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‘It’s not that simple, Mum. Things are complicated here.’
‘Typical,’ June said unkindly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘This is what you do, Sophie. Things don’t go to plan and you run away or bury your head in the sand. You need to follow through with your commitments.’
‘Things haven’t just got tough, Mum. I’m potentially missing a conductor and a soloist. A concert can’t take place without those things.’ Sophie sat down on the sofa, her nerves bristling.
‘You have to overcome problems like this, come up with solutions.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what the solution is yet. I’m working on it.’
‘This is just like you.’
‘What?’
‘You ran away to the countryside last time things got tough.’
‘This is hardly the same.’
Her mother scoffed.
‘I didn’t run away to Cranswell,’ Sophie said. ‘I left for my job.’
‘That’s what you keep telling yourself, love. You should have stayed here, faced the music.’
‘There is no music to face when you lose a child.’
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Sophie focused on her breathing and tried to see past the red mist that had descended. Her mother was infuriating. Why couldn’t she see how hard it was? It was the first time Sophie had mentioned what had happened to June in a long time.
‘Why can’t you see it, Sophie? Why can’t you see that staying here would have helped you to heal?’ June said. Her tone was gentle, but Sophie was past caring.
‘Why can’t you understand, Mum? I will never heal.’
‘Sophie, I—’
‘No! Why can’t you accept that I had to get away? Losing my baby girl was the single most appalling thing that has ever happened to me, or is ever likely to happen to me. I lost my child, my home and my partner in the space of forty-eight hours and after a week everyone thought I should be getting better, getting over it, as if it wasn’t the same as losing a parent or a best friend. She was twenty-two weeks old. I gave birth to her. She was alive in my eyes before I lost her. You insisted on going on, acting as if nothing had happened, willing me to get out there again and restart my life.’
Sophie’s mother breathed in as if to respond, but Sophie continued.
‘I will never get over it. Ever. Losing my little girl has changed me for ever. Why can’t you accept that and support me instead of trying to paper over everything as if it needs forgetting?’
‘Sophie, love …’
Sophie didn’t wait to hear what her mother had to say next. She threw her phone down onto the sofa and sat as far away from it as she could before bursting into tears.
Chapter Thirty-One
Inevitably, Tuesday came around again like a depressingly predictable bus journey in the rain. Sophie missed the days where she felt excited about going to rehearsal. These days, she always seemed to be a bag of nerves. And this week was no different, except to add to her anxiety, she felt desperately low after the previous day’s events. She met Kate, and they walked over to the town hall together, Sophie having filled her in about everything over the phone the night before, including what had brought her to Cranswell in the first place. They’d both cried, and Kate had stayed on the phone while Sophie stared into space, mourning her loss. Kate had been patient and understanding – a far cry from the way her mother had behaved. Only after a long time had they spoken again until Sophie had fallen asleep and Kate had hung up, sending a message to let her know if she woke and needed her, just to call.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Kate said as they crossed the threshold into the hall.
They arrived as several other members of the choir did. Sophie wrestled her way to the front of the group and opened the door, letting them all in. Inside, she set about putting out the chairs while Kate made herself comfortable. Greg and Albert waved when they entered and Sophie waved back, a slight smile on her face – just to keep up appearances. Nobody else needed to know her fears for the concert, or how awful things had got over the past couple of days. She just hoped Liam turned up – for the sake of the villagers and their concert.
It was only once the chairs were set out and people had taken their seats, looking around to see where their musical director was, that Liam finally made his entrance. He apologised as he hurried to the front of the room and busied himself rolling out the piano and setting up the music stand. ‘I’ll be five minutes,’ he said.
Sophie was both relieved and on edge. It was exhausting. Liam looked fraught with something on his mind, too. His hair was slightly dishevelled and his music books more disorganised than usual. He was red from his walk to rehearsal, and Sophie could tell he was hot and bothered. She felt numb when her stomach didn’t do the usual flip it did when she saw him.
