Her first phrase was perfect, even a gentle vibrato that hadn’t been distorted by nerves. But as she reached the middle of the second phrase, as she stretched up towards a minor third, her voice wavered, then split and then dissolved altogether.
Ben’s fingers halted across the keys, the room silent but for the thumping of Audrey’s heart. As she stood next to the piano, staring at the floor and wishing it would open up and swallow her, she thought that perhaps there were simply too many miles between the dreams she’d had as a teenager and the person she was now. Perhaps the end of your life was just that: an ending. Not a chance to right wrongs, rectify mistakes or fulfil unspent ambitions. Maybe this wasn’t the beginning of the final chapter of her life. Maybe she’d already reached the epilogue without even realising.
‘That too high, huh? No problem, my mistake. Let’s try a tone lower, OK? Deep breaths. You can do it, I know you can.’
The piano introduction began again and Audrey closed her eyes, allowing the music to envelop her. And this time when she sang, her voice didn’t waver or fracture or dissolve. This time the notes rang out confidently as though there had never been any doubt that they would. And for three minutes, Audrey completely forgot herself. She forgot Ben at the piano and his assistant at the back of the room and the paint peeling on the walls. She forgot her cancer and the clock ticking loudly in her ears and the deep ruptures in her family. For the first time in years, Audrey managed not to think about her guilt and her disappointments and her catalogue of losses. She sang and all that existed was her and the music and the flood of memories that would forever be associated with that song.
When the music came to an end, Audrey opened her eyes to discover that she wasn’t curled up with her daughters on the sofa, blinking back her tears, or standing at the front of a congregation in mourning, fixing her gaze firmly forward. Instead she was in an audition room in west London having sung a solo in front of strangers for the first time in her life.
Ben was staring at her and Audrey felt heat bleed into her cheeks.
I’m sorry, she wanted to say, I shouldn’t have come. It was all a dreadful mistake. I’m sorry to have wasted your time. But her voice cowered inside her embarrassment and she couldn’t coax it out.
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that.’ Ben looked at her, eyebrows raised, and then glanced over her shoulder to his assistant. ‘Audrey Siskin – I can honestly say that you’ve made my day. That was incredible. You say you’ve never sung professionally before?’
Audrey shook her head, words still eluding her.
‘Well, all I can say is that whatever brought you here today, I’m damn pleased that you came.’ He was standing up now, grinning at her.
‘So … It was OK?’
‘OK? God, if everyone auditioning today was half as good as you we’d be giving Gareth Malone a run for his money. It was fantastic. If you give your contact details to Caitlin, she’ll keep you updated on everything. But the first rehearsal is a fortnight today and then we’ll be rehearsing every Wednesday evening and Saturday afternoon – you can do that, right? And you know the concert is on June twenty-fifth? We have just over eleven weeks to turn all you auditionees into a professional choir.’
Audrey nodded, her head feeling as though she’d just drunk two glasses of prosecco in quick succession. As she told her details to Caitlin, she tried not to think about her next appointment with the consultant in three weeks’ time, tried to reassure herself that there was no reason she wouldn’t stay well enough for long enough to see this through.
Chapter 6
Lily
At the top of the white stucco steps leading to her front door, Lily cursed as her key jammed in the lock. It had been two days since she’d asked the housekeeper to get it fixed but clearly it hadn’t been mended yet. She managed to wiggle her key at just the right angle to unlock the door before gesturing to the waiting cab that she’d only be ten minutes.
‘Phoebe! It’s me! Are you home?’ The house was silent. She kicked off her shoes and ran up the stairs to Phoebe’s room. ‘Phoebe, are you in there? I’m only popping back quickly. I’ve got a cab waiting outside.’
Still nothing. Lily listened, her head pressed against the wood, then eased open the door, knowing the wrath she’d face if Phoebe were inside and she entered without explicit permission. But the room was empty.
Silence resounded through the deserted house, the stillness prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. Standing on the threshold to her daughter’s bedroom, the quietness enveloping her, Lily found herself remembering all those nights she had lain awake in her childhood bed, hearing things she knew she shouldn’t. A conversation from decades earlier began whispering in her ears, trying to draw her in, forcing her to remember: voices hissing into the silence after their owners had thought everyone had gone to sleep, Lily lying under her duvet, knowing she should put her fingers in her ears to shut it out but being unable to stop herself listening.
How could you? How could you have done that? I will never, ever be able to forgive you.
I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. The last thing I’d ever want is to hurt you or the girls. You must know that.
Lily snapped open her eyes, unfurled her clenched fists and blinked against the memory. Hurrying across the landing into her bedroom, she swiped open her phone and tapped out a message to Phoebe.
Where are you? I’ve just popped home to get changed. I’ve got a last-minute work dinner tonight, but I shouldn’t be too late.
Heading into the small dressing room attached to her bedroom, Lily unzipped her dress as a message pinged on her phone.
I’m at the audition. With Gran. Not that you remember, obviously. Gran’s supposed to be coming for dinner afterwards and you’re SUPPOSED to be picking us up. But I guess none of that’s happening now and I’ll just have to tell Gran that you’ve stood her up yet again.
Lily frowned. She opened the calendar on her phone, scrolled through the day’s appointments, could find no mention of her mum coming for dinner. She swiped through the rest of the week and there it was, under tomorrow’s date, staring at her accusingly.
I’m so sorry, darling. I’ve put the wrong date in my diary. I thought it was tomorrow. Can you apologise to Gran for me and tell her we’ll still see her for lunch on Sunday? I hope the audition goes well. Klaudia should have left some supper in the fridge so make sure you eat something when you get home.
Stepping into an almost identical black dress to the one she’d just put in the laundry basket and smoothing the material over her hips, worrying that perhaps it was a little tighter than it had been when she’d last worn it and making a mental note to add an extra weekly gym session to her diary, she turned towards the empty rail on the opposite side of the dressing room. Less than a month ago it had been filled with Daniel’s suits and shirts, ties and T-shirts, jumpers and jeans. Now the hangers swayed on the rail as if unsure whether they’d been liberated from their burden or were bereft of purpose. She glanced down at her phone, opened her private email account and reread the last message she’d sent Daniel the previous evening.
I know you’re really busy and it’s frantic there at the moment, but it would be really good to get dates in the diary for when you’re coming home for the weekend. Phoebe misses you. We both do. I hope work’s going well. Speak at the weekend. L xx
Lily checked the trash folder, in case Daniel’s reply had somehow got mislaid, but the only messages in there were emails about marketing conferences and magazine subscriptions. She exited her Sent items, her eyes flicking down over the contents of her account. And there it was, staring at her: the folder containing all the emails she had written to Jess over the years, none of which had ever been answered.
Lily scrolled through them, page after page, and clicked on an email from January 1998, her hand tensing around the phone as she began to read.