A Terrible Kindness(81)
‘William! Wake up. You’re dreaming.’
He’s sitting up in bed, breathing heavily with the familiar blend of distress and relief. Martin’s next to him in T-shirt and underpants. He wonders briefly where he is and why Gloria isn’t there. He tries to quieten the panting, relax his tense arms, open his fists.
‘I didn’t know if I should touch you or not.’ Martin looks shaken.
William flops back onto his pillow. ‘Was I yelling?’
‘I’ll say.’ Martin smiles weakly. ‘I’ve kind of been waiting for it to happen, but you still scared the life out of me.’
‘You’ve been waiting for it to happen?’
Martin picks up the blanket that has fallen off the end of the bed and starts folding it. ‘Gloria told me once about the screaming, that’s all.’
Martin sits back on the bed in his underwear, hair tousled, T-shirt rucked up his back, and it suddenly feels like boarding school. William laughs suddenly. ‘I’m not easy, am I?’
Martin smiles. ‘You know I’ve always preferred interesting.’
William’s eyes blur and he doesn’t fight it. ‘I’ve made such a mess of everything.’
‘For the gentlest, most kind-hearted person I know, you are extraordinarily good at making a pig’s ear of things.’
A warm tear trickles into his ear. ‘You’re a good friend, Martin.’
‘I can see the music bringing you back to yourself. You shut it out as if it was the thing that hurt you, when all along, it’s been the thing that can save you.’ He puts a hand firmly on William’s leg. ‘Listen to it, sing it, teach it, breathe it, in and out, every day. You’ll get there.’
‘Mum’s getting married,’ he blurts out, pointing to his mantelpiece. ‘She wants me to go.’
Martin goes over and peers at the invitation. ‘Wow.’ He straightens and turns back to William. ‘That’s big.’ He sits back on the bed. ‘Will you?’
William shrugs. ‘I’m so bloody confused.’
‘Where are you going?’ William asks as Martin stands up. He doesn’t want to be on his own yet.
‘It’s three in the morning,’ Martin says, walking out, ‘where do you think I’m going?’ His head appears back round the door. ‘To make us cocoa, of course.’
54
Colin isn’t at choir. This concerns William more than he would have expected. There’s a fragility to all the Midnighters, but there’s something about Colin that particularly moves William. His way of holding his music so carefully in his hands. How he takes off his filthy donkey jacket and places it on the back of his chair, just so. William feels the chasm between what Colin has become and what he used to be; it settles in his chest and doesn’t go away until he’s walking home with Martin. He’s come to enjoy his sessions with the tenors. He doesn’t even mind that David always chooses to join them and spends the whole time staring at him.
During tea breaks, Colin’s told William that his ex-wife and two children live in London with her new husband, with his high-paid job in the City – though not as highly paid as Colin’s was five years ago, before he drank himself into oblivion with guilt over a miserable one-night stand. He has no visiting rights. He hasn’t seen his children for over a year. He wonders how his son is getting on at secondary school. He wonders if they call this man Dad. He wonders what his wife says to them about him.
Tonight, William takes the tenors to work on ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’. It’s not easy, because Gloria loves this song and they’re missing Colin, who always gets it first time. William is singing louder than normal to help drag them along. He wishes, as he’s singing, that he’d just once sung it to Gloria, really sung it. She’d have loved it. He could have hammed it up, but meant it as well. Ready to quash the thought, as he’s quashed a hundred thousand thoughts of her before, William decides to let it be, to let the music bring her to him. Let me feel the love and the sadness, he decides. And as he stands, beating time with his right hand, singing at almost full throttle, David steps out from the little huddle, his raised palm towards William. Everyone keeps singing as David approaches him. Inches away from him now, David’s whiskery face intent, blue eyes questioning, curious, he lays his palm on William’s chest. The pressure is warm and firm, and William feels the vibration from his singing against David’s splayed hand. The two of them maintain eye contact as David grins. Still with his hand on William, he twists round to look at the others. No one stops singing, but they all smile at the smiling David. When they’ve finished, he walks back to the group, snatching his hand into the air, as if he’s just touched something hot. A small round of applause breaks out, and although William isn’t quite sure what it’s for, he joins in.
Later, as they’re eating and loading up with sandwiches, William stands on a chair and asks if anyone knows where Colin is. No one does.
‘What do you do when one of them goes missing?’ William asks on the way home. Parker’s Piece is soggy after a short shock of a shower and the surprised earth smells strongly of the new season.
‘I run a choir, not a hostel.’
‘Aren’t you ever tempted to do more?’