by Fiore, Rosie
‘It’s this afternoon,’ Marina said, which Mel found a bit confusing. What was this afternoon? ‘Anyway,’ Marina continued, ‘Mum’s parked around the corner. Can you come now? It’ll only be an hour or so.’
An hour? For some kind of intervention? What would they do? Where would they take Serena? Mel’s mind was racing.
‘Can you get off work?’ Marina was asking.
‘Of course, of course,’ Mel said.
She went back into the shop and explained to Jo that she had a crisis with Serena.
Jo didn’t hesitate. ‘Go. I’m here; we’ve got the girls …’ They’d taken on two college leavers, who were wonderful at playing with the kids and keeping the shop tidy. ‘They can hold the fort, and I’m here to cash up and lock up if you don’t make it back.’
‘Thanks,’ said Mel. ‘Really, thank you so much.’
‘Nonsense. You’ve always been a hundred per cent reliable. We employ people with families, and families have emergencies sometimes. Now go, and don’t worry about us at all.’
Mel grabbed her bag and dashed out of the shop. Marina was waiting, and together they walked down the road. Jane was sitting in the car around the corner and they got in.
‘We’re going to be a few minutes late, but I don’t think it’ll matter,’ said Jane. ‘It was a bit last-minute, but Marina and I decided you had to see this.’
‘See what?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Jane said. ‘I promise you it’ll be worth it.’
Mel was now thoroughly confused. Jane pulled off and drove through the busy streets from East Finchley through Hendon and into Colindale. They passed the RAF Museum and the police station and pulled up outside a lumber yard. Was this where Serena was? Had she found another dodgy boyfriend, who worked here? Was it the mysterious Hopey?
They got out of the car and Jane and Marina led Mel past the lumber yard and through some gates. She found herself outside a large prefabricated building. She seemed to remember it was, or had once been, a scout hall. Jane eased the door open, and putting her finger to her lips, she led Mel inside.
There were rows of chairs facing a low stage. Half the seats were taken, by a mixture of teenagers and adults. On stage, Mel saw the middle-aged man she had seen driving Serena away in the car. He was conducting a choir of about eight girls and boys who were singing an energetic gospel number without accompaniment. Mel scanned the faces of the kids in the choir, and the ones she could see in the audience. There was no sign of Serena. The little choir sang enthusiastically and well, and they swayed and did a little basic choreography with their song. As they finished, the crowd burst into loud applause.
The man turned to the audience and said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the Swinging Hallelujahs!’ There was another round of applause with some cheering and stamping. ‘Right!’ the man said. ‘Give us a few moments to change over, and then we’ll be having a duet from Melissa and Heather, followed by a very special solo number.’
Everything seemed rather haphazard and casual, but no one seemed to mind. Two teenage boys pushed an electric piano on to the stage. The man sat down at the piano and nodded, and two girls, both quite plump and shy-looking, climbed onstage and stood beside the microphones, watching him closely. The man nodded and began to play. The girls started to sing ‘I Know Him So Well’ from Chess, tentatively at first – but the man’s sensitive support on the piano and his encouraging expression seemed to give them confidence. They reached the climax of the song, and while the harmony wasn’t quite perfect, it was heartfelt and sweet. They got a storming round of applause and edged off the stage, blushing and thrilled.
The man stood up and said, ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, I give you … Serena Grey.’
Serena stepped up on to the stage. She must have been waiting in a back room, because until that moment, Mel had not known for sure that she was there. She looked small and nervous. Serena sat down on the piano stool. She didn’t say anything – she just began to play and sing. She started with the Beatles’ ‘Yesterday’, simply played and beautifully sung. She had been a talented musician as a little girl, but this … this was different. She was no longer playing the piano like a good exam student – she was playing with feeling and flair. She was playing like herself. And her voice was beautiful – deeper and smokier than you would expect from such a young girl, but with pure, very true high notes.
