by Pam Rhodes
“Easier said than done, especially when there’s so much I’d like to see. At my age, if I don’t do it now, the moment will be gone forever.”
“Well, you did say you’d like to come to the gospel choir rehearsal, and Neil’s just knocking for Iris now.”
“Oh yes, I’d like to try that.” Harry’s answer was a sigh of weariness.
“I reckon there’ll be a lot of sorting out and talking things through in this first rehearsal,” said Claire carefully. “Probably not too important, really, and I could bring you back any words or music you need, so we could run through it ourselves if you feel like coming to the next one.”
“Would you?” Harry rested back against his pillow with relief. “I’ll just have a little snooze before dinner. And I really want to see that show in the theatre tonight…”
“‘Hooray for Hollywood’,” grinned Claire. “Right up your street. You’ll know all the words.”
When Harry didn’t answer, she realized he was already sinking into slumber. Gently taking the Daily Programme sheet from his hands, she tucked the cover around him, kissed him softly on the forehead, and quietly closed the cabin door behind her.
They’re all here, thought Clifford, spotting familiar faces amongst the crowd of seventy or more people who had crammed into the Shackleton Lounge to sign up for the gospel choir.
It was a relief to see Brian and Sylvia Lambert from Dunbridge – they would both give a good musical lead. Peter and Val Fellowes were chatting to them, along with Raymond, whose smile was beaming as his voice boomed with excitement. John and Barbara Curtis were sitting at a table so she could line up her camera to capture the moment. Sitting alongside in her wheelchair was Ida, with a cup of coffee thoughtfully placed near to hand by Julia before she went over to chat to some of the new friends she’d made from Neil’s Derbyshire parish.
Neil and Claire were there with them, along with Iris, who was still trying to make up her mind whether to join in or simply watch. The “girls”, Betty, Sheila and Marion, had been joined by Jill, although there was no sign of her husband Rob. No surprise there, as he’d never previously shown any interest in singing. Deirdre and Mark, on the other hand, were enthusiastic members of the St Jude’s choir, and Neil had to stifle a smile when he saw their hands were discreetly clasped as they stood at the edge of the group.
“Welcome to our first rehearsal for the Pilgrim Gospel Choir!”
Pam Rhodes had taken her place at the front, keen to get the rehearsal underway. “It’s great to see so many of you here. Now, we are rehearsing for a contribution I’d like us to make to the ‘Praise Away’ worship gathering that’s planned for the last day of our cruise. In other words, next Wednesday evening, as we sail out of the ancient harbour at Honfleur in France, on the final leg of our journey back to Tilbury, we’ll be holding a praise and worship service up on deck, to which all passengers are invited. I would like our choir to provide the grand finale, a selection of familiar gospel songs to which we’ll choreograph simple movements. Our aim is to encourage the audience to be moved, entertained and inspired by our singing, as well as joining in themselves if they feel like it.
“First,” Pam continued, “let me introduce you to our team, who’ve volunteered to help us with our performance. Our musical director is Clifford Davies, whom I think most of you know from the worship we’ve already shared together. Cliff has written the arrangement for the music, and will be accompanying us on the piano. His role is to help us get the singing just right, and he promises to be gentle with us! However, I’m delighted to say that he has enlisted help in the form of Andrew Bragnall. Those of you who’ve been up in the cocktail bar in the evenings after dinner will know what a talented musician he is.”
A murmur of recognition led to a smattering of applause for Andrew, who was sitting at a very sophisticated electronic keyboard.
“Oh, he’s good,” said Betty, nudging Sheila, who was standing next to her. “He was playing when we were all singing that Frank Sinatra number the other night.”
“Andrew can make that keyboard of his sound like a full orchestra,” smiled Pam, “so the music to accompany our gospel choir will be wonderful. Now we just have to get to work on the words and the music.”
