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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Unwrap a story of festive song, good cheer and - just maybe - a sprinkling of love ... Schoolteacher Sophie Lawson has fled to the Cotswold countryside after a tragic break-up and is throwing herself into dating and organising Cranswell's annual Christmas concert. The festive fun is marred by the arrival of a handsome but surly musical director, tricky pupils and concert preparations falling into disarray. Disaster strikes, but the show must go on. Will the concert bring Christmas harmony to Cranswell and will Sophie end the year on a high note? ----------- 'The perfect cozy Christmas romance.' - Jennifer Bibby, author of The Cornish Hideaway 'Full of the crescendos and cymbal crashes of a whole orchestra, A Concert for Christmas is a heart-warming Christmas novel that hits all the right notes!' - Rosie Hannigan, author of The Moonlight Gardening Club 'A Concert for Christmas has all the lovely sparkle you'd expect from a festive romance but real heart and emotion too.' - Jennifer Page, author of The Little Board Game Cafe
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A Concert for Christmas
Helen Hawkins
For Audrey
Contents
Chapter One
Six weeks until Christmas
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ Sophie raced across the green to where her friend Kate leant against one of the Christmas market huts that had popped up last week.
‘Sophie, where have you been?’ Kate sounded annoyed, and Sophie didn’t blame her. She was very pregnant and standing around in the November cold probably wasn’t ideal.
‘It wasn’t my fault. I promise!’ Sophie skidded to a halt and dropped her bags. ‘I was picking up the flyers but the guy was locking up when I got there and he had to go and find them out the back and anyway,’ – she sucked in a breath – ‘here they are!’
Sophie pulled a wodge of flyers out of the carrier bag on the floor and showed them to Kate. ‘What do you think?’
Kate examined them for a second and frowned. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this, Sophie. But the date’s wrong.’
‘What?’ Sophie snatched back the flyers and turned them over. Sure enough, printed in large white letters across the bottom of the bright red page was 24th November. ‘Oh God.’ She slumped against the hut.
‘I got you a gingerbread hot chocolate, though.’ Kate passed her a takeaway coffee cup. ‘You get a bonus gingerbread man clinging on for dear life.’ She picked hers off the side of the cup and made him dance into her mouth.
‘I can’t believe Albert messed it up.’ Sophie put the flyers back away and pulled out another bundle to check if they were the same. They were, of course.
‘This is tasty, at least.’ Kate raised her takeaway cup in a ‘cheers’.
Sophie sipped the warm drink. She had to agree. It was rather delicious; the taste of Christmas was yummy.
‘Come on,’ Kate said. ‘We’ll be late for rehearsal.’
Sophie linked arms with her friend as they walked across the green to the town hall in the glow of a hundred Christmas lights. The plastic pig that lived in the butcher’s window wore a Christmas hat trimmed with white fur and laced with tiny lights, dwarfed only by the bright lanterns that framed the window itself. Further along, the baker had transformed his window into a Christmas village scene, complete with gingerbread men, women and children dressed in all their Christmas finery. The bakery’s window was a particular favourite of Sophie’s: each week the scene would change in the run-up to Christmas, until on Christmas Eve, gingerbread Father Christmas would arrive with presents for all the gingerbread children.
‘This is just what I need after a Tuesday afternoon of geography followed by R.E.,’ Kate said, sipping more of her hot chocolate as they walked. ‘Golden time was chaos today. Goodness knows what the dinner ladies put in the pudding!’
‘It’s probably the wind,’ Sophie said, watching the trees sway across the green. Shoppers, making the most of the longer shopping hours, scurried about, clutching their hats and scarves so that they wouldn’t get blown away. ‘The children are always crazy when the wind’s up. I really needed this.’ She snapped an arm off her gingerbread man. ‘Who knew organising a simple Christmas concert could be so stressful?’
‘It’s going to be stressful when you’re in the concert, organising the concert and trying to get thirty-one ten-year-olds to the end of Christmas term.’
Sophie groaned. ‘I don’t know how I get myself into these things.’
She pulled a key out of her pocket, complete with enormous homemade wooden keyring, and opened the door to the town hall, balancing everything else in her spare hand.
The hall was cold and musty, with a tall ceiling and wooden floor. She dropped her stuff at the door and started to put out the old plastic chairs in rows, ready for the choir’s arrival.
‘Not you,’ she said, as Kate began to help. She waggled her finger. ‘You sit there.’
Kate frowned but followed her friend’s orders, plonking herself down on a seat in the middle of the room. She shuffled from side to side, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
‘Comfy?’
‘Never, these days,’ Kate joked, removing her coat and rubbing her enormous belly. ‘So, tell me what happened. You know that’s what I really want to talk about.’
Sophie continued to set up the room and avoided Kate’s questioning stare.
‘I don’t even know where to begin,’ Sophie said, tucking some hair behind her ear before picking up the next chair and adding it to the end of a row.
‘Well, why don’t you start at the beginning?’ Kate asked.
‘That’s a very good place to start,’ they both chorused and laughed.
