The Choir on Hope Street: A gorgeously uplifting romantic comedy to make your heart sing!

CHAPTER FIVE

NATALIE

I nearly didn’t go to choir. Ed had promised to babysit again but had phoned earlier that day full of sheepish apology. Some guy he’d been lusting after for months had asked him on a date. Could I get another babysitter and he promised that he’d do the next one? I brushed it off.

I wasn’t that bothered about going. I’m not sure why I’d agreed. Actually, I am. I’d knocked back one too many glasses of Caroline’s delicious wine. I saw the label and knew it had come from Waitrose. Anyway, I’d got a warm feeling from the wine and the assembled company. I like Jim. He’s been the local postman forever and he is a kind man. Dan used to joke that he fancied me but he’s fifty if he’s a day and I’ve never seen him look at me in that way. He’s like the street’s uncle. I also remember Pamela from toddler group. She’s got a good heart and I’ve always liked Doly from the shop. Woody and her daughter Sadia are good friends too and we sometimes help each other out with school pick-ups. The whole group had a lovely feel and when Guy turned up and Caroline proposed a toast, I got carried along by it. Plus, I thought it would be a new hobby, something to make me more interesting in my bid to save my marriage. Singing was sexy – people love singers. Look at Taylor Swift and Rihanna – they had more men interested in them than I’d had jaffa cakes and I’ve eaten a lot of jaffa cakes.

However, one week later, in the sober light of day and with a viable ‘get-out’ clause, I felt complete relief. To be honest, I hadn’t felt like going anywhere much since Dan left. I felt vulnerable, as if everyone could see through my skin to the raw pain just below the surface. I knew that Caroline already had me down as a complete fruit-loop and I wasn’t ready for another dose of ‘my life’s so much better than yours’. Plus, I’d really gone off brushing my hair and making an effort. I figured I could get away with it. Writers are supposed to be pasty-faced weirdos with an aversion to socialising. They’re too busy creating to bother with other people or deodorant.

So it was something of a shock when I opened the door just after seven to find Dan standing on the doorstep, a lop-sided smile on his lips. I glanced down at my bobbled bunny pyjama-bottoms, tracing my gaze up to my oh-sobaggy but oh-so-comfortable hot-pink hoodie. No-one could pull this look off and call it style, not even Kate Moss.

‘This is a surprise,’ I ventured, offering the understatement of the year. I realised at that moment that a fortnight had passed since Dan’s departure. This time two weeks ago, we had been happily married. Everything had been fine. What a difference a bombshell makes.

I felt a sudden surge of panic that he was coming round ‘to talk’. I didn’t want to be dressed like this when we talked. I wanted to be wearing something smart and sexy – those jeans he’d always liked with that top he said made my breasts look magnificent. I wanted to look magnificent as he told me why he wanted our marriage to end. I wanted him to be sure because I felt certain that if I reminded him of what he would be missing, he would change his mind. It would be like cooking bacon for a conflicted vegetarian and watching them drool. I definitely didn’t want to have this conversation with unwashed hair whilst dressed like a sloven.

‘Ed called me,’ he explained. ‘Said you needed a babysitter?’

This made me cross, firstly because Ed had called Dan without asking me and secondly because Dan had described himself as a ‘babysitter’. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to babysit your own son. I think it’s just called ‘being a parent’.

We were still standing on the doorstep and Dan was peering past me, inching forwards. I was on the brink of telling him that he was mistaken and shutting the door when I heard Woody say, ‘Hey, Dad.’

I stood back, defeated, and allowed Dan to pass. I looked down at the floor as he did so. I didn’t want the awkwardness of that moment when we were supposed to look each other in the eye and kiss. I couldn’t bear it.

‘Hey, fella,’ said Dan, approaching his son and drawing him into a hug.

‘What are you doing here?’ The question was simple but heart-breaking at the same time. It had only been a fortnight and yet Woody seemed used to the fact that Dan was now a visitor to our house.

Dan glanced at me. He heard it too. ‘Well,’ he replied. ‘Your mum is going out so I thought I would come by and hang out with you for a bit, if that’s okay?’

Woody shrugged. ‘Okay. Do you want to see my new Match Attax cards? I swapped Diego Costa Hundred Club for Daniel Sturridge Star Player.’

‘Cool,’ said Dan, ruffling his son’s hair. He transferred his gaze to me. It was a look that said, You’re good to go.

I was thinking, Don’t make me go. I don’t want to go. Let me stay. Please. I’ll be no bother. I want to sit with you both, to just hang out and be. I want to keep hold of my family, to keep us together somehow.

