‘Lily, it’s your line,’ yelled Jasper from the seats below and she realised she was still mentally back in the hospital room with Gran.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’ She let out a sob as David, in his Henry Higgins hat, put his arm around her.
‘Lily?’ Sheila’s voice sounded anxious. ‘Are you all right?’ She came onto the stage as Jasper came up and Nick came rushing from backstage.
‘God I’m so sorry, I’m such a sook,’ she said.
‘You’re not a sook. Your grandmother is in hospital,’ Nick said to her.
‘Oh no,’ said Jasper. ‘Is she okay?’
Lily shook her head, tears falling freely down her cheeks. ‘I don’t know,’ she choked out. ‘I couldn’t… I can’t do it today and I want to because I want her to see it, but I can’t seem to focus.’
Nick held her close and helped her off the stage and down into the chairs on the floor as Jasper came and sat beside her.
‘That’s very sad, Lily. She’s a marvellous woman – very wise,’ he said.
Lily nodded, attempting to get herself together, but Jasper’s words just made her cry again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she reiterated. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’
‘Nonsense.’ Sheila was standing in front of her. ‘You’re right where you should be. We are a family here, Lily. We support one another through thick and thin. That’s what a company does.’
Lily looked up, astonished to find the rest of the cast gathering around, their expressions filled with concern and pity.
‘Why don’t we take a break?’ Sheila proposed. ‘David, turn on the urn. I believe we could all use a cup of tea and I have a lovely sponge cake and some of Mrs Douglas’s shortbreads for everyone.’
Lily started to cry again and shook her head, as though trying to set all the pieces in place in her brain.
As the cast dispersed, Sheila returned her attention to Lily. ‘What do you need?’
‘Why are you being nice to me? You’re Jessica’s aunt. I know what you think of me.’
Sheila swallowed. ‘I am not a terrible person, and yes, I will support Jessica, but I also know she might have misrepresented the truth recently and I have been unfair, blinkered by familial loyalty instead of common sense. And for that I am very sorry.’ She lifted her head proudly.
Lily nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said with a sigh.
‘I am very capable in a crisis, so why don’t you tell me everything and we can all work it out as a team, because that’s what we are, a team. The Appleton Green Amateur Drama Society.’
She spoke with a sense of kindness and also practicality that Lily admired. Sheila might be many things, but Lily had the sense she was someone you could rely on in a crisis.
And there, in the centre of the village hall, surrounded by the aroma of greasepaint and the distant sound of a kettle, Lily let it all out. Her anxieties, shame, and overpowering love for Gran all came spilling out.
Sheila listened carefully, her arm never leaving Lily’s shoulders and when Lily eventually became silent, Sheila murmured softly, ‘Your grandmother and I were not ever friends but she is a remarkable woman, and she raised an equally remarkable granddaughter.’
Lily managed a teary smile. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered.
‘Now,’ Sheila replied, her tone brisk. ‘This is what we are going to do. You’ll drink a cup of tea and then run through Act One. Not because we have to rehearse, but because music heals, Lily. It’ll serve you well and who knows, your grandmother might just make it to the show in time.’
Lily nodded, feeling a warm sensation in her chest for the first time since leaving the hospital. As David approached with a warm mug of tea, Lily realised that even if her world was shifting beneath her feet, she was not alone. She had her grandmother’s love, the love of Nick, her newfound family in the cast, and the healing power of music to help her get through.
32
Holding her leather satchel tightly, Lily walked through the gates of Silverton School. Less than one week to go to opening and she felt a chill in the air as she noticed the long shadows fall across the well-kept lawns in the morning sun. The air was cooler and crisper than it had been all summer and Lily knew autumn was on its way. Some people love summer for its heat or spring for the new growth but Lily and Gran’s most favourite season at Pippin Cottage had always been autumn. As September turned into October, the scenery around Derbyshire turned into a beautiful quilt of burnt oranges, golds and reds. The old apple tree in the garden, which was twisted but still bearing fruit, dropped its apples on the grass, filling the air with the sweet smell of apples that were about to ripen.
When Lily visited Gran during autumn when she was younger, she and Gran would sit on the little bench by the cottage door on cold mornings, wrapped up in woollen jumpers and drinking hot tea. They would watch the mist rise from the fields nearby.
In the cosy afternoons, they would make apple crumbles and blackberry pies. The old cooker would keep the house warm, and the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg was still one of Lily’s favourite smells. As night fell, they would start the fire in the hearth and the crackling flames would cast a warm glow over the living room, where they would read or listen to Radio 4. Sometimes Lily would lie in bed at night and hear the sound of the wind blowing through trees, whose leaves were changing colour, where the owls would call, the wind carrying their messages into the next village.
Maybe she would make a blackberry pie for Gran and take it into the hospital, she thought, and then had a reality check. She had rehearsals every night before opening and was teaching; she could hardly visit Gran let alone bake a pie.
