The Choir on Hope Street

by Annie Lyons

  I wanted the world to swallow me whole. ‘You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?’

  ‘No, of course not. It looks cool.’

  ‘Don’t lie.’

  ‘You had a tattoo!’ came a voice from the doorway. Woody stood there looking horrified.

  ‘Just a small one,’ I admitted.

  ‘Let me see,’ he demanded. I held out my wrist. ‘Truly Madly Deeply,’ he read with a frown. ‘What does that even mean?’

  ‘It’s a song that your dad and I used to really like.’

  He scowled. ‘That’s so embarrassing.’

  I pulled down my sleeve, feeling like an even bigger fool. It was one thing to evoke the sympathy of your estranged husband but quite a different matter to be judged by your eight-year-old. ‘I’m late for choir,’ I said, hurrying out to the kitchen.

  ‘Nat,’ called Dan, in that calm and measured tone. He followed me out.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I said. It wasn’t of course but I had to pretend, if only for my own sake. ‘Anyway, you had something you wanted to tell me too?’

  ‘I’m not sure this is the right time,’ he grimaced.

  ‘No, go on,’ I said. ‘Out with it.’

  He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I think we should try counselling.’

  I stared up at him and nodded. It could have been worse. He could have asked for a divorce there and then on the grounds that his wife was starting to go crazy. ‘You don’t want to get a matching tattoo then?’ I joked.

  He laughed before putting his arms around me. ‘What are we going to do with you, Natalie Garfield?’

  I buried my face in his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his embrace for a moment, the smell of him. I miss you, I love you, please don’t give up on me. I pulled away first, patting his chest. ‘I better go,’ I said.

  ‘You did what?’ exclaimed Doly as we took our places in the second row at choir that evening. ‘Show me.’

  I rolled up my sleeve. The word ‘Madly’ suddenly seemed gigantic, looming out at me like a signpost to my faltering grip on rational behaviour. Yep, I was truly, madly losing it.

  ‘Oh, good heavens above, Natalie. What have you done to yourself?’ cried Caroline, making me jump. I hadn’t heard her creep up on us.

  I held out my arm ready for the inevitable judgement. Come on Caroline. Let’s have it. It can’t be any worse than my son’s damning pronouncement. ‘It’s a little bit common, Natalie.’ Or maybe it can.

  ‘Well it’s partly your fault,’ I told her.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You were the one going on about grand gestures.’

  ‘I meant nice dinners at Michelin-starred restaurants, not permanently marking your body in a declaration of love.’

  ‘Well, it’s done now,’ I said pulling down my sleeve.

  ‘I really don’t think it looks that bad,’ remarked Doly. ‘And I think it’s sweet that you wanted to show your husband how much you care.’

  ‘Thank you, Doly,’ I said, giving Caroline a pointed look.

  ‘Could we get back to the business of the choir?’ asked Caroline. ‘I wanted to invite you both to a meeting next week. I think we’ll make a great team so I would like you both to be on my choir committee.’ She made it sound as if she were bestowing a great honour, rather than asking a favour. Doly and I exchanged glances.

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll be free,’ I replied, ready to make excuses. I am a woman who would happily abseil down The Shard in order to avoid joining a committee.

  ‘Oh, it’s fine, I can work it around you both. We could do it after school whilst the children play together,’ said Caroline breezily.

  I was about to open my mouth in protest but Caroline was already on her feet, making a beeline for Pamela. I stared at Doly. ‘What just happened?’

  ‘I suppose we should take it as a compliment,’ she smiled. I got the feeling that she was a woman who saw the best in everything. I gave a resigned nod as Guy clapped his hands together to get our attention. Our number had increased to around thirty and there were a couple more men as well as a few other school mums. I got the feeling that news of our fresh-faced choirmaster had travelled fast.