But they had disappeared into the living room, already lost in their chat about over-paid footballers, and I was left in the hall doing my best not to cry.

No-one was more surprised than me when I found myself standing in the draughty community hall, forty minutes later, with twenty or so mostly female would-be singers. It had been the call from Ed which had finally persuaded me to come. I snatched up my phone as soon as I saw his ID.

‘I hate you,’ I answered.

‘Well, I love you,’ he replied. ‘And I’m not sorry. You need to get out of that house, and you can always talk to Dan when you get home. You can have a calm chat, instead of a hysterical, please don’t die, oh you’ve only got a hernia, type conversation.’

‘Ha bloody ha. You basically made me do that.’

‘How so?’

‘You told me to go get my man.’

‘Yeah, “Go get your man.” Not, “Blatantly misunderstand the situation.”’

‘Whevs. Did I mention that I hate you?’

‘Except you don’t. Now I’m off to flirt outrageously with the beautiful Mark. Go, sing your heart out and I’ll call you tomorrow for a de-brief, ’kay?’

‘O-kay.’ I hung up feeling a little cheered. He was right. Annoying, but right.

There was an air of anticipation but also excitement, matching my own, as I walked into the hall. The chairs had been arranged in rows and people stood with their friends, eyeing Guy with interest and chatting nervously. I already knew a few faces. Caroline gave me a nod of acknowledgement with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was there with her school playground clique. Pamela gave me a cheery wave and Doly looked up and smiled too. Jim the postman wandered over to greet me.

‘Hello, Jim, I didn’t have you down as a choir man,’ I said, grateful to see a friendly face.

‘Actually, I used to be in a band in the nineties,’ he replied with pride.

‘Oh, wow, anyone I’ve heard of?’

‘So you know Take That?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I replied, ready to be impressed.

‘Well, I was Robbie Williams in a tribute band called A Million Love Songs.’

‘Oh. Wow. That’s pretty impressive.’

Jim looked sheepish. ‘Yeah well, it was until, you know, Robbie left the real Take That. So I had to go too.’

‘That’s a shame.’

Jim shook his head. ‘Nah, Gary was a dickhead so I didn’t mind really. We had creative differences.’

‘Art imitating life,’ I added, swallowing down a giggle.

‘Exactly,’ nodded Jim earnestly.

‘Right everybody, shall we make a start?’ The voice was direct and no-nonsense. We turned as one. ‘My name is Guy Henderson. Thank you for coming along tonight to the first rehearsal of the Hope Street Community Choir.’

There was a small cheer. Caroline and her entourage gave a cheerleader ‘Yay!’ of approval.

Guy’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Caroline, would you like to say anything before we begin?’

Caroline rose to her feet and turned to face us. She placed her hand on her heart. ‘I just wanted to say thank you so much for coming. It means a great deal to me and I know it will mean a great deal to our community.’ It was starting to sound like an Oscar speech. ‘I am sure that with Guy’s help, we can make this choir into something vital for us all and that with the money we raise, we’ll be able to save Hope Street hall!’ Her clique whooped and cheered whilst everyone else clapped politely. ‘Over to you, Guy.’ Caroline bowed like a news reporter handing back a live-link.

I thought I noticed a raised eyebrow of amusement on Guy’s face but it was fleeting. He gave Caroline a gallant nod of thanks before turning back to the assembled company. ‘So, I want this to be fun and something we can be proud of but it’s going to be hard work too. For tonight, we’re going to do some warm-up exercises and get to know our voices. I’ve got a couple of songs to try and next week we start in earnest. Pamela here –’ Pamela waved her hand like the queen and we all laughed ‘– is going to collect subs and organise a tea and coffee rota because apparently that sort of thing is very important.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘And I shall do my best to teach you the songs. Okay, find yourself a seat – those who like to sing “high”,’ he singsonged this word with an impressive falsetto, ‘please sit to my left, and those who prefer to sing “low”,’ he added in a trembling tenor, ‘place yourselves to my right.’

I found a seat next to Doly, who rewarded me with a nervous smile. ‘Can you sing?’ I asked.

She gave a little side-to-side nod. ‘So so,’ she replied. ‘My husband says I can but my children tell me to stop!’ I laughed, feeling a fraction more relaxed.

