A Moment Like This

by Anita Notaro

  But in the end, Eithne got there first.

  ‘OK, everyone, let’s have a break, shall we? Rest our vocal chords a bit.’ She removed her glasses and put them in their case, closing it with a snap, tidying up the sheets of music. Then she looked at me and nodded briefly. ‘Antonia – got a minute?’

  Oh, God, she’s going to kick me out of the choir, I thought, as I nodded, and followed her into the dusty office behind the gallery. That must be it. Perhaps I’ve just missed too many rehearsals.

  She closed the door behind us and went to the tea and coffee area, flicking the switch on the kettle. She said nothing for so long that, in the end, I opened my mouth to speak, ‘Eithne, I know I haven’t been around much recently, but it’s just—’

  Eithne turned around to me and shook her head impatiently. ‘For goodness’ sake, Antonia, I don’t care about that. You’re always welcome here, no matter when you come.’

  ‘I am? Well, thanks for saying that, Eithne. I’ll be here every Friday from now on.’

  ‘Well, I’m not so sure about that, Antonia.’

  I looked at her, mystified.

  ‘I have a confession to make, and I hope you’ll forgive me.’

  ‘What?’ I managed. What on earth could Eithne of all people have done to upset me? She’d only ever been encouraging and supportive, giving me extra lessons after practice, and pressing me to listen to all the great singers, from Maria Callas to Ella Fitzgerald. It was thanks to Eithne that I’d broadened my musical horizons and worked on my voice. She knew that I wouldn’t have the time or inclination to go to Dublin to get lessons, so she’d made it easy for me.

  ‘It was me, Antonia.’

  ‘You what?’ I looked at her blankly.

  ‘I sent the letter.’

  ‘What letter, Eithne? You’ll have to explain … Oh,’ I said, as the realization dawned. ‘To Celtic TV?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Antonia, but I knew that if I didn’t do something, you’d just waste that remarkable voice of yours, and then where would you be? You’ve got such a talent, my dear. Far more than is needed for Glenvara parish choir. You must know that.’ She smiled at me and I noticed that her eyes were watering. ‘Of course, I had no idea your mother would pass away—’

  ‘Oh, Eithne, it’s all right, really it is,’ I moved towards her and gave her a big hug. She felt tiny in my arms, like a little bird, and I realized how old she was, how fragile. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that for me.’

  ‘You’re not angry?’ she looked at me eagerly.

  I had to shake my head. ‘Of course not. Terrified, maybe, but not angry.’ Because I was terrified. Every time I thought of it my insides turned to jelly. But Eithne didn’t need to know that after everything she’d done for me. ‘I needed something, Eithne, to get me out of this awful rut I’ve been in for, well, for ever, and you’ve given me that chance.’ I didn’t want to tell her that I still wasn’t sure that I’d have the nerve actually to go along to the auditions. That was another day’s work.

  ‘Well …’ She blinked. ‘If you’re sure—’

  ‘Of course I’m sure,’ I said, giving her another quick squeeze. ‘It’s an opportunity that I can’t afford to miss. Mum was a great believer in signs, and this is a sign. She must be up there, looking down on me.’ I attempted a smile. Feel the fear, Antonia, I said to myself. Feel the fear and do it anyway.

  ‘I’m so glad, Antonia.’ For the first time, I saw that Eithne looked truly happy. I’d never seen her so animated, clasping her hands to her chest, a big grin spreading across her dainty features. ‘Would it be all right if I told everyone?’

  ‘Oh God, Eithne, I’d be mortified,’ I said, but then I saw the disappointment on her face. ‘Look, there’s nothing I’d like to do more, but let’s see if I get through the auditions first, and then we’ll go from there. I’d hate them to get all excited and then be disappointed.’

  ‘Well, if you insist.’ Eithne nodded solemnly. ‘Although I have no doubt whatsoever that you’ll breeze the auditions. Oh, they’ll all be thrilled when they hear. One of their own, on their way to That’s Talent!’

  ‘What’s that about That’s Talent!?’ a voice interrupted us, as Billy stuck his head around the door.

  Eithne jumped and looked guilty. ‘Well, we were just saying what a great show it was and …’ She turned and looked at me pleadingly.