‘I don’t know if I really want to talk about it,’ Sophie said finally, resting for a moment. It was the same old story, and she was tired of telling it.
‘Yes, you do!’ Kate said, popping the final bit of her gingerbread man into her mouth. ‘What was he like? How did it go?’ Crumbs flew everywhere as she spoke.
‘It was awful.’
‘Oh no! Not another one! What happened this time?’
How could Sophie even explain? She had spotted him long before he saw her, and she’d known instantly it would never work. He’d pitched up with a bunch of balloons, for goodness’ sake. After an hour of sitting in a crowded, noisy pub, batting away the offending items, she’d made a feeble excuse, given him a fake number and left.
‘In every possible way,’ Sophie said dramatically. ‘It’s likely I’ll be single for ever and to be honest, I think it’s probably for the best – especially for the men of this town.’ She was only half joking.
‘Not true. You’re a catch.’ Kate waddled over to the bin to dispose of her coffee cup. ‘You’ll bump into someone one day. I mean, a bakery is hardly the most romantic place in the world, but look at me and Gav!’
‘I know,’ Sophie said, remembering Kate’s story of how Gav had swiped the last Christmas fruitcake from under Kate’s nose and she’d made a joke about how she’d have ‘stollen’ it back. They’d moved in together by the end of the following month. Sophie sighed. If only it could be that easy for her.
‘I’m hardly likely to meet anyone at school, though. The only person who ever visits Cranswell Primary is Reverend Williams for assemblies, and I was kind of hoping for someone a little less wrinkly.’
They both laughed.
‘You go other places than school.’
Sophie raised an eyebrow.
‘OK, good point. Anyway, enough moping,’ Kate said, settling back into her chair. ‘Chalk it up to experience and move on.’
Kate would never let her dwell on a bad dating experience for too long. Secretly, Sophie enjoyed a little mope when things didn’t quite go her way. It was cathartic.
‘I was wondering about the charity for the concert.’ Sophie changed the subject and was relieved to do so. ‘I’d really like to donate the money we raise to Mum’s charity this year. What do you think?’
‘Sounds like a lovely idea.’
‘I’ll have to add it to the list of nominations but hopefully people will realise it’s important.’
‘You’re in charge, Sophie. You could just make the decision yourself.’
‘No, I need to put it to the vote. I don’t want anyone to think I’ve gone behind their back.’
‘You care too much about what other people think.’
Sophie ignored Kate’s comment. She knew she overthought things occasionally, but this was important to her. And she wanted to do it right.
‘Nigel will have to wheel the piano out of the cupboard when he gets here. It’s too heavy for me.’ She flopped down in the chair and took her coat off, warm from lugging around the furniture. She rested her head on Kate’s shoulder.
‘Do you think you’ll audition for the solo?’ Kate asked.
Sophie laughed. ‘Definitely not.’ There was no way she would ever volunteer to sing a solo.
‘Why not? You need a distraction from your horrible dating life,’ Kate said with a cheeky smile.
Sophie sat up and protested, but fell silent at the sound of the outside door banging open and the other choir members arriving.
It was a good job she’d pulled out her thick Fair Isle jumper. Sophie had been warm setting out the room, but by the time everyone else had arrived, the temperature in the draughty old church hall had dropped. She rubbed her gloved hands together and let out two deep breaths to test whether she could see them in the air. Her coat went back on.
‘Right, let’s get started.’ Sophie stood and used her teacher’s voice to get the attention of the group. They were mostly seated, and the stragglers shuffled through the rows to sit down once she’d spoken. Sophie looked out at the choir. It was made up of every type of person imaginable – including an eclectic range of singing abilities … but she loved this amazing bunch of people. They’d saved her when she’d first arrived in Cranswell a year ago.
‘Lovely to see you all.’ She smiled nervously. It didn’t matter that she did this all day, every day with the children in her class; addressing an audience always got her heart racing. ‘Today we’re going to start working towards the songs for the Christmas concert, just a general rehearsal this evening. Solo auditions will be next week. I believe Nigel has the list, so speak to him before the end of the evening to sign up.’ There was a general mumble of interest. ‘Also, we need to vote for the charity we’ll be supporting this year. I know we had a couple of nominations last week.’ She looked down at her notes. ‘The Blue Cross centre over in Sheepham and Children in Need, which happened last Friday. I’d also like to throw my mother’s charity into the mix. They support mothers who have suffered a miscarriage. Shall we vote?’ she said, an ever-so-slight catch in her throat.
Recovering, Sophie listed the charities again, and the group raised their hands. Sophie’s mother’s charity was the runaway winner and Sophie made a note of it, as if she’d ever forget. She breathed out and smiled.
‘OK. We’ll wait for Nigel to finish setting up and wheel the piano out and we’ll make a start. Last wees and teas before we start, folks.’ It sounded flippant, but for some of the town’s residents, they wouldn’t be able to begin without a final opportunity to visit the bathroom.
‘Sure I can’t convince you to audition?’ Kate asked, as Sophie sat down again.
‘Ha! No.’
