by Liz Eeles
First of all, I make a beeline for the library, which is on the ground floor of a grand building set back behind black railings. A young man with horn-rimmed glasses too big for his face is tapping away at a computer on the information desk. He looks up and the glasses slide down his nose.
‘Can I help you?’ His hands are still hovering over the keyboard as if he’s desperate to get back to what he was doing.
‘I’m looking for your library’s sheet music section. I’d like to hire some for my choir.’
‘We don’t have anything like that. You’d need to contact the Performing Arts Library.’
I should have checked before I came into Penzance, rather than assuming the local library would stock everything I need. When will I learn that I’m not in London now? The man behind the desk sees my shoulders drop and takes pity on me.
‘You could always check out Cornwall Council’s website and order the music you’d like,’ he says kindly. ‘We’ve got computers over there you can use.’
There’s a long list of vocal scores online but the problem is I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Kayla suggested consulting Josh about the music but that would have involved having a normal conversation with him, which was never going to happen.
I run my eye down the musical scores and frown. There’s everything available from Schubert and Bach to Mozart and Verdi, but heavyweight composers might be too much for a brand new choir. Particularly one with Ollie in it.
Luckily, the list includes some less ambitious scores from musicals, and another search online uncovers several choirs around the UK who hire out the scores they’re not using. What a brilliant idea! We could even go for something more up to date maybe, from Enya or even The Clash. A vision of Jennifer belting out ‘I Fought the Law’ flits into my head and makes me giggle. It’s hard to believe but Kayla’s ridiculous notion of resurrecting the Salt Bay Choral Society is starting to come together.
Feeling more cheerful, I wander round the shops before heading back to Salt Bay, though it’s window shopping only as I’m not earning at the moment. Gracie is covering my rent and bills and it’s free bed and board at Alice’s, so I’m not skint but I need to be careful. Alice offered me a weekly wage but I said no. Despite what Toby thinks, she doesn’t appear to be loaded and my expenses here are minimal because there’s bugger all to buy in the village.
I’m waiting at the bus stop when my mobile phone rings and Toby’s name flashes up on the screen.
‘Hello Annie,’ he yells against a backdrop of revving engines and car horns. ‘I’m in the middle of Piccadilly Circus and about to go into a meeting. Can you hear me? I wondered how things are going and if you’re back in London.’
‘Not yet. I’ve come into Penzance for the afternoon but I’ll be heading back to Salt Bay as soon as the bus arrives.’
‘Still putting your life on hold, are you?’ Toby sounds annoyed, though it’s hard to tell when he’s shouting anyway. ‘You must be going mad with boredom stuck in zombie land. Don’t you miss London and your friends? A young girl like you should be out on the town.’
‘Of course I miss London. But Alice is sorting out permanent help at the moment and I’ve said I’ll stay until she has.’
‘That was a rash promise. I bet she’s not exactly rushing to get things organised.’
‘Well…’
‘I thought as much,’ Toby groans. ‘She’ll take ages on purpose while you’re stuck there wasting your time.’
‘I’m sure she’ll sort things out as soon as she can and I’m not wasting time, I’m helping Alice. And I’m starting up the Salt Bay Choral Society again so that’s keeping my brain engaged.’
‘What the hell are you doing that for?’ splutters Toby as a battalion of tanks with broken exhaust pipes trundles past him. ‘That choir was tedious enough the first time round. There’s nothing worse than average singers performing traditional Cornish songs. Their concerts were interminable.’
‘I’m hoping bringing back the choir will be good for the village and it should be fun. There’s quite a lot of interest in it.’
‘It sounds boring as feck to me and the locals won’t thank you for it. Be careful, Annie. You’re getting pulled into local life and what’s the point of that if you’re planning to leave? You are planning to leave, aren’t you?’
‘Of course.’ Being told what to do by Toby is getting on my wick and he’s being overdramatic. Though he’s right to remind me that I mustn’t get too involved. How ironic would it be if, having managed to stay fancy-free in London, I end up with ties to this place? Madrid maybe, New York or Paris, but Salt Bay?