  You are a hopeless liar, Eithne, I thought, nodding at her silently, whereupon she clapped her hands together and said, ‘Antonia’s got into That’s Talent! Can you imagine!’

  Billy whooped so loudly, my ears rang, and he promptly turned on his heel, yanking open the door and yelling, ‘You’ll never guess, Antonia’s in That’s Talent!, everyone.’

  Oh, Lord, I thought, that’s torn it, as they all poured in the door, squeezing into the tiny meeting room, hugging and congratulating me.

  ‘Tell you what, let’s go to O’Brien’s for a pint to celebrate,’ Billy said. ‘Drinks are on me.’

  ‘Oh, well, if you’re offering, Billy, mine’s a treble brandy,’ Bridget said, and they all roared with laughter.

  I found myself blushing again, a bright, livid scarlet as the tears pricked my eyes. How could I ever have imagined that I was alone? The thought that Eithne would do something like this for me, that they would all support me in this way. I was astonished, well and truly. ‘I don’t know what to say …’ I began, as they all gathered around me. ‘I really hope I won’t let you all down.’

  ‘Ah sure, he’ll only use it as an excuse to make you buy the drinks, win or lose,’ Bridget joked, nodding at Billy, and they all laughed again.

  But then Eithne interrupted, the expression on her face serious. ‘This is an opportunity for Antonia to show the world what we know – just what a lovely voice she has. It isn’t, however, a test, so relax, Antonia, we’re all behind you.’ And she squeezed my arm.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said Billy. ‘And now, to the pub!’

  I hated to spoil things for them, but I just couldn’t face the pub, walking in there and everyone clapping and cheering and knowing that I – Miss Mouse – was going to audition for That’s Talent! Word travelled fast in this village, and I knew that Bridget would probably ring the Wicklow People, even though I was only going to an open audition, and … no, I couldn’t. Not yet.

  ‘I’d love to, everyone, but I haven’t even got to the heats yet. Can we just wait until we really have something to celebrate?’

  It was Bridget who understood first. ‘Of course, pet, you’re right. But we will be celebrating, you mark my words. Now, who’s going to be styling you?’

  ‘Bridget O’Reilly.’ Billy snorted. ‘Where are you going with your “styling”? You’ve been reading far too many of those glossy magazines.’

  Bridget shot him a look. ‘Well, isn’t that what they call it? Won’t Antonia be needing someone to tog her out for the thing and, you know, give her a makeover?’ She nodded, and her bright red hair caught the lights, and I thought that Bridget was actually rather pretty.

  They all looked at me and I realized that the only respectable thing I had was a navy work suit. Hardly talent-show material. And my hair was now an unruly mass of curls, hanging down my back, which had barely seen a hairbrush in the past few weeks, not to mention a salon. I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘She’s a natural beauty. Aren’t you, Antonia?’ said Betty.

  The others murmured in agreement, and I blushed a bright crimson. God, I really am that bad, I thought, that people feel they have to say nice things to me, to bolster my confidence. I really need some help here. And I didn’t even know where to start.

  9

  AFTER CHOIR PRACTICE, I was so shattered by the excitement that all I wanted to do was drag myself home and make a cup of tea. But as I put on the kettle, I realized that something had slowly unclicked inside me. I knew that, because I could feel it. I couldn’t put my finger on it and yet I felt a little lighter, somehow, a little brighter.


  That evening, I decided to sleep in my own bed for the first time in six weeks. Every single night up until then, I’d switched off the TV at 11 o’clock and gone to Mum’s room, curling up under her eiderdown, in her dressing gown, and crying myself to sleep. Tonight, though, I passed her door, closing it firmly as I did so, and went into my own room, with a hot-water bottle and the three glossy magazines which I’d bought in O’Dwyer’s on my way home. I pored over pictures of colour-blocking and ‘on-trend’ peep-toe shoe-boots, and wondered how on earth I could ever get myself to look like some of the women on the red carpet. How am I going to be able to strap myself into something like that? I thought, as I looked at a photo of Cheryl Cole at Cannes, wearing a white trouser suit, slit to the stomach. How had she held herself in in that? I wondered. And then I found myself doubled over with laughter at the very thought of it, at the thought of me, Antonia Trent, strapped into a tiny white trouser suit. And I hunched over the magazine, laughing until the tears rolled down my cheeks.