‘Right,’ began Guy, taking his place behind the keyboard. ‘Let’s warm up our voices, shall we? Standing with your feet apart, relax, drop your shoulders. Don’t look so worried – I’m not going to make anyone sing a solo. Yet.’ His humour had the desired effect and as we laughed, we relaxed a little more. ‘That’s better,’ he grinned. ‘So, we’ll begin by humming up and down an arpeggio, like this.’ He played a chord and echoed the sound with four notes. ‘La-la-la-la, la-la-laaaah,’ he sang in a beautiful, clear voice. ‘And now it’s your turn.’ Several people cleared their throats nervously. Guy played the same chord and we joined in.

It felt strange at first to be singing in public, even though we were just going, ‘La, la, la.’ Apart from belting out tunes in the car and shower, I’d never sang and certainly never in public. I got the feeling that I wasn’t alone. I glanced around the room. Pamela was frowning with concentration, whilst Jim was singing with an impressive tenor voice.

Guy played the next chord up. ‘Now try this one.’ We did as we were told. ‘Good! And now hum this one,’ he instructed, playing the next chord.

‘Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmmmmm.’

‘Excellent! Let’s see how high we can go. And!’

We hummed and la-ed our way through each new set of notes. I could hear Caroline’s voice getting louder with each arpeggio. We laughed as the notes became too high for us and one by one we stopped singing. Soon, only Caroline and Doly were still going. Guy fixed his gaze on them and grinned with encouragement. ‘Last chord,’ he declared. ‘You sing first, Caroline, and then would you like to try—’

‘Doly,’ whispered Doly, her neck flushed red with embarrassment. ‘Okay.’

Guy played the chord and Caroline sang the notes with pitch-perfect trembliness as if giving an opening-night performance at the Royal Opera House. Guy smiled as Caroline’s friends clapped noisily. He turned to Doly. She gave a small nod and he played it again. Her voice was completely different to Caroline’s. Soft and gentle and completely sublime. There was a pause after she finished. Guy stared at her for a moment as if he’d forgotten where he was before clapping his hands. ‘Thank you, ladies. That was very revealing. So, it’s clear that we can all sing the notes. Now let’s see if we can sing the songs.’

I squeezed Doly’s elbow. ‘Your voice is amazing,’ I whispered. She gave me a shy smile.

I watched Guy as he handed out sheets of song lyrics. He couldn’t have been more than thirty and yet he was completely confident in his abilities. He was tall and neatly dressed; a man who obviously took care of his appearance. I wouldn’t exactly call him handsome but there was something about the way he carried himself – assured and in charge – that was disarming. I noticed Pamela gazing up at him, wide-eyed and trusting, obviously already smitten. He had the room in the palm of his hand.

‘So let’s try “California Dreamin’”, shall we?’ suggested Guy. ‘A relatively straightforward one to get us started.’ He pressed Play on the backing track, raised his hands and we were off. I could remember singing this song as a teenager and loved its sixties folk feel. I felt my body lift as we began to sing. There were a few bum notes but actually, it sounded pretty good.

‘Not bad for a first go,’ said Guy. ‘Now, let’s up the ante and try it again with the lows taking the opening line and the highs replying, shall we?’ He re-started the backing track.

‘Well done,’ smiled Guy when we finished. ‘I see a bright future ahead of us. And as we’re on something of a roll, let’s try the next song. It’s a bit trickier but I think we can do it.’

My heart sank as I turned to the next song-sheet. ‘Something Inside So Strong’ had always been a favourite of mine and Dan’s. Whenever this song came on the radio, we would duet in a hammy, fist-pulling rendition, which often left us helpless with laughter.

‘Oh, I love this song,’ murmured Caroline from the row behind. ‘So powerful.’

‘Okay,’ said Guy. ‘Let’s give this a go, shall we? A straight sing-through and we’ll worry about harmonies later.’ He pressed Play. As the intro filtered through the speakers and we joined in with Labi Siffre’s unmistakeable voice, I could feel my body start to tremble.

Get a grip, Natalie, it’s just a song. But I couldn’t help it. I tried to brush away the tears and power-ballad my way through but it was no use. There was something inside but it wasn’t very strong and seemed to consist mostly of tears and mucus. I turned away so that Doly wouldn’t notice and spotted Caroline behind me. She was lost in the song, her eyes closed, possibly performing to one hundred thousand people at Wembley. I decided to cling on to my last shred of dignity and take my sobbing outside.

It was starting to get dark, the sky glowing pink and orange. I tried to feel cheered by its beauty but it only made me more depressed. I wanted rain, thunder and if possible a little snow to mirror my own cold misery. I fished into my pocket for a tissue and pulled out an old shopping list. It included items for a Thai curry, which I had made for Dan as a Friday-night treat a few weeks back. Inevitably, this brought fresh tears and irritation at the shambolic woman I had become. I considered making a run for it. No-one would miss me and I could make my excuses another time. I started to head towards the street.