  Guy seemed delighted by the turn-out. ‘Welcome everyone, especially the newbies. It’s great to see you all. Let’s warm up as per last week. Everyone stand up, drop those shoulders, plant those feet, breathe from the diaphragm. And!’ This time Guy moved from high to low with the chords and it was Jim’s turn to shine as the arpeggios got lower and lower. We all laughed and cheered at his impressive baritone voice. ‘Well done, Jim!’ declared Guy. ‘So, have you had a chance to practise the songs I sent round?’ There were positive murmurs. ‘Excellent. I want to run through last week’s songs, along with “Chasing Cars”, “Everybody’s Changing” and “Halo”. And the good news is that Pamela has baked a lemon drizzle cake, so the rewards will be bountiful.’ Everyone laughed and Pamela blushed.

  I looked up to the ceiling and felt my body relax as we worked through the songs. The roof of the building was a wooden beam structure and the sound reverberated around it wonderfully. I started to forget my earlier embarrassment and feel a little more positive.

  Counselling could be a good thing. Counselling could lead to problem-solving and working through issues to find a resolution. I just wish I’d thought of it before forking out a hundred quid on body art. It had bloody hurt too.

  ‘You’re all sounding great,’ nodded Guy after we’d run through all the songs once. ‘The only problem is that you look bloody miserable and you don’t move. You look like a bloody miserable bunch of statues actually.’ We glanced at one another, giggling with embarrassment. ‘So I’m going to put on a piece of music and I want you give in to it. It’s the funkiest piece of music ever written and it’s actually impossible not to dance as soon as it starts.’

  I felt my body tighten with nerves.

  Please, sir, can I be let off dancing? I only dance when I’m drunk.

  Guy smiled at us all, reading our thoughts. ‘Don’t be embarrassed. Don’t be shy. Just let the music lead your body and ignore everyone else in the room. And enjoy it! No more miserable statues.’

  He pressed Play. A pulsing bassline followed by a funky piano tune filled the room. We all stared at each other for a moment before Jim started to move in time to the music.

  ‘Come on everyone!’ he cried. ‘I’m no dancer but this is Stevie Wonder!’ We laughed, buoyed by his bravery. Pamela embarked on a very impressive shimmy. Doly smiled at me and we began to dance, me in my customary ‘hips and legs’ style and she with Bollywood-esque gentility. It felt a little awkward at first but became easier because we were all giving it a try together. I looked round for Caroline and spotted her disappearing out of the door. Coward.

  As the song finished, Guy gave us a round of applause. ‘Well done, everyone. That was not easy and you rose to the challenge admirably. Remember, we’re all boogie men and women and we need to try to channel that into our performance. Sing, dance, smile and enjoy. That should be our mantra. And now, time for some well-earned tea.’

  The room was buzzing at tea-break and I noticed that Caroline still hadn’t reappeared. I also noticed that she was without her school-mum entourage this evening. I fetched two cups of tea and accepted two slices of cake from Pamela.

  I made my way through the door and stood back for a moment, noticing that she was on her phone. ‘Okay, thank you, Peter,’ I heard her say. ‘Yes, I know you’re doing all you can for her and I appreciate it. I understand that she’s difficult but really, you’re our only hope. Yes, all right. Thank you. I’ll speak to you again tomorrow.’

  I waited until she had hung up before coughing to make my presence known. She looked round in surprise. I took a step forwards. ‘I thought you might like a tea and a slice of Pamela’s lemon drizzle cake.’ I smiled, holding it out to her. She stared at me as if no-one had ever offered her cake before. ‘Please don’t make me eat two slices,’ I added.

&n
bsp; ‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting the cake and tea. ‘I don’t usually drink caffeine after 3 p.m.’

  I thought she was joking but her face was deadly serious. ‘I am basically three parts caffeine to one part gin,’ I observed. She gave me a blank look. Fair enough. It wasn’t that funny. We stood in silence for a moment. I’m not great with silence. I tend to fill it with banal chitchat. Silence makes me nervous.

  I noticed that she was still taking mouse-like nibbles of her cake, whilst I had finished mine a good two minutes before. She was staring into the middle distance and she looked … actually she looked a bit sad. ‘Is everything okay, Caroline?’ I asked. I noticed her shift a little, uncomfortable at the question. ‘You can tell me to mind my own business but it seemed as if that phone call upset you.’

  She seemed surprised at the question, as if it had been a while since someone had asked how she was. She opened her mouth and then shut it and took a sip of tea. She eyed me and it was a look that was questioning if she could trust me.

