the fog of heartache and turning my life around so drastically. I thought this new life was going to be nothing more than a consolation prize. A downgrade on what could’ve been.

  It’s true; sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. But you also don’t know what you’re made of until all you thought you knew and wanted is stripped away from you.

  The song builds with all the instruments coming in and multiple harmonies being sung, the words ringing out loud and proud. It’s clear each of us is loving every single second of it.

  And then we all fade away, leaving just Albie and the piano to finish the number.

  The audience are on their feet before he’s even sung the last note.

  36

  ‘Oh, come here, you!’ Connie chirps, throwing her arms around me and squeezing me tightly, which nearly causes me to spill my glass of precious red wine. Yes. Red. It turns out I, like Ian, prefer red wine over white in the colder months – it really is far more inviting and warming as it slides down your gullet. ‘That was flipping amazing!’ Connie continues with a huge grin on her face. ‘You were great!’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling bashful at receiving praise without the other choir members with me to accept it.

  ‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she says, refusing to release me from her grasp.

  ‘You’re going to be seeing plenty of me when I get back,’ I remind her, talking into her hair while aware of the excited grin on my face, my stomach flipping at the thought of getting on a plane in just two days’ time.

  ‘I can’t wait!’ she tells me almost humping me as she jumps up and down.

  I love that Connie’s as excited about it as I am. We won’t be living to
gether for very long, and I know we’ll be in her flat rather than one we might have found together – so it’ll probably be like I’m there having a sleepover rather than it being a home for me. However, it’ll give us a taster of what living together years ago could have been like, and a taster is sometimes better than the real deal. I’m sure I’m totally annoying to live with, as is she, but we won’t get stressed or agitated with each other because it’s only short-term. Plus, we’ll have to make the most of it before it’s over. I’ve no doubt she’ll be taking the plunge and moving in with Matt by the end of the year. Although, as with my situation, you never can tell what’s going to happen in life. Maybe he’ll grow two heads, we’ll discover he has a secret wife living in Norfolk, or he’ll simply change his mind after playing the devoted boyfriend for long enough. I sincerely hope not. I’ve never seen Connie as happy as she’s been in the last few months. It’s been a wonder to see.

  ‘Who’s the silver fox with the voice?’ she asks, looking around the room.

  ‘That would be Albie,’ I smile, taking a sip of my drink. Now the performance is over the adrenalin has kicked in and I’m buzzing even more. I need something to take the edge off and calm me down. ‘Married to Susan, the woman I was standing next to in the choir,’ I add.

  ‘Well, he’s a dream, as are you!’ she beams.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say bashfully.

  ‘Hello, slappers!’ Michelle whispers loud enough for only us to hear, making us jump as she pinches our bums.

  ‘We’re in a church,’ I hiss, which only makes her chuckle filthily. ‘And don’t you have to have some sort of sex life to be one of those?’ I ask, aware that the only action I’ve had since becoming single was the steamy session with Alastair on New Year’s Eve. And that didn’t even lead to us having sex, although now I really wish it had.

  ‘Well done,’ she says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. ‘I couldn’t even fake disinterest. It was ace.’

  ‘Thanks!’ I say, unable to hold back a frown. She never praises me without a catch so I brace myself for what’s to come.

  ‘What I want to know is, who’s the hottie and can you introduce me?’ she asks, eagerly leaning in.

  ‘What is it with you two?’ I exclaim, shaking my head at them both.

  ‘Albie,’ Connie states with a knowing tilt of the head towards Michelle, completely ignoring my look of disapproval. ‘I’ve already asked.’

  ‘I’ll fight you for him!’ says Michelle, and I’ve no doubt she means it.

  ‘Married,’ Connie states, pursing her lips together and almost looking like she’s enjoying delivering the bad news.

  ‘Fuck,’ she says, having the decency to look apologetic as soon as the word is out.

  ‘As are you,’ I remind her.

  ‘Bloody wedding vows! Always ruining my fun,’ she groans. If it weren’t for the cheeky glint in her eye, I’d wonder if she was being serious.

  ‘Darling, Stuart’s looking for you,’ Mum informs Michelle as she comes over and gives me a hug, then turns back to my sister while continuing to hold on to my arm, patting it lovingly. ‘He thinks Duncan needs feeding.’

  ‘He always needs feeding when he’s with him,’ Michelle grunts, the annoyance almost steaming out of her nostrils. ‘Why can’t he fucking grow a pair? And I don’t mean balls, because baps are far more hardcore than those droopy fellas. No, I literally want him to grow some rock-hard leaky boobs that Duncan can suck the life out of every second of the day. You’d think he’d let me have just five minutes away …’ As her voice cracks with emotion she stops and closes her eyes, screwing her face up as she takes a breath.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask softly, placing my hand gently on her shoulder. Michelle can usually go one of two ways when she’s like this and being offered sympathy; crumble and cry (which I obviously do not want) or turn her anger towards me, which will inevitably lead to her ripping my face off (again, I obviously don’t want that. I like my face).

  ‘It’s been a long day,’ she sighs, trying to pull herself together and attempting to smile back at me. It’s been a few weeks since the last emotional wobble in her living room. Since then she’s appeared to be on top of everything and brushed off my attempts at finding out how she’s really doing. All I can do is ask. It’s up to her to allow herself to be honest about what’s going on. ‘Duncan didn’t sleep well last night, and I think I only got one solid hour,’ she admits.

