I was on time for once and felt really rather proud. Even Woody seemed surprised as he found me waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs that morning.
‘But, Mum, we’re actually early. Are you all right?’ he asked with a wry grin.
‘Cheeky boy,’ I laughed, ruffling his hair. ‘I wanted to make sure we’ll be there when the demolition team arrive. I promised Caroline and the rest of the choir.’
He nodded. ‘Are you sad that they’re knocking down the hall?’ he asked.
‘A bit, but I know we did everything we could. Sometimes that’s all you can do.’ My phone buzzed with a call. Woody rolled his eyes. ‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘It’s a mobile phone, see? I can talk as we walk. Hello?’ I answered as we left the house and I locked up. Doly, Dev and their three girls were just passing by our house. I gave them a wave as Woody ran off to join Sadia.
‘Natalie? This is Anita Vangani from the BBC.’
‘Oh, hi.’ I was surprised to hear from her.
‘Listen, I heard about your hall. I’m really sorry and I’m also sorry that you got dragged through the media mill with the Tim Chambers story.’
I sighed. ‘Well, it seems to be forgotten now.’
‘I just wanted to give you some information about Mr Chambers because I have a feeling he may be in touch again.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘I’ve heard from a reliable source that he has designs on standing in the London Mayoral elections.’
‘Really?’
‘Really, and that actually he was keen to up his profile within the media so he tipped off a photographer to snap you two on your doorstep.’
‘You’re kidding. That’s outrageous!’
‘Trust me, it’s a twisted world out there.’
‘But how will that make people want to vote for him?’
Anita sighed. ‘People have short memories and it wasn’t a cardinal sin. Plus everyone loves a bad boy as long as no-one gets hurt. It was just to get media attention. I’m sorry.’
‘Bloody bastard.’
‘Well, exactly. I just wanted to warn you in case he makes a sudden and contrite reappearance in your life.’
‘Thank you. Really. I appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome. And obviously, keep your source confidential. I have a reputation as a hard-hearted bitch of a journalist to maintain.’
I laughed. ‘Bye, Anita.’
‘Bye, Natalie, and good luck.’
I had reached the hall and could see a crowd including Pamela, Caroline, Jim and Guy gathering. John Hawley, who had been our staunchest supporter from the council, was there too. I made my way over. There was a collection of men in hard hats and hi-vis jackets standing by the door. One of them, who I took to be the foreman, was giving out instructions.
‘So this is it,’ I said sadly as I joined the group.
‘This is it,’ admitted Caroline.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t influence the decision in the end,’ said John, looking as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘If someone offers the council a wad of cash these days, they grab it faster than you can say, “austerity measures”.’
Pamela nodded, tears forming in her eyes. ‘I know you did all you could, John. You’re a good man and a good friend to our community.’
‘Stories don’t always have happy endings,’ I murmured.
Everyone nodded. There was an atmosphere of sadness but there was also an air of something positive within the group, a strength that comes from a shared, hard-fought fight, even if that fight has ended in defeat.
‘I thought about lying in front of the bulldozers,’ admitted Jim. ‘But these fellas are just doing their job. It’s not their fault.’
A woman and a man with a camera appeared. ‘We’re from the local newspaper,’ explained the woman.
‘Could we get a picture of you all standing in front of the hall before it’s demolished please?’ the photographer asked. We duly obliged.
‘So, can you tell me how you’re feeling today?’ she asked. ‘It must be a huge disappointment after all your hard work.’
‘It’s a tragedy for the community,’ said Caroline gravely.
‘It’s a bloody crime against humanity!’ cried Pamela, adding a note of drama to the proceedings.
The journalist nodded before turning to me. ‘You’re Natalie Garfield, aren’t you? Didn’t you have an involvement with one of the politicians influencing the decision – Tim Chambers?’
I opened my mouth to protest.
‘That doesn’t have anything to do with what’s happened,’ said Guy, appearing next to me. He looked really quite cross.
‘And you are …?’ asked the journalist.
‘Guy Henderson. The choirmaster.’
