A Terrible Kindness(78)

‘If nothing else, it’s great hearing him sing after all these years – he’s a bit deeper these days.’

Jenny smiles at him, and he wipes his front tooth. ‘Thank you.’ She laughs and wipes hers.

William feels Martin’s hand close round his arm. ‘I’m going to ask you to sing with me after the break to show how the tenor part works for “Sweet Caroline”, all right?’

‘I’ve never sung it in my life.’

‘You could do it with your eyes closed.’

William glances at Jenny and Colin, and raises his eyebrows. ‘All right.’



After rehearsal, after singing to them, with them, William finds it easier to talk to the men; as if they’ve exhaled together and can breathe more easily. He knows a handful of names: David who’s deaf and looks like Catweazle, Phil with the missing tooth, Andrew who’s softly spoken but belts out the songs so hard his voice cracks. And Colin, the biscuit-eating accountant. They’re given sandwiches before they leave, cut into quarters, filled with fish paste, tinned salmon and egg, which disappear into mouths, pockets, and even under one woolly hat. David comes back from the door to shake William’s hand, which he finds unexpectedly touching.



‘Do you ever think it might be painful for them? Singing about love and how wonderful the world is?’ William leans on the wall while Martin locks up.

‘What did you feel? In the room?’ Martin drops the keys into his coat pocket and they start walking. ‘Did you feel they were in pain when they were singing?’

‘No,’ he has to admit, ‘but I felt awkward singing it with them.’

‘Just because they’ve lost everything, doesn’t mean they’ve stopped being human. I’m guessing most of them have probably been in love. Most of them have probably thought at some point, the world was a good place. The way I see it, singing about it keeps them in touch with who they were, are, could be. I don’t know, William, but when they really connect with the song, with the lyrics and music, it feels like it’s doing good, not harm. I’m damned if I’m going to look for songs that aren’t about love and life and loss and pain and joy. This is being human.’ He briefly raises both arms into the air. ‘I treat them like humans.’

William reaches across and pats Martin’s back.

‘Anyway, never mind them, did you enjoy it?’ Martin says, twisting his body briefly towards William as they turn right to cross Parker’s Piece.

‘Yes.’ William smiles. ‘Actually, I really did.’

‘What did you enjoy most?’

‘Just singing.’ He’s still grinning.

‘Nothing like it, is there?’ Martin talks to the pavement.

‘Seems not.’ He laughs, and Martin puts his arm round his shoulders and pulls him briefly towards him. ‘You’re great with them, Martin, really great.’

‘Doing what you love brings out the best in you.’

‘So, David doesn’t sing, but comes every week?’

‘Never misses. We sang in a service last Christmas and he stood there in the second row giving the congregation the evil eye, didn’t open his mouth once.’ Martin laughs.

As they walk the diagonal path, cyclists shoot by. William finds himself keeping to the very edge of the path, while Martin wanders to and fro.

‘I had a chat with Colin.’ William wants Martin to know he made an effort.

‘You got him on a good day. His wife left him when he wouldn’t get help for the booze. She hooked up with some high flyer and last year moved their two kids to London. It kills him. Big house, private schools. He’s not allowed to even see them.’

‘Ouch,’ says William.

‘Some days, he looks ready to kill.’

‘The room must be full of stories like that.’

‘Yep, but for an hour and a half, they can leave that at the door and have a good sing. They might have lost everything, but no one can take their voices.’

‘Who’s Jenny?’

‘Member of the church. She organises the rota for people to provide the refreshments and sandwiches. Quiet saints, the lot of them.’

Once they reach the cast iron lamppost in the middle of the common, William turns to Martin. ‘You’re disgusted with me for leaving Gloria, aren’t you?’

‘Not disgusted.’ Martin looks straight ahead. ‘It just seems such an unnecessary mess, William. You’re surrounded by people who love you. Surrounded.’

‘It’s not easy being loved by people you keep hurting.’

‘For fuck’s sake.’ Martin speeds up, head down, then stops dead momentarily. A cyclist swears, swerving to miss them. ‘Do you think anyone deserves being loved, really deserves it?’ He shakes his head and starts walking again. ‘You’re not special, William. You’re like all of us. Sometimes we’re the best we can be, sometimes the worst. It’s called being human.’ They head left towards Drummer Street. ‘I don’t know how to help you sort yourself out, but I know how you looked this evening. Alive. And surely, the point of being on this earth is to live. If singing brings you back to life, warms your heart, stirs your blood’ – he comes to another halt and faces William, putting a hand on each of his arms – ‘don’t you think it’s your duty to bloody well sing? As if your life depends on it?’ He lets go and walks on, his brogues a steady beat on the pavement. ‘It’s all I’ve got, William.’