  It was as I was nodding off that I thought of my old friend Mary O’Donnell, in her sequinned sheath and her latest nude shoes. Surely she’d know what I should wear? She always looked fabulous. I made a mental note to call over to her and ask.

  For the first time in six weeks, I slept the whole night through. I was used to witnessing the dawn chorus, but when I woke up the next morning, all that greeted me was silence. I looked at my watch. Ten fifteen. Oh my God. I couldn’t believe I’d slept that late. I jumped out of bed, my head feeling clearer than it had been for some time.

  And for some reason, the first person I thought of was Niall O’Rourke. He’d been so kind. Kinder than he’d needed to be to a complete stranger. And surely, he met people like me every day of the week, grieving relatives? I’d been silly, I knew. Silly and oversensitive. But I couldn’t ring him now – after all, I hardly knew the man. Best just to let things lie.

  The second person I thought of was Mary O’Donnell, but of course she was an estate agent and worked Saturday mornings. That’s what normal people did: they worked and then they came home and made dinner and watched TV. Maybe that’s what I needed to do – get a job. I didn’t even know where to start. What qualifications did I have that would be of any use to anyone?

  ‘Don’t think like that, Antonia,’ I said out loud to myself. ‘You have lots to offer. And before you go entirely mad and start talking to yourself, it’s time to get out and about and do something, for goodness’ sake.’ I knew that I didn’t need to, financially. Mr O’Doherty, Mum’s solicitor, had told me that – but I needed to prove that I could stand on my own two feet. And auditioning for talent shows didn’t count.

  I started with the shop window in O’Dwyer’s newsagents, scanning it for anything that might look promising. There were lots of ads for dog-walking, and there was a vacancy for a gardener in Glenvara nursery, but as I didn’t know anything about either dogs or plants, those would hardly be any good. I sighed. Surely I could think of something? Maybe if I went home and made a list of all the things I could do, that might help. It’d be a very short list, but still …

  My thoughts were interrupted by the humming of my mobile phone. I didn’t recognize the number but pressed ‘accept’ anyway, realizing as I did so that it might be someone from Celtic TV – and that, in spite of myself, I was quite excited about the prospect.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Antonia?’

  I didn’t recognize the voice. ‘Yes?’

  The person at the other end of the line cleared his throat loudly. ‘Hi. Ehrm, it’s Niall O’Rourke.’

  Oh, God no. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. What on earth would I say to him?

  ‘I’m ringing to apologize—’ he began, but I interrupted him.

  ‘No, it’s me. I should say sorry. It’s just, well, I was being a bit oversensitive.’

  ‘And I was being the opposite,’ he said, and I could tell that he was genuine. He cleared his throat again. ‘Well, that’s all I wanted to say, really. And I hope that you are well and everything …’

  ‘Would you like to go out?’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I covered my mouth. Oh no. What on earth had I said? ‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted.

  ‘No, that’s all right.’ He sounded amused. ‘As it happens, I was about to ask you the same thing.’

  ‘You were? I mean, good. That’s great,’ I mumbled, wishing that the ground would just open up and swallow me up. I had absolutely no practice at dating. When I should have been getting practice, I’d been looking after Mum, and I didn’t have a clue. And boy, did it show.

  ‘As it happens, I’m coming down to Glenvara the Sunday after next to see Gerry and Sally for lunch. Maybe we could go somewhere afterwards?’

  ‘Great,’ I managed. ‘That’s great. I’ll see you then.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Great, well, see you then.’ Oh, God, I’d said that already. He’d think I was a complete fool.

  His response was interrupted by the loud beeping of his bleeper. ‘Better go.’ He was businesslike all of a sudden. ‘See you Sunday.’ And he clicked off.

  I was left looking at my mobile and thinking that I’d really have to go and see Mary now. I couldn’t wear a blue business suit on a date, now, could I?

  I’m embarrassed to say that I lay in wait for poor Mary, pretending to make a list of my skills and qualifications on an A4 pad. It was a short list, as I’d predicted, and I was beginning to feel a bit depressed about it when I saw her little silver Polo pull up. I waited a polite twenty minutes or so before I called over.