‘Ooh!’ Lulu responded in her thick American accent. She sat in front of them every week and turned around now that there appeared to be something interesting going on. Sophie liked that Lulu’s hair, habitually fashioned into a 60s beehive, ordinarily hid her out of view of the musical director.
‘Are you thinking of auditioning, Sophie, honey?’ she asked.
Lulu was probably a hundred years old. Her face was laced with the ghost of plastic surgery past, and she oozed a Hollywood glamour that you didn’t see in the sleepy Cotswold town of Cranswell. As always, her face was made up perfectly, with a bright red slick of lipstick not quite disguising her thin wrinkled lips. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, blue and full of life. She often talked about her vibrant youth as an MGM musical star and Sophie had whiled away many an afternoon since her move here just listening to Lulu’s stories.
Sophie shook her head. ‘No. It’s just something that Kate’ – she said her name through gritted teeth and shot her a sideways glance – ‘is determined to make me do. She won’t shut up about it!’
‘Well, you should. I know you’ve got a lovely voice.’
‘Well, thank you, Lulu.’ Her inner songstress locked away the compliment. It meant a lot coming from Lulu van Morris.
‘Are you really thinking of auditioning?’ Greg asked, turning around to face them. He slid his glasses up his thin nose. He was Lulu’s equally old, equally nosy comrade. But he was not, however, nearly as glamorous. He was wearing a faded navy and slightly holey cardigan, the sleeves baggy from where he’d pushed them up regularly throughout his day in the coffee shop.
‘God, no!’ Sophie cried, a little louder than she’d expected. A couple more singers from the row in front turned to listen.
‘You should, you know,’ John said.
‘Lovely voice,’ said Ethel.
Kate smiled, sat silently and watched on as the sopranos on the front row ambushed Sophie. Sophie pulled a face that told Kate she’d regret it later on. Kate shrugged and shot her a smug smile.
‘I think I’ll be a bit too busy organising the concert itself. I can’t be centre stage and make sure that everything runs smoothly, now, can I?’ Sophie said, hoping everyone would find something different to talk about – and soon.
Lulu and Greg genuinely seemed to consider her question.
‘No, I suppose not,’ Lulu said, her long red fingernails clutching her fur (faux, hoped Sophie) and pulling it up around her. ‘It’s a damned shame, though.’
Lulu offered round a paper bag of Werther’s Originals. It was hard to imagine Lulu in her youth when she went and did ‘old people’ things like that now and then. Sophie was relieved to see that everyone’s attention had moved elsewhere.
‘I hate you, Kate,’ Sophie said.
‘You love me really.’
Sophie rolled her eyes.
The piano sailed into the hall, unaccompanied, and didn’t stop when it arrived in its usual position. A gasp went around the room, and one soprano yelped. Nigel ran in after it and dived into its path, holding his arms out to stop it from crashing into the front row.
‘Sorry about that, ladies and gents.’
Hang on a minute. That wasn’t Nigel’s voice.
The man who had saved the lives of the front row singers smiled at the room, flushed from his altercation with the piano.
‘Whoops.’ He reached over and stopped his music stand (another casualty of the runaway piano) toppling over and taking out the altos sitting on the front row – all two of them.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said, holding a hand up.
This man was not Nigel, their musical director of goodness knows how many years. This man, possibly in his early forties, stood the music stand back up and brushed a hand through his dark curls. He was shorter than Nigel, now that he was standing, but broadly built like a rugby player. He rolled up the sleeves of his tan turtleneck and rested his music on the stand, which he’d retrieved from the front row with a handsome smile. In that split second, Sophie glanced at his eyes: the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. In fact, they reminded her of … surely not. Oh God. It couldn’t be, could it? It wasn’t the first time she’d seen those beautiful eyes.
In one smooth movement, Sophie lifted the music up to cover her face as she simultaneously slid lower in her seat. She played with her hair as an extra barrier against being noticed.
‘Where the hell is Nigel?’ Sophie whispered through gritted teeth.
‘Not sure.’ Kate shrugged. ‘Sophie, are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘I have. The ghost of dates past.’ She pointed a finger towards their apparently new musical director.
Kate looked at him, then back at Sophie, who adjusted her music again to hide her face from the MD’s view. Kate, for once, appeared to be speechless, but was clearly enjoying the moment, judging by her smile.
‘Right. Let’s make a start,’ said the man. The choir shuffled and quietened until there was silence. He had an instant command of the room.
Sophie felt a pang of envy at his cool exterior.
‘Good evening, everyone. My name is Liam. Nigel asked me to step in tonight – he’s had to rush up north to stay with his elderly mother. I think I’ll be with you until the concert itself, which is exciting. I’m sure we all wish Mrs Calder well, though.’
Sophie watched, open-mouthed, as the choir seemed to collectively welcome Liam into the fold without question, nodding that they too wished Nigel’s elderly mother all the best.
