back the Anaglytpa to expose the brick behind it. It had a cosy, shabby-chic feel and was much loved by the local community.
An open mic night was kicking off as the three women arrived, so they made a beeline for a quiet table in an adjoining room where they could hear each other speak.
‘My choir often does gigs in here,’ said Pamela as Fran returned from the bar carrying a bottle of Prosecco and three glasses.
‘Ahh yes, the famous Hope Street community choir. My friend Nat always says it saved her after she and Dan split up,’ said Fran.
‘Lovely Nat, she’s a treasure,’ said Pamela.
‘Caroline told me that she formed the choir in order to save the community hall,’ remarked Heather.
‘That sounds like Caroline,’ observed Fran with one eyebrow raised. ‘She had quite a lot of help.’
‘Ahh, Caroline’s got a good heart,’ insisted Pamela.
‘She just keeps it well hidden,’ said Fran.
Pamela giggled. ‘Oh, get away with you.’
‘Come on then ladies, let’s practise what we’ve learnt,’ said Fran as she poured the Prosecco. ‘Observe if you will, the flow of golden liquid…or does that sound as if I’m talking about wee?’ She smirked.
Heather laughed. ‘Watch the bubbles lift and pop on this glistening sea of gold.’
‘Still sounds like wee,’ grinned Fran. ‘You try, Pamela.’
‘Um, look at the foaming surge of liquid?’ she offered, frowning with concentration.
Fran snorted with laughter. ‘Okay, stop now because that sounds plain wrong.’ Heather and Pamela chuckled as Fran handed them a glass each. ‘So, enough with the mindfulness. Here’s to my happiness buddies – cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ they chorused.
‘So are you still singing with the choir?’ said Heather to Pamela.
Pamela nodded. ‘Oh yes – they’re wonderful. You should both come. Choir always gives me a lift.’
Fran grimaced. ‘I think you might end up with all the stray cats in the neighbourhood lining up outside the hall – I can’t sing for toffee.’
Heather laughed. ‘I love music but I always preferred dancing to singing.’
‘Ooh, I used to love dancing as a girl – ballroom mainly but I did enjoy a bit of jive,’ said Pamela.
‘Go Pamela!’ cried Fran. She nudged Heather. ‘It’s great that you decided to come along for another session of the course.’
Heather flashed a smile at Pamela. ‘I’ll go anywhere for a decent slice of lemon drizzle. Plus, it’s good to make some friends round here. Luke’s often working so…’
‘You get lonely sometimes,’ said Fran as if she understood.
Heather held her gaze for a second before nodding. There was something about Fran that reminded her of Gemma – both straight-talking women with teasing humour.
‘It must be hard living where your mum grew up but not having her or your dad around,’ added Pamela with her customary tact.
Fran and Heather exchanged glances. ‘Don’t feel too sorry for me, Pamela. I’ve got my lovely cousin, Gemma, who’s supported me ever since Mum and Dad died. I moved in with her family after it happened and we’ve been best mates ever since.’
‘Does she live nearby?’ asked Pamela.
‘About an hour away. She’s married and had a baby six months ago. I saw them today actually.’ She took out her phone and showed them a picture. ‘That’s Freddy, he’s my godson.’
‘Cute,’ said Fran.
‘Awww, what a poppet,’ declared Pamela.
‘He’s lovely. I just wish I could see them a bit more but they’re busy and I’m over here so it’s tricky.’
‘Babies ruin everything,’ said Fran. ‘Friendships, fannies – the whole caboodle.’
‘Fran!’ cried Pamela scandalized. ‘Babies are wonderful!’
‘In small doses,’ said Fran. ‘Sorry, Heather – you were saying about things being tricky?’
Heather smiled, feeling a wave of affection for them both. ‘It’s just lovely to make new friends over here.’
Pamela patted her hand and Fran grinned. ‘Well, Pamela and I know how to get a party started,’ she quipped, knocking her glass against Heather’s. ‘Which is more than you can say for young Georg. What is going on with him?’
Heather laughed. ‘I get the feeling there’s more to Georg than meets the eye.’
‘He told me that his happiness goal is to find true love,’ sighed Pamela. ‘Bless him.’
‘Now see how we all complement each other perfectly?’ said Fran. ‘So Pamela here is our hopeless romantic, whereas I’m the jaded cynic so that must make you…’
‘The lost soul?’ blurted Heather, surprising herself. ‘Sorry – not sure where that came from.’
‘From the heart,’ said Fran. ‘It’s what comes with hanging out with Pamela. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us. We’re a not quite perfect dream team.’
‘We should have T-shirts made!’ said Heather. She turned to Pamela. ‘So how’s Matthew getting on?’
Pamela sighed. ‘Doly is going to give him some work so that will help but he is a worry. I’m not entirely sure what he’s up to half the time.’
‘Well, he’s a big boy, you can’t watch his every move,’ said Heather.
Pamela nodded. ‘I know I have a tendency to mother him a bit too much but it’s hard, isn’t it? You just want to help your kids get what they need.’
‘Don’t forget what you need though,’ said Heather. Pamela gave her a grateful smile.
‘Poor Pamela,’ said Fran. ‘Makes you wish that you could keep your kids on a lead for the whole of their lives, doesn’t it? I’m dreading the day I don’t know where mine are. My mother makes Margaret Thatcher look weedy but at least I know my kids are safely tucked up when she’s in charge.’
Heather looked distracted for a moment. ‘Sorry, Fran, I am listening. I just heard that boy singing – he sounds a bit like Ed Sheeran. How old do you think he is?’
As Fran tuned in, a look of horror spread over her face. She stood up. ‘Fourteen,’ she said. ‘He’s fourteen.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Pamela.
Fran made for
