The Choir on Hope Street

by Annie Lyons

  After a short while, the lights were dimmed and a hush descended. From one side of the stage, Andrew Munday appeared, his arms outstretched to the audience. A frisson of excitement coursed through the hall at the sight of such a familiar and well-loved celebrity.

  ‘Hello and welcome to the Final of the first ever National Community Choir Championships!’ he cried. The crowd cheered. ‘As you know, singing and choirs are very close to my heart, so I was honoured to be asked to host this fantastic event. The choirs have been selected from every region of the UK and today we are going to hear from sixteen of the very best. I have heard recordings of all the choirs and I have to tell you that you are in for a huge treat. Our judging panel are all industry professionals and they have the incredibly tricky task of choosing a winner for this prestigious award.’ He gestured to a trophy made of crystal etched with a treble clef. The audience oohed their appreciation and Andrew laughed.

  ‘So, without further ado, we’re going to hear from one of the finalists from the Scotland and North-east round. Please go wild for, Good Tooning!’

  The audience applauded as the first group made their way onto the stage. Theirs was a moving rendition of ‘Perfect Day’ by Lou Reed and I noticed one or two people wipe away a surreptitious tear. Guy looked over at me, nodding with approval. The competition was off to an impressive start. Overall the standard was high. There were some good performances and some not-so-good performances. A Welsh male singing group did an ill-advised version of ‘Bang Bang’ including dance moves. The audience laughed along but it was a relief when they finished. I started to feel a little nervous after the interval, partly because of what we were about to do and partly because I was beginning to believe that we were in with a chance. The quality was high but I felt that we were matching it. Self-confidence is a wonderful thing. It can make you achieve all kinds of previously unimaginable feats.

  As Andrew announced that it was our turn and I took my place alongside Natalie on the stage, I felt completely still and calm. My nerves seemed to disappear as I looked up towards my family and smiled. It was as if there was nothing else to worry about any more. Guy stood in front of us smiling. He gave the briefest of nods, raised his hands and we began.

  Moments of pure happiness are rare in life. We experience most of them as children and even then, they are tempered by the constraints set by our parents. As adults, we have complete freedom of choice and yet often, happiness eludes us because there’s always something that needs to be done. In lots of ways, I feel as if I’ve spent my entire adult life ‘just completing one last task’, before I can get on with the job of being happy.

  It’s ridiculous when you come to think of it. The world is full of heartbreak, of children dying, of people killing one another. You have to grab that dose of happiness whenever it presents itself.

  Today, standing in the Albert Hall, singing with a group of people who I realised had become my friends, in the presence of those I loved most in the world, I was grasping that happiness with both hands.

  For singing made me happy in a carefree way. When I was singing I didn’t worry. My mind and soul were calmed, my body felt still but it also felt powerful. I felt that I could face anything without fear – the truth, the lies, the joy and sadness could all be captured by music and shared with the world.

  As we performed ‘Fix You’ the words of the song, the sentiment of those lines seemed so salient to me, to our choir, to my mother and to Guy. It felt like our anthem, as if this song had been written for us, for me.

  That was the power of music, the power of this choir. It held you in its arms, it let you cry and it comforted you. Shivers of melancholy ran through my body. I felt tears prick my eyes but I didn’t mind. We all felt it – this group of singers who had started out as strangers and who were now friends; family, even.

  I caught Natalie’s eye and we smiled at one another – sharing that understanding, that moment of pure joy. I could tell she was suppressing the tears too. I reached out my hand, took hers and squeezed it.

  I understand. I feel the same. It’s all right.

  When it was over, I looked to the front and could see that several of the audience were wiping away tears and that Oliver, Dan, Matilda and Woody were on their feet, whooping and cheering with delight. Our choir turned to one another, grinning and we embraced in a moment of sheer elation and pride.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the fabulous Hope Street Community Choir!’ cried Andrew, striding onto the stage.