‘I’ll definitely be leaving soon,’ I say confidently.
‘Hhmm.’ Toby isn’t convinced. ‘I’ll keep a lookout up here for any suitable jobs that might interest you. What is it you do again?’
‘I’m a PA and do secretarial temping in between contracts. I’ve got lots of experience and good references.’
He sniffs loudly down the line. ‘Secretarial work is rather more lowbrow than the calibre of vacancies I hear about but I’m well connected so I might be able to come up with something.’
‘Thanks Toby, that would be brilliant.’ My cousin is the most outrageous snob but I’m out of the job search loop down here and can do with all the help I can get. Quite why he’s so keen to help me is a mystery and I wonder for a moment if I’ve misjudged him. Though I doubt there’s a heart of gold beating beneath that supercilious exterior.
‘I have to go,’ yells Toby, ‘or I’ll be late for the important meeting I’m chairing. Take heart, Annie. You won’t have to mix with that rum lot for much longer. I’ll have you out of Cornwall and back to civilisation in no time. Talking of deadbeats, have you had the misfortune to bump into Josh Pasco again?’
‘Only very briefly.’ For some reason I don’t feel like telling Toby about Josh helping out with the choir. Perhaps because he’s only helping under duress and that might add to Toby’s poor opinion of him. Not that I care.
‘My advice stands to keep out of his way because he’s trouble.’
‘What did he do that was so awful?’
‘I didn’t catch that. What did you say? It’s too noisy here to have a proper conversation and I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.’
It’s only after Toby has rung off that I realise he didn’t once ask about Alice.
Chapter 19
It turns out that Reverend Hilary Baxham is a very nice woman indeed, who not only gives us permission to rehearse in the church but also donates twenty-five pounds towards set-up costs. What an excellent Christian! She also promises to pray for me, which is an added bonus.
So rather than being squeezed into the tiny back room of The Whistling Wave, the members of Salt Bay Choral Society meet for the first time in the church. It’s just as well the venue’s changed because the choir has swelled to fifteen members, thanks to people signing up when they’ve had a few too many in the pub.
‘To audition, I got them to sing something at me over the bar,’ says Kayla, eyeing up Ollie who’s shoving his hefty thighs into a pew near the front. ‘They were all OK, except for Gordon who insisted on singing “Je t’aime” complete with orgasm noises. But it doesn’t matter since we’re letting anyone in now. You have got to be kidding me! I didn’t realise Chloe was coming. She’s not on the freakin’ list.’
‘Who’s Chloe?’
‘She comes into the pub sometimes and is so all over Ollie it’s embarrassing to watch. She has no dignity.’ Kayla scuttles off and sits behind Ollie, who’s being gushed over by a pretty young woman.
A glance at my watch shows it’s seven thirty and time for the first rehearsal of the new Salt Bay Choral Society to get underway. Josh hasn’t turned up, which I’m mostly glad about when I stand on the worn stone steps leading to the altar and the church falls silent. Crikey, everyone is looking at me like I know what I’m doing. And I really don’t. Kayla gives me a wide grin and does rabbit ears with her fin
gers behind Chloe’s head.
I’m about to speak when the sound of the door latch echoes through the building and Josh steps into the church. He’s all in black – skinny jeans, heavy army boots, chunky polo-neck jumper – but I can feel my face going red as he slips into a pew at the back and stretches out. Just what I need; a critic to tell me I’m not doing things ‘the right way’.
Taking a deep breath, I gather myself together.
‘Can everyone stand up please and we’ll get started.’ Oops, what’s wrong with my voice? It’s gone all wobbly. The younger members of the choir leap to their feet while the older ones groan and haul themselves up, holding on to the backs of pews.
‘Welcome to all of you and thank you for coming along to the first meeting of the new Salt Bay Choral Society. I’m sure we’re going to make some lovely music together.’
‘Doubt it,’ mutters Roger, who’d informed us he’d better come along and lend some support on account of everyone, bar Jennifer, being vocally challenged. Pretending not to hear him, I nod at Michaela, sitting poised at the piano.