There was too much to process. What was Nigel playing at? And why had he left this Liam to tell everyone his whereabouts? Sophie grimaced at the thought of everyone else wondering why she hadn’t known this was happening. How was she supposed to organise a charity concert if nobody communicated anything to her? She pulled her phone out to see if she’d missed a call or a text from Nigel. But there was nothing – the background of Sophie and Kate with wine glasses the size of their heads usually made her smile, but instead she winced. Not to mention the fact that only a week ago, she’d been sitting across the table from Liam with a bunch of helium balloons bobbing between them. She felt a fresh wave of embarrassment warm her face.
Liam continued. ‘Nigel said that you’ve had the music for a couple of weeks, but tonight’s the night he planned to start rehearsing properly for the concert. So, shall we begin by singing them through? Take your parts if you can, but otherwise the melody is fine to get us warmed up. Shall we stand?’
As Liam raised his arms with the baton in his hand, the choir stood as a group. Sophie joined them, standing a little slower, glancing around to see that no one was questioning Liam’s appearance. And that Liam hadn’t spotted her. She sighed heavily. She supposed they’d have to talk eventually – they were in effect organising a concert together at this point – but a few more moments of preparation wouldn’t go amiss.
The choir’s first sing-through was a discordant mess. Sophie sang along, but inside she was panicking. Did Liam even know what he was doing? It was more like a carol shout than a concert of beautifully sung hymns and Christmas songs. She’d said no to organising the last concert for fear of things not going as planned, and she didn’t want anything to go wrong on her watch. Liam hadn’t bothered teaching them any of the parts or the harmonies. He’d not even gone through the notes in the melody. He’d simply assumed that everyone in the room would know each of the song choices. She had to admit, they were fairly well-known hymns and carols, but even so, she was concerned at Liam’s apparent lack of musical understanding.
Relieved when it was break time, Sophie hurried up to collect two teas in polystyrene cups for her and Kate, ducking and diving through the crowd to avoid Liam. Greg provided the breaktime beverages, utilising his skills and retired equipment from the coffee shop.
‘There you go, Sophie, love. Just as you like it.’ He passed the two cups through the hatch from the kitchen, a slight tremble in his hand causing one cup to spill a little. ‘Don’t you worry about that,’ he said, reaching for a cloth and wiping the surface.
‘Thanks, Greg.’ Sophie turned and stopped abruptly when she found her face buried in the muscular torso of the new musical director.
‘Woah!’ Liam said, stepping back. His hands came up in defence. ‘Careful. Are you OK?’
Sophie cleared her throat. ‘Sorry.’
‘Sophie, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s me,’ she said eventually, taking a couple of steps towards Kate and the comfort of their seats. ‘And you’re Liam.’
‘I’m Liam,’ he repeated with a nervous smile.
Ah, so he remembered their horrible date too. He was just choosing to ignore it. Sophie would obviously follow his lead.
‘Sorry I barged you. I’m just taking this over to my friend.’ She indicated Kate, who, at their glances in her direction, gave a little wave.
‘Nigel told me you’re running the show,’ Liam said before she could run away. He ran his hand through those curls again.
‘He didn’t tell me you were.’ It sounded unkind, but she’d been surprised by his arrival.
‘He told me to apologise. It was all a bit sudden, really.’
‘Is everything OK?’ She felt bad now. It was genuinely odd that Nigel would disappear like that. He’d been musical director for the choir for years now, certainly longer than Sophie had been living in the town.
‘His mum took ill overnight and his dad told him he needed to get up there quickly. I don’t think it’s looking very good.’ He swayed on his heels, hands in his pockets like he couldn’t keep still. Was this conversation as awkward for him as it was for her?
Sophie tried to focus on what he was saying and not relive their awful date, or concentrate on his endearing, lopsided smile. With nothing else to say, she took a sip of her tea. It scalded her instantly. She felt compelled to fill the silence.
‘Well, Nigel’s right. I am organising the concert this year, so if you need me to talk over anything or go through the songs or whatever, just let me know, I guess.’
Why couldn’t she form sentences?
‘I think I’ll be OK,’ he said. He flashed that smile again and stepped over to the hatch where Greg was waiting to pass him a tea.
Across the hall, Kate was miming for Sophie to hurry up. She looked back at Liam to see him busy charming Lulu, and sat back down.
‘That didn’t look like a fun conversation,’ Kate said, taking her tea from Sophie and drinking it instantly. ‘Well, not for you, anyway. I enjoyed it immensely.’
Sophie stared into her drink, both hands cupped around it for warmth. ‘Liam is the guy I went on a date with last week, not that either of us acknowledged it just then.’
Kate pulled a face. ‘God,’ she said, sipping her tea again.
‘I know. Very awkward.’
‘He didn’t seem too awkward just then,’ Kate said.
‘No, Kate, awkward for me!’ Sophie pushed out her bottom lip like a teenager. She was only half mocking.
Kate laughed. ‘Why was it so hideous? You never said.’
Sophie sipped her tea again and looked around like she was about to share MI5 secrets. Happy that she wasn’t in earshot of anyone likely to gossip, she turned to Kate.
‘So, he turned up to the pub with this enormous bouquet of balloons, which, as you know, I am genuinely terrified of. So, it was a bit of a terrible start. He was late too, which annoyed me.’