  We made our way back to our seats, beaming with joy. I barely remember the Dulwich Darlings’ performance. I know it was ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ and I know they persuaded some of the front row to get up and wave flags but I didn’t care. Nothing could take away what we had just done and how good it had made us feel.

  I was wholly unsurprised and not even that disappointed when The Dulwich Darlings were crowned champions.

  ‘The moral victory was ours,’ declared Natalie as we left the concert hall. Danielle’s victory crow was inevitable but this time I was ready for her.

  ‘Darling Caroline. Commiserations,’ she cooed. ‘But you did sooo well for beginners. I was impressed. Really impressed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said with a saintly smile. ‘And congratulations on your victory. It was well deserved.’

  She stared at me as if trying to work out if I was being genuine. I kept the smile fixed to my face. ‘Thank you,’ she frowned. ‘I have to say you’re taking it very well, considering you lost this and your little community hall.’

  I continued to smile as I looked directly into her eyes. ‘What you fail to understand, Danielle, is that life is about so much more than being a bitch and taking pleasure in other people’s discomfort.’ She looked shocked and started to open her mouth in protest. I held up a hand to silence her. ‘My choir,’ I said, gesturing to Natalie and the others, ‘has taught me what true friendship is. This has been about far more than a choir competition. It’s been about understanding what’s important and standing up to fight for it, even if you fail. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that. Your choir may have won the award but we’ve won far more than that. I’m proud of us and I know that with or without the hall, the friendships and music will endure. I really hope the award makes you happy. But I seriously doubt that it will. Goodbye, Danielle.’ I walked away before she could respond. I felt Natalie link her arm through mine.

  ‘Nice speech,’ she grinned.

  I smiled as we walked out into the sunshine and the open arms of our families. ‘I meant every blessed word.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  NATALIE

  I was on time for once and felt really rather proud. Even Woody seemed surprised as he found me waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs that morning.

  ‘But, Mum, we’re actually early. Are you all right?’ he asked with a wry grin.

  ‘Cheeky boy,’ I laughed, ruffling his hair. ‘I wanted to make sure we’ll be there when the demolition team arrive. I promised Caroline and the rest of the choir.’

  He nodded. ‘Are you sad that they’re knocking down the hall?’ he asked.

  ‘A bit, but I know we did everything we could. Sometimes that’s all you can do.’ My phone buzzed with a call. Woody rolled his eyes. ‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘It’s a mobile phone, see? I can talk as we walk. Hello?’ I answered as we left the house and I locked up. Doly, Dev and their three girls were just passing by our house. I gave them a wave as Woody ran off to join Sadia.

  ‘Natalie? This is Anita Vangani from the BBC.’

  ‘Oh, hi.’ I was surprised to hear from her.

  ‘Listen, I heard about your hall. I’m really sorry and I’m also sorry that you got dragged through the media mill with the Tim Chambers story.’

  I sighed. ‘Well, it seems to be forgotten now.’

  ‘I just wanted to give you some information about Mr Chambers because I have a feeling he may be in touch again.’

  ‘Oh yes?’


  ‘I’ve heard from a reliable source that he has designs on standing in the London Mayoral elections.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really, and that actually he was keen to up his profile within the media so he tipped off a photographer to snap you two on your doorstep.’

  ‘You’re kidding. That’s outrageous!’

  ‘Trust me, it’s a twisted world out there.’

  ‘But how will that make people want to vote for him?’

  Anita sighed. ‘People have short memories and it wasn’t a cardinal sin. Plus everyone loves a bad boy as long as no-one gets hurt. It was just to get media attention. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Bloody bastard.’

  ‘Well, exactly. I just wanted to warn you in case he makes a sudden and contrite reappearance in your life.’

  ‘Thank you. Really. I appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And obviously, keep your source confidential. I have a reputation as a hard-hearted bitch of a journalist to maintain.’

  I laughed. ‘Bye, Anita.’

