The Choir on Hope Street

by Annie Lyons

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CAROLINE

  I honestly contemplated giving up. After finding out the truth about my father, the fact that I had a half-brother and most troublingly, that I had misjudged my mother so harshly for so long, the plight of some community hall seemed utterly trifling. Ridiculous really.

  Part of me wanted to shut the door on the outside world, gather my husband, daughter and mother together in one room and keep them there, safe and insulated. I didn’t want to face Guy or Natalie or sing in a choir. I wanted to hide away like a frightened animal, licking my wounds as I tried to come to terms with my father’s utter betrayal of me.

  Dear Daddy, how I loved you, how I worshipped your very being. How I hate you now.

  I don’t remember much about the journey back from the care home. It felt like a dream, one of those feverish ones you have as a child, where everything looms over you, large and frightening. Images of my father’s smiling face morphing into something twisted and repulsive drifted through my mind.

  ‘Here we go, love,’ said the cab driver as we pulled up outside our house. I stared up at the windows. The lamp in the corner of the lounge was bathing the room with soft warm light. Oliver and Matilda came into view. He was spinning her round and round. Her head was tipped back and she was laughing. I could hear her shouting, ‘Nanny! Save me!’ I paid the driver and fled from the cab, running up the path, fumbling for my keys. I burst in through the door and into the living room. I had to get to them, to my family. Oliver looked up with surprise and joy. My Oliver. My darling husband.

  ‘Mummeee, save meeee!’ cried Matilda from her upside-down position. I laughed and scooped her up, covering her face with kisses. She giggled and we fell back onto the sofa next to my mother, who was smiling, glassy-eyed, but still smiling. She reached over a tentative hand, frail and purple with the marks of age, and wiggled her fingers gently under Matilda’s chin.

  ‘Tickle, tickle,’ she smiled.

  I felt sorrow catch in my throat. She loved Matilda and she had loved me, did love me, but she’d been betrayed and her love had been shoved aside by anger. I wished she had been honest with me. I wished she had told me the truth about my father.

  Or did I? Would I tell Matilda if Oliver did the same to me? Or would I try to protect her, to protect that precious father–daughter relationship? I just didn’t know but I also realised that I didn’t want to be angry with her any more. I couldn’t. She didn’t deserve it and I didn’t want to hold onto it as she had. I could see how it had torn her apart, leaving her empty and alone. I didn’t want to end up like that. I wanted to break free of the past. I just wasn’t sure how.

  I waited until Matilda was in bed and my mother was watching television before I told Oliver. We sat in the kitchen sharing a bottle of wine. He listened, staring at me in shock as the story unravelled.

  ‘It’s incredible,’ he said. ‘Poor Patricia. Poor you.’ He reached across the table and took my hand.

  I gave him grateful smile. ‘What should I do?’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Guy seems like a good bloke.’

  ‘But what will people think?’

  He stared into my eyes. ‘Who cares what people think? I love you, Matilda loves you, your mother loves you. That’s all that matters. Everything else is just detail.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. I wasn’t so sure.

  ‘Caroline, you’re allowed to have a less-than-perfect life, you know. In fact, it often saves a lot of trouble.’

  I reached over and kissed him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For being one of the good guys.’

  He grinned. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment from my beautiful wife with her high standards.’

  ‘You should,’ I smiled.

  That night my sleep was filled with fitful dreams of my mother shouting at my father, of Virginia and Guy standing in the background, but Guy was younger, a small boy with his mother standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders. My mother was screaming at my father and he fled, running towards Guy and Virginia. I woke with a start, feeling clammy and agitated. After taking Matilda to school the next day, I made a deliberate bee-line for Guy.

  ‘Are you free this afternoon? I think we should talk.’

  ‘Yes, yes I am,’ he replied. He look relieved.

  ‘Good. How about Costa at two?’

  ‘Great,’ he smiled. ‘See you later.’

  I returned home to find Oliver getting ready to leave whilst my mother sat at the kitchen table eating a piece of toast.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he said as I walked in. ‘I’m just about to leave but can I pour you a coffee before I go?’

  I smiled at him. My wonderful husband. My constant. My rock. ‘Yes please.’

  I sat down opposite my mother. She was staring into the middle distance, chewing on her toast, crumbs falling down her front. I felt something click inside me. ‘Let me get that,’ I said, brushing the toast remnants from her front and tucking a napkin into her jumper. She looked up at me, her face soft like a child’s.

  Oliver placed a mug of coffee in front of me and kissed the top of my head. ‘I’ve got to dash but I hope to return with a big surprise,’ he grinned before he disappeared down the hall. I heard the front door close behind him.

  And then there were two. Sitting in silence. I watched my mother, still chewing, methodically, steadily. I realised that for all the time she’d been staying with us, I hadn’t really looked at her face properly.

  Her hair was wispy and I could see bare patches of scalp where it had become so thin. Her face was patterned with wrinkles, fault-lines on the map of a life. Here were the frown-lines caused by worry and regret, there were the faintest laughter-lines left behind by the happiness of youth and around her mouth, anger-lines from pursed lips and bitter disappointment. Her eyes looked out but didn’t see, although I noticed how they glittered with joy when Matilda was around.