‘Of course it did.’ Kate nodded in agreement, knowing her friend well.
‘Anyway, the pub was packed, and I had this stupid great big bouquet of balloons with me. We managed to find a corner table, and I was hopeful that it would be quiet enough for us to talk – maybe I could forgive the balloons if there was good conversation, you know? But it was a tiny table, and he’s … well, you can see,’ she said, looking over to where Liam now stood, cornered by Lulu. ‘He’s huge.’
Kate raised an eyebrow.
‘Don’t be rude,’ Sophie said, blushing. ‘I mean you can see he’s big-built, muscly. So, we sat down at this tiny table on little stools. His knees came up to his ears. We must have looked so ridiculous – him scrunched up so that he could fit into the furniture, and me with a bouquet of red helium balloons.’ Shiny metallic ones, of course, Sophie remembered with a shudder. She rubbed a hand over her face as the embarrassment crept back into her consciousness.
Kate’s face had frozen into a grimace.
‘So, it was awkward then,’ she said, stating the obvious.
Sophie nodded. ‘It gets worse.’
‘Surely it can’t get any worse.’
‘After the glass of red wine I’d obviously drunk before I got there …’
‘Obviously,’ Kate said, agreeing with the strategy.
‘I thought he was quite good looking.’ Sophie closed her eyes, cringing.
‘Ah, so you liked him.’ Kate smiled knowingly.
‘At that point, I thought I might like him, yes. For a moment I sort of dared to hope that it might go well and that he’d like me too. But then the conversation got going, or rather it didn’t.’
‘Oh no.’ Kate put her hands over her face in exasperation and peeped out between her fingers like she was watching a horror film.
‘Oh yes.’ Sophie nodded. ‘Between twenty rogue helium balloons, the world’s smallest table and stools, and conversation that a librarian would have tolerated, I’m sorry to admit that, when Mum called, I used it as an excuse to leave – and you know I normally avoid answering the phone to her if I can.’
‘Oh, Sophie, I’m sorry. It sounds like a bit of a nightmare.’
‘It could be worse,’ she said sarcastically. ‘He could have just turned up to MD the Christmas concert that I’m organising! Or I could have palmed him off with a fake number …’ Sophie felt her face colour with a fresh blush.
Kate snorted into her tea, and a couple of people looked up from their conversations. ‘So, when he needs to call you about the concert, he’s going to think he has your number, but actually, he has a false one that you gave him at the end of your date?’
‘Oh God!’ Sophie groaned, curling up in her chair and resting her head on her knees. ‘Yes!’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Kate said, patting Sophie on the leg. ‘You just said he’s ignoring the fact your date ever happened. If he’s not making it a thing, then you shouldn’t either.’
‘But I make everything a thing,’ Sophie complained from under her cocoon.
‘Good point.’
Chapter Two
‘Right, so we’ll finish there,’ Liam said, placing his baton carefully down on the music stand and putting his hands into his back pockets.
They’d finally added in the harmonies for two of the songs after the coffee break, and Sophie was relieved that they were beginning to sound all right. She dared to hope that in six weeks’ time, they might be concert-ready.
‘Before you go, I wonder whether any of the sopranos might consider staying for a moment and learning the alto line. I was concerned listening then that we sound a bit thin in the middle.’ Liam paused and looked around for a moment. ‘Any takers?’
Rocking back and forth on his heels, he waited, but no one volunteered.
Eventually Lulu raised her hand. ‘I can sing anything.’ She stood, even though no one had asked her to. Sophie half expected her to bow and wait for her rapturous applause.
‘Great, thanks, Lulu,’ he said, clasping his hands as if he was praying that other volunteers may follow.
Sophie felt herself slipping lower into her chair. There was absolutely no way that …
‘Sophie? Would you be able to help us out?’ Liam asked, as everyone in the choir looked in her direction.
She knew her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink.
‘I don’t know … I don’t think …’ She fumbled about for an excuse but knew that for the sake of the concert and the choir, she’d have to agree. She looked around in the hope someone else might have volunteered, but all eyes were on her. ‘All right.’
‘Great. Thanks, Soph.’
It was the first time anyone had called her Soph since secondary school, and she flinched for a moment at its unfamiliarity.
‘Two should be fine, but if anyone else changes their mind’ – he indicated the front two rows of the choir – ‘we’ve got plenty of sopranos, so it wouldn’t hurt to switch a few of you.’
Kate readied herself to leave. ‘Who am I going to follow now when we’re singing?’
‘I couldn’t let Lulu be the only volunteer. Besides, it’s in my best interests for this concert to go well.’
Kate tutted. ‘I’m actually going to have to learn my notes now.’
‘Kate, we’re sopranos. We sing the melody!’
‘Good point. Well, looks like you’re staying.’ She said it with a mischievous wiggle of the eyebrows.
‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ Sophie felt the anxiety settle in the pit of her stomach.
‘I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow for all the gossip.’ She bent down to retrieve her bag from the ground.