‘Natalie!’ called a voice, which I immediately recognised as Caroline’s. Bugger. Maybe I could pretend I hadn’t heard and keep going.

‘Natalie!’ she repeated with increased volume. That’ll be a no then.

I turned to face her, hoping that my eyes weren’t as red and puffy as they felt. ‘Oh, hi, Caroline,’ I said, pretending that I’d only just noticed her.

‘You’re not going are you? We’re only halfway through.’ Either she’d been too caught up in powering through the song to notice my outburst or she had chosen to ignore it. Or possibly a little of both.

‘I just—’ I began. I just what? I just need to run home to a man who doesn’t love me any more and won’t tell me why? I took a deep breath. ‘I’m just not sure if it’s for me.’

‘Is it the choice of songs?’ she asked, moving closer. ‘Because if it is, I know exactly how you feel. I used to sing in choir at university – it was all classical – Verdi, Brahms – wonderful,’ she smiled, dewy-eyed at the memory.

‘No, it’s not that—’

‘Oh, but you must stay. You’re going to be such a valuable addition to the team with your profile and assets.’ Praise indeed. I sound like a Page Three model. ‘And I know how much you care about the hall, what it meant to you.’ She stared at me. Damn her. She knew which buttons to press. I am a nostalgia queen at the best of times but at this moment, I was clinging onto anything that reminded me of my happier past life.

Caroline’s phone buzzed with a call. She fished it from her bag and frowned as she saw the caller ID, pressing a button to silence it. ‘Please stay,’ she implored. Her phone rang again.

‘Someone is keen to talk to you,’ I observed. That’s it. Distract the bossy lady and then make your escape!

She sighed. ‘And someone needs to just get on with their job and stop bothering me,’ she said, switching off her phone. ‘So is the lovely Ed looking after your son this evening?’

‘Er, no, actually. Dan is with him.’

‘Oh, well, that’s good news, isn’t it?’

I guess our definitions of ‘good’ differ somewhat, I thought as I scuffed one shoe across the ground. ‘I’m glad he’s spending time with Woody,’ I replied.

Caroline regarded me for a second. ‘May I speak frankly, Natalie?’

I’d really rather you didn’t but I fear you’re going to, whatever I say. We all know that offering to speak frankly comes second only to ‘Don’t take this the wrong way’ and ‘With the greatest respect’. It is merely code for ‘I am about to insult you and validate that insult by asking your permission first’.

Still, I was at a low ebb and starting to get desperate. ‘Go ahead,’ I replied, bracing myself.

She looked me in the eye. ‘You seem like a good person and an attractive woman too.’ Wait for it. Wait for it. ‘But from what I’ve seen, you’ve let things slide.’ A killer glance at my hair. ‘It’s important for a woman to keep her husband’s interest.’ I winced with feminist indignation. ‘I mean, take Oliver and me, for instance.’ Oh, please, I wish someone would. ‘I know how to keep him engaged in our relationship and it’s not just to do with sex, although of course that’s important.’ Yeah, just a warning, Caroline. If you start giving me details of your week-long tantric love-making sessions, I will vomit. ‘Whenever I feel that we’ve lost track of our relationship, I’ll make a grand gesture, do something special, just to keep things fresh and interesting.’ She made it sound like a trip to the supermarket. ‘For instance, last year I booked a sky-dive because it’s something we’ve always wanted to do together.’

‘Well, I’m afraid of heights so that’s not really going to work,’ I joked.

She narrowed her eyes. ‘No, but you have to find something that does because it’s so easy for things to change after you have children – to lose sight of you as a couple.’ Bloody know-it-all – bloody know-it-all with a point. ‘I’m more than happy to give you some suggestions if you would like?’

Visions of Caroline making Dan and me do a tightrope walk across the Thames popped into my head. ‘Thank you, Caroline. I’ll give it some thought.’ She was a preachy cow but she meant well.

She nodded with satisfaction. Our conversation was interrupted as Guy appeared in the doorway. He smiled at us both. ‘Hello, ladies. Are you enjoying it?’ he asked.

‘Oh very much, Guy, thank you so much for everything you’re doing,’ gushed Caroline.

He nodded and turned to me. ‘And how about you? Sorry, we met briefly at Caroline’s house but I don’t know your name.’

‘Natalie, Natalie Garfield.’ Although who knew if this would be my name for much longer. ‘Yes, it’s been very emotional.’ I’m not sure why I said this. I think it came from a movie but it was an honest answer.