The Choir on Hope Street

by Annie Lyons

  Please, please, please.

  ‘The North London Nightingales.’

  I felt Oliver squeeze my hand as my shoulders dropped in disappointment. ‘Bad luck, darling,’ he whispered.

  A sombre mood hung over our group as we trooped back to the train station.

  ‘Ah well, lovies, we tried our hardest,’ said Pamela. ‘It just wasn’t to be, but it doesn’t mean we’ve lost the hall. The choir and campaign are still going strong.’

  We murmured agreement but the disappointment weighed heavily as we waited for the train. I spotted Danielle and her fellow Darlings striding across the concourse towards us. ‘Caroline! Sweetheart, I’m sooo sorry,’ she said, kissing either side of my head and holding me at arm’s length.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I said, wishing the ground would swallow me up or actually, preferably her.

  ‘It’s just that the standard is so high,’ she said, talking down to me as if I were a child. ‘And you guys are fabulous, but not everyone is an actual singer.’ She bestowed a supercilious smile on the assembled company. ‘I mean you can all sing but you’re not singers. That’s all it is, but keep up the brilliant work and if you want us to back your hall campaign, just say the word. We’ll be happy to do it for a reduced fee. Pas de problem.’ She gave us an annoying little wave before leading her entourage to the train.

  ‘The cheek,’ declared Pamela. ‘Who does she think she is? Mariah bloody Carey?’

  There was no singing on the train journey back home. I could tell that we were all wondering if there was any point continuing with the choir. But I agreed with Pamela. The hall campaign was still running so we had to carry on. Plus, it felt as if we’d created something necessary and important with the choir. I know I needed it at the moment.

  Natalie and Oliver were happily playing word games with the children so I decided to find Guy.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked, sitting down next to him.

  He nodded. ‘I thought we were in with a shot but the standard was very high.’ His phone buzzed with a call. ‘Excuse me for a sec,’ he said. I looked out of the window, staring at the London landscape as we trundled home. ‘Yes, this is Virginia Henderson’s son. Right, okay. Well, I’m coming in later. Thanks for letting me know. Bye.’

  ‘Everything okay?’ I asked.

  ‘That was my mother’s home,’ he answered. ‘She’s had a chest infection and they were just updating me on how she’s doing. I’m going in to see her later.’

  ‘I’m glad that she’s getting better care than my mother did when she was there. Mind you, my mother is a very challenging woman.’

  ‘How are you coping, having her living with you?’

  I sighed. ‘We’re coping. Laurie, who knew her from the home, is with her today. She thinks there’s something from her past that’s troubling her, some unresolved issue which she wants to sort out.’

  Guy stared at me for a moment. ‘Do you have any idea what it is?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not a clue. And I don’t think that we’re going to find out now.’ And some truths are best left unsaid.

  ‘Caroline—’ began Guy. His phone buzzed with another call. He looked torn for a second.

  ‘You better get that,’ I told him.

  He swiped the screen. ‘Hello?’ He was frowning as he answered but his face was quickly transformed into a grin of disbelief as he listened to the person on the other end. ‘And you’re absolutely sure? That’s incredible. Thank you. Thank you very much!’ He ended the call and leapt to his feet. ‘Listen up, singing friends. I have fantastic news!’ Everyone turned to face him. ‘That was the organiser of today’s London finals. Apparently, the North London Nightingales have been a little naughty. One of their number is actually a professional singer.’

  ‘No!’ cried Pamela, scandalised.

  ‘Yes, and what is more, they have been disqualified and, as a result, we are going to the Final!’

  The cheer that echoed round the train carriage was deafening.

  ‘In your face, Dulwich Darlings!’ shouted Natalie, punching the air. Everyone laughed. We parted company at the station in a jubilant mood.

  ‘Right, I’ll e-mail round a new schedule of choir rehearsals,’ said Guy. ‘Brace yourselves, you’re going to be eating, drinking and sleeping music from now on.’

  I smiled as I walked back home in the sunshine, holding hands with Oliver, whilst Matilda skipped ahead. My perfect family. Perfect until we walk back through the front door, that is.

  As predicted, my happiness quickly dissolved as we reached home and Laurie appeared in the hall, looking troubled.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ I asked with a rising sense of dread.

