As they walked along a dimly lit windowless corridor, Audrey recalled the online advertisment she’d read so many times she’d committed it to memory.

Choir members wanted for a one-off performance. No experience necessary—just passion, commitment, and a love of music. Gala concert at the Royal Albert Hall on Saturday 25 June in aid of Save the Children’s Syria campaign. Concert to feature the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, the London Symphony Orchestra, and further performers TBC. Open auditions: Wednesday 23 March and Thursday 24 March at West11 studios, 17.00 –21.00. Nearest tube: Ladbroke Grove. For further information contact Ben Levine, Musical Director.

“Come on, Gran. Deep breaths. It’ll be fine.”

Audrey followed Phoebe into a large room where light fractured through metal bars to form splintered stripes across the floor. Orange plastic chairs lined the walls, only a few of which were unoccupied—at least thirty people were there already. Glancing around the room, she noticed a man of about her own age with thick-lensed spectacles that made his eyes seem to pop from his head like a cartoon character’s; a woman in her early thirties, headphones clamped to her ears, drumming on her thighs with her fingers; and underneath the window, a woman in her late forties who glanced up from her book and smiled briefly before settling back into her story.

Audrey willed some confidence to rise up from where it had sunk into the pit of her stomach as Phoebe led her to the far end of the room where a young man was sitting behind a trestle table, beaming at them.

“Hello there! Are you here for the audition? It’s super to see a younger face, although all ages welcome, of course. If you take a seat and fill out this form, Ben will be with you as soon as he can. There’s quite a few ahead of you in the queue—we’ve had rather a better turnout than we expected—but hopefully it shouldn’t be too long a wait.”

As Audrey took a seat next to Phoebe and dug a pen out of her bag, she scanned the room once more, wondering whether anyone else was trying to rewrite the script of their life before it was too late.

“Audrey Siskin? Ben’s ready for you now. Do you want to come up?”

Audrey’s stomach lurched as if making its own bid for freedom as she lifted herself from the chair, urging her legs to stop trembling. She glanced at Phoebe before following an earnest-looking young woman up the stairs.

On the floor above, striding across the audition room, hand outstretched, was a tall, attractive man of about forty, his dark hair thick and shiny as though he’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. He was beaming at Audrey with a warmth she hadn’t expected. “You must be Audrey? I’m Ben Levine. It’s great to meet you. Thanks so much for coming along today.”

His American accent took her by surprise. As Audrey shook his hand, her stomach nudging against the belt of her trousers, she tried not to think about the tumor in her liver making her tummy swell as though she were in the early stages of pregnancy in spite of all the weight she’d lost.