  I sipped my coffee and wondered where to begin, indeed whether to begin at all. I didn’t want to mention Virginia or Guy. I knew how much it upset her. I would have to take a different tack.

  ‘I know about Dad,’ I said, peering into her face. ‘I know what he did.’

  Her expression didn’t change.

  ‘I know that he had another family. That he betrayed you. Us.’

  Nothing.

  ‘I know about Charles. About what he did to you. How he let you down. I wish I’d known sooner. I wish you’d told me. I could have helped. We could have helped each other.’

  ‘Charles?’ My mother’s voice was husky from lack of use. She looked up towards the ceiling. ‘Charles?’ she asked, as if he were about to appear.

  I sighed. ‘Charles isn’t here. He’s—’

  ‘Dead. Charles is dead,’ she said, looking at me.

  ‘Yes.’ I nodded encouragement.

  Come on, we can do this. Let me help you. It’s not too late.

  I continued. ‘And I know what he did. How he let you down. Why you were angry for all those years. I understand now.’

  ‘Charles.’ Her gaze transferred towards the ceiling again.

  She can’t hear you. This is useless.

  I cast around the room for inspiration and a thought hit me. I walked across the kitchen and put on the Ella Fitzgerald CD again.

  I turned and looked at my mother as ‘Let’s Face the Music and Dance’ drifted out through the speakers. The words seemed so apt. There was very likely trouble ahead but if the choir had taught me anything, it was how music eased the pain and enabled you to face life, to face the unexpected.

  I was astonished when my mother pushed herself up to a standing position and started to dance towards me. She held out her hands. I hesitated but she kept moving towards me and I had no choice but to take hold of them. She fixed her eyes on me and began to sing and to my surprise, I heard myself join in. It felt strange to begin with but her look w
as one of calm; the laughter-lines had returned. We moved around the kitchen, this tiny bird of a woman and me, in a strange swaying dance. I felt her hands in mine, the warmth of her touch and the essence of what this moment meant.

  I love you and I’m sorry. From mother to daughter. From daughter to mother.

  I wiped away a stray tear. I didn’t want the song to end.

  When it did finish, she stared at me for a second before the next track came on and we began again. By the end of the CD, we were laughing. We had barely spoken. The music had said it for us and what had begun as strange and a little awkward, became natural and wonderful.

  It was a moment. A precious moment when we became mother and daughter again. I didn’t know if my mother would remember it, if the memory would disappear when the music stopped, but I would. I would remember for both of us.

  Oliver returned hours later looking elated. We were still in the kitchen, sitting at the table eating lunch.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies. How are we?’

  I glanced at my mother who was staring into the distance, chewing methodically as if nothing had happened. It didn’t matter. I knew what had happened. ‘We’re very well, actually,’ I smiled.

  ‘Wonderful! That’s just wonderful!’ he cried, leaping from foot to foot. He was as skittish as a puppy.

  ‘So-o. How did it go? Do you have any news?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, my beautiful wife,’ said Oliver, leaning over to kiss me, ‘I do have some rather exciting news.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ I smiled.

  Hooray for exciting news, hopefully with the promise of a family holiday with my mother, somewhere warm that could cater for all our needs!

  Oliver grinned. ‘So-o. I’ve been talking to some of my old contacts …’

  ‘Yes?’

  Hooray for old contacts bringing Oliver another city job with the promise of a bonus. Maybe we could re-landscape the garden with a new patio, where my mother can sit and relax in the sunshine.

  ‘And, they have been incredibly supportive.’

  Wonderful. I love them all.

  ‘So, I am going to re-train as an artisan bread-maker and start my own business.’

  My stomach dropped to the floor. ‘What?’

  ‘An artisan bread-maker,’ repeated Oliver with a grin. ‘You know how I like to make bread and I’ve always wanted to learn properly. Plus, it’s very on-trend. So, I’m hoping to take over one of those empty retail spaces on the approach to the High Street and I was thinking that we could go into business together,’ he said, dancing over and folding me into his arms. ‘I think we’d be the perfect business partners,’ he added, kissing me.

  This cannot be happening. ‘Well,’ I began. ‘That’s not what I was expecting.’

  ‘I know! Isn’t it wonderful?’

  That’s not exactly the word I’d choose.

  ‘It’s just the change we need, Caroline. A new start, a new beginning. A wonderful new opportunity!’

  I don’t want to change. I don’t want a new beginning. I’ve just resolved things with my mother. I need everything else to go back to normal now.

  But Oliver was too excited to notice and I didn’t have the energy for an argument or the heart to tell him how I really felt. He spent the next half hour telling me all about his plans, about the course he was going to go on, the cost of set-up and innumerable other details that I can’t recall. I felt numb with panic and clueless about how to deal with this. I glanced at the clock. I was meeting Guy in twenty minutes.

  ‘I have to go,’ I said, cutting off Oliver mid-sentence, rising to my feet. I felt as if I were wading through treacle.

  ‘Oh okay, darling,’ Oliver said, grinning. ‘We can talk about all this later.’

  I touched my mother briefly on the shoulder before I left. She turned her head and smiled up at me. I squeezed her shoulder in reply.

