Nonno sits on the back row. I can see him once I’ve cleaned my glasses. He takes his hat off and places it on the church pew next to him. He doesn’t see me, but I watch him for a bit and this calms me down. Despite what I said to Riley, I am nervous. Just a little bit.

The church fills up – we’ve sold out. I keep looking and looking, searching the rows of people for him. I try and picture him on the ferry, his dark hair, his rich skin, his denim jacket, or was it leather? I can remember his lips and his grin, which was almost sly but just shy of it. But that’s it. It’s hardly a photofit but we decided not to send each other photos; it was too cheesy. I scan the faces in front of me and smile when I spot Callie and her parents – they must have got here really early to get such good seats. Ethan’s there too, sitting on the end of the aisle just in case he needs to leave. Callie gives me a massive over-the-top thumbs up and I roll my eyes at her. She pokes her tongue out at me then puts her hands together as if she’s going to pray. I snort but I’m so glad she’s here. It makes me feel calmer.

‘He’ll be here, then you can tell him your good news,’ someone whispers in my ear, making me jump. I turn in surprise and bump noses with Mum. My glasses fly off and the programmes she was carrying thud to the floor. She leaps forwards to catch the programmes and treads on my glasses. We hear the scrunch.

‘Oh no! Hope, your glasses. I’m so sorry…’ she starts.

‘What are you doing, creeping up on me?’

We both reach down to the floor at the same time. She picks up my crumpled glasses.

‘They’re ruined,’ she tells me pointlessly. Even with my limited eyesight I can see that. ‘I’ve got a spare pair in my car, I think. They’re in the glovebox, I’ll go and get them.’

‘We haven’t got time. The car is parked too far. Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I can see the sheet music fine. I can get them later,’ I reassure her. I don’t want to make her feel any worse. Owen gives her more programmes. She mouths sorry at me again as she walks to the back of the church to hand them out to people standing. There aren’t any seats left.

I calm myself by searching for Nonno again. Even though he’s blurry, I can make out his shape. I raise my hand to wave, but he’s talking to someone. He’s moving his hat to let the person sit next to him, already deep in conversation, his head bent. I can’t see well enough to read his face anyway. I wonder if he’ll hold up his hand.

‘It’s time to warm up,’ Nikhil tells us.

I feel vulnerable without my glasses. We go back into the vestry for our last warm-ups. I’m a bit nervous now. I’ve never sung in public with this choir and even though I’ve rehearsed with them a few times, it’s always different in front of an audience.

We climb up into the balcony, Mum close behind me in case I slip, and we light our candles. A hush falls over the congregation below. Mum and I make eye contact and for a split second it is as if we are the only ones in the church. The candlelight softens her deep-set brown eyes, highlighting her scattered freckles and the smile lines which are starting to creep back in around her mouth. Her whole face lifts when she smiles.

Owen starts our chant and he and Nikhil’s baritones fill the eaves, until they’re joined by Mum and the other sopranos, Pryia and the altos, and finally it’s me, the only contralto in the choir. Together our voices flood the church with our blended sound.

We stand on the stage for our finale. The audience are invited to join in. Callie is one of the first to stand up. Her dad and Ethan are missing, probably outside. Callie hates hymns and churches with a passion but she’s here for me.

The candle flickers as I open my mouth and sing my first solo with the Singing Medicine choir. And it feels good.