  ‘Patricia’s fine. I just need to have a word with you please, Caroline.’ I followed her down to the kitchen. Laurie turned to face me. ‘Your mother was muttering something in her sleep and I wondered if you knew anything about it? I think it might hold the key to what’s troubling her.’

  Why can’t she leave well alone? I was grateful to Laurie for sitting with my mother and offering support but I didn’t have the time or energy for this.

  I swallowed down my impatience. ‘I see.’

  Laurie peered at me, as if trying to read my mind. ‘I think it might help you both. She kept muttering about a “Virginia”. She kept saying, “Virginia bitch, Virginia bitch,” and, “That boy, that boy.” She became so agitated that I woke her up in the end. She was very distressed.’

  I spent most of my childhood feeling distressed because of her. Am I supposed to be sympathetic now?

  ‘It was probably a bad dream,’ I said dismissively.

  Laurie pursed her lips. ‘I think we both know that there’s more to it than that.’

  Maybe there is, but I’m not about to delve. Delving does no good. What on earth can I discover now that will be of use to me?

  My father is dead and I miss him every day. I keep a tight lid on my grief but it’s there nonetheless. Grief never goes away and anyone who says it does is a liar. To dig around in the past would be to defame his memory and I will never do that. He loved me whereas my mother seemed to resent me and to be honest, the feeling was mutual.

  The world is basically full of heroes and villains, light and dark, good and bad. My father was the hero, my mother was the villain. That was that and that is how it will always be for me. I need it to be this way. I need this order of things.

  I folded my arms. ‘Well, thank you, Laurie. I’ll keep an eye on her. Now please can I give you something for your time?’ And then please leave and stop digging around in my life.

  ‘I don’t want any money, thank you Caroline. Just think about what I’ve said. Please?’ She fixed me with that look. I turned away. She knew I wasn’t going to do anything and it saddened her. I couldn’t bear that look. It made me feel guilty.

  I gave a brief nod and followed her down the hall. She paused in the lounge, reaching down to kiss my mother. ‘Bye, Patricia. Take good care,’ she said, patting her shoulder. ‘Look after Nanny. And Mummy,’ she said to Matilda, who grinned at her.

  At the front door, she turned back to me. ‘Anger eats you alive if you allow it to,’ she said. ‘I let it do that for a while and it nearly destroyed me. I had to forgive. It was the only way.’ I didn’t answer. Please leave. Please leave us alone now. ‘Goodbye, Caroline.’

  ‘Bye,’ I said, closing the door with relief. I made my way back to the kitchen without even looking into the living room. I could hear Matilda chatting happily to my mother and told myself that this was good enough. It had to be. Any mystery surrounding my mother would remain a mystery and that was all there was to it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  NATALIE

  ‘Natalie, dear heart, are you with me?’

  ‘What? Oh, sorry. My mind was elsewhere. What was it you were saying?’ I stammered.

  Barbara Nicholls fixed me with a stare from over the top of her half-moon glasses, which when not in use hung around he
r neck on a gold chain. It was a look that made publishers cower and usually give in to her ever-exacting demands. To be honest, I was a little scared and I was her client.

  ‘Natalie, I know you’re going through a shitty time with Dan but you really need to focus. The book business has evolved. You have evolved. Gone are the days of lunches that flow effortlessly into dinner and writers sitting in their garrets waiting for their muse to strike.’

  ‘Tricky to get wifi in garrets, so I’ve heard,’ I joked. I immediately wished I hadn’t as her eyes narrowed into slits. ‘Sorry,’ I added.

  ‘Dear heart, I am endlessly fond of you. And Ed. You were my first and, as everyone knows, you never forget your first.’ She snorted with amusement at her own joke. I wriggled with discomfort. ‘No, but seriously, you’re so much more than clients to me. You’re like my children and actually, in lots of ways, I prefer you to my own children, ungrateful little shits that they are,’ she reflected. ‘So, as I was saying, publishing has changed. Writers need to see themselves as businesses and in your case, with dear Ned Bobbin, as a brand.’ I nodded enthusiastically in a way that I hoped implied that I understood. ‘This little guy,’ she said, pointing to a framed cover of the first Ned book on the wall behind her, ‘has enormous potential. I’m talking lunch boxes, water bottles, pyjamas – the opportunities are endless.’