When she stopped, the room was silent for a few seconds and then exploded into a roar of noise. Serena smiled, and looked out into the crowd for the first time. She locked eyes with Mel and her face darkened. She half stood up from the piano stool, but then she looked from Mel to Jane, and something she saw in Jane’s face made her sit back down. She rested her fingers on the piano keys and looked at them for a few seconds. Then she looked up and stared pleadingly at the man who had introduced her. He nodded, and that seemed to be the cue she needed.
‘I wrote this song for my mum,’ Serena said. ‘I didn’t think she would be here to hear it, but … she is.’
There was no way for Mel to know what Serena meant by that. All she could do was listen to the song. It was called ‘The Lion’s Roar’ and it was about the fierceness of protective love. Mel wished she could remember all of it, because it was beautiful. But she was too busy crying with pride and shame and sorrow. She hoped that she would hear the song again and again. When Serena finished and the thunderous applause died down, the man said, ‘That’s it for the first half of our programme. We’ll take a short break, and then we’ll be back with some instrumental numbers.’
Mel made her way over to the stage. Serena was surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers, who were all hugging her and telling her how amazing she was. Mel waited until the last of them had moved away. She waited for Serena to come to her, and she waited for Serena to speak first.
‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’
‘It was a surprise,’ Mel said. She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.
‘Mr Hope came to our school about six months ago and did a workshop, and then said we could come to his classes if we wanted to develop our own style of music.’
‘Why didn’t you …?’
‘Because I knew you’d be all pushy about it, and want to know all about it, and want to tell me what to sing, and make me practise. Or you’d say it was a waste of time, and if I was going to do music again I should do the exams. I wanted to do it my own way.’
‘So how did you …?’
‘Dad signed the permission forms and paid.’
Mel breathed in sharply. She should be more upset about that, but to be honest, she wasn’t surprised. Bruce was very laid back and wouldn’t have thought to ask any questions. Nor would he have thought to mention it to Mel. She knew it wasn’t malice … he just didn’t always live in the real world.
Serena continued. ‘I wasn’t trying to do a bad thing. I just wanted to do something … my own way. To show you I could.’
‘Well, you showed me,’ said Mel. ‘You were brilliant. And I loved the song.’
Serena hunched over and chewed on her thumbnail. ‘Not everything I do is bad, Mum. Just some of it is private, okay?’
‘I know, but—’
‘I know what you’re going to say. The world is dangerous. I know. I know it is. And I know you think I haven’t, but I have listened to all the stuff you’ve told me over and over. I made a mistake with Triggah. And I might make more mistakes. But sometimes … you just have to trust me. Please.’
‘I’ll try,’ said Mel. ‘Will you please come home?’
‘Okay,’ said Serena. ‘But, Mum … I know this sounds like I’m being rude, but I’m not. I think you have some issues, and I think, maybe … you need to talk to someone about them.’
Mel nodded, and she could see Serena was incredibly surprised to see that she agreed.
‘When I was young – your age and younger – some bad stuff happened to me. And I think, maybe I’ve just never dealt with it. You’re right.
It’s time.’
Serena touched her hand briefly, and Mel could have wept with happiness. ‘Will you come and meet Mr Hope now?’ Serena said. ‘He really is amazing.’
She led Mel over to the man, who was chatting animatedly to three young guys. He smiled when he saw them approaching. The teenagers shook his hand and moved on, and the man came over to Mel and Serena. ‘This must be your mum!’ he said, offering his hand. ‘Ian Hope. It’s great to finally meet you. Serena’s told me all about you. You work in that fantastic shop in East Finchley, I believe? Great idea. I wish my son was still young enough for us to shop there!’
He had warm, bright blue eyes and a smile that lit up his face.
‘You’re doing wonderful work here,’ she said.
‘I teach music in a private school nearby, but I believe music is something all kids should have access to,’ he said. ‘So I run a series of workshops in schools where there’s no music in the curriculum, and then the kids that show interest, I invite to join these classes. We do this concert once a term for all the kids in the borough who are involved.’