The journalist flicked through some notes on her iPhone. ‘Ah, yes, Mr Henderson. You were the one who found out that you were related to Mrs Taylor. Isn’t that correct?’
Guy gave the woman a venomous look. ‘I fail to see what that has to do with this story,’ he snapped.
The journalist gave the briefest of smiles. ‘It’s human interest, Mr Henderson. It’s good to have all the facts. And what with Mrs Garfield’s dalliance with Mr Chambers and your father’s double life, there’s a lot which will interest our readers. I just want to get my facts straight.’ Guy glared at her.
‘Well, here’s a few facts for you, young lady,’ said Caroline, joining the conversation. ‘I know your editor personally and if you decide to make a soap opera out of our lives in your newspaper, I shall personally make sure that you are demoted to editing lonely hearts ads for the remainder of your time there.’
The journalist held Caroline’s gaze for a moment before giving a flick of her hair. ‘Come on, Dave,’ she said, turning away. ‘I think we’ve got all we need.’
‘What a bitch,’ I declared as we watched them go. ‘Thank you, Caroline,’ I added, touched by her intervention.
‘I won’t have my family or friends dragged through the mud,’ she declared.
‘Right, sorry folks, but I’m going to have to ask you to move back to the other side of the road, please,’ said the foreman with a sympathetic smile. ‘We need to cordon off the area before we start to pull it all down.’
We traipsed over to the other side of the road and stood side by side, watching as the workmen prepared the area, making a passage for the vehicles to travel down. We heard an engine roar into life and looked towards the end of the road to see a large yellow monster of a bulldozer chugging towards us.
‘This is it!’ cried Pamela, squeezing my hand on one side and John’s on the other, closing her eyes, unable to watch.
‘Come on, everyone, let’s sing something to mark the moment,’ said Guy. ‘“Thank You for the Music”?’
‘You can always rely on Abba in times of need,’ I remarked.
We began to sing the chorus, smiling at one another and holding hands. We realised that even if we didn’t have the hall, we still had the choir. At least that was something. Some of the workmen looked over and grinned.
John’s phone started to ring and he fished it from his pocket. ‘Sorry all. I need to take this,’ he said, sticking a finger in one ear so that he could hear the caller. His face transformed into a smile as he listened. ‘You’re kidding me. Are you sure? What does that actually mean?’ He grinned as he heard the reply and then, hugging his phone to his chest, he rushed across the road to the foreman.
‘Stop!’ he shouted, waving his arms like a man on a life-saving mission. ‘Stop the machines!’
The foreman looked irritated as he made his way over to John but the bulldozer was stopped in its tracks. John was explaining something to the man, who looked surprised and then shrugged, turning to his men. ‘It’s off, boys,’ he said.
John turned back towards us and practically skipped across the road, his face a picture of delight. ‘It’s off!’ he cried. ‘The property developers have lost their backing. The deal has fallen through!’
We stared at one another in utter amazement. ‘But what does that mean, John?’ asked Caroline. ‘Won’t they just sell it to someone else?’
He shook his head. ‘They have insurance for things like this and they’ll let you have it as a political gesture of goodwill. It will bring them at least a year’s supply of good press,’ he said cheerfully.
‘I don’t understand politics,’ admitted Jim, shaking his head.
‘Lucky man,’ smiled John. ‘Congratulations,’ he added. ‘You did it.’
There was a moment’s silence before the cheering began. ‘We did it! We did it!’ We jumped up and down, hugging one another. I turned and found myself bumping straight into Guy, who aimed a kiss on my cheek which ended up on my lips.
‘Whoops, sorry,’ he laughed. ‘Actually, I’m not really, but you know, you have to say these things.’
I giggled and gave him a tight hug. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I can cope with being kissed by a handsome man.’
He grinned. ‘I noticed you on the phone as you arrived earlier,’ he said. ‘You looked annoyed.’
I sighed. ‘I was. I’d found out that I was a political pawn in Tim Chambers’ popularity campaign.’
‘Ouch.’
‘I know. But it’s over now.’
