“Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” Ben looked at her, eyebrows raised, and then glanced over her shoulder to his assistant. “Audrey Siskin—I can honestly say that you’ve made my day. That was incredible. You say you’ve never sung professionally before?”

Audrey shook her head, words still eluding her.

“Well, all I can say is that whatever brought you here today, I’m damn pleased that you came.” He was standing up now, grinning at her.

“So . . . It was OK?”

“OK? God, if everyone auditioning today was half as good as you we’d be giving Gareth Malone a run for his money. It was fantastic. If you give your contact details to Caitlin, she’ll keep you updated on everything. But the first rehearsal is two weeks from today and then we’ll be rehearsing every Wednesday evening and Saturday afternoon—you can do that, right? And you know the concert is on June twenty-fifth? We have just over eleven weeks to turn all you auditionees into a professional choir.”

Audrey nodded, her head feeling as though she’d just drunk two glasses of prosecco in quick succession. As she told her details to Caitlin, she tried not to think about her next appointment with the oncologist in three weeks’ time, tried to reassure herself that there was no reason she wouldn’t stay well enough for long enough to see this through.

Chapter 6

Lily

At the top of the white stucco steps leading to her front door, Lily cursed as her key jammed in the lock. It had been two days since she’d asked the housekeeper to get it fixed but clearly it hadn’t been mended yet. She managed to wiggle her key at just the right angle to unlock the door before gesturing to the waiting cab that she’d only be ten minutes.

“Phoebe! It’s me! Are you home?” The house was silent. She kicked off her shoes and ran up the stairs to Phoebe’s room. “Phoebe, are you in there? I’m only popping back quickly. I’ve got a cab waiting outside.”

Still nothing. Lily listened, her head pressed against the wood, then eased open the door, knowing the wrath she’d face if Phoebe were inside and she entered without explicit permission. But the room was empty.

Silence resounded through the deserted house, the stillness prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. Standing on the threshold to her daughter’s bedroom, the quietness enveloping her, Lily found herself remembering all those nights she had lain awake in her childhood bed, hearing things she knew she shouldn’t. A conversation from decades earlier began whispering in her ears, trying to draw her in, forcing her to remember: voices hissing into the silence after their owners had thought everyone had gone to sleep, Lily lying under her duvet, knowing she should put her fingers in her ears to shut them out but being unable to stop herself listening.

How could you? How could you have done that? I will never, ever be able to forgive you.