  ‘Oh, love,’ Mum sighs, her face full of concern.

  ‘Sounds painful!’ winces Connie.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she says, although the way her chin wobbles tells us it’s really not fine at all.

  ‘You should’ve said!’ I say, daring to move my hand from her shoulder and take hold of her hand. ‘You know I would’ve come over today and let you go back to bed for a bit.’

  ‘You really are the shittiest sister,’ she tells me, quickly regaining her steely composure and standing a little taller. ‘Now, I’m not allowed to swear in this bloody place, but can I go get my tits out?’

  ‘Absolutely! Just pull up a pew!’ I chime over-enthusiastically as I gesture to the empty rows surrounding us. After all, the main reason for tonight is getting people to connect with others in the community. I’d love for Michelle to be relaxed enough to start up conversations with strangers and maybe even meet some new mum friends in the process. ‘Although there are also a few side rooms if you want some privacy,’ I say, suddenly remembering that this is her first public outing with Duncan and there’s a possibility she’ll be finding this all overwhelming, no matter how much she wants to be here.

  ‘I’m out of the house, Lizzy,’ she states, looking at me with an aghast expression on her face. ‘I’m not about to go hiding me and my knockers. It’s been a while since I offended anyone other than you lot. I need my fix.’

  ‘Couldn’t agree more,’ nods Connie approvingly.

  ‘You know!’ Michelle says to my best mate, as though their shared desire to wind people up is something I couldn’t possibly understand. Quite frankly I’m not sure I do get them and their love of ‘bantz’.

  ‘Fair enough,’ I shrug, relieved that Michelle seems chirpier, even if it is in response to the mere possibility of inflicting discomfort on others who are small-minded conservatives. Although I have to state that I will be flying straight to her aid if anyone does so much as look at her in a disapproving way.

  ‘I’ll come with you. I could do with a wee,’ Connie says, sliding her arm through Michelle’s and walking towards Stuart. He looks hysterically anxious as he peers into the pram at a wailing Duncan, while Matt stands beside him appearing equally clueless.

  ‘He hasn’t even picked him up!’ I hear Michelle exclaim as they go.

  ‘God, they’re useless,’ tuts Connie, shaking her head.

  ‘I don’t know why she doesn’t say she’s struggling,’ Mum sighs, shaking her head as she watches Michelle pick up an inconsolable Duncan.

  ‘Because she’s proud like you?’ I offer, much to her surprise. ‘Can you imagine having to hold your hands up and say you’re finding something difficult? Worse than that, ask for help?’

  ‘Yes, I can. I didn’t want to tell a soul about your dad after he left. I couldn’t admit that his honesty left me feeling like I was drowning,’ she says, shaking her head vigorously at the mere thought of it. She stops and notices what she’s said. ‘Ah. Fair point. Too much like me. That’s why we bash heads occasionally.’

  ‘Mum, everybody clashes with Michelle!’ I giggle. ‘Constantly.’

  ‘She knows what she wants, that’s all,’ Mum says defensively, never having been one to talk about Michelle in a detrimental manner – something I know is the same when it comes to Michelle talking about me, too. Mum’s the one to calm any tension between us, not build it. She’s always longed for us to refer to one another as best friends.

  ‘We’ve just got to keep an eye on her but try not to interfere,’ I say to Mum, knowing how much Michelle goes on the
defensive whenever she feels people are trying to tell her what to do – which definitely happens when it comes to anything about Duncan. She won’t listen to me because I’m not a mum and so simply couldn’t understand, and she won’t let Mum even give suggestions on things like winding positions without barking at her for trying to take over. ‘You know what she’s like.’

  ‘I do,’ she nods. ‘Oh, and well done, darling,’ she says, rubbing my arms again. ‘What an absolute treat! And what a turn out! I’ve seen people here I’ve not seen in years. Bev and Gill who both used to work in the florist, Joan who used to be on reception at the doctor’s, and then Jonathon who delivered our post for decades. So many faces I recognize,’ she muses, clearly delighted to be seeing them all.

  ‘That’s great!’ I say, looking around the room to see dozens of people talking and laughing exactly as we’d hoped they would.

  ‘Not seen some of them since before me and your dad split,’ she notes.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We’ve had a couple of awkward chats,’ she says with a grimace, looping her finger along the collar of her cerise woollen jumper – a colour I’ve always loved on her.

  ‘A couple?’ laughs Dad, instantly joining in with the conversation as he and Ted walk over, both looking a little red faced and flustered.

  ‘They just don’t know,’ shrugs Mum regretfully.

  ‘I guess not everyone knows the ins and outs of our lives,’ I say.

  ‘You say that,’ says Dad, putting his hand on Ted’s forearm while waggling his index finger between them both. ‘But Mrs Summer from Rye Walk just asked how long we’d been dating.’

  ‘Us!’ chimes in Ted.

  ‘No!’ I gasp, finding it difficult to suppress a guffaw. ‘Word’s out, Dad!’

  ‘Hallelujah!’ Dad states, raising his hands as if he’s praying.

  ‘I think it has been for a while, to be honest, love,’ Mum says.

  ‘What? How did everyone else suspect when I knew nothing?’ I frown, before remembering how Michelle found out and realizing that it probably sent rumours soaring through the village. Seeing as I was in a bubble of my own at the flat and hardly came back to the village, it’s not too surprising that I wasn’t aware in the slightest. ‘Oh … well, at least there’s no more hiding, then,’ I smile.