  ‘Bye, Natalie, and good luck.’

  I had reached the hall and could see a crowd including Pamela, Caroline, Jim and Guy gathering. John Hawley, who had been our staunchest supporter from the council, was there too. I made my way over. There was a collection of men in hard hats and hi-vis jackets standing by the door. One of them, who I took to be the foreman, was giving out instructions.

  ‘So this is it,’ I said sadly as I joined the group.

  ‘This is it,’ admitted Caroline.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t influence the decision in the end,’ said John, looking as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘If someone offers the council a wad of cash these days, they grab it faster than you can say, “austerity measures”.’

  Pamela nodded, tears forming in her eyes. ‘I know you did all you could, John. You’re a good man and a good friend to our community.’

  ‘Stories don’t always have happy endings,’ I murmured.

  Everyone nodded. There was an atmosphere of sadness but there was also an air of something positive within the group, a strength that comes from a shared, hard-fought fight, even if that fight has ended in defeat.

  ‘I thought about lying in front of the bulldozers,’ admitted Jim. ‘But these fellas are just doing their job. It’s not their fault.’

  A woman and a man with a camera appeared. ‘We’re from the local newspaper,’ explained the woman.

  ‘Could we get a picture of you all standing in front of the hall before it’s demolished please?’ the photographer asked. We duly obliged.

  ‘So, can you tell me how you’re feeling today?’ she asked. ‘It must be a huge disappointment after all your hard work.’

  ‘It’s a tragedy for the community,’ said Caroline gravely.

  ‘It’s a bloody crime against humanity!’ cried Pamela, adding a note of drama to the proceedings.

  The journalist nodded before turning to me. ‘You’re Natalie Garfield, aren’t you? Didn’t you have an involvement with one of the politicians influencing the decision – Tim Chambers?’

  I opened my mouth to protest.

  ‘That doesn’t have anything to do with what’s happened,’ said Guy, appearing next to me. He looked really quite cross.

  ‘And you are …?’ asked the journalist.

  ‘Guy Henderson. The choirmaster.’

  The journalist flicked through some notes on her iPhone. ‘Ah, yes, Mr Henderson. You were the one who found out that you were related to Mrs Taylor. Isn’t that correct?’

  Guy gave the woman a venomous look. ‘I fail to see what that has to do with this story,’ he snapped.

  The journalist gave the briefest of smiles. ‘It’s human interest, Mr Henderson. It’s good to have all the facts. And what with Mrs Garfield’s dalliance with Mr Chambers and your father’s double life, there’s a lot which will interest our readers. I just want to get my facts straight.’ Guy glared at her.

  ‘Well, here’s a few facts for you, young lady,’ said Caroline, joining the conversation. ‘I know your editor personally and if you decide to make a soap opera out of our lives in your newspaper, I shall personally make sure that you are demoted to editing lonely hearts ads for the remainder of your time there.’

  The journalist held Caroline’s gaze for a moment before giving a flick of her hair. ‘Come on, Dave,’ she said, turning away. ‘I think we’ve got all we need.’

  ‘What a bitch,’ I declared as we watched them go. ‘Thank you, Caroline,’ I added, touched by her intervention.

  ‘I won’t have my family or friends dragged through the mud,’ she declared.

  ‘Right, sorry folks, but I’m going to have to ask you to move back to the other side of the road, please,’ said the foreman with a sympathetic smile. ‘We need to cordon off the area before we start to pull it all down.’

  We traipsed over to the other side of the road and stood side by side, watching as the workmen prepared the area, making a passage for the vehicles to travel down. We heard an engine roar into life and looked towards the end of the road to see a large yellow monster of a bulldozer chugging towards us.

  ‘This is it!’ cried Pamela, squeezing my hand on one side and John’s on the other, closing her eyes, unable to watch.

  ‘Come on, everyone, let’s sing something to mark the moment,’ said Guy. ‘“Thank You for the Music”?’

