I know I need to just woman up and get on with it. We are friends. It will be fine. We don’t have to talk about Conal at all. We can keep the conversation to her first few days at college. I’m genuinely dying to know how she is getting on. I think she is incredibly brave and cool AF to be doing this. It’s been impossible to ignore the passion she feels for her chosen topic, and how she has grown in confidence since she made the decision to apply for a place. I have to look at this as if Conal and I are not a thing (because, who knows, we might not be a thing soon enough) and maintain a separation-between-church-and-state approach to our friendship.
Becca and Laura are a distinct entity unconnected to Becca and Conal, or Conal and Laura. If I tell myself that often enough, I might start to believe it.
Right, Whitney, I think as I get out of the car and head for the centre.You can do this. There’s no need to get ‘So Emotional’ about things. This is just ‘One Moment in Time’ and you can get through it. You can be the ‘Queen of the Night’.
Then I can’t think of any more Whitney Houston songs so I just have to go in and face the music.
There’s a familiar musty-ness to all church halls. A hallowed combination of furniture polish, carpet that has been traipsed on by hundreds of wet shoes over the years and never quite dried out, and a lingering hint of egg and onion sandwiches, tea and incense. The humidity is also always uncomfortably high and the heating either on full pelt or out of order since the last century. In this case, it is hotter than the pits of hell, which feels appropriate in the circumstances.
Small groups of people – mostly women – are scattered through the room. There is laughter coming from most of them, which puts me a little at ease. I scan the room as I take off my coat before I fall victim to heatstroke, but I can’t spot Laura or Niamh. I do however see Deirdre.
Spying me, she breaks into a broad smile. ‘Becca!’ she says, walking towards me with her arms wide open in universal sign language for ‘give me a hug’. If she has been briefed on the complicated nature of my relationships dynamic she might look a little embarrassed or awkward, so I’m relieved by her approach. I don’t think she’d be pulling me towards her for a big squish if Laura had been baying for my blood behind the scenes.
‘Hey there,’ she says as she wraps her arms around me. ‘Lovely to see you! Are you nervous? I’m absolutely shitting the tights! I am not a singer. I can’t even hum in tune.’ Deirdregrimaces and then laughs. ‘When I was at school I had a mad notion I’d be the next Madonna so joined the school choir. The music teacher had a policy of letting everyone in. She regretted that when she heard me. Told me it would be okay if I just wanted to lip sync.’
‘Maybe we do that. Just hide in the back row and mime?’ I say in a low voice, hoping that none of the existing choir members will hear me. ‘My humming isn’t the best either.’
‘I’m for some back row antics if you are,’ Deirdre says.
‘Excuse me,’ a short man in black jeans and a perfectly pressed black shirt says. We both turn to look at him. He’s well groomed, his hair cut in a short back and sides. I’d put him in his mid-thirties perhaps, but it’s hard to tell. He could be anywhere from twenty-five to forty-five. It’s quite unsettling. He might be my peer, age-wise, or he might be young enough to be my son. That’s quite a thought.
‘There’s a rule in Just Sing!’ he says. ‘If it’s your first week, you have to sit in the front row. No exceptions. Ever.’
‘I’m sure if we sit in the back row and keep our heads down then no one will notice,’ Deirdre says with a wink.
‘Afraid not. The choirmaster misses nothing,’ the man says.
‘We can be very discreet though.’
Deirdre is holding her own against this man and it’s quite impressive to watch. ‘There are enough other first-weekers to keep him distracted.’
She’s not wrong. There is indeed quite a turnout. And we’re not the only ones looks absolutely terrified – it’s clear there are more than a few newbies.
‘I mean, you can try,’ the man replies. ‘But I don’t fancy your chances.’
‘You’ve not met the likes of us before though,’ Deirdre says. ‘We’re quite the force to be reckoned with when we get together!’
‘You’ve not met him before either,’ the man says with a smirk. ‘I can assure you, he is an even bigger force to be reckoned with. Or maybe I should say that I am a bigger force to reckoned with.’
Because of course, this smirking man in front of us is Karl O’Mahony – choirmaster of Just Sing! – and we have just put giant targets on our own backs. ‘Don’t look so scared,’ he says. ‘I’m absolutely lovely and I can guarantee I’ve heard worse singing and worse humming.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Deirdre says. ‘But since we’ve been well and truly rumbled, I promise we’ll try our best.’
‘No miming?’ Karl raises one eyebrow, which I’ve just noticed is perfectly shaped and plucked, and I fall absolutely in love with him and know that I will sing anything he asks me to.
‘No miming!’ I tell him. ‘We promise. Although you might just regret that and we won’t be offended if you ask us to lip-sync after all.’
‘Not at all,’ he says. ‘And welcome to Just Sing! We’re all here to have fun, and make some music. Don’t sweat it. It’s not like school – no one gets scolded if they make a mistake and for what it’s worth, I like the sound of the music teacher who let everyone have a chance. Now, I’m just going to say hello to our other new members and then we’ll get started.’ He smiles brightly and walks to the next group while Deirdre and I look at each other, mortified we got caught planning to cheat but also both very much enamoured with Karl.
‘Oh, he’s bloody brilliant, isn’t he?’ Deirdre coos.
‘He’s the kind of brilliant you want on your side. This might not be completely awful after all.’
‘Ach, you didn’t think it would be awful? Come on, sure it’s just a bit of fun. Isn’t that what this is all about? Having the craicand trying something we wouldn’t have had the nerve to try before?’
She’s right. Of course she’s right. But she doesn’t know that my nerves are running deeper and wider than simply singing in front of other people. Because walking across the perpetually damp carpets towards us now is Laura with what I imagine is the mirror image of my own nervous smile on her face.
22
