By the time Daisy and Woody arrived, the seafront had been transformed into a rainbow-coloured, bustling buzz. Those eager to bag a prime view of the Carnival procession had arrived early to stake their claim, while others spilled out of the pubs onto the street, already lairy, blokes stripped to the waist with T-shirts tied as superhero capes, their half-empty beer bottles clasped like brown glass sceptres. Kids waited impatient and empty-handed as overwrought parents juggled bags, cuddly toys and giant foiled helium-filled balloons from the stalls that lined the seafront. Expectation was in the air as Brighton prepared to display its creative, crazy, colourful best.
Daisy had brought her ludicrously expensive camera – a present from one of André’s many Dubai trips – and kept disappearing to snap details of the remarkable sights surrounding them.
‘Don’t you just love today?’ she grinned at Elsie. ‘So many photographs waiting to happen! I love Brighton when it’s celebrating – there’s nowhere on earth like it.’
‘So, how was your week?’ Elsie asked, keen to hear the details of André’s visit.
‘Actually, it was surprisingly wonderful,’ Daisy replied. ‘We spent so much time together, didn’t argue once, and to be honest I kept checking that it was my André who had come home and not some rather lovely impostor.’
‘Wow. He seems to be making a real effort, then.’
‘He does. I don’t know whether to be worried by it or just enjoy it while it lasts.’
Elsie nudged her sister. ‘Maybe it’s a sign that he’s ready to settle down.’
‘Mmm, maybe.’ Daisy was far from convinced. ‘I guess time will tell.’
Woody, meanwhile, was nearby, admiring the intricately painted body of a street performer a little too closely. ‘And you have to be completely naked when the artist works his magic on you?’
‘Pretty much,’ the woman giggled, wriggling her upper body to prove – if proof were needed – the very thin layer of colour that was protecting her modesty. ‘It’s, like, completely sensuous to become a living canvas. It’s almost reverent when the paint is applied, you know?’
‘I can imagine the beauty of that moment, yeah.’ Woody’s lecherous wink was anything but reverent. ‘I’d like to behold the wonder of it sometime.’
A pair of stilt-walkers dressed as lengthy-legged sailors strode past with a gang of whooping and yelling children in their wake. Elsie climbed up on the stage to check her keyboard, her nerves kicking up a gear as she considered the performance The Sundaes would give in little under an hour.
One by one, the rest of the choir arrived, gathering to the right of the stage and chatting nervously. Woody reluctantly allowed the street performer to leave and wandered over to the group.
‘OK, people! Cometh the Carnival, cometh the hour.’
‘Freak.’
Woody surveyed Sasha haughtily. ‘I will not rise to ignorance, girl. Today I am above it.’
‘Whatever.’
Stan smiled at Elsie as she joined them. ‘Think we can do this?’
Elsie squeezed his arm. ‘I know we can.’
Waiting backstage for the local radio presenter to announce them was one of the longest twenty minutes Elsie could remember and, judging by the faces of The Sundaes, all were experiencing the same dragging trepidation. Aoife, Danny, Kathy and Dee were huddled together next to Stan, Graeme and Juliet, who didn’t look any more confident. Even Sasha was silent. For a split second, Elsie wondered if she had perhaps been too hasty bringing The Sundaes here. Were they really ready to face the sizeable audience? She looked at Woody for reassurance, but he was in the middle of an elaborate pre-gig ritual – eyes closed, head back, shaking his hands like there were no paper towels in the Gents’ loo …
‘You’re up next,’ whispered a gruff-looking radio runner, clipboard clenched tightly against his chest.
Elsie took a deep breath. This was it: the first proper outing of her new venture. Lucas would be beside himself with laughter if he could see her now. Not that he would likely be standing on this stage if he was there: his deep-harboured stage fright was legendary amongst their friends, stemming from the time he had to play the Angel Gabriel at junior school, when his white sheet costume caught on a nail in the school stage and tore almost in half, revealing his very white, well-pressed Y-fronts in front of everyone … She smiled at the memory of him recounting the story countless times for friends, the story progressively more embellished and preposterous with each retelling.
‘… And at that moment, every camera in the school hall flashed. I’m convinced that right across Shoreham-by-Sea there is an abundance of slowly fading photographic evidence of my not-so-tighty-whities …’
‘Sundaes, onstage now,’ the radio runner growled.