Sophie picked it up for her so that she didn’t end up in a heap on the floor. ‘Here.’ She passed it to Kate. ‘I will see you tomorrow, but there will be no gossip. Didn’t you hear my story?’ She grimaced.
‘I just meant the gossip about how the alto rehearsal goes, Soph.’ Kate smiled at her and turned to leave the hall, waving her hand in the air as she went.
Sophie growled under her breath and tidied the room, moving the chairs back into piles at the side of the hall. Stalling, she worked her way over to the piano, where Liam and Lulu were waiting. Lulu was singing scales.
Sophie reminded herself she was only here because having another alto was important to make the music sound good. And the music needed to sound good for the concert to be a success. It certainly wasn’t for any other reason, and it definitely wasn’t to help the handsome new musical director.
‘Come and stand next to me, honey,’ Lulu said, draping an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. ‘How are the kiddies at school?’
‘They’re great – very excited about Christmas.’ She enjoyed the snuggle next to Lulu’s extremely fluffy jumper. The hairs floated about as Lulu moved and tickled Sophie’s nose.
‘Right, I won’t keep you long, ladies,’ Liam said, rolling up his sleeves and sitting on the piano stool.
Sophie’s gaze flickered to his tanned forearms, then met Liam’s eyes as she forced herself to look down at the music. She was confused that even without the red wine, Liam did something odd to her insides – infuriating as he was.
‘I just thought if we bash through the notes, you could maybe sing them next rehearsal and we can just see how it sounds. I know it’s tricky unlearning something to relearn it, but stop me at any point and we can make sure you’ve got it. Does that sound OK?’
‘That’s fine,’ Sophie said, keen to get on so she could remove herself from the situation. She felt socially awkward at the best of times, but this was something else entirely.
‘I’m sure we’ll sound fabulous,’ said Lulu, sharing a wink and a grin with Sophie.
Liam hid a smile and cleared his throat, shifting back into professional mode. ‘All right. Here goes. I’ll just do four bars at a time and you can sing it together afterwards.’
Liam played, his agile fingers deftly moving through the complex melody. Sophie stared at them while he played, willing her brain to remember the tune. He finished and looked up expectantly at Sophie and Lulu, then lifted his hand to signal that he was about to play it again.
Lulu sang with full gusto straight away, her beautiful voice filling the hall. It might have only been four bars, but she performed it as though she was singing ‘Jerusalem’ at the Last Night of the Proms.
Her arms folded, Sophie sang too, but much quieter; not that she’d have been any match for Lulu.
‘Sounding wonderful, ladies,’ Liam said. ‘Let’s try this next bit.’ He played again as they continued through the entire song. ‘Shall we sing it through?’ Liam asked when they’d finished. ‘I’ll play the soprano part too, so you can hear how it all fits together.’
‘I must just pop to the bathroom. Won’t be a moment.’ Lulu said it as though she’d sweep out with a flourish, but her ancient body meant that her movement across the hall was more of a shuffle.
‘Soph, I was thinking about the charity for the concert,’ Liam said after they’d watched Lulu go in silence.
‘Oh, yes?’
‘I heard everyone voted earlier for your mum’s charity, but, well, Nigel’s mum is pretty ill. It doesn’t look good. I thought maybe we could look into charities that support dementia care and split some of the fundraising between the two.’
‘It’s already been decided, sorry.’ She shrugged.
‘I think it would be a nice gesture for Nigel,’ Liam said, leaning his hands on his knees.
She didn’t know why, but she felt threatened by him, like he might swoop in and steal the concert from her. ‘It’s a lovely idea, really it is. I just think it’s all kind of sorted now.’ The thought of going back to the choir and explaining a change didn’t appeal. There would be questions and comments and those conversations had a habit of turning into a parish council meeting with everyone forgetting that they were actually there to sing.
‘Are you sure? I haven’t seen any flyers yet, so there would still be time to print the charities on there.’
The bloody flyers. It wasn’t her fault that Albert had messed them up at the printers. She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Liam turned back to the piano and played through the song again while Sophie stood there, pretending to learn the notes without actually singing anything.
‘Shall we sing this through while we wait for Lulu to return?’
Sophie nodded. Singing solo in front of people was her worst nightmare, but confrontation topped that and she was pleased to change the subject. At least while she was singing, they wouldn’t be arguing or feel inclined to make small talk. Singing was safe.
‘Great. I’ll give you a bar in.’
He began to play.
Sophie’s palms were slick with sweat and she held the music up in front of her face. She hated the affliction of crippling fear that rose within her every time she had to sing alone. Part of a choir and she excelled, rejoicing in every moment. Single her out, and Sophie crumbled. In her head, she could sell out the Royal Albert Hall. But, also in her head, she accompanied her performances with adrenaline-filled dance routines. Everyone has a dream that stays a dream, and for Sophie, that was performing on stage alone. She took a breath and began to sing.
Applause came from behind her as she finished, and Sophie turned to see Lulu shuffling back across the hall.
‘That was fabulous!’ She rested her walking stick against the piano. ‘I knew you could sing, but you really have got a beautiful voice.’