  ‘Antonia!’ Mary was wearing a pink velour tracksuit and even I could tell that it was Juicy Couture. I’d heard of it, even in my cave. Her face was radiant and her long blonde hair cascaded around her face. She looked perfect, even in her after-work clothes: sleek and groomed and polished. I looked at my old grey sweatshirt and couldn’t suppress my mortification.

  ‘How are things?’ Mary was polite, but I could tell she was waiting for me to get to the point. And I felt sad, all of a sudden. Mary and I had been great friends when we were children. We’d loved to play dolls in her bedroom and, later, I’d been her willing model while she tried out new hairstyles and make-up. But then, Mary had grown up, I suppose. She’d started going to discos at the youth club and then into nightclubs in Wicklow town, and I’d got left behind. Well, there was no point feeling sorry for myself now, I thought. Not when I needed Mary’s help.

  ‘It’s … you see, I’ve been selected to go on That’s Talent!—’ I began, and was interrupted by her screech as she threw her arms around me.

  ‘Antonia, that’s fantastic.’ She hugged me tightly and then released me, holding me at arm’s length and examining me. ‘You are such a dark horse, do you know that?’

  ‘My ears are ringing, Mary, but thanks.’ I smiled. ‘Look, I need help. I look like … well …’ I looked down at my tracksuit and indicated my hair.

  ‘Raw beauty, I call it.’ Mary snorted with laughter.

  ‘Funny, you’re not the first person to say that.’ I laughed, thinking of Betty.

  ‘C’mon in, and I’ll see what I can do,’ Mary said, holding the door open and leading me into her immaculate living room, filled with pretty things. On the wooden mantelpiece was a large framed photo of a handsome young man on a motorbike, giving the thumbs up.

  ‘That’s Dave, my boyfriend,’ Mary said. ‘I hate that motorbike, but it’s his baby, and I know better than to compete with it … or rather her. He calls her Mary-Ellen, can you imagine?’ She rolled her eyes to heaven, but I could see how in love she was – her face lit up at the mention of his name. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would feel like to be in love. And then, for some strange reason, I thought of Niall O’Rourke. I blushed to the roots of my hair and had to look down at my shoes for a full five minutes, hoping that Mary wouldn’t notice.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon gossiping and leafing through women’s mag
azines for inspiration. ‘See this?’ Mary would say, pointing out a picture of someone I’d never seen before in my life. ‘That girl’s really working the feathers trend. She’s not overdoing it – just a few touches on the sleeves of her jacket, but it works.’

  I nodded, confused. The woman looked like a miniature peacock to me. ‘Oh, yeah.’

  ‘You haven’t a clue, Antonia, have you?’ Mary laughed.

  ‘Well, no. I have one suit to my name, and I haven’t worn a pair of trendy jeans in my life,’ I admitted. ‘I’m a fashion disaster, Mary. How on earth am I going to be able to go on a talent show looking like this?’

  ‘Well, you won’t be going on in your trakkie bottoms, will you?’ Mary giggled. ‘Now, I can make you look OK, but I have this friend Colette, who’s a buyer for one of the big stores in town. She does some styling on the side. Why don’t we start with her?’

  I had a vision of myself decked out in something completely unsuitable, my hair in an awful asymmetric shape, and muttered, ‘Mary, I’m not sure. It’s only the auditions, and what happens if I end up looking like her?’ I pointed to a girl who was wearing a hideous floor-length maxi with a pineapple design on it, and a pair of huge brown clumpy heels.

  ‘Show me? Oh, that’s …’ Mary mentioned another name I’d never heard of. ‘She’s a real trendsetter, but she takes too many risks in my view. Colette will only help you to find something that suits you, Antonia. And you are gorgeous, you know, underneath that nunlike exterior.’

  I punched her arm. ‘Get lost.’

  Mary grinned. ‘You’ll thank me when you’re looking a million dollars.’

  I nodded. ‘It’s been great, Mary, doing all this,’ I indicated the magazines and the empty coffee cups strewn on the living-room floor. I realized then how much I missed having a real proper girlfriend.