Carry On Singing

By Julie Hodgson

 

If she had been asked just months before whether preparing to sing solo in front of this applauding audience could have possibly been in her future, she would have laughed, but so much seemed unimaginable then: Portugal, sunshine the virus, the choir, even her cropped, peroxide hair, which still surprised her and made her smile every time she looked in a mirror. When middle-aged, Scottish writer Rosie Wilkins goes to Ponte de Sor after a confrontation with her husband and joins a Portuguese choir, it's only supposed to be for a few weeks, at most a month, just until he comes to his senses, realises what it would mean to lose her, and things can go back to normal … And then Lockdown happens, and she's quarantined in a strange apartment with only the neighbour from hell and the ladies of the now-online choir for company The reforming man-eater, the therapist with a greater need for therapy than any of her clients and the woman spending Lockdown trying to spice things up with her husband—whether he likes it or not. At first, a reluctant observer of online choir life, as the weeks pass and the ladies rehearse for a performance that may never happen, Rosie is dragged into the lives of her new friends and swept up in the transformative power of music, forcing her to reassess her life, her relationship and herself … Things may never be the same again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Julie Hodgson
• Release date: Mar 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393481843

Julie Hodgson

I started writing poetry and short stories at the age of 9, a nice way to switch off I guess. Then it just escalated from there. My English teacher at my secondary school Mrs Love was an inspiration to me. In 1985 I moved to Tripoli in Libya, and as the schools did not have any books I started writing for the children of the local British schools. It's amazing that when there are no books you crave anything to read. So we all got together and made something out of nothing. I have continued writing for newspapers, The Times in Kuwait in 89 just before the first Gulf conflict, then, Libya, Sweden, Uk and lots of other countries. And the story could go on and on... I now live in Portugal and I have had many books published in the past and have joined publishers Opera Omnia and they published the first bilingual book back in November 2012. Many of my books are now in several languages.

Book preview

Carry On Singing

Julie Hodgson

Published by Julie Hodgson, 2021.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

CARRY ON SINGING

First edition. March 13, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Julie Hodgson.

ISBN: 978-1393481843

Written by Julie Hodgson.

Carry on Singing

By

Julie Hodgson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and specific other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, through the website below

This is a work of fiction and doesn’t portray anyone in real life.

Julie Hodgson. 2020 © www.juliehodgson.com juliehodgson.eu

Published By Chave AB International Publishers.

Social network @[e-mail] Insta. Ladycoffeecup

A copy of this book can be found at International Libraries.

Proceeds from the sale of this book shall be donated to Caminhar ACAS Ponte de Sor

I dedicate this book

TO.............................................

My Gospel choir. Coro Gospel Ponte de Sor, who have become my new family here in Portugal, a lovable, kind, and crazy bunch of people who warm my heart!

I SO love them all!

And to all the choir members and musicians out there in the world. Who have had to find alternative ways of singing /performing due to this year's virus chaos?

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The Virtual world was our only way to meet!

I salute you all

  FORWARD

A choir has its own unique set of tones, of people, each with their own experiences. Each one with a different look and a different smile. When I'm playing the piano, accompanying a choir, I like to cast my eyes over everyone and maintain eye contact. It is enriching to see so many different people getting together with a mutual goal. Music has this strength and, when it is associated with a common purpose, it becomes even stronger. I had the honour and privilege to participate at the beginning of the Ponte de Sôr Gospel Choir, and I am delighted to see this project continue with persistence and work.

Ruben Alves

Prologue

It wasn’t a full house, maybe fifty people in the audience of a theatre that could hold twice or three times as many and was in desperate need of a repair, but they were lucky to be able to hold the show at all, and this audience knew how to make themselves heard. They clapped and cheered after every song the choir performed as if they had been starved of entertainment for months. It eased Rosie’s nerves a little, but every song that passed brought her a little closer to her solo and made her stomach flip.