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and we all closed in to a tight group hug. I felt my throat tighten as I looked into the faces of the people with whom I’d become so close – Doly, Pamela, Jim, Caroline and Guy. It felt like the end of something special and hopefully the beginning of something even better. Woody, Sadia, Matilda and the other children were there too, right in the middle of the hug, right where they should be.
‘I think this calls for a celebration,’ said Pamela. ‘I’ll phone my Barry and tell him to bring some fizz down here. Let’s reclaim our hall, shall we?’
‘Good idea,’ declared Caroline, turning to Oliver. ‘Could you nip home and get a couple of bottles for us and just fetch Mum, please, darling?’
He kissed her hand. ‘With pleasure,’ he smiled.
As we made our way into the hall, I heard a car horn and turned to see a sleek black car. My heart sank as I saw Tim Chambers climb out of the driver’s seat, closely followed by a camera crew.
‘Natalie!’ he cried, jogging along the street towards me. ‘I came as soon as I heard. What wonderful news!’ He leant forwards to kiss my cheek but I moved backwards, causing him to stumble slightly. He looked towards the camera with an embarrassed chuckle. ‘So this is Natalie Garfield, a very special friend of mine and a famous children’s writer. We became close when she asked for my help with her campaign to save this fabulous community hall. I’m absolutely delighted to say that we have been able to save it for her choir and for future generations.’
I stared at him in disbelief, utter loathing rising up inside me like a tidal wave. Suddenly, Guy appeared from nowhere and landed a light but effective punch on Tim’s jaw, sending him reeling and clutching his face.
‘What the fuck?’ he cried, staring at Guy in anger.
‘Er, Tim? We can’t use this if you swear,’ said the twenty-something director.
Guy addressed the camera. ‘That man is a disingenuous low-life, who has used Natalie for his own political ends. He shouldn’t be allowed on the streets, let alone be allowed to represent constituents. Voters be warned!’ He turned to me and offered his arm. I accepted it, feeling like a woman in receipt of true chivalry.
‘Natalie, I can explain!’ cried Tim, trying to follow me.
‘I very much doubt that,’ I said, turning on him. ‘Now why don’t you crawl back into whichever swamp-hole you came from.’
‘Erm, Tim, I’m not sure if you’re going to want to use much of this,’ frowned the director, nudging the man behind the camera.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Gavin, will you stop filming!’ shouted Tim.
‘Thank you,’ I said to Guy as we walked into the hall, where a definite party atmosphere was beginning to take hold. Pamela was pouring Prosecco into some plastic cups she’d found. She handed one to John Hawley before planting a lipsticky kiss on his cheek. He grinned at her.
Guy turned to face me. ‘I care about you, Natalie,’ he said, fixing me with a look that made my heart dance. ‘I know you can handle yourself but sometimes it’s nice to know that someone’s got your back.’
Never a truer word. ‘Yes,’ I smiled. ‘Yes, it really is.’ Look out, Natalie, you’re in danger of actually feeling happy today and you haven’t thought about Dan since breakfast.
This unnerved me slightly but then I caught sight of Woody, laughing and messing about with Sadia and Matilda. I felt reassured.
Woody’s happy. I’m happy.
It wasn’t a straightforward sort of happy – the all-singing, whooping like a loony kind of happy but I had come to realise that this didn’t really exist. That was the stuff of adverts for cars or phones with actors having the time of their lives in neat twelve-second segments. Mine was more a ‘settling down to watch crap Saturday-night television with my boy and a huge cheese pizza’ or a ‘singing with the choir in the pub’ or a ‘sitting down with a book and a glass of wine’ kind of happy. I couldn’t complain at that. That was more than a lot of people had.
‘Cheers, Natalie,’ said Caroline, knocking her plastic cup against mine. ‘We did it.’
I grinned. ‘Cheers. Here’s to never giving up.’
‘But to realising when your best is good enough,’ she added with a wry smile.
‘I’ll drink to that.’ I laughed, taking a sip of my drink before going off to find Woody and embarrass him with a gigantic hug of pure love and pride.