  ‘You can always rely on Abba in times of need,’ I remarked.

  We began to sing the chorus, smiling at one another and holding hands. We realised that even if we didn’t have the hall, we still had the choir. At least that was something. Some of the workmen looked over and grinned.

  John’s phone started to ring and he fished it from his pocket. ‘Sorry all. I need to take this,’ he said, sticking a finger in one ear so that he could hear the caller. His face transformed into a smile as he listened. ‘You’re kidding me. Are you sure? What does that actually mean?’ He grinned as he heard the reply and then, hugging his phone to his chest, he rushed across the road to the foreman.

  ‘Stop!’ he shouted, waving his arms like a man on a life-saving mission. ‘Stop the machines!’

  The foreman looked irritated as he made his way over to John but the bulldozer was stopped in its tracks. John was explaining something to the man, who looked surprised and then shrugged, turning to his men. ‘It’s off, boys,’ he said.

  John turned back towards us and practically skipped across the road, his face a picture of delight. ‘It’s off!’ he cried. ‘The property developers have lost their backing. The deal has fallen through!’

  We stared at one another in utter amazement. ‘But what does that mean, John?’ asked Caroline. ‘Won’t they just sell it to someone else?’

  He shook his head. ‘They have insurance for things like this and they’ll let you have it as a political gesture of goodwill. It will bring them at least a year’s supply of good press,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘I don’t understand politics,’ admitted Jim, shaking his head.

  ‘Lucky man,’ smiled John. ‘Congratulations,’ he added. ‘You did it.’

  There was a moment’s silence before the cheering began. ‘We did it! We did it!’ We jumped up and down, hugging one another. I turned and found myself bumping straight into Guy, who aimed a kiss on my cheek which ended up on my lips.

  ‘Whoops, sorry,’ he laughed. ‘Actually, I’m not really, but you know, you have to say these things.’

  I giggled and gave him a tight hug. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I can cope with being kissed by a handsome man.’

  He grinned. ‘I noticed you on the phone as you arrived earlier,’ he said. ‘You looked annoyed.’

  I sighed. ‘I was. I’d found out that I was a political pawn in Tim Chambers’ popularity campaign.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘I know. But it’s over now.’

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and we all closed in to a tight
group hug. I felt my throat tighten as I looked into the faces of the people with whom I’d become so close – Doly, Pamela, Jim, Caroline and Guy. It felt like the end of something special and hopefully the beginning of something even better. Woody, Sadia, Matilda and the other children were there too, right in the middle of the hug, right where they should be.

  ‘I think this calls for a celebration,’ said Pamela. ‘I’ll phone my Barry and tell him to bring some fizz down here. Let’s reclaim our hall, shall we?’

  ‘Good idea,’ declared Caroline, turning to Oliver. ‘Could you nip home and get a couple of bottles for us and just fetch Mum, please, darling?’

  He kissed her hand. ‘With pleasure,’ he smiled.

  As we made our way into the hall, I heard a car horn and turned to see a sleek black car. My heart sank as I saw Tim Chambers climb out of the driver’s seat, closely followed by a camera crew.

  ‘Natalie!’ he cried, jogging along the street towards me. ‘I came as soon as I heard. What wonderful news!’ He leant forwards to kiss my cheek but I moved backwards, causing him to stumble slightly. He looked towards the camera with an embarrassed chuckle. ‘So this is Natalie Garfield, a very special friend of mine and a famous children’s writer. We became close when she asked for my help with her campaign to save this fabulous community hall. I’m absolutely delighted to say that we have been able to save it for her choir and for future generations.’

  I stared at him in disbelief, utter loathing rising up inside me like a tidal wave. Suddenly, Guy appeared from nowhere and landed a light but effective punch on Tim’s jaw, sending him reeling and clutching his face.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he cried, staring at Guy in anger.

  ‘Er, Tim? We can’t use this if you swear,’ said the twenty-something director.