A thought gripped Flora like a pall of ice: shemight have to do anaudition. She could barely smile back at James. Why hadn't she asked Geoffrey aboutauditions? It was perfectlynormal, after all, to check that someone could sing before allowing them into your choir,which had a very good reputation. Charles's words about the standard of the choir, which she suddenlyremembered, added tenfold to her anxiety.
‘Nice to see you, Flora.' James shook her hand. 'Soprano?’
Flora nodded. 'You probably don't need any more sopranos. I don't have to join the choir . .
James, possibly seeing how nervous she was, ignoredthis. 'You go and sit down overthere. Moira will look after you.’
Moira, a tall woman wearing several layers ofcardigans and sweaters, smiled and patted the seat beside her. 'Come and sit here, by me. This is Freda, andJenny. We're the topsopranos. The seconds are the naughty ones, in the back.' She turned round and indicatedthree women who seemed to Flora to bemodels of respectability.
One of them said, 'We cherish our subversivenatures,' so dryly thatFlora couldn't decide if she was joking or not.
But even a joke that might not have been was something, and Flora began to relax a little. Otherpeople drifted in andtook their seats, which were arranged in two semi-circles near the piano. Theyall smiled at her in a friendlyway which gave Flora courage to ask Moira, 'Will I have to audition?'
‘Oh no,' she said. 'James will soonsniff you out if you can't sing.'
‘Andthen what happens?'
‘You get sent a letterwith a black spot on it,' said Moira.Then she nudged Flora firmly in the ribs. 'I don't know! It's never happened! Just don't sing tooloudly to begin with.’
Certain that no noise would be audible from herlips, however hard she tried, Flora nodded.
‘Right.' James called the choir toorder, and after a bit more chattingand catching up, he gained their attention.'Welcome to Flora, who's come to give us a try. Let's do a few scales towarm up. On Ah!’
Flora found, after a few minutes, that she wasreally enjoyingherself. At first, she had wondered why on earth she had elected to be in a freezing coldchurch, wearing someoneelse's fleece, on a beautiful summer evening,but as her voice remembered what it had done so easily when she was at school, the joy ofsinging in a group came back to her.
She was glad of the fleece. She would have appreciated fleecy track-suit bottoms to go with it. Herbare legs and peony sandalswere soaking up the cold like water. But she still lovedit. Looking over Moira's shoulder trying tosight-read, with Moira's strong, confidentvoice in her ear, she was sure she made no sound at all, but that was tine, she wanted to be quiet, not to make any mistakes. She badly wanted to be allowedto stay in the choir.
Flora was surprisingly tired when James finally finished with them. She mentioned it to Moira who said, 'It's probably because you haven't breatheddeeply for years. You'll get used to it.'
‘How was that?' asked James, whenFlora went to say goodbye and thank you.
‘Fine. I loved it. I'm a bit worriedabout the sight-reading though. I'm very rusty.'
‘That will improve very quickly. I'mglad you enjoyed it. See you next week?'
‘Definitely.' Flora felt a sense ofachievement. It wasn't really anything to be proud of, stumbling her waythrough a choir rehearsal, but she feltshe'd dipped a successful toe in the water of country life.
*
As Geoffrey drove her back through the countryside, some of Flora's optimism left her. Would she beable to cope without thecomforts she was used to? Out here therewould only be the sounds of wild creatures to disturb the night. Even the motorway was too far tohear unless you really listened.There wouldn't be the reassuringtick of taxis delivering people home from parties, the knowledge that a few streets away therewas an all-nightshop, willing to sell her anything her heart desired. There wasn't a cinema locally, and even thestation was a half-hour's drive away. (Charles had informed her of the lack of facilities with dryrelish.) Then the thought ofAnnabelle, her undisclosed plans forcost-cutting, sacking Geoffrey, taking over the family firm, her familyfirm, stiffened her sinews. She could cope, would cope, admirably, and when she went backto London (which just now seemedsomething to be longed for,like Christmas was for small children), she would be a stronger, better-qualified woman.
It was a beautiful area, she admitted, observingthe trees, thehedgerows, the hills beyond. Perhaps nature would sustain her in the way taxis and shoe shopshad in the past.
Geoffrey offered to come in with her, to checkeverything was all right. She acceptedgratefully.
Together they walked up the path. 'Well, the lightsstill work,' said Flora. 'I can see that.'
‘Everything will still work. It's agood little house. I used to come andsee to things when they let it last year. I know it's in good order.’
Floraopened the front door. 'I wonder how Imelda is.’
They went to the nest they had made for her so carefully. She wasn't there.
‘Oh my God!' Flora's hands flew to herface. 'Where can she be?' Instantlyshe imagined Imelda escaping through an undiscovered hole and being set upon byfoxes.
‘Don't panic. She can't have got outof the house. Let's have a look around.’
It was somehow no surprise to Flora when they discovered Imelda, and four little multi-coloured shapes, in among the shoes she'd dumped out of theircarrier bag into the bottom of herwardrobe. 'Oh Imelda! How could you? It must have been souncomfortable!'
‘I'll run down and get the bedding,' said Geoffrey,
‘while you rescue your shoes. She might not likebeing interfered withbut they need something more than just a heap of spikes to sleep on.’
Forgiving Geoffrey's dismissal of some of herfavourite possessions,Flora stroked Imelda's head. 'You're very clever and I'm very proud of you, butdo you have any idea how muchthose shoes cost?' Flora had lived on soup for weeks to buy some of them.
Imelda, who was very proud of herself and herkittens, didn't greatlycare, but to Flora and Geoffrey's relief, she seemed to take quite kindly to being gentlytransferred from thejumble of Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choosto
