‘So, are you really thinking of going?’
‘Yes.’
‘Huh.’ And only Carole could say ‘Huh’ like that.
The atmosphere in the Function Room of the Crown & Anchor was jolly from the start. Though he’d been slow to accept the idea of a choir in the pub, Ted Crisp had softened his attitude, even to the extent of lighting the fire in the Function Room and – even more unexpected – providing free wine and nibbles for the participants. ‘Only for the first meeting,’ he cautioned. ‘Don’t think this is going to happen every time.’
Heather had smiled at this. Smiled with confidence, because it implied that the landlord envisaged continuity in her project. She was very serene that evening, again dressed in clothes with some colour in them, and pleased that her idea had come so quickly to fruition.
Her co-organizer, however, looked far from relaxed. KK Rosser, who had changed his denim jacket for a black leather one, seemed twitchy, constantly moving around while the participants were arriving, checking his chair, his guitar and an unruly cardboard folder, from which pages of musical scores spilled.
Perhaps, Jude hazarded, he was nervous because the role of choirmaster was a less familiar one for someone who had spent most of his professional life playing in front of audiences. On the other hand, he had claimed to Ted that he’d organized a similar set-up at a pub in Brighton. So, he should be used to the routine. Maybe there was another cause of his current disquiet.
Not for the first time, Jude found herself wondering about the precise nature of the relationship between Heather and KK. What Heather had said about wanting singing lessons and finding his ad in the Fethering Observer was plausible enough – or would have been plausible enough for someone who hadn’t been married to an apparent tyrant like Leonard Mallett. And Heather had admitted to lying to her husband about where she was going when she had her lessons with KK in Worthing, having to ensure that she returned to Shorelands Estate, ‘loaded with stuff from the Rustington Sainsbury’s.’ That was the kind of behaviour that might be expected from a woman who was having an affair.
Of course, if Heather Mallett had been having an affair, and if her husband had found out about it … given the fact that it was KK who had provided her alibi for the time of the death …
Jude knew that her mind was moving too quickly, making random connections where quite possibly none existed. Heather and KK’s relationship did bear thinking about, though. But not at that moment, not until the first meeting of the Crown & Anchor Choir had ended.
Given the casual nature of the announcement in the village newsletter, and the short notice, there was a very healthy turnout. About twelve Fethering residents were sufficiently curious to venture out of their houses into the cold March evening. Apart from Heather, all five of the church choir members who’d been in the pub after Leonard Mallett’s wake were there: Ruskin Dewitt, Bet Harrison, Shirley and Veronica Tattersall and Elizabeth Browning. Having witnessed Bob Hinkley’s anxiety about numbers, Jude hoped this didn’t represent a permanent shift of allegiance.
Because they came from Fethering, most of the participants knew each other at least by sight, and Ted’s free wine thawed any social reticence. There was a positive buzz of anticipation around the Function Room, and it took a few moments for Heather to command their attention.
‘Thank you all so much for coming.’ Then she gave her name, ‘… in case any of you don’t know me. What we’re here for today is obviously a new initiative, and the aim of the Crown & Anchor Choir is simply to have fun. I was always in choirs through school and university, and then right up until I got married …’ She coloured, aware that everyone in the room had speculated about her marriage and the manner of its ending.
But she recovered herself and continued, ‘And I always got enormous pleasure from singing with other people. For those of you who haven’t done it before, well, you have only to lift up a paper these days to find another article about the health-giving effects of choral singing. If you believe what they say, it’s the antidote to loneliness and depression and most of the other evils known to man. So, hopefully, the journey we’re embarking on tonight will not only prove enjoyable, but also therapeutic.
‘Before we start, a couple of people I want to thank. Ted Crisp, who I’m sure you all know, has not only allowed us to use this Function Room free of charge, but has also generously provided this evening’s wine and snacks.’ The landlord was no longer in the room. As soon as he’d opened the wine bottles, he’d scurried back to safety behind his bar. Beneath his gruff exterior, Ted was one of those innately generous people who got horribly embarrassed by being thanked for anything.
Jude was struck by how confidently Heather Mallett was addressing the group. The retiring ‘invisible woman’ of Fethering had been transformed into this highly competent initiative-taker. Jude found herself even more intrigued about what had actually gone on inside the Malletts’ marriage.
‘The other person,’ Heather went on, ‘to whom I owe an enormous debt of thanks is KK Rosser.’ The musician gave a wave, as if he’d just completed a guitar solo. ‘It was KK’s idea to get the Crown & Anchor Choir going, and he is going to bring his considerable musical expertise to us in the role of choirmaster. Incidentally, for those of you who haven’t heard him, KK is always very busy locally playing with his band Rubber Truncheon.’
Not that busy, thought Jude, remembering Ted Crisp’s views of the subject of KK’s gigs.
‘Anyway,’ Heather concluded, ‘I’m now going to hand over to him and …’ She stopped in response to the guitarist’s gesture of mercenary finger-rubbing. ‘Oh yes, I should have said: although KK was keen to give his services for free, I insisted that he must be paid something. So, he’s generously agreed that each of us should pay a fiver for every session of the choir that we attend. Which I think is very good value.’
Nobody disagreed. Though there was poverty in Fethering, over on the Downside Estate, the people who lived there weren’t the sort who’d be likely to join a choir. The residents of the rest of the village were typical middle-class, constantly worrying about money, but with no real reason to.
‘Good, glad you’re all happy with that. Well, over to you, KK.’
The guitarist seemed more relaxed now. Maybe he had just been nervous about meeting a new group of people. As he spoke to them, his voice took on a kind of laid-back mid-Atlantic twang. ‘Yeah. Thanks, Heather. Sorry about having to charge you, but we all need a bit of bread, don’t we? And, incidentally, first thing I want to do is to lose that handle “choirmaster”. Sounds really formal and uptight, and if there’s one thing these sessions ain’t gonna be, it’s formal and uptight.
‘We’re just here for the pleasure of putting a few tunes together. And, if any of you are a bit nervous about performing in public, don’t worry about it.’
‘Well, of course, I performed a lot in public, back in my Glyndebourne days. That was before the trouble with the nodules on my—’
Possibly pre-warned by Heather, KK didn’t allow Elizabeth Browning to get into her narrative stride. He continued, ‘The Crown & Anchor Choir doesn’t exist to do gigs, just to get together and sing. Sure, if in a while we get a good sound going and people hear it and offer us gigs … cool, we might do them. But that’s not the aim of the exercise. We’re just here to loosen those old vocal cords and make sweet music.
‘And it isn’t like an exam. It’s not competitive. If you’re a good singer, that’s cool. If you’re the kind who can just about hold a tune on a good day, that’s cool too. And don’t worry if you can’t read music. I’ve had a full-time career as a muso for longer than I care to remember, and I can’t read a note of music. Don’t forget, Paul McCartney can’t read a note of music either.’