The choir filed onstage in silent obedience, with Woody leading the way and Elsie bringing up the rear. Just before she stepped out into the blinding Brighton sunshine, Elsie heard a small cheer and calls of ‘Wood-ee, Wood-ee!’ from the few Hellfinger faithful who had made a pilgrimage to see their idol.
She imagined Lucas standing beside her in the wings. Go on, girl. Show ’em what you’ve got … Smiling at his memory, she strode confidently on stage, taking the microphone by her keyboard.
‘Good afternoon Brighton! We are The Sundaes – Brighton’s newest choir.’ She began to play the opening bars of ‘What a Wonderful World’ and, nodding at the visibly shaken members of her choir, counted them in …
Fourteen impressions of doomed bunnies frozen in approaching truck headlights stared back at her. Elsie’s encouraging smile began to pull at the edges. Woody glared at Sasha, who was gawping at the crowd below, her usual brassiness deserting her.
Raising her voice, Elsie began to sing: ‘I see …’
‘… fields of blue – green …’ Sasha rushed, unblinking – but Elsie thanked heaven that Sasha had sung anything at all – and, after the impromptu rewrite of the Louis Armstrong classic, she sang with increasing volume and conviction. Behind her, The Sundaes breathed a visible sigh of relief. At the right time the rest of the choir came in, the concentration on their faces almost comical. Elsie made a mental note to talk to them about smiling at the next rehearsal, but right now that didn’t matter: they were singing – stronger and tighter as the song passed from the chorus to the second verse and headed towards Stan’s middle-eight solo. Waving at his wife and son in the audience, he pulled a strong performance out of the bag, his cheeks and balding head reddening with pleasure at the reaction. The choir joined him and completed the first song on a confident note.
Woody cast a glance across the stage and raised his thumbs in a Fonz-like seal of approval. Elsie felt a rush of pride swelling within her as she played the first bar of ‘Forget You’ and heard a delighted roar as the crowd by the stage recognised it. Danny swapped places with Sasha – the first bit of choreography in the programme – and struck up the chorus. The rest of The Sundaes entered with their oohs on time (apart from Sheila who quickly changed her ahh to an ooh when she realised her mistake). Jim, standing in the audience, started clapping along and some of the people around him joined in. As the Sundaes saw this, their volume soared. They entered the home straight, where all that lay between them and the end of the programme was a questionable Seventies’ pop and rock collision … Drumming her fingers on the keys for the introduction to the medley, Elsie nodded at Woody, who grabbed the microphone and swung it between his spread legs á la Roger Daltrey. Flicking it back to his lips, he pointed out at the crowd: ‘Brighton, are you ready to rock?’
The sparse Hellfinger faithful yelled, ‘Yeah!’
Woody gave a snarling smirk, his snake hips beginning to move to the beat. ‘I said, are you ready to ROCK?’
‘YEAH!’ Amused by the ageing rocker with his alarming hip action, more of the crowd shouted back.
‘I’m a-gonna need my crew here,’ Woody beckoned Stan, Graeme, Lewis and Danny to his side. ‘Are you ready, fellas? Take it away!’
To the
audience’s shock and delight, the men launched heartily into their vocal impression of Ritchie Blackmore’s legendary guitar riff, eliciting wolf-whistles and cheers. The female choir members then launched into ABBA’s ‘Summer Night City’ while the men continued the ‘Smoke on the Water’ riff underneath. Then Irene joined in – and the sight of an eighty-four-year-old lady air-guitaring centre-stage brought the audience’s hands clapping over their heads as Elsie played the final bars and The Sundaes lifted their hands in a jazz-style to bring their performance to a thundering finish.
‘Let’s give it up for The Sundaes!’ the radio DJ shouted and Elsie joined the choir on stage for one last bow before they walked off.
‘Did you see that?’ Lewis said, his eyes wide. ‘We were amazing!’
‘We were better than that,’ Kathy replied, her eyes shining.
Aoife’s smile was brighter than Elsie had ever seen. ‘I can’t believe we did it,’ she squealed.
Sasha threw a sunbed-tanned arm around her. ‘I actually heard you sing that time, Eef! Who knew you had it in you?’
‘You were awesome!’ Woody stepped into the centre of the choir, who whooped and ruffled his ponytail. ‘This is where it starts, people! Choir ninjas called to arms!’
‘Er, can you take this offstage?’ the radio runner barked.
Giggling like chastened children, Elsie and Daisy led The Sundaes down onto the street and watched as they dispersed to their waiting families and friends. A short, middle-aged blonde-haired woman who bore a striking resemblance to Irene emerged from the crowd and hurried over to Elsie.