  I felt as if I were in a dream as I drove into town and headed for the coffee shop. I ordered a cappuccino and found a seat at the back of the café facing the door. I wanted to be ready when Guy arrived and I needed a moment to gather my thoughts.

  Why was everything in my life being turned upside down? My relationship with my father, my life with Oliver, my friendship with Guy. How strange that the most positive relationship in my life at the moment was the one with my mother.

  I spotted Guy before he saw me. He looked nervous, casting around as he walked through the door. He noticed me and gave a small wave before making his way over to my table.

  ‘I was worried you might change your mind,’ he said.

  ‘I thought about it but we do need to talk,’ I told him.

  He nodded. ‘Would you like anything?’ I shook my head and he went to place his order. He returned a few minutes later with coffee and a large slice of carrot cake. ‘I never normally get time for lunch,’ he smiled, sitting down opposite me and eating a mouthful.

  ‘So,’ I began. ‘How long have you known?’

  He fixed me with a look. I saw my father in his eyes and stared down at my coffee.

  ‘Since I was eleven. My mum had always told me that my father worked away during the week and only came home at weekends. I went to secondary school and saw a photograph of him on the wall and wondered when my dad had found time to be Headmaster at my school if he was working in Scotland most of the week.’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  He sighed. ‘She cried. Then she told me that she had met him when she was working there and he was the Headmaster; that they had fallen in love and had me. She told me that he loved me very much but that he had another family and that it was a big secret and I couldn’t tell anyone. Otherwise terrible things would happen.’

  ‘What a twisted web we weave.’

  He nodded. ‘I didn’t realise that your mother knew.’

  ‘No, she kept it well hidden. It pretty much destroyed her. So how did you get on with him?’

  ‘We had a decent relationship. I loved him. He was my father but I felt betrayed after I found out the truth. I was jealous of you because you got him all week, whereas I only saw him at weekends.’

  ‘Yes, I got him all week along with my angry, bitter mother. It was like skipping through a meadow.’ Calm down, Caroline. This isn’t Guy’s fault.

  ‘I’m sorry, Caroline.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For not telling you sooner. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to know.’

  You and me both. ‘Some truths are best left unsaid?’

  ‘Or lies.’

  ‘Well you’re right. I didn’t want to know. My father was my biggest hero, the man who defined my life, but now—’

  ‘Now?’

  I sighed. ‘He’s gone and my mother is still alive and she needs me.’

  ‘I need you,’ said Guy. I stared at him in surprise. ‘My family life was fractured and I would like to try and repair it. Personally, I think you’d make an excellent big sister.’

  ‘Bossy, you mean?’ I smiled.

  ‘I never said that,’ he laughed.

  ‘I don’t know, Guy. What will I tell Matilda?’

  He shrugged. ‘That I’m her long-lost uncle? Kids love that kind of thing and they’re far more accepting than adults.’

  That was certainly true. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ I said.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he nodded, but I could tell he was desperate for me to agree. ‘Can I get you another coffee?’ he asked, pointing at my empty cup.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a green tea please,’ I smiled. I watched him walk away. He needed me. He wanted a sister.

  Oh, Dad, look at all the hurt you caused, all the anguish and betrayal. Four lives devastated by your selfish ways.

  ‘Caroline!’ called a voice, interrupting my thoughts. My heart sank as I spotted Danielle in the queue in front of Guy. She accepted a takeaway cup from the barista and strode over to me. ‘Enjoying a little me-time, are we? Gosh, I wish I could. It’s just all go at the moment!’
Guy arrived with our drinks. She stared up at him and then back towards me. ‘Now then, what’s all this? A little tête-à-tête with the choirmaster, eh? How scandalous!’

  My imagination conjured up the thought of what would happen if I tipped her coffee over her head. My brain stopped me carrying out the thought. Just.

  ‘We’re having a meeting about the Choir Final, actually,’ I lied.

  ‘Oh, I’m relieved that’s all it is, because your choir really doesn’t need another scandal,’ she leered.

  I stared at her. ‘Another scandal?’

  She was almost exploding with delight as she told me. ‘Oh, heavens, have I spoken out of turn? It’s all over the internet so I presumed you’d know. Your friend Natalie and Tim Chambers the MP? There are pictures of them kissing and allegations of an affair. His party are trying to play it down but it’s a huge embarrassment and it’s not exactly going to help your little campaign, given that he’s taken a personal interest. I know someone at the council and apparently it could be the nail in the coffin for Hope Street Hall – I mean they couldn’t exactly decide to keep it open after this, could they? It would seem as if an interested party had influenced them and that would never do. Bless her, she probably thought she was helping your cause by jumping into bed with him, but I daresay it’ll be full steam ahead with the property developers now. Such a shame. I know how hard you worked.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Sorry, darling, got to dash. I’ve got a hair appointment in five. Bye for now!’

  I stared at Guy for a moment. He looked stunned.

  After the raft of emotions I’d experienced today, I wasn’t sure what to believe or think any more. It was too much. An overwhelming feeling rose up inside me. I rushed to the toilet, locked the door behind me and threw up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  NATALIE