‘Let’s do some warm-up exercises to start with. Can you all sing “the tram at the top of the towering turn” on the note that Michaela gives us.’
‘I can but I’m not sure I want to,’ grumbles Roger to laughter from the people around him. But Michaela plays a middle C and we all sing the tongue-twisting phrase together, more or less on the right note, and then sing it a tone higher as we start going up and then down the scale. It breaks the ice and, by the time everyone sits down again, people look flushed and happier.
‘Before we sing any more, I expect you know one another but it would be helpful for me if you could all introduce yourselves. For those who haven’t met me, I’m Annie and I’m the great-niece of Alice Gowan in the village.’
‘Thought as much. Same big teeth,’ pipes up a middle-aged bald man in the front row.
‘I’ve also sung in choirs and I ran one for a while’ – probably best not to mention it was for seven-year-olds – ‘and I know that music has the power to move and heal people.’
The brass plaque to the lost men of the choral society is glinting on the wall and I suddenly feel out of my depth. Who the hell do I think I am, reckoning I can make a difference in this close-knit community where I don’t belong? Kayla raises her eyebrows and gives me a sympathetic smile while I stand speechless in front of everyone.
I’m rescued by a stout woman with short grey hair and ruddy cheeks who jumps up and waves.
‘Shall I start, then? As most of you know, my name is Florence and I live at Helligan’s Farm.’
‘How’s Bob?’ calls one woman from the back.
‘Fine, thanks, Maureen. The wound has healed over and we’re waiting for the scab to dry up and drop off.’
Ugh, that makes me feel sick. Maybe country folk have stronger stomachs than soft city types, though Jennifer looks appalled. Choir members take it in turns to give their names, some more confidently than others, and fortunately most keep their ailments to themselves, if not their opinions.
‘The old choral society was just for men,’ says a trim man in his fifties who introduces himself as Arthur. ‘Wives weren’t allowed to join.’
‘That’s very interesting but this isn’t the old Salt Bay Choral Society,’ butts in Jennifer. ‘It’s moved into the twenty-first century so women are allowed and you men will just have to lump it.’ That shuts up Arthur who sits down with a scowl and starts muttering under his breath.
All in all, I’ve got a pretty good mix of singers; nine women and six men, ranging in age from teenagers like Tom whose pants are still showing, to Mary, an elegant woman in her late seventies whose hair falls in soft white waves. Maureen is particularly popular with everyone because she’s brought cupcakes from her tea shop.
Once introductions are out of the way, I sort the women into altos and sopranos and the men into basses and tenors by getting everyone to sing together up and down the scale and sit down when a note is too low or high for them. Ollie reckons he can reach every note – though not necessarily in tune – so I put him with the tenors, who are thin on the ground. Ollie invites Josh to join him in the tenor section, but Josh declines and stays put.
‘Now that’s done, we’re ready to start rehearsing,’ says Kayla, handing out the sheet music that’s arrived since I placed my online orders. She throws evil glares at Chloe, who’s cuddling up close to Ollie and doesn’t seem terribly interested in the singing.
‘I can’t be doing with reading musical notes.’ Florence recoils from her sheet music as though it’s hardcore porn.
‘How many of you can read music?’ I ask. Only eight hands go up, which could be a problem, but one we’ll have to overcome. ‘Reading music is an advantage but we can learn these pieces by heart. There’s nothing too ambitious and some of them will be familiar to you.’
‘“Amazing Grace”? I should think so,’ pipes up Jennifer. ‘I was expecting something a little more challenging.’
‘This is just the start, Jennifer, to see how we get on.’ I cross my fingers behind my back and hope Jennifer won’t make a fuss. My stress levels are already through the roof with Josh still sitting at the back, staring at me and being no help whatsoever.
‘“Amazing Grace” is a wonderful song and perfect for a new choir like us,’ calls out Mary, giving me a thumbs up and Jennifer a serene smile that quashes any brewing tantrum. I think I might love Mary already.