‘Thank you,’ she gushed, shaking Elsie’s hand vigorously. ‘Mum’s gone on about this choir for weeks and it’s been so good to see her looking forward to rehearsals. But I never in a million years thought I’d see her playing air-guitar and rocking out in front of everyone!’
‘Still got it, dearie,’ Irene winked at Elsie, hugging her daughter. ‘Thank you, Madame Choirmistress.’
Elsie felt as if her feet were hovering several inches above the pavement. ‘It’s my complete pleasure, Irene. Thank you.’
‘Permission to embrace the choral director, ma’am,’ Olly’s voice said behind Elsie. She turned and smiled at him.
‘Permission granted.’
Olly gathered her into his arms and swung her around to face the crowd, where jewel-hued Samba dancers were persuading people to join them as a steel band took the stage. She leaned her cheek against the warm skin of his neck and smiled at the sight of Brighton’s revellers as Olly began to sway her gently to the rhythm of the music. Enjoying the sensation of his body next to hers, Elsie leaned in closer, her eyes making a lazy navigation of the street party over his shoulder. She had succeeded: the choir had achieved their first performance and here she was, dancing on Brighton seafront with a handsome man in the Carnival sunshine …
Quite without warning, a face summoned her attention in the midst of the partying Carnival-goers.
His dark hair framed his face, his green eyes were fixed on her alone. Slowly, Torin Stewart raised his beer bottle to her as Elsie’s stomach tightened. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms further around Olly’s neck as Torin turned and disappeared back into the crowd.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ Olly asked, pulling back to scan her face.
‘Nothing.’ Gazing into his blue-grey eyes, Elsie felt the tension within her subsiding. ‘Everything’s good.’
‘Yes.’ He leaned forward and placed the softest kiss on her forehead. ‘Yes, it is.’
The thrill of the Carnival performance was exactly what Elsie and the members of The Sundaes needed, uniting them in a way they had never been before. Several of the choir began to visit Sundae & Cher during the week, the ice cream café becoming the unofficial meeting place for both the singers and their friends. Two weeks after the Carnival, Aoife, Lewis and Danny gathered at the counter, following a request from Cher. She emerged from the kitchen with a tray full of small one-scoop tubs, each filled with a different coloured ball of ice cream.
‘Right, you lot. Seeing as you’re all officially regulars here, I wanted to pick your brains. I take it none of you are averse to eating free ice cream? No, I thought not.’
‘What’s the catch?’ Lewis asked, eliciting a groan from Danny, who was well aware of his devotion to conspiracy thrillers.
Cher was the picture of sincerity. ‘No catch. I’ve just been working on some new flavours and I want to see what reaction they get.’
Lewis shrugged. ‘Good enough answer for me. Where do I start?’
Cher’s black-brown eyes twinkled and she held out three plastic ice cream spoons. ‘Anywhere you like.’
Elsie took a break from cleaning tables to witness Cher’s not-so-scientific experiment. ‘What happens if they love all of them?’ she whispered to Cher.
‘Then I’ll do a flavour of the month promotion and use all the recipes. See? I’ve thought of everything.’
‘Is this rose-flavoured?’ Aoife asked, pleasantly surprised at her first taste.
‘Yes. It’s Rosewater and Lemon Sorbet. Do you think it works?’
‘It’s lovely. I’d buy that.’
Cher’s smile was pure pride. ‘Brilliant.’
‘This just looks like vanilla, so it’s a safe bet,’ Danny said, selecting a pale white scoop. He took a large spoonful and then nearly sprayed his friends and Cher as he was accosted by a violent coughing fit.
Elsie fetched a glass of water as Lewis slapped him on the back and Aoife looked on, concerned. After a couple of sips, a beetroot-faced Danny managed to regain control, his eyes streaming.
‘What was that?’
‘Horseradish,’ Cher replied sheepishly.
‘Who puts horseradish in ice cream?’
Elsie chuckled. ‘Heston Blumenthal.’
Danny groaned. ‘That guy is crazy.’
‘He’s a babe,’ Cher argued.
Aoife’s disgust was impossible to hide. ‘He is not.’
‘I wouldn’t insult Cher’s dream husband if I were you,’ Elsie laughed. ‘She worships at his Bunsen burner, don’t you, hun?’
‘Heston happens to be a beautiful man with a brilliant mind. The things he does with liquid nitrogen are enough to make any girl go weak.’
