Annie Lyons - The Choir on Hope Street - A gorgeously uplifting romantic comedy to make your heart sing!

So it was something of a shock when I opened the door just after seven to find Dan standing on the doorstep, a lop-sided smile on his lips. I glanced down at my bobbled bunny pyjama-bottoms, tracing my gaze up to my oh-sobaggy but oh-so-comfortable hot-pink hoodie. No-one could pull this look off and call it style, not even Kate Moss.

‘This is a surprise,’ I ventured, offering the understatement of the year. I realised at that moment that a fortnight had passed since Dan’s departure. This time two weeks ago, we had been happily married. Everything had been fine. What a difference a bombshell makes.

I felt a sudden surge of panic that he was coming round ‘to talk’. I didn’t want to be dressed like this when we talked. I wanted to be wearing something smart and sexy – those jeans he’d always liked with that top he said made my breasts look magnificent. I wanted to look magnificent as he told me why he wanted our marriage to end. I wanted him to be sure because I felt certain that if I reminded him of what he would be missing, he would change his mind. It would be like cooking bacon for a conflicted vegetarian and watching them drool. I definitely didn’t want to have this conversation with unwashed hair whilst dressed like a sloven.

‘Ed called me,’ he explained. ‘Said you needed a babysitter?’

This made me cross, firstly because Ed had called Dan without asking me and secondly because Dan had described himself as a ‘babysitter’. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to babysit your own son. I think it’s just called ‘being a parent’.

We were still standing on the doorstep and Dan was peering past me, inching forwards. I was on the brink of telling him that he was mistaken and shutting the door when I heard Woody say, ‘Hey, Dad.’

I stood back, defeated, and allowed Dan to pass. I looked down at the floor as he did so. I didn’t want the awkwardness of that moment when we were supposed to look each other in the eye and kiss. I couldn’t bear it.

‘Hey, fella,’ said Dan, approaching his son and drawing him into a hug.

‘What are you doing here?’ The question was simple but heart-breaking at the same time. It had only been a fortnight and yet Woody seemed used to the fact that Dan was now a visitor to our house.

Dan glanced at me. He heard it too. ‘Well,’ he replied. ‘Your mum is going out so I thought I would come by and hang out with you for a bit, if that’s okay?’

Woody shrugged. ‘Okay. Do you want to see my new Match Attax cards? I swapped Diego Costa Hundred Club for Daniel Sturridge Star Player.’

‘Cool,’ said Dan, ruffling his son’s hair. He transferred his gaze to me. It was a look that said, You’re good to go.

I was thinking, Don’t make me go. I don’t want to go. Let me stay. Please. I’ll be no bother. I want to sit with you both, to just hang out and be. I want to keep hold of my family, to keep us together somehow.

But they had disappeared into the living room, already lost in their chat about over-paid footballers, and I was left in the hall doing my best not to cry.

No-one was more surprised than me when I found myself standing in the draughty community hall, forty minutes later, with twenty or so mostly female would-be singers. It had been the call from Ed which had finally persuaded me to come. I snatched up my phone as soon as I saw his ID.

‘I hate you,’ I answered.

‘Well, I love you,’ he replied. ‘And I’m not sorry. You need to get out of that house, and you can always talk to Dan when you get home. You can have a calm chat, instead of a hysterical, please don’t die, oh you’ve only got a hernia, type conversation.’

‘Ha bloody ha. You basically made me do that.’

‘How so?’

‘You told me to go get my man.’

‘Yeah, “Go get your man.” Not, “Blatantly misunderstand the situation.”’

‘Whevs. Did I mention that I hate you?’

‘Except you don’t. Now I’m off to flirt outrageously with the beautiful Mark. Go, sing your heart out and I’ll call you tomorrow for a de-brief, ’kay?’

‘O-kay.’ I hung up feeling a little cheered. He was right. Annoying, but right.

There was an air of anticipation but also excitement, matching my own, as I walked into the hall. The chairs had been arranged in rows and people stood with their friends, eyeing Guy with interest and chatting nervously. I already knew a few faces. Caroline gave me a nod of acknowledgement with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was there with her school playground clique. Pamela gave me a cheery wave and Doly looked up and smiled too. Jim the postman wandered over to greet me.

‘Hello, Jim, I didn’t have you down as a choir man,’ I said, grateful to see a friendly face.

‘Actually, I used to be in a band in the nineties,’ he replied with pride.

‘Oh, wow, anyone I’ve heard of?’

‘So you know Take That?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I replied, ready to be impressed.

‘Well, I was Robbie Williams in a tribute band called A Million Love Songs.’

‘Oh. Wow. That’s pretty impressive.’

Jim looked sheepish. ‘Yeah well, it was until, you know, Robbie left the real Take That. So I had to go too.’

‘That’s a shame.’

Jim shook his head. ‘Nah, Gary was a dickhead so I didn’t mind really. We had creative differences.’

‘Art imitating life,’ I added, swallowing down a giggle.

‘Exactly,’ nodded Jim earnestly.

‘Right everybody, shall we make a start?’ The voice was direct and no-nonsense. We turned as one. ‘My name is Guy Henderson. Thank you for coming along tonight to the first rehearsal of the Hope Street Community Choir.’

There was a small cheer. Caroline and her entourage gave a cheerleader ‘Yay!’ of approval.

Guy’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Caroline, would you like to say anything before we begin?’

Caroline rose to her feet and turned to face us. She placed her hand on her heart. ‘I just wanted to say thank you so much for coming. It means a great deal to me and I know it will mean a great deal to our community.’ It was starting to sound like an Oscar speech. ‘I am sure that with Guy’s help, we can make this choir into something vital for us all and that with the money we raise, we’ll be able to save Hope Street hall!’ Her clique whooped and cheered whilst everyone else clapped politely. ‘Over to you, Guy.’ Caroline bowed like a news reporter handing back a live-link.

I thought I noticed a raised eyebrow of amusement on Guy’s face but it was fleeting. He gave Caroline a gallant nod of thanks before turning back to the assembled company. ‘So, I want this to be fun and something we can be proud of but it’s going to be hard work too. For tonight, we’re going to do some warm-up exercises and get to know our voices. I’ve got a couple of songs to try and next week we start in earnest. Pamela here –’ Pamela waved her hand like the queen and we all laughed ‘– is going to collect subs and organise a tea and coffee rota because apparently that sort of thing is very important.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘And I shall do my best to teach you the songs. Okay, find yourself a seat – those who like to sing “ high ”,’ he singsonged this word with an impressive falsetto, ‘please sit to my left, and those who prefer to sing “low”,’ he added in a trembling tenor, ‘place yourselves to my right.’

I found a seat next to Doly, who rewarded me with a nervous smile. ‘Can you sing?’ I asked.

She gave a little side-to-side nod. ‘So so,’ she replied. ‘My husband says I can but my children tell me to stop!’ I laughed, feeling a fraction more relaxed.

‘Right,’ began Guy, taking his place behind the keyboard. ‘Let’s warm up our voices, shall we? Standing with your feet apart, relax, drop your shoulders. Don’t look so worried – I’m not going to make anyone sing a solo. Yet.’ His humour had the desired effect and as we laughed, we relaxed a little more. ‘That’s better,’ he grinned. ‘So, we’ll begin by humming up and down an arpeggio, like this.’ He played a chord and echoed the sound with four notes. ‘La-la-la-la, la-la-laaaah,’ he sang in a beautiful, clear voice. ‘And now it’s your turn.’ Several people cleared their throats nervously. Guy played the same chord and we joined in.