At last we’re ready to start, and the rest of the rehearsal goes well. The singing’s not great but it’ll improve – probably – and there’s a semblance of four-part harmony by the end of an hour and a half. At least people seem to be enjoying themselves, even Roger, whose booming bass voice reminds me of Brian Blessed.
I’ve done my best to ignore Josh the whole time, but it’s hard not to steal a glance every now and then. At first he was scanning round the church, looking bored. But when Kayla drops the copies of a traditional Cornish song she’s handing round, he helps her pick them up and hand them round. He keeps a copy for himself, I notice, and follows the music when we’re singing.
The most embarrassing part of the evening is singing solo in front of everyone when I’m demonstrating the harmonies. At first my voice is thin and quavery, but I have an epiphany when Ollie launches into ‘Ave verum corpus’ with gay abandon, not caring if he hits the right notes or not. It sounds awful – Jennifer puts her fingers in her ears at one point – but he’s having a fabulous time and it makes people laugh, and I remember that’s what this choir is all about. Bringing a touch of joy into this sad little village. After that, I sing out loud and proud, and don’t care what anyone thinks. Even Josh.
At the end of the rehearsal, several people thank me when they’re leaving the church. And most say they’re planning to come back next week. Hopefully Bob’s scab will have dropped off by then so we won’t need an update.
‘Phew, that went well.’ Kayla picks up some sheet music that’s fallen behind a pew and plonks it on top of the piano. ‘Apart from Chloe, whose voice sounds like nails down a blackboard. She’s a very screechy soprano.’ Kayla is a proud alto. ‘And he wasn’t much help.’ She tilts her head towards Josh, who’s still at the back of the church, studying an ancient gravestone set into the floor.
‘Don’t forget his dad was conducting the last time the choral society met so I expect that’s why he’s being weird.’ I’m so relieved at getting through the rehearsal without making an arse of myself, I’m willing to give Josh the benefit of the doubt.
‘Maybe. Anyway, I’m going back to the pub to check if Ollie’s there with Chloe. I’ll see you later.’ Kayla gives me a brief hug. ‘Well done with the rehearsal. This choir is going to be amazing.’
Josh and I are the only people left in the church once Kayla’s gone. Which means he probably wants to speak to me. He’s probably made chuffing notes on my performance. Balls! I gather up the last of the music, shove it in my bag and march down
the aisle.
‘Did I run the rehearsal in the right way?’
Josh looks up from words chiselled into stone three hundred years ago. ‘Not bad.’
‘And what about the singing, how did that sound?’
‘Not bad,’ he intones again.
‘Wow, I’m overwhelmed by your enthusiasm and positivity.’
Josh folds his arms across his lean frame. ‘OK; the singing was quite good in places, though you’ve got your work cut out with Ollie, who can’t sing for toffee, and Florence, who hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. Jennifer’s singing is amazing and she knows it so she’s drowning everyone else out, but Roger and Mary have good voices, and you too, actually.’ He scuffs his feet across the flagstones, clearly ill at ease after paying a compliment to a Trebarwith. ‘As for the way the rehearsal was run, it went pretty well, though you could do with a proper baton rather than waving a pencil at people.’
‘I’m not sure I’m a baton sort of person.’
‘Really? Surely you’ve used one before, seeing as you’re a talented and experienced choral conductor from London?’ Josh arches an eyebrow while I work out the best way to murder feckin’ Kayla and her big mouth.
‘Obviously I’ve used one before,’ I scoff, heaping lie on top of lie, ‘but I don’t have one of my own.’
‘Not a problem. I can bring one along next time.’ Oh great! There’s going to be a ‘next time’, so some ground rules are required, pronto.
‘If you’re here next week, I insist that you give us a hand rather than sitting back here’ – I search for the right words to encapsulate his unnerving presence – ‘giving me evils.’
Jeez, I have never used that phrase before in my whole life. The only people who use that phrase are adolescent girls. And Vicky Pollard. Not sophisticated twenty-nine-year-olds from London. I am a moron.