Mel looked around. There was a loose group of teenagers singing an R&B song together, and a skinny boy was pounding a drum kit while a knot of kids looked on.
‘There certainly are a lot of them,’ she said.
‘They don’t want to do formal classes and exams, but they do need some guidance,’ he said. ‘I teach them to read music, and to make their own kind of sound, but with proper musical foundations.’ He paused. ‘She’s astonishing, your daughter. She has perfect pitch, did you know that? She could go on to be classically trained, with that degree of musicality and that voice, but she seems happiest doing her own thing.’
‘Letting them do their own thing,’ said Mel. ‘That’s a tricky one, isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ said Ian Hope. ‘You need nerves of steel, and a lot of grace.’
Mel smiled. She couldn’t help but like him. ‘Well, I’m working on the nerves, but I have a long way to go on the grace. And thank you for today. You have no idea what it meant to me. Us.’
He smiled at her, a little perplexed by her comment. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a double-bass player with stage fright who’s going to need some moral support before the second half. See you next term, Serena!’
Grace, Mel thought. Grace and forgiveness and flexibility. She took Serena’s hand and they walked to the door.
29
HOLLY NOW
The beginning of the end came much more quickly than Holly had anticipated. Judith came home from the hospital after the procedure to drain the fluid. She was more comfortable, but she was very tired. She slept almost all the time, and over the course of a few days, stopped eating. Holly was frantic, and begged her to have something – anything – but Judith waved all food away. She didn’t even want to drink, but if Holly nagged for ages would suck on a few small ice chips to moisten her lips. She was cold all the time, and Holly piled blankets on her bed, almost concealing her tiny frame.
Lynne, the Macmillan nurse, came to see Judith, and when she came out of the bedroom, took Holly into the living room. ‘She hasn’t got long, Holly. Just a few days, I would say. The pain medication means she’s comfortable, but she’s going to sleep more and more, and slip into unconsciousness, and then she’ll pass on. If there are people who want to see her before she goes, and people who want to be with her at the end, now is the time to call them.’
Holly nodded. She, Miranda and David had discussed what they would do when the time came, and they had agreed that the three of them would be in the house. David and Miranda’s spouses were ready to take over caring for children and homes so they could be with their mum without worrying, and David had taken leave of absence at work.
As far as Judith’s friends in the congregation went, Holly passed the buck by ringing the vicar. He said he would let everyone know, and ask them not to visit any more. She knew Judith would want the last rites performed, and he came to do that while she was still conscious. Holly stayed with Judith for the service and found it very moving. Judith looked very peaceful once it was completed, and although she didn’t speak, she squeezed the vicar’s hand. Holly walked him out. He was visibly upset.
‘Thank you, Father,’ she said, awkwardly. It felt odd calling him that – he looked younger than she was, and she wasn’t entirely sure he needed to shave yet. ‘I’ve made a note of everything she wants for the funeral – the hymns and readings and so on – so I’ll be in touch about that when … after …’ Holly couldn’t finish the sentence.
The vicar nodded. ‘Your mum has been a part of our church for far longer than I have,’ he said. ‘I’m not entirely sure what we will all do without her.’
That took care of the larger church community, and mercifully, the vicar seemed able to keep Angela Joba and the rest of the singing-and-praying contingent away. Mr Benton still came every day, and he moved through the house like a small, silent elf, washing up, making tea and answering the phone. For the most part, he stayed away from Judith’s room, only going in to sit with her if he was asked. Holly felt appallingly guilty every time she looked at him – he was clearly there out of selfless devotion to Judith, who quite obviously had never loved him in return. That said, she didn’t seem to have loved Holly’s father either. It didn’t seem fair to have Mr Benton in the house doing things for Judith and for all of them when he had no idea about her secrets. Still, Holly didn’t know how to send him away without hurting his feelings, so she let things carry on as they were.
