“Your daughter—Erin, isn’t it? How old is she?”

He took a deep breath, as if something in the air might provide him with the fortitude he needed. “She just turned sixteen. I . . . I haven’t seen her in a while. I’ve been traveling. After Zach . . . it was just . . . it was just too . . .”

His voice faded and Audrey watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the pinching of the skin at the bridge of his nose. She could almost feel the heat of his grief. She thought about placing her hand on his back, wondering whether there was any way of telling him that she understood without either of them having to say anything at all.

“Mr. Levine? I’m sorry to interrupt but one of the stage managers needs to have a quick word with you. Would you mind coming with me?”

Ben looked up, eyes glazed, as though he’d just woken from a deep winter sleep. He shook his head as if trying to free his thoughts before looking up and nodding at the young man wearing a headset, carrying a clipboard, and fidgeting from one foot to the other as though precious seconds were being unnecessarily wasted. “Will you excuse me, Audrey? I’ll be back soon. I want to get the choir together for a pep talk before we go onstage so don’t let anyone wander off, OK?”

He smiled at her, all traces of distress wiped from his face, and headed down the corridor with the young man.

Audrey watched him until he’d rounded the corner. She leaned against the wall, her shoulders lighter now that she’d told him the truth. It was as though her diagnosis had lost a little of its power now she had entrusted it to someone outside the family.

She turned around and walked into the dressing room where her fellow choir members were waiting to go onstage, hoping that Phoebe would find her way back soon.

“OK, folks, can you all gather around? Can you guys hear me at the back? Harry, Siobhan—can I have some quiet, please?”

Audrey shuffled forward with the rest of the choir to where Ben was standing on a wooden crate, head and shoulders above them all. She looked back toward the door just as Phoebe rushed in.

“God, Gran, this place is a rabbit warren. I thought I’d never find you. What have I missed—anything important?”

“No, you’re just in time. Ben’s only just called us together.”

Audrey squeezed Phoebe’s hand and looked up at the clock on the wall—five minutes until the concert began, thirty-five minutes until they were due onstage—before turning her attention back to Ben.

“I just wanted to say a few words. First off, I want to thank you all. It’s been a crazy three months and I know some of you doubted at the outset that it was possible to whip a hundred random strangers into a choir in such a short space of time. To be honest, I doubted it myself once or twice . . .”