‘You should audition, Lil. It will be good for you to practise in front of people again,’ Gran said. ‘It’s probably all in your mind. You’ve spooked yourself.’
She glared at her grandmother as she stood up and made them tea.
‘I’ll spook you in a minute,’ she hissed at Gran who looked at Nick.
‘See what she says to me.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s elder abuse.’
‘I think it’s granddaughter coercion and manipulation,’ she joked and she looked to Nick. ‘Thank you for the offer though.’
‘You should audition,’ he said. ‘We don’t have an Eliza, and if we don’t get one then Sheila will take it and she’s sixty and definitely not a soprano. She’s more a baritone to be honest.’
Lily burst out laughing. ‘She will probably knife the lead to get the role on opening night, all very noir.’
She saw Gran turn her nose up at her words as Nick kept speaking.
‘Yes, she’s very invested, shall we say. My ex-girlfriend, who is also her niece, and I met on the set ofChicago. I played Billy Flynn; Sheila played Matron, although she was insistent she could play Roxie Hart.’
Lily nodded, noting the mention of the ex-girlfriend.That’s a shame for Nigel,she thought but she felt herself smiling a little brighter.
Nick picked up the mug of tea. ‘Think about auditioning. Jasper would love to see you, I’m sure, and if it entices you, like I said, I’m hoping to play Freddy.’ He laughed but somewhat shyly, and that pleased her a little. He was somewhat unaware of his looks and that, after being around people in the theatre, was a lovely change of pace. She swallowed, but the lump in her throat was gone for a moment.
‘I’m only here for a month,’ she said quickly.
She felt Gran’s eyes on her.
‘Why doesn’t your ex, I mean Sheila’s niece, audition for the role of Eliza?’ she asked casually.
‘She’s actually in London, trying to make it on the West End,’ he said somewhat sheepishly.
‘Oh really? I wonder if I know her. Has she had any luck?’
‘I don’t know, we don’t stay in touch,’ he said, his face giving away nothing. ‘I’m sure Sheila will tell me everything.’
‘Auditioning is a hard slog,’ she said. ‘Takes a while to get going.’ She thought how long it had been for her so far, with only a few breaks and no leading role on the West End.
‘Anyway, we have auditions tomorrow night, if you’re keen,’ said Nick. ‘No pressure though. Why don’t I pop by when I’m coming through? I can check on Violet and see if you want to come by. At worst it’s a chance to try your voice out.’
Lily thought for a moment and then looked at his face and smiled. ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘Might be a good test.’ And a chance to spend a little time with him, she told herself.
‘Oh wonderful news,’ said Gran clapping her frail hands. ‘Now give Nick a piece of Mrs Douglas’s shortbread to celebrate.’
8
Lily woke and wondered if she had made a terrible mistake agreeing to go to the audition. That was the problem with her and handsome men: she seemed to lose her willpower to make smart decisions.
She walked downstairs and set up breakfast for Gran, then she let the cat outside and left the back door open. It was a beautiful morning and Lily remembered how much she loved hearing nothing.
The noise pollution in London was so distracting, you couldn’t get away from it. Even in the flat with Nigel, she could hear the cars and people moving about the apartment building, or music and horns and lorries.
Here she couldn’t hear anything other than the garden. The tranquillity of Appleton Green encircled Lily like a cosy blanket, providing her with a sense of comfort as she leaned against the doorframe in her nightgown and cardigan. Here, in the middle of the countryside, a different kind of symphony was being played.
Lily had always had excellent hearing; she was also pitch-perfect. It was a skill not many have and she could hear all the beauty around her. The sound of the leaves gently rustling in the old apple tree was the first thing that drew her attention. The sound was so subtle that it was almost like a whisper, as if the tree was gossiping with the wind about something. Probably her return, she thought with a smile. The pattern was calming, rising and sinking with each breeze that blew through the garden.
Underneath this, Lily was able to pick up on the sound of the blackbirds singing. It sounded like an operetta singer, in contrast to the monotonous cooing of London’s pigeons. She closed her eyes, and heard the chirpy trill of a robin, and the rapid-fire chatter of sparrows.
There were some cows making themselves known in the farm not too far away, a soft, low sound that appeared to roll across the fields, like a pleasant sort of baritone.
And the sound of the ever-present undercurrent of buzzing insects served as the garden’s rhythm section. The hum of bees could be heard as they flitted from flower to flower, their hard labour producing a background noise that was not quite audible, but if Lily concentrated she could hear them. Occasionally, a dragonfly would whirr past, a lovely snare drum of a sound from its wings. Oh it was so good to be back.