  ‘Lunch boxes,’ I repeated, nodding.

  ‘So we need to think differently, okay? And as for this next contract you’re being offered, I think we should play hard ball.’

  I grimaced. I had seen Barbara’s hard ball in action. I seem to remember it resulted in a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth and possibly the loss of some hair. ‘I’m not sure, Barbara,’ I began.

  ‘Ed agrees with me,’ she said airily.

  ‘Does he?’ I bristled at the mention of his name. He had sent me a couple of ‘Hey Girl’ Ryan Gosling pictures over the weekend, which I had pointedly ignored. I was tired of trying to second-guess what Dan was thinking, what Ed knew, what I knew, so I’d wimped out and stopped guessing.

  She nodded. ‘Obviously I need both of you to be on board but he and I are pretty much on the same page.’

  Coward. I knew exactly what Ed was like. He was even more scared of Barbara than I was. ‘It’s just that I have a really good working relationship with my editor, Emily, and I would feel bad—’ I began.

  ‘Pfff! This isn’t about being nice to people,’ interrupted Barbara. ‘You are a business, Natalie, and Emily works for a business. They don’t care about you as a person. They care about how much money you make them. End of.’

  ‘They sent me a lovely notebook for Christmas,’ I said, shrinking in my seat.

  Barbara’s eyes looked as if they might pop out of her face. ‘Notebooks! Come on, Natalie. You have to stop being so nice. This is business.’

  ‘All right, I’ll think about it,’ I said. Now stop shouting, scary lady, and go back to your usual job of ripping out editors’ throats. The whole thing made me want to go home, crawl under my duvet and stay there for a very long time. I had started writing because I liked words and books, and I had started writing books for children because I like children. I was not Donald Trump, who I was pretty sure didn’t like any of these things.

  Barbara looked at me, her eyes softening. She removed her glasses and walked round to perch on the desk next to me, taking one of my hands between her meaty, ring-covered paws. ‘I don’t mean to scare you, Natalie. I have your best interests at heart. That’s what you pay me to do. Let’s reconvene in a week or two when you’ve had a chance to consider things and maybe talk to Ed.’

  I nodded. ‘Okay. Thanks, Barbara.’

  She squeezed me to her ample bosom before I left, half-crushing me in the process. Then she held me at arm’s length and studied my face. ‘And how are things with Dan?’ she asked, adopting an uncharacteristically sympathetic tone.

  ‘Yeah, not great,’ I confessed with what was effectively the understatement of the decade.

  ‘Aww, dear heart,’ she said, squeezing my shoulders so that I thought she might break them. ‘Men are shits and that’s just a fact. I have been happily divorced for twenty years with just my cats for company. I can highly recommend it.’

  Now I was scared. I hated cats. ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ I replied with a wincing smile.

  The sky was thick with heavy grey cloud as I left Barbara’s offices. They were situated in what had been an insalubrious part of town but which was latterly up and coming thanks to a plague of property developers bringing with them a raft of artisan bread-makers and coffee shops.

  I glanced at my watch. I still had a few hours before I needed to get back for Woody. I made a sudden and surprising decision to fetch some coffees and doughnuts and head over to Ed’s flat, which was a short hop away on the Tube. Maybe I’d been a bit unfair towards him. There was probably a perfectly logical explanation as to why he knew about Dan’s new flat. Maybe he’d heard via someone else or on one of those social media sites I didn’t bother with but which Dan and Ed both loved. Yes, that was probably it.

  I strolled along in the sunshine, humming the tune to ‘Fix You’. It was the song Guy had chosen for the Finals and I loved it. I felt a little more cheerful. I was looking forward to seeing my best friend. It was impossible to stay cross with Ed. He always knew what to say and how to sort things. He would reassure me and I would joke about the song and how he was my Chris Martin and always knew how to fix me.

  I reached Ed’s flat and buzzed the intercom. There was a brief pause before he answered and I saw the grainy image of his face appear on the screen.

  ‘Nat!’ he cried with a level of exaggerated shock that was extreme, even for Ed.

