‘Are you OK? You seem a bit distracted.’
Audrey turned to Mia and smiled, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. ‘I’m fine. I’m just always surprised by how busy it is in here.’ The little white lie was hot on her tongue.
It had been three weeks since her latest diagnosis, when the idea had begun to formulate. She knew it was risky, knew the jeopardy involved should she be caught, but in spite of the possible repercussions, she hadn’t been able to stop herself.
‘Shall we go up, then?’
‘Let’s just stand here a moment, shall we? Even when there’s no exhibition in here, I still love this space.’
They both looked up at the steel joists running from floor to ceiling, at the viewing windows jutting out from the floors above like enormous bird boxes, at the strip of skylights running the length of the room beneath intersecting metal beams. Audrey felt the clamminess between her palms, tried to reassure herself that this time things would be different. She had deliberately planned it as far away from home as she could without arousing suspicion, had chosen the one place she had felt sure they wouldn’t be caught. But as she looked up at the light streaming through the glass ceiling, she couldn’t erase memories of the last time she had attempted this.
Over Mia’s shoulder, she spotted a familiar figure walking towards her, their face breaking into a wide, trusting smile.
And then she sensed Mia turn and follow her gaze, felt the crackle of tentative recognition as Mia’s eyes locked onto the young woman heading towards them.
‘What the …? Granny, what’s going on?’
And then Phoebe was there, standing in front of them, just inches away from the cousin she hadn’t seen for twelve years.
The two young women stared at one another and Audrey watched them, aware that time had slowed down, that all around them parents hurried children towards escalators, friends rushed to greet one another, first dates were met with disappointment or relief, and tourists rotated gallery maps from left to right, while in the centre of the ramp, standing on the fossil-grey concrete floor as though the clocks had stopped, Audrey’s granddaughters looked into each other’s eyes for the first time in more than a decade.
Audrey felt the muscles in her chest pull taut. It was only now, seeing the two of them together, that she understood how deeply she had wanted to witness this encounter and how long she had waited for it to happen.
She watched as looks of confusion passed between her granddaughters and then words began to fall from her lips before she had a chance to collect them in the right order. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to fib to you both. But I thought that this way neither of you had to lie to your mums about where you were going and no one could accuse you of duplicity. I just wanted you to have a chance to meet and get to know each other. It’s absurd, you being kept apart all these years. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have done it in secret. It must be a terrible shock …’
Audrey’s explanation dissolved as Mia and Phoebe collapsed into fits of laughter. ‘What is it? What’s funny? I don’t understand.’
Her head felt foggy as she watched the girls laughing, tears in their eyes.
‘Oh, Gran, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t laugh really. It’s sweet of you. Please don’t think we don’t appreciate it.’ Phoebe glanced at Mia and they both started laughing again.
‘I don’t understand. What’s going on?’
And then she saw the look exchanged between them: a look of knowledge and recognition, of friendship and intimacy, and all at once she understood. And as the realisation spread, it was as if someone had placed a hot-water bottle in the centre of her chest that was warming her from the inside out. ‘What …? When …? How did it happen?’
Questions scrambled from her lips, and then Mia and Phoebe were answering, their sentences leapfrogging one another, picking up a part of the story the other had missed: a tale told by two voices that could have been one. The story of how, two years previously, Phoebe had tracked down Mia on Facebook, sent her a message and begun a correspondence. How, soon after, they had begun meeting in secret, after school or on Saturday mornings. How they had seen each other every week since, a clandestine friendship that had soon become closer than any other, transcending the family politics they had never understood but which had kept them apart for years.
‘You’re not angry with us, are you, Granny? We honestly did think about telling you – didn’t we, Phoebe? – but we thought if you knew, you might have felt you had to tell our mums and it just seemed easier this way. We never meant to lie to you, really we didn’t.’
Audrey took each girl by the hand, holding them with all she wanted to say but couldn’t find the words to express, hoping they might understand just a fraction of how happy they had made her.
And then all three of them were laughing. Standing in the centre of the Turbine Hall, there was a split second when Audrey looked outside their unexpected trio, catching the glances of passers-by, and it took her a few seconds to interpret their curious expressions. But as she turned back to her granddaughters, she understood what people were staring at: the sight of these two beautiful young women whose similarities were so striking they could easily be mistaken for twins. As she held on tight to their hands, her heart swelled with pride and relief but most of all with love.
Chapter 22
Audrey
‘Right, if I can have everyone’s attention, please.’
Audrey’s head turned, along with dozens of others, to where Ben was leaning on the upright piano, his assistant by his side. She caught Phoebe’s eye and they exchanged a wry smile. It was just over an hour since they’d left Mia at Tate Modern and it felt to Audrey as though the three of them were now linked by the knowledge that, even amid familial chaos, something good and unexpected could emerge from the rubble.
‘It’s fantastic to see such a great turnout again this afternoon. Caitlin’s just told me that ninety-three of you have signed in, which is incredible. We assumed you’d be dropping like flies by the fifth week, so perhaps I’m not working you hard enough.’
There was a low murmur of laughter as Ben grinned, his eyes roaming across the room. It was similar to the one in which the auditions had been held – wooden floor, whitewashed walls, wide rectangular windows on one side – but at least double the size.
‘Seriously, putting together something like this is a bit like sending out party invites. You only expect about half the people to turn up, so I really am grateful that so many of you are still here after nine rehearsals. It may sound like an obvious thing to say, but a choir doesn’t exist without singers. It doesn’t exist without you. And given how well you guys have started coming together already, I’m confident that when we step onto the stage at the Albert Hall on June twenty-fifth, the audience are going to believe we’ve been singing together for years.’