If she had been asked months earlier whether preparing to sing solo in front of this applauding audience could have possibly been in her future, she would have laughed, but so much seemed unimaginable then: Portugal, Sal, the choir, the virus, even her cropped, peroxide hair, which still surprised her and made her smile every time she looked in a mirror.

Rosie, a forty-something soprano, wasn’t the only one who had had a haircut. In fact, everything about Sofia, one of her best friends in the choir, had changed since they first met. Sitting to her left, in her maroon robes, the stage lighting reflecting off her shaved head, a look of serenity hooding her eyes, she gave Rosie a nudge mid-song. Just remember your chi, she whispered and smiled encouragingly, bringing her hands slowly together at her chest in prayer.

Every breath we take is like an ostrich in the fridge of life. We must look upon the roosters as well as the sea horses, for there is nothing to divide them. As such, your solo will be a success.

Rosie couldn’t help giggling at the non-sensical advice. She had no idea what her friend was babbling about and wondered how someone could change so much in such a short space of time, but she was sure that it came from a good place. It even made her feel a little more confident.

As they started the next number, her confidence grew further still. She loved this song. ‘I’ll Take You There’ by The Staple Sisters. It always made her smile, and the audience was clapping along and giving their support. It couldn’t have gone better, and Leonor looked so happy and powerful, leading them in song. She truly was a remarkable woman and the best choir mistress in the world (not that Rosie was biased or had ever had another choir mistress).

When the song ended, her stomach woke up and started gymnastics with full force. The next song was hers. She looked around at the choir, her friends. She wondered for a moment, who had changed more: Sofia, with her new-age peace-seeking, or her other friend Gita, who was lounging in her seat, more relaxed than Rosie had ever seen her, with her hair loose, low-cut blouse and a look of pure contentment pasted to her face that was missing when Rosie had first met her. It truly had been a miraculous time – not just for the choir but for the whole world.

Behind her, however, Carolina showed that not all changes had been positive, and Rosie wondered why she had joined them to perform when she was obviously living in fear of her life, in her ridiculous, luminous-yellow, glow-in-the-dark hazmat suit and gas mask, and even with that lot on, Rosie could see her terrified expression beneath. There was no possible way that her voice would be heard underneath the mask, but maybe she simply wanted to be around people.

Well, we won’t be losing her in a hurry! Sofia had said earlier, conveniently dropping her Buddhist learning and showing that the old her was still in there somewhere.

Leonor faced the audience, took the mic and spoke in Portuguese.

Ladies and gentlemen, our next song is performed by a Scottish woman who joined our choir quite recently, and it’s fair to say that’s she, as we all have, has been on a journey. She has touched all of our lives as we hope that we have touched her. Please show your courtesy for Rosie Wilkins.

The hotchpotch audience did their best, which again created quite a din. Rosie nodded her thanks to Leonor for the introduction and for so much more and took the mic. She nodded to the band, and the intro began to play, but the moment she opened her mouth to begin the song, the theatre door opened with a thud, and there he was, Sal, her husband, with his unruly black hair, leather jacket, black jeans and that crooked grin that was present whether he liked it or not, and suddenly there was sand in her throat. It had been months since she had seen him. She had rehearsed this song again and again, and she thought she had considered every eventuality that could affect her performance. Everything, that is, but this!!!..........

Chapter One

Four months earlier

Everyone was managing to hide their balloons and party poppers except Joel, one of the tenors, a grey-haired smiler who knew how to make people laugh. He was half-sitting, sort of bouncing on his, making a screechy, farty noise with it. It was a miracle that it didn’t pop. Rosie, on the other side of the room, couldn’t help laughing with everyone else, although she was feeling a little nervous that people wouldn’t like the cake that she had baked for the surprise. She was a good baker, but she had never tried this recipe before and wished she had stuck to a tried and tested Vicky sponge. Between them, a lot of work had gone into getting the surprise just right. As well as the cake, she had brought in balloons, and other people had organised poppers, decorated the room with bunting and streamers, