Lily presses her palms to her head, wondering what people would say if they found out the truth. But she knows the chances of anyone asking about her holidays when she returns to school in January are remote. Over the past term she has managed to distance herself from everyone with whom she used to be friends. It has been easier than she imagined to cut herself off: after the reports in the local newspaper and the rumors on the grapevine, Lily’s friends have been only too glad to steer clear of her, as though her family’s adversities might be a contagious disease they are in danger of catching. Lily has buried herself in her studies, not just because schoolwork is the only activity that allows her to forget, but because she knows that studying is her only route out: away to university and toward the possibility of becoming someone new, someone different, someone better.

Lily turns her head and looks up the stairs. She can’t imagine ever going up there again without the ghost of her father dangling from the rafters, daring her to walk past him. She can’t imagine ever tiptoeing across the landing without remembering what she saw in the bedroom that morning, three months before her father’s suicide: the hummingbirds on the wallpaper, the figures on the bed, the bittersweet smell she had never known before and hopes never to know again. The sound of crying that still rings in her ears if she does not make a conscious effort to block it out.

From the kitchen below Lily hears a muffled cry. She clamps her hands over her ears, knowing she should go downstairs and comfort her mum, but she does not move. She fears that, faced with the intensity of her mum’s grief, she will reveal things she knows must be kept hidden. Instead she sits alone, palms pressed to her head, aware of the huge empty cavern that the events of the summer have left behind, an abyss she fears may never be filled.

Chapter 25

Audrey

“Are you sure you don’t mind giving me a lift today, Ben? It’s more than enough you driving me home after Wednesday rehearsals. I’m not going to make you late for any plans, am I?” Audrey watched as Ben shuffled some sheets of music on top of the piano and threw a stack of discarded plastic cups into the bin.

“Honestly, it’s fine. The student I teach on Saturday is away this week so I’m totally free. Just let me get this lot cleared up and then we’ll be good to go.”

There was laughter from the far side of the rehearsal room and Audrey turned to see Phoebe chatting with some of the younger choir members she’d befriended over the past month. One of them—Harry—seemed to laugh louder than the others at her jokes, reaching out a hand to touch her arm, training his gaze on her long after she’d finished speaking.

As Audrey caught Phoebe’s eye and returned her granddaughter’s smile, she realized that she looked forward to these choir rehearsals—and her art classes with Mia—more than she had looked forward to anything for years. “Ben, it really is a wonderful thing you’re doing here. Not many people would give up their evenings and weekends voluntarily to put something like this together.”