“What are we singing?” asked a demanding voice from the back of the crowd. Cliff recognized Carole immediately and realized that, following their tea together, curiosity had obviously got the better of her. Her high principles about the standard of music and singing on board seemed to matter less than making sure she didn’t miss out on anything now she knew that Clifford was a man of stature in the entertainment business!
“Carole, I’m glad you’re here,” replied Cliff smoothly. “I wonder if you would be kind enough to hand round these song words to everyone? While that’s being organized, can I ask you to put your hands up if you’ve sung as part of a choir before?”
About thirty hands shot up around the room.
“Very encouraging, but please don’t worry if you’ve not done anything like this,” continued Cliff. “I’d like you to divide yourselves into four groups: sopranos over here on the left, then the altos. Tenors over this side, with the basses on the far right.”
Good-natured chaos followed as those who knew which category of voice they were worked out exactly where they should stand, while those who had no idea about their voices simply joined people they knew.
“Hello!”
As the tenors and altos shuffled into place beside each other, Julia turned to find a face she recognized smiling down at her. She knew Paul as the dance host, always on hand after dinner to partner any lady who fancied a waltz, quickstep or cha cha cha around the dance floor before the main entertainment of the evening.
The previous night she had taken Ida down to hear the band, and had been a little alarmed when Paul asked her to dance. She refused, saying she didn’t feel she could leave Ida, but as she watched, she’d almost wished she’d had the courage to accept his invitation. She hadn’t danced for ages, not since those ballet and tap lessons she’d had as a child years before. She loved watching Strictly Come Dancing, though, and always thought she’d enjoy taking up that kind of exercise again. She told herself the reason she’d never got around to it was that she had a busy career running her own accountancy business. That claimed most of her energy and attention. The rest was taken up by Ida, her widowed mother, who for some time had been slowly descending into dementia. This weighed heavily on Julia, as the only child in the family. Plus, of course, she didn’t have a partner of her own. She assumed most dancers went in couples. Being a wallflower didn’t appeal to her at all.
“Oh, hello,” she smiled back at Paul. “Can you sing as well as dance, then?”
Paul shrugged with a grin. “No, I’d never call myself a singer, but when Pam said at the meeting the other day that they were looking for enthusiasm rather than skill, I thought I’d come along to see if they really meant it. If not, I reckon they’ll be asking me to leave very soon.”
Julia laughed. “Me too. I just thought it would be nice for Mum to come along to hear all these old gospel songs. I remember she loved singing them when I was growing up.”
“Well, she’s certainly got a good view from her wheelchair. She’ll be conducting before we know it.”
“Oh, I’d love to see that! She doesn’t really engage with much around her these days.”
“My dad had dementia for several years, too. It’s tough. You lose sight of the person you’ve loved all your life…”
Julia looked at him for a moment, touched by his empathy and understanding of what life was like now for her and Mum.
“Your attention, please!” called Clifford. “These songs should be pretty familiar to most of you. Does anyone not know them already?”
No hands went up, so he continued. “The music is very easy to follow – but putting it simply, we will start with two choruses of ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’, then once through ‘This Little Light of
Mine’ and ‘Down by the Riverside’. Then the tempo slows a little as we sing ‘Soon and Very Soon’ followed by ‘Kum Ba Ya, My Lord’. We pick the rhythm up again for ‘Go Tell It on the Mountain’, with two choruses of ‘He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands’ as the big finish. So let’s give it a go – in unison, just to make sure we’ve got the notes right. All together on my count! Huh-one, huh-two, huh-three: ‘Oh, when the saints…’!”
An hour later, the Pilgrim Gospel Choir was making a very acceptable sound indeed. With Clifford conducting and Andrew providing a strong musical accompaniment, the choir had got to the stage where Pam was able to suggest some quite easy moves, which most people seemed to be managing very well. Raymond’s arms and legs seemed to move more expansively and in a different direction to the rest of the crowd, but somehow it didn’t matter. Their faces were alive with pleasure and concentration as they tried to fit words and movements together, mostly with great success.
Suddenly Paul touched Julia’s arm and indicated in the direction of Ida. Julia caught her breath. Ida’s face was usually expressionless – but not now. Her mouth was moving. Not forming any recognizable words, but as if she was trying to join in with the familiar old songs.
Julia’s eyes filled with tears at the unexpected sight. “I don’t believe it. Just look at her.”
“I noticed her last night. I could have sworn she was trying to sing along with the dance music then,” said Paul quietly.
“Really? Was she? I haven’t seen her do anything like that for a couple of years.”
Pam’s voice interrupted them as she picked up the microphone.
“That’s really coming along. Thank you so much for your hard work. Please could you all pick up a sheet detailing the rehearsal times and the arrangements for the performance on the way out?”
“And don’t forget to learn those words,” instructed Clifford. “Next time, you’ll be doing it without the sheet in front of you.”
“Does anyone want to come up on deck with me now as the ship leaves the Orkneys?” shouted Brig over the chatter of the crowd. “I’m willing to give a commentary from a seafaring point of view, if that interests anyone?”
“No one’s interested!” snapped Daisy. “And we’ve only got half an hour before our sitting for dinner.”
“Save me a seat then,” said Brig, as he realized that several people, including Neil, Peter Fellowes and Brian, were lining up to join him. “Follow me, shipmates! These waters around the far north of the British Isles are notoriously difficult, even for the most seasoned sailor. Let’s see just how good this captain of ours is.”
CHAPTER 5
TOBERMORY THE ISLE OF MULL
Iona of my heart, Iona of my love,
Instead of monks’ voices shall be the lowing of cattle;
But ere the world come to an end,
Iona shall be as it was.
St Columba
“Rough night!” commented Brian, as he and Sylvia joined Peter and Val for breakfast.
“It certainly was,” grimaced Val. “I’ve rather enjoyed being rocked to sleep since we joined the ship, but last night I wondered if we were going to end up on the floor a couple of times.”
“Well, Brig said it’d be rough,” said Peter, “and he was right. He said all the waters round the top of the British Isles are treacherous, because of the strong currents and high winds. It’s just as well I didn’t end up going to sea. I always wanted to when I was a lad. You know, join the navy and see the world! That sounded quite appealing when I was a spotty eighteen-year-old.”
“Why didn’t you join up in the end?” asked Sylvia.
“My mum said no,” grinned Peter, “and whatever she said went. You know, I was in my fifties when she died, and I never did get anywhere when I tried to argue with her.”
“And you ended up as an estate agent.”
“That’s right, in the middle of Bedfordshire, which is just about as far away from the sea as you can get!”
“Brig came across as really knowledgeable last night, didn’t he?” said Brian. “His career in the Royal Navy certainly sounded colourful.”
“It’s his wife who puzzles me,” mused Sylvia. “They seem so ill-matched. She’s always putting him down and criticizing every word he says.”
“He is a bit like a long-playing record though, don’t you think? Has anyone heard him talk about anything except his life at sea?”
When it was clear that no one had, they all had a fit of the giggles. They were still laughing when Neil, Claire, Iris and Harry sat down at the table next to them.
“How are you, Harry?” asked Val. “I thought you looked a bit tired yesterday.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” replied Harry with a smile. “Just getting my sea legs, and that’s not so easy when you’ve got gammy knees and arthritic ankles.”
“And I bet you’re not taking all your medicine,” accused Iris. “He’s terrible. He always thinks he knows better than the doctor. If he doesn’t like the colour of a tablet, he won’t bother to take it.”
“I hope that’s not true, Uncle Harry,” said Claire.
“Of course it’s not true. I don’t give a fig what colour the tablets are. I don’t like any of them.”
“But if you need them…?”