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ I said. ‘But sometimes a problem shared and all that.’

  ‘It’s my mother,’ she said quietly. ‘She’s not well.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that,’ I offered. ‘Is she on her own?’

  ‘My father …’ she hesitated, struggling at the mention of his name. ‘He died,’ she said, biting her lip.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I repeated. ‘My father died a few years back too.’

  She nodded, her face softening at the shared confidence. ‘My father died five years ago and I still miss him every day. It’s hard, isn’t it?’

  It wasn’t that hard for me. I didn’t miss my father, to tell the truth, but I wouldn’t admit it. ‘Yes, I said. It is hard. At least we’ve still got out mothers, eh?’

  Caroline gave a hollow laugh. ‘My mother is a challenging woman, always has been, even before her illness.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  She looked at me. I could tell she rarely talked about this. ‘Dementia,’ she said.

  ‘That’s a very cruel disease,’ I remarked. ‘My grandma had it and it was like watching an old clock wind down. I take it she’s in a home?’

  Caroline nodded. ‘She’s been going through some very aggressive episodes. They’re struggling to contain her really.’

  ‘Poor thing. That must be very frightening for her,’ I said.

  Caroline stared at me as if she’d never considered this before. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose it must be,’ she said, staring off into the distance. ‘Anyway, how did Dan react to your tattoo? I know Oliver would have been horrified!’

  Back to earth with a bump then. ‘Actually, he’s suggested that we go for counselling.’

  ‘Sounds as if he’s serious about saving your marriage,’ she observed.

  I brightened at the thought. If Caroline the perfectionist gave it a thumbs-up, it had to be a positive step. ‘Yes, I suppose it does,’ I smiled.

  Doly appeared in the doorway. ‘We’re starting again,’ she said.

  As we made our way back inside, Caroline turned to me. ‘So, could you come to a meeting next week? I’d really appreciate your input.’

  Say no! Say no! You’ve got enough on your plate. Don’t look her in the eye! She looks really sad and you’re a sucker for sad, imploring types. ‘Okay, but only if there’s cake.’ Yes, I know I’m a sucker but I may have negotiated cake as part of the deal. Don’t judge me.

  She looked unsure so I added, ‘That was a joke, although cake is always welcome. And if we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to get used to my borderline sarcastic sense of humour.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said. ‘And thank you,’ she added as we returned inside and deposited our empty cups.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For listening.’

  I smiled. ‘Writers are good listeners but don’t upset us, otherwise you might end up in a book, usually as a character who comes to a sticky end.’

  She laughed. ‘That’s funny.’

  Yes, I thought as I took my place next to Doly. Funny but also true. Dan had better watch out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CAROLINE

  I hadn’t had a particularly good start to the day. In fact it had been bloody awful. Matilda had been the madam from hell as soon as she woke up, refusing to eat her breakfast and taking an age to get ready. She’s never like this for Oliver. She’s always a perfect angel at the weekends when he’s taking her to swimming lessons. She bats her long eyelashes at him and does exactly what he asks. It’s a different matter with me before school. It’s as if she’s trying to test me, to get a reaction. I do my best to stay calm but I’ll admit I had to scream into a cushion whilst I was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. It’s a tactic I’ve learnt when life gets too much. I rarely raise my voice. I believe that I would be letting myself down if I resorted to such screaming matches. I’ve seen enough school mothers bellowing at their offspring at the playground gates to know that I would never shout at Matilda.

  I was also aware that Natalie and Doly were bringing their children round that evening after school and I needed to keep Matilda in a good mood so that she didn’t throw the whole meeting into chaos. I knew that she was looking forward to having them round too. As she sloped down the stairs, frowning and cross, I gave her a warning.

  ‘Best behaviour, Matilda or I shall have to tell Woody and Sadia’s mothers not to come after school.’

  She scowled at me as she put on her shoes but I could tell she’d got the message. I managed to get her to school after that without further incident but as I returned home, I received a text from my cleaner Rosie telling me that her son was ill and she wouldn’t be round today. This was a disaster. The house was a tip. I couldn’t have people seeing it in that state. I hurried home, knowing that I would have to do it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a princess. I can clean my own home but if you can afford a cleaner, why wouldn’t you have a cleaner?