Sophie’s eyes flickered briefly to Liam. His arms were folded, and he nodded his head in agreement, the beginning of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
‘You should definitely think about auditioning for the solo next week. You’d be marvellous,’ Lulu said.
‘Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Sophie said. ‘There’s a lot of work to do with organising the concert and sorting out the charity stuff.’
She looked over pointedly at Liam, who was shuffling his piano music and pretending not to listen. He rested his hands on the piano keys once more.
‘Let’s carry on, shall we?’
Chapter Three
Sophie walked the short distance home. Her flat was on the other side of the green and down a narrow lane, the brook running parallel. She thought about Kate and Lulu’s suggestion. A solo was the dream. Maybe if the acoustics in the town hall resembled those in her shower, she might have a chance. But even if Sophie had a chance of getting the solo – which she didn’t – she knew that on the night she’d struggle to find her voice. The lights, the music, the people, her anxiety – they’d conspire to make her look like a fool. Besides, she’d be far too busy organising the concert. She wouldn’t have time to worry about anything else in the run-up to Christmas.
In the comfort of her flat, Sophie poured herself a glass of wine and put on her pyjamas. She loved that last hour of the day when she got to snuggle up on the sofa under a blanket and relax in front of the television. She may not go out dancing any more, or have exciting social plans every week, but for Sophie, this was how she liked it. It really was.
Sophie’s flat was one of a small block that sat overlooking the green. In the evening, especially on a weekday in the run-up to Christmas, the townspeople would still be out in force, scurrying around to take advantage of the late-night shopping and meeting friends. Sophie liked that she could kneel on her sofa and look out of the window, watching the people scuttle by. And if she leant out the window a little further, she could just about see far enough to get a glimpse of the town’s Christmas tree.
Only last week, the entire town had come together to watch the Christmas lights being switched on and now, as Sophie settled onto the sofa, she gazed out of the window and looked upon, by all accounts, the biggest Christmas tree they’d ever had in Cranswell. It was decorated with hundreds of tiny white lights and oversized rainbow-coloured baubles. At the very top, a great golden star stood tall, albeit at a slightly disconcerting angle, and cast its own brilliant light show down onto the grass. Albert and the rotary club really had surpassed themselves this year. At least poor old Albert had got something right. She pushed the niggle about the flyers to one side in her mind.
A screaming child caught her attention, and she looked in the little girl’s direction only to see that she was actually giggling as her father chased her across the green, her stringed mittens poking out the bottom of her duffle coat and flapping in the breeze. When he caught her, he flung her into the air as other siblings raced across the green to join them. A couple wandering hand in hand and wearing matching bobble hats looked on with smiles.
Sophie turned back to her desperately empty flat. With a sigh, she picked herself up from the sofa and refilled her wine glass. Sophie’s flat was tiny, but cosy. She loved it. It was just the right amount of space for someone to bumble around in on their own, even if she ended up bumbling around by herself more and more these days. Sipping her wine, she settled down on the sofa and flicked through the channels. Now that the town Christmas tree was up, there was nothing to stop her indulging in her first Christmas film of the season.
Just as she was deciding between It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street (the original black and white versions of both, of course), a steel drum rendition of ‘Silent Night’ rang out from her phone. Her ringtone was always seasonal and she and Kate had discovered at a Christmas gift fair that steel drums and Christmas music made for a brilliant mix. She couldn’t help but smile. A smile that dropped when she realised who was calling.
She let it ring off, but a minute later the steel drums were back. She put it under a cushion and settled down as the titles for It’s a Wonderful Life began to roll. But after another minute or two, the cushion vibrated as the persistent caller refused to give up. Sophie picked up the cushion, braced herself and answered the phone.
‘Why weren’t you picking up?’ asked her mother. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Sorry, I was in the middle of something,’ Sophie lied.
‘Didn’t you see it was me calling?’ she asked.
Well, yes, thought Sophie. That’s why she’d not picked up. ‘Sorry, Mum.’ She willed the conversation to move on and for her mother to get to the point, of which there was always one.
‘How are you?’
‘Good, th—’
‘Things are crazy here.’
June was a fan of the monosyllabic answer when it came to conversations with Sophie. Sophie assumed it was to give her more time to talk about herself. She downed her glass of wine and poured herself another while her mother talked.
‘It’s always hectic in the run-up to Christmas, you know. People want to give at Christmas, which is lovely, but it makes life very busy for me.’
Sophie nodded her understanding and realised that her mother couldn’t see her. Not that it made any difference. She’d barely paused for breath since she’d begun talking anyway.
‘And people ask you for the fundraising packs so last minute, as if I haven’t got my own Christmas shopping and organising to do. Goodness!’
Sophie opened her mouth to say that the choir had agreed to help raise money for her mother’s charity through the Christmas concert, but then she closed it again. She wasn’t entirely sure that during this particular rant, June would be pleased. She’d probably just see the extra work it would entail rather than the funds it could generate.
‘How’s that friend of yours?’ June asked, ‘umming’ as she tried to recall her name. ‘You know, the pregnant one.’