“Look, love, I just don’t fancy the idea of all those chemicals inside me. I’ve never smoked, hardly ever drunk, so why should I start filling myself with drugs and chemicals now? I’m old. Parts of me are wearing out. I’m going to die some time – and I don’t mind. I know where I’m going. I’ll be with my Maker and with my true love, my Rose. In fact, I’m rather looking forward to it.”
“Harry!” The blood seemed to have drained from Iris’s face. “That’s a dreadful thing to say.”
“No, it’s not. Is it, Neil? I’m only telling the truth, my truth. I don’t dread the thought of no longer living, though of course I’m sad to think of leaving you all behind. No tears, though; not for me. When the time comes, dance at my funeral. Celebrate my life. Wherever I am, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.”
This conversation was interrupted by Bishop Paul, who was making his way towards their table, along with his wife Margaret and their friend, Ros Martin.
“Morning, Neil,” he said. “Are you all prepared for our service on Iona this afternoon? Did I tell you they’ve given us a slot at the Michael Chapel at one o’clock?”
“Yes. Ros and I are going to lead it together,” replied Neil.
“It’ll be very special,” said Ros. “We’ll be worshipping in a sacred place where Columba himself lived, prayed and is buried. In many ways, it’s the cradle of Christianity in Britain.”
“Amen to that,” agreed Neil. “And you’re organizing some music, aren’t you, Brian?”
“Yes, I’ve prepared an unaccompanied piece for some of the more confident singers. A cappella singing should fit the occasion and the surroundings very well, except…”
“Except?” There was a note of concern in Neil’s voice.
“Except I’ve asked Carole Swinton to be in the group.”
“Goodness, how did she react to that? Does that mean war or peace?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” replied Brian. “She didn’t come to our rehearsal, because she was down in the spa having a stress-relief massage, so Garry told me.”
Neil shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like a good sign.”
“But she assures me she sight-reads perfectly and that she’ll fit in without any trouble.”
No one looked convinced.
“Well,” said Neil at last, “this isn’t about individual performance. It’s about our communal worship. Carole can be charming – Garry too. I’m sure it’ll all be fine. By the way, we’ve got two coachloads going to Iona today. Apparently it takes a couple of hours to get from Tobermory right down the Isle of Mull to Fionnphort. Hopefully we’ll all arrive in time to get on the same ferry to Iona, but just in case, if Claire and I look after everyone on
Coach A, could you take care of the group on Coach B, Ros?”
“Of course,” she smiled. “Hope our mobiles work, then, so we can keep in touch.”
“Those coaches will be going without us if we don’t get a move on,” said Peter, glancing at his watch. “We’re due to collect our tickets in fifteen minutes.”
Just at that moment, Daisy Young walked past their table with a couple of other ladies.
“Morning, Daisy,” said Neil. “Your Brig was great last night as we were sailing out of Orkney. Very impressive. Where is he, by the way?”
Daisy stopped, her face expressionless except for tightly pursed lips. “He’s had his head down the toilet all night. Seasick. He’s always been a rotten sailor. I don’t know why he wants to come on these cruises, really.”
The crowd stared at her in shock as that revelation sank in. Then, suddenly, her mouth twitched and she began to laugh – and once she started, her cheeks grew redder and her eyes filled with tears as she threw her head back with laughter. It was infectious, and by the time everyone was making their way out of the restaurant, they couldn’t help but laugh along with her, even though they weren’t quite sure they should…
Rob was under the covers when Jill crept back into their cabin. Being as quiet as she could in the bathroom, she emerged to slip on her anorak and walking boots, then slung her rucksack over her shoulder.
“I’m off now,” she whispered, in case he was just pretending to be asleep.
“Bye, then.” His voice was muffled beneath the duvet.
“You’re quite sure you don’t want to come? Only, Arthur’s decided not to do the trip after all, so there’s a spare seat.”
“He’s over ninety.” Rob pulled back the covers so that he could stare at her. “It was a pretty stupid idea to think of letting him do such a long coach trip in the first place. Two hours of driving just to get to the ferry? That son of his must need his head tested.”