With most things in place, Holly’s final and most agonising concern was the writer of the letters. Would Judith want him to know she was ill? Would she want to see him before she died? Judith’s best time of day was early. It was when she was most likely to be awake and lucid, so Holly sat by her bed one sunny morning and waited for her to stir. When Judith’s eyes fluttered open, she helped her to sit up slightly and persuaded her to take a couple of small ice chips. It was a difficult conversation to have. How to begin? She had not said to Judith in so many words, ‘You are dying.’ She assumed Judith knew, but what if she didn’t?
‘Mum,’ she began hesitantly, ‘I’m trying to get things sorted for you – tying up loose ends.’
‘Thank you, dear,’ Judith whispered.
‘… And I was wondering about … the man. The man who wrote you the letters …?’
Judith’s face gave no hint of what she was thinking, and she didn’t say anything. Holly wasn’t sure if she understood. She pressed on.
‘Do you want me to contact him? Do you want me to ask him to visit you?’
‘He can’t come, dear … He’s in India. Gone, never to return.’
Holly nodded. She was sure the letter she had seen hadn’t had an Indian postmark, but Judith would know where he was, wouldn’t she?
‘Do you want me to let him know … that you’re ill?’
Judith stared at the light coming in the window. ‘You can read them … after I’ve gone. You’ll understand then, my dear. Tell him then. Tell him after. Tell him … I don’t need the letters any more.’
That afternoon, she slipped into unconsciousness. In the evening, Miranda and David arrived, and moved back into their childhood bedrooms. They set a schedule for the night – four-hour stints for each of them to sit with her, but in the end, no one wanted to leave her. They took turns to doze in the armchair, but they all stayed in Judith’s bedroom, one of them holding her hand at all times. She made it through the night, and in the morning Lynne came and helped Holly and Miranda to remake the bed and make her comfortable.
Through the afternoon, rain battered against the window and a harsh wind blustered outside. Judith’s breathing became rapid and shallow, then she would stop entirely for long seconds at a time. They would all lean forward wondering if that had been her last breath, but then she would gasp and begin to breathe again. It was unnerving, but Lynne had explained to them what they might expect, so they knew
it was not unusual. Miranda was stoic, and sat without moving beside the bed, holding Judith’s hand, but David couldn’t bear it. He kept going in and out of the room, and his eyes were wet with tears. At one point Holly went downstairs to get a drink and found David standing outside the open back door, puffing on a cigarette. She had never seen him smoke before. She had no idea where he had even come by a cigarette.
He saw her and smiled weakly. ‘I bought some on my way down. I haven’t had one since uni, but I thought I might need them.’
‘Knock yourself out,’ said Holly. ‘Whatever you need.’
‘This sucks,’ said David.
‘Well, it sucks worse for her than it does for us. The least we can do is stick with her. I don’t think it’ll be much longer.’
‘You’re right,’ said David, stubbing out his cigarette. ‘Let’s go.’
They went back upstairs. Holly was right. An hour or so later, Judith let out a long rattling breath. An expression passed over her face – the only word Holly could find to describe it was amazement, as if she had seen something wonderful – and the room went quiet. David, ever the man with the right words for an occasion, stepped to the bedside, crossed himself and said, ‘Rest eternal grant to her, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon her. Amen.’ It was just what Judith would have wanted.
Miranda began to sob as if her heart was broken, and David put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Lynne said the hearing can be the last to go. Let her go in peace.’ Miranda gasped and was quiet.
‘Goodbye, Mum,’ said Holly softly. A Zulu farewell came to her and she said the words as best she could. ‘Hamba kahle – go well.’ It was sunset.
They knew what to do – the hospice had given them instructions, so they rang the doctors’ surgery, and one of the GPs was just coming off duty and came out to confirm the death. Then they rang the funeral home. Holly had not imagined how very difficult it would be to have strange men in the house, lifting Judith on to a stretcher and carrying her out. She had coped and been strong for all of it, but she just couldn’t bear to watch Judith leaving her house for the last time, so she hid in the kitchen and smoked two of David’s cigarettes. They made her feel incredibly ill, but they passed the time until the hearse pulled away.