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