‘Kate?’ Sophie threw her head back to retrieve the dregs of her second glass of wine. They’d been small measures, she told herself.
‘Yes. How’s she getting on? She must be nearly ready to burst by now!’
Sophie twisted the bracelet on her wrist and shifted in her seat. ‘Not quite yet.’
‘Does she know what she’s having?’
‘Not sure.’
‘I know it’s hard for you, love.’ June hesitated before carrying on, her tone softening. ‘I just wanted to give you the chance to talk, you know, if you needed to.’ Her mother waited in a rare silence at the other end of the phone.
‘I don’t.’
‘Well …’ Her mother let the word hang in the air. No doubt a last-ditch attempt to give Sophie the opportunity to talk. She didn’t. ‘I should probably go. Lots of fundraising packs to send. We’re always so busy in the run-up to Christmas.’
‘You said. Are you still coming to the new flat for Christmas?’
‘We were planning to, but everything’s got a little mad with the charity – it always does. Everything’s so chaotic at this end. Anyway, I’ll let you know for definite in a week or so. You’re still welcome to come here, of course.’
Sophie knew that was her mother’s code for ‘probably not’. She wished June would just say what she meant and have done with it, instead of pretending that they would finally come to see her flat over the festive period. Now that she was a thirty-four-year-old woman, surely it worked both ways? Why couldn’t they come to her for a change? Especially now that she was beginning to settle and finally had her own place.
‘Well, it was nice to talk to you, Mum.’
‘You too, love.’
‘Bye.’
‘Bye-bye.’ June yelled something inaudible, probably directed at Sophie’s long-suffering father, before she hung up.
June’s phone calls always felt like an ambush. There was no regularity or routine to them, and she’d pop up at the most inconvenient of times. Sophie rubbed a hand over her face, her eyes suddenly tired. Sometimes she wished she had a better relationship with them both; she hardly ever got the chance to speak to her father these days.
Slightly tipsy and frowning after the phone call, Sophie decided to put up the Christmas tree. It had been sitting in a box in the spare room since she’d moved in, and it was only a few days until December. Besides, it was the perfect way to cheer herself up.
She pulled the tree out of the box and spent some time smoothing and evening out the branches. The lights were next. She draped them, tiny white sparkling lights, all over the tree. Then, carefully, she unwrapped and placed each precious ornament evenly all over it. Each one was a memory – a visit to London with her very first boyfriend; a gift from her old school friend the Christmas when things had got really bad. Fleetingly, she wondered what this experience might be like if she found someone to share it with. They’d probably have a shared ornament that they’d bought together on their first date or on their first holiday away. Maybe they’d buy one each year for their children …
Stop it. Let’s not get carried away. Sophie reminded herself that compared to last Christmas when she and her mother had argued – again – this one, in her own wonderful flat, would be far better, even if her parents didn’t come to stay. In fact, it was more likely to be a good one if they didn’t turn up after all.
Chapter Four
It was duty day. The worst of all the days. Each week, all the staff at Cranswell Primary School had two allotted days, during which they would be on duty. It didn’t matter if it was raining or snowing or searing heat, on duty days you spent all of your lunchtime and break time out on the playground, supervising the children as they played. Supposedly, visibility meant that the children would refrain from committing any misdemeanours. In Sophie’s experience, they became more mischievous to get your attention – much more fun.
And so, for what felt like the millionth Wednesday lunchtime of the year, Sophie found herself wrapped up and shivering out in the playground as the little ones ran around her legs, screaming at her to join in with their game of Stuck in the Mud.
Taking the mickey, Kate waved through the staffroom window and exaggerated enjoying the smell of her coffee before sipping it, rubbing her huge tummy and licking her lips. Sophie looked around to make sure no children were looking and stuck her middle finger up. Kate blew her a kiss. Sophie laughed, shook her head and turned away.
It was freezing cold that day. The clouds had merged, a blanket of snow in the sky ready to drop at any moment. The heavy cloud cover eclipsed the light and it felt more like dusk than lunchtime. Sophie shivered, regretting her choice of skirt and tights. The hideous hi-vis jacket the school forced her to wear added little warmth. She pasted a hard smile on her face and folded her arms tightly to hold in the heat.
The weather was already odd enough that the children had arrived at school a little offbeat. Any time there was something different about a day, the children were like werewolves and, above all things, the weather had the biggest impact. Sophie pulled a sticker out of her hair, thinking back to the chaos of the morning; she hoped a mischievous child hadn’t ambushed her while she wasn’t looking.
Even now, the children ran and tumbled and skipped about the playground like insects. Despite walking in a straight line, Sophie had to hop to the side or lift her arms to let excitable children pass. Then, their unpredictability morphed into a pattern. They were all running towards the edge of the field – some more determined and excitable than others, but they were all headed in the same direction without a doubt.
Sophie walked over, a little more purpose in her step. As she’d guessed, there was a commotion coming from across the playground. As she neared, children from all over the field and playground ran over to see what was happening. Chants of ‘fight, fight, fight’ cut through the breeze. Sophie broke into a run and, when she reached the crowd, moved those who had gathered out of the way.