  I also had things to prepare for the Hope Street Hall campaign. I needed to come up with a plan for the website, work on a strategy for our social media activities and think about T-shirts. I did not need to be cleaning the toilet or, as I discovered when I got home, removing fox excrement from the driveway.

  I had just finished hoovering the lounge when my phone rang. It was the home. Again. Apparently, my mother was showing repeated displays of aggression and they had been forced to confine her to her room.

  ‘It’s not a long-term solution, Mrs Taylor,’ said Peter Jarvis.

  ‘I appreciate that,’ I replied. ‘And I appreciate what Laurie is doing for her.’

  Peter sighed. ‘To be honest, you’re lucky to have her, Mrs Taylor. She’s your biggest ally in here. If it were down to me, I would have excluded your mother by now.’

  I bet you would, you overweight chump. I swallowed my anger. ‘I understand,’ I said. ‘And I am grateful. To you and especially Laurie.’ I wrote myself a reminder to buy her an expensive bouquet and deliver it on my next visit.

  ‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘We’ll keep things on review for now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I put down the phone and made myself a strong coffee before tackling the kitchen. It was nearly lunchtime by the time I’d finished and I’ll admit to a new-found grudging respect for Rosie. I knew she didn’t really like me. I could tell that I wasn’t her type of person and to be honest, she wasn’t mine either, but she always did a good job. She was quick, efficient and the house looked immaculate after she’d finished. My efforts were pretty good. I took more care over the cushions than she did but it had taken a lot longer.

  I was just sitting down to plan that evening’s choir committee meeting before school pick-up when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Zoe standing in front of me. She looked me up and down and I realised that I was still wearing the hoody top and leggings I’d changed into to clean. Admittedly they were Super Dry but they were also co
vered in fluff.

  ‘Babes, are you okay?’ she asked, looking concerned.

  ‘I’m fine, darling,’ I replied, running a hand through my hair. ‘My cleaner let me down so I had to do it myself.’

  ‘Oh God, how awful for you,’ purred Zoe with sympathy. ‘So-o, I was just passing and thought I would pop in for a quick cuppa, if you’ve got time? Feels like ages,’ she added, walking past me without waiting for a response. ‘Oops, missed a bit.’ She smiled, pointing a perfectly manicured finger-nail at a cobweb in the corner.

  I followed her down the hall to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. ‘How are you?’ she asked, looking round at my scattered papers.

  ‘I’m good, thanks,’ I replied. ‘Busy but good.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, you’ve got this community hall thing on the go, haven’t you? You’re so good, Caroline. I wouldn’t bother if it were me but you’re really – what’s the word?’ She studied me for a moment. ‘You’re so noble,’ she decided. ‘Taking a stand and sticking up for what you believe. I think it’s great.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, filling two mugs with hot water.

  ‘Personally, I think they should have knocked it down a long time ago. I mean, what’s wrong with building new houses? There’s a real crisis in London at the moment.’

  I shrugged. ‘It’s important to the community. People want it to stay.’

  ‘But do they actually use it?’

  ‘Well yes, there’s the toddler group—’

  ‘Oh, heavens, is that still going? I remember taking Rufus once but never again. It was like a zoo and the place was filthy. It should be condemned.’

  ‘So I take it I can’t count on your support?’

  She squeezed my hand. ‘Oh, darling, of course I’ll support you. You know that, but I just think you have to be realistic.’

  ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

  Zoe pouted at me. ‘Aww, sorry babes, don’t get huffy. I’ll lend my support whenever I can. I’m just pretty biz at the mo, you know. I haven’t got time to sing in a choir. Did I tell you that we’re extending the kitchen and knocking through to the dining room?’ I shook my head. ‘It’s a bloody nightmare, Caroline, I can tell you. Dust everywhere and absolute chaos and it all falls to me. Paul just isn’t interested. Plus, Fired Earth delivered the wrong bloody tiles and I’ve just found out that John Lewis are out of stock of the Miele oven and we won’t get delivery for twelve weeks. Twelve weeks!’