When I Fall In Love. Miranda Dickinson

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      ‘It’ll be fun and inclusive, more than anything.’

      ‘Babe – we can’t lose. We’ll be the only choir with destiny on our side.’

      ‘And we’ll make the songs interesting and different. Try to avoid some of the choir clichés and create a repertoire that they want to sing.’ Elsie hesitated, as a thought occurred. ‘People will come, won’t they?’

      Woody’s conviction was Jedi-like. ‘If we ask them, they will come.’

      The day of the widely advertised first choir meeting arrived, and Elsie spent most of it wrestling with nerves and trying her best not to dwell on the possible outcomes for the evening. It was as if she was at the edge of a tall precipice, her toes dangling over a two-thousand-foot sheer drop, waiting to take a step of faith: thrilling and utterly terrifying in equal measure.

      Daisy arrived a little after seven that evening, with an unapologetic Woody appearing twenty minutes later.

      ‘I was seeking inspiration,’ he shrugged. ‘You can’t rush that.’

      By eight, Elsie was trying not to check her watch, Daisy was pacing the floor and even Woody was beginning to show signs of apprehension.

      ‘What time was on the posters?’ Cher asked.

      ‘Seven-thirty,’ Daisy and Woody chorused.

      ‘Ah.’ She looked uneasy. ‘Perhaps they’re caught in traffic. Wednesday nights, you know …’ Unconvinced by her own argument, she fell silent.

      ‘Nerves, man. That’s what it is. Deep down the whole town knows this choir is about to shake the establishment.’

      ‘It’s a choir, Woody, not a political movement.’

      Woody regarded Daisy with disdain. ‘So you say.’

      Daisy ignored him. ‘This is ridiculous. They’re not coming, Els. Let’s just call it a night.’

      Elsie considered the disheartened group. Part of her wanted to pack up and go home, but she had been so sure people would respond – surely that level of certainty counted for something? ‘You can go, if you like. I’m going to wait to see if anyone turns up.’

      ‘Suit yourself. If you don’t mind, I’ll head off.’ Daisy picked up her coat.

      ‘Yeah, you go, girl,’ Woody replied. ‘Leave the believers keeping the dream alive.’

      Incensed, Daisy pointedly dropped her coat over the back of a chair and sat down again. ‘Then I’m staying, too.’

      Elsie groaned and stepped outside, leaving the Mexican standoff in the ice cream café behind her. The early-April evening was clear and a slight breeze sent goosebumps along her arms as she gazed up the quiet street. While she didn’t want to admit it to the group inside, she could feel her optimism fading like the light in the early evening sky above. Maybe the venue was wrong, or the night of the week? She shivered as a gust of wind whipped along Gardner Street. If there was one thing that could be said about her, she reminded herself, it was that Elsie Maynard wasn’t a quitter. This was, she told herself, merely a blip. It may not be the establishment-rocking, quasi-revolutionary idea that Woody seemed to think it was, but starting this choir was something she wanted to do. Therefore, she had to find a way to make it happen …

      ‘Am I too late?’

      Elsie turned her head to see a tall figure approaching. As the light from the café window illuminated his face she felt her heart lift.

      ‘Olly! I’m so pleased to see you.’

      Olly’s smile was easy and completely welcome. ‘That’s the best reception I’ve had all day. So, how’s it going?’

      Elsie’s shoulders dropped. ‘It’s not. The only people here are my sister, my boss and Woody.’

      ‘Ah.’

      ‘I know. But now you’re here, so that’s a step in the right direction.’

      ‘Mmm. Only slight problem is that I can’t stay, I’m afraid. I was on my way to a family thing and thought I’d look in.’

      The bright glimmer of hope in Elsie’s heart spluttered out. ‘Oh, I see. Thank you, though – for thinking of me.’

      His brow furrowed and he held up his hand. ‘Wait there.’

      Elsie watched as he raced off, ducking into a doorway about fifty yards down the street. Taken aback, Elsie remained obediently outside the shop, pulling her thin cardigan around her shoulders to ward off the evening chill. For a full five minutes, she waited, peering in the direction Olly had disappeared for any sign of his return. Finally, just as the tips of her fingers were beginning to numb, a shaft of light flooded into the street from the doorway and Olly stepped out, accompanied by five others. Elsie could hear their excited conversation as the group approached.

      ‘Here you are: choir volunteers!’ he announced happily.

      ‘But how did you …? Where …?’

      Olly dismissed her questions. ‘Doesn’t matter. You can buy me coffee when we meet on Saturday.’

      Elsie frowned. ‘Which Saturday?’

      ‘Whichever Saturday you like. As long as it’s soon. Not saying you owe me or anything but …’ he indicated the small group of people around him. ‘Deal?’

      It was impossible not to smile at his brazen cheek. ‘Fine, deal.’

      ‘Excellent. I’ll call you. Now, don’t you have a rehearsal to run?’ With a grin so wide it would make the Cheshire Cat envious, he left Elsie on the street surrounded by the volunteers. She watched him leave, the surprise of this new development tingling through her, before bringing herself back to the present and ushering the group inside.

      Daisy and Woody’s faces were a picture when she appeared with the new choir members and they sprang into action, shaking hands, taking names and contact details and arranging the chairs into a circle in the middle of the room. The first members of the choir were a diverse group of people indeed: nineteen-year-old Danny Alden and his bird-like girlfriend Aoife McVey; self-assured twenty-nine-year-old Sasha Mitchell; fifty-something taxi driver Stan Goodson and quiet pensioner Irene Quinn. It transpired that they had all been drinking in the pub at the end of the street when Olly had burst in and silenced the patrons with an impassioned appeal for choir members. Whether he had offered anything in return was unclear, although Elsie suspected money might have been placed behind the bar to quench the thirst of potential volunteers. But it didn’t matter – whatever his modus operandi, Elsie was immensely thankful for Olly’s assistance and, she had to admit, more than a little thrilled by it.

      Once the group had assembled and had been furnished with coffee by Cher, Elsie motioned for the meeting to begin.

      ‘Thank you all, so much, for being here this evening. I know that none of you were expecting to join a choir today.’

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