  ‘Sur-pri-ise!’ I sing-songed, holding up the bag of doughnuts. ‘I’ve bought coffee and your favourites!’

  ‘Wow!’ he shouted at an alarming volume. ‘That is a huuuuuge surprise. It’s so good to see you. How are you doing?’

  I frowned that he wasn’t just buzzing me up. ‘Starting to get a little chilly, to be honest. Can you let me in?’

  ‘Hahaha! You’re the funniest woman I know, Natalie Garfield.’

  ‘Thank you and if you let me in, I can continue to amuse you, you know – in the warm,’ I said with emphasis. Then the penny dropped. ‘Oh, have you got company?’ I asked, doing a nudge-nudge mime.

  Ed looked horrified. ‘Noo, of course not. Come on up!’ he cried, buzzing the door open.

  I shook my head as I made my way up the stairs. Boys are so weird. ‘Hey yoooou,’ he gushed as I met him in the doorway on the first floor. ‘Come on into the kitchen, why don’t you?’

  I followed him along the corridor. There was a familiar smell in the air, one which I couldn’t quite place. ‘Sorry the flat is such a tip,’ he said, hurriedly placing some cups into the dishwasher. I looked around. It was as immaculate as always, the slate-grey work surfaces polished and shiny, the sink sparkling in a way that mine never did.

  ‘You should see my house. I’m thinking of leaving the cobwebs until Halloween – I reckon they’ll have morphed into something truly terrifying by then,’ I joked.

  Ed laughed. ‘So-o,’ he said, turning to face me. ‘How are you, sweetheart?’

  ‘Bit shit actually,’ I replied, sitting at one of the high-backed stools in front of the breakfast bar and helping myself to a doughnut before pushing the bag over to him. ‘Dan and I are still communicating via text only.’ I wanted to ask him how he knew about Dan’s flat but I also wanted to enjoy just being with my bestie for a bit. I took a large bite of the doughnut. Custard oozed down my chin. ‘Man, I forgot how good these are. Don’t you want one?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m okay at the moment, thanks darling,’ he said.

  ‘You’re not on one of your diets are you? Like the one where you had to eat liquidised kale and your poo came out looking like—’

  ‘Liquidised kale,’ he laughed. ‘Yes, I should have just cut out the middle man and
poured it down the bog in the first place.’

  I giggled. ‘Anyway, enough about me. What’s going on with you? How is the delectable Mark?’

  Ed took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. ‘Alas, he is no more.’

  ‘You killed him?’ I joked.

  He sniggered. ‘No, apparently I was a bit too old for him.’

  ‘Ouch,’ I observed. ‘What a bitch. His loss.’

  Ed smiled. He stayed standing while we talked, seeming a bit reserved. I wondered if it was because we hadn’t seen each other for a while. ‘So how about we go and paint the town a nice shade of magenta one evening?’ I suggested.

  He nodded in a ‘could do’ sort of way.

  I frowned. Something was definitely wrong. ‘Ed, what’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing’s going on,’ he replied, feigning ignorance. He wasn’t good at this. ‘Actually, sorry, Nat, could you excuse me? I just need to nip to the loo,’ he said.

  ‘Fine. Don’t mind me – I have coffee and doughnuts. Throw in James McAvoy and I’m pretty much set for life.’

  He walked past me, pausing to kiss the top of my head. ‘You’re a treasure, Natalie Garfield,’ he said.

  Oh yes. I’m an absolute treasure. A nice person. A good woman. Someone who deserves to be happy. So why does it feel as if life is constantly punching me in the face all the time?

  I took a sip of coffee. I heard Ed whispering in another room. Being a mother, I have the hearing of an elephant and can instantly recognise when someone is talking without wanting to be heard. I wondered if he was on the phone but then I heard another voice answer, soft and reasonable. It was a voice I knew very well.

  I felt the world begin to spin around me as I jumped down from the stool and walked towards the sound. I reached for the door-handle of Ed’s room and wrenched it open. Ed met me in the doorway.

  ‘Natalie!’ he began, trying to stand in front of me, but it was too late. I pushed past him and there, sitting on the bed, looking at me with utter shame, was my pathetic excuse of a husband.