Lewis scrutinised the third flavour with suspicion. ‘I’m not sure I want to try this.’
‘Oh don’t be a baby,’ Cher tutted, ‘you’ll never impress girls if you’re scared of ice cream.’
‘Nice marketing line,’ Elsie grinned. ‘I wouldn’t use that one if I were you.’
Hesitantly, Lewis lifted the spoon to his mouth. A broad grin spread across his face, fuelled as much by relief as reaction to the new flavour. ‘Doughnuts!’ he exclaimed. ‘It tastes of jam doughnuts!’
‘Correct!’ Cher said. ‘Well, two out of three is encouraging.’ An old-fashioned telephone sounded from the kitchen and Cher looked at Elsie, who had resumed her task of clearing tables. ‘That’s your phone, isn’t it? You’re popular today, Els.’
Elsie groaned as she walked into the kitchen to answer it. ‘It’ll probably be someone selling something.’ To her surprise, she saw Guin’s name flashing on the screen. Quickly, she accepted the call.
‘Elsie – I think the baby’s coming. I can’t get hold of Joe and he has the car. I’m so scared … Can you come?’
Shocked, Elsie turned to Cher, who immediately recognised the gravity of the call. ‘It’s Guin …’ She grabbed her bag and keys from the kitchen.
‘The baby?’
‘Yes.’
‘Go, go!’ Cher practically pushed her out of the door.
Elsie raced up the street towards her car. ‘I’m coming. Are you sure it’s time?’
‘I don’t know … I had this all planned out and it’s not supposed to happen for two weeks yet. I don’t have anything ready …’
‘That’s not important, Guin. I’m at the car now. You need to pack a bag for hospital, OK?’ There was a loud mo
an from the other end of the phone. ‘Guin? Are you there?’
‘Yes … I’m here. Please hurry!’
Fifteen minutes later, Elsie pulled up outside Guin’s pottery studio in Shoreham-by-Sea and raced around the back to the small fisherman’s cottage Guin shared with her husband Joe. Guin was leaning against the kitchen table, bag in hand, breathing heavily. Her tear-stained face broke into a massive grin when she saw her sister.
‘Am I glad to see you! It’s happening, Els. This is actually happening!’
Tears stung Elsie’s eyes. ‘I know! Have you reached Joe yet?’
‘No, his mobile’s off. I can’t believe he would turn it off, today of all days …’ She took a sharp intake of breath and clutched her enormous belly.
Seeing the genuine fear in her sister’s eyes, Elsie sprang into action. ‘Right, let’s go.’ She grabbed Guin’s bag and supported her as they left the house, gently manoeuvring her into the passenger seat of the car. Then, running round to the other side, she revved the engine into life.
Guin was staring at her, eyes wide. ‘Elsie, I’m so scared.’
‘You’re going to be fine. Just focus on your breathing. Leave the high-speed dash to me, OK?’
Adrenaline pumping madly through her body, Elsie put her foot down and they sped off, taking corners sharply and ducking down side streets whenever traffic loomed ahead. Guin clung onto the door handle, eyes fixed maniacally on the road ahead to divert her from the immensity of the situation.
‘I’m going to throttle Joe when I get hold of him,’ she swore through gritted teeth. ‘I can’t believe he’s not here. We had a plan, Elsie! All those months of preparing and planning and making sure that every last detail was perfect …’ She broke off as another contraction hit. ‘Well, if he thinks I’m ever going near him again after this he’s got another thing coming.’
Elsie smiled at her sister. ‘You don’t mean that. One look at your beautiful baby in your handsome hubby’s arms and you’ll be …’
B-A-N-G!
The car veered suddenly to the left and it was all Elsie could do to wrench the steering wheel back. What happened next seemed to take place in ultra-slow-motion … Slamming her hand to the dashboard, Elsie hit the hazard lights as the car crossed from the fast lane of the dual carriageway into the nearside lane – thankfully avoiding other motorists, who had witnessed the cause of the noise and moved out of her way. The whole chassis bumped and jerked wildly as Guin screamed, and Elsie prayed fervently that she could stop the car without hurting her sister. Braking had limited effect, the pull on the car from the left front wing too strong for Elsie to fight. Finally, in desperation, she grabbed the handbrake with her left hand and yanked it up as hard as she could, hanging on with all her might while steering with the other hand, until they came to a halt on the hard shoulder.
When I Fall in Love Page 17