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

I felt my chest grow tight as she opened the door and I saw my mother lying in her bed. She looked tiny, like a child. Her face was grey, her hair matted and thin. I thought she was asleep at first but she turned her head towards me, a confused frown creasing her expression.

‘Hello,’ I said in a croaky voice.

Her face flickered with recognition but she didn’t speak. She just gazed at me as if searching for the answer to a question.

‘How are you, Mrs Winter?’ asked Laurie. ‘Are you feeling better today?’

My mother’s gaze transferred from me to Laurie. She raised her eyebrows and then smiled in reply.

‘That’s good,’ said Laurie. ‘And lovely to have your daughter visiting too.’ My mother glanced at me and then back to Laurie, like a spectator at a tennis match. ‘I’ll let you have some time together,’ she said, giving me an encouraging smile before she left.

I stood by the side of the bed and took in my surroundings. I didn’t usually come in here. My mother was normally sitting in the lounge area, staring into the middle distance, whilst activities such as bingo or singing went on around her. She reminded me of a lonely person at a party and I felt sad that she couldn’t seem to take part in her own life any more. Then I would remember how she had barely participated when she’d had her marbles and dismissed the thought.

The room was very pleasant, with two windows looking out over the garden and apart from the adjustable bed, it felt much like a miniature version of her old home. There were fresh flowers on the table by the window and a bowl of fruit as well. She had brought one of her chairs, her bookcase and quite a few of her knick-knacks. She had liked to collect miniature Wade figures and these were all arranged on a little wall-shelf in one corner.

I could remember loving these as a child but never being allowed to touch them for fear of breakages. One day, I had crept into the dining room where they were kept and picked up a tiny porcelain hedgehog that I liked the look of. I made him jump from surface to surface but had accidentally chipped his perfect black nose. My mother appeared at that moment, turning white with anger when she saw what I had done. She sent me to my room but I had been happy to hide there until my father got home, whereupon he had done his best to quell her anger.

I stared at the figures now, noticing the replacement hedgehog my father had bought, resisting a childish urge to knock it off the shelf. I turned away.

My mother was looking at me again now, so I pulled up a chair and sat next to her bed. I wanted to get this over with. ‘Do you remember what happened last night?’ I asked. She seemed to shrink into the bed even more. I should have felt sympathy but I was still heavy with childhood anger. ‘I’ve had to beg Mr Jarvis to let you stay here.’ My mother mumbled something. I frowned and leant in closer. ‘What did you say?’

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

I was taken aback. Perhaps the sedation was still having an effect. My anger started to dissolve. ‘Okay, well, I’m glad you’re sorry.’ She stared up at me with huge eyes made all the more pathetic by her shrinking frame. I transferred my gaze to the garden and was surprised to see Guy Henderson wheeling an elderly lady in a wheelchair. My mother’s eyes rested on them too. There was a moment’s silence before she started to pound her fists on the bed, her face enraged.

I leapt up from the chair. ‘What’s the matter?’ I cried. She lashed out a fist in my direction but missed and slumped down onto the bed, before looking up at me. She seemed twice the size all of a sudden, her eyes narrow and angry. I recognise you now, I thought.

‘Fuck off,’ she hissed.

‘I beg your pardon?’ I cried. I had never heard my mother swear before.

‘Fuck off,’ she repeated. ‘Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.’

I pulled the emergency cord and within seconds Laurie and a colleague were there. ‘All right Mrs Winter, let’s try to breathe and calm down, shall we? Jem, call the doctor,’ said Laurie, taking my mother by the shoulders in an attempt to soothe her.

‘I have to go,’ I said, heading for the door, not looking back. ‘I’m sorry,’ I added, but I’m not sure to whom. I hurried along the corridor, signed out and fled back to my car.

Once inside, I realised that I was shaking. I could hear my heart beating, a sense of panic coursing through my body. I could not believe what I had just witnessed and my urge to flee had taken over. I contemplated going back, to check if my mother was all right but I realised that I didn’t want to. I simply didn’t want to know. This woman was a stranger to me. She’d always been a stranger in that she never seemed like the mothers of picture books or films. There was no softness or gentle kindness in our relationship, no lap in which to snuggle or shoulder on which to cry.

Why should I care about her now if she had never cared about me? Why should I pick up the pieces of her shattered life? What was the point? She barely knew me.

The people at the home claimed that she asked for me but they could be making it up. There were flickers of recognition but it was fleeting. She was trapped in her own world, like she had trapped me in my room for every minor indiscretion as a child.

She hadn’t wanted anything to do with me back then so why should I bother now? I didn’t need her. I had carved out a life away from this ageing and decay. I didn’t need it in my life. I could simply drive away and not come back.

And yet, there I remained. Silently cursing my indecision. Why couldn’t I just leave? Go back to the order and harmony of my real life? There was a tap on the glass and I jumped in surprise at the sight of Laurie’s concerned face. I wound down the window.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I just couldn’t take seeing her like that.’ It sounded as if I cared and I felt immediate guilt for being disingenuous.

Laurie gave me a reassuring smile. ‘Of course. It’s very hard sometimes. Do you have any idea what brought it on?’

I shook my head. ‘We were just sitting, looking out into the garden. I saw someone I knew – Guy Henderson with an elderly lady in a wheelchair.’

Laurie nodded. ‘Mrs Henderson has only recently arrived at the home. Sometimes, people with dementia react badly to change, a new face or someone who reminds them of something from their past.’

‘I only met Guy this week, so there’s no connection between my mother and his.’

Laurie smiled. ‘Well, your mother is much calmer now, so we’ll monitor the situation and keep in touch, okay?’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you so much.’ I gave her a final wave before starting the car and driving off, feeling relieved that my mother was someone else’s problem for the time being, tucked away where I didn’t have to think about her, her illness or the pain of the past.

Run away, Caroline. Run back to your place of safety and don’t look back.

I switched on the radio. They were playing ‘Weather With You’ – a Crowded House song that Oliver and I used to sing along to while we were decorating the house at weekends. I turned up the volume and sang at the top of my voice, drowning my worries with happier memories.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_af520377-4e37-5fb3-848a-8d48230d7e56)

NATALIE

‘Mum! Pizza’s ready!’ yelled Woody.

‘Okay,’ I replied. ‘Just finishing up.’ I glanced back at the blinking cursor. I’d always thought that would be a good name for my writing memoir – The Blinking Cursor by Natalie Garfield. I smiled. I was in a good mood tonight. I was about to officially embark on the campaign to get Dan to fall in love with me all over again and I was excited.

I practically skipped down the stairs. I felt like a natural woman, every woman and a woman in love. Choir had obviously had a positive effect on me. We had a rehearsal tonight and I was in two minds as to whether I would go. The next hour would decide that for me, depending on Dan’s reaction to my surprise.

I had contemplated telling Doly about it when I popped into the shop earlier but she wasn’t on her own so I decided to keep it to myself for now.

‘Are you going to choir tonight?’ she asked with a smile.

‘I’m planning to,’ I replied. ‘Have you been practising?’

‘Only all the time. Never stops singing, this one,’ said a man who was carrying a box from the back of the shop. ‘She has the voice of an angel,’ he added, his eyes glittering with pride.

Doly beamed at me. ‘This is my husband, Dev.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ smiled the man.

‘Oh, is this your singing thing?’ asked another, younger man, who was re-stocking the fridge. I could see a family resemblance to Dev. His dark-brown eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘I bet it’s all Abba and Spice Girls – a zigazig ahh! Am I right, brother?’ he added, glancing at Dev.

Dev laughed but then noticed his wife glaring at him and adopted a serious face. ‘I’m sure they sound wonderful,’ he replied diplomatically.

Doly rolled her eyes at me. ‘Pay no heed to my fool of a brother-in-law,’ she declared.

‘I’m Hasan,’ said the young man, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering it to me.

I grinned. ‘Good to meet you,’ I said, accepting it.

‘And you,’ he replied, smiling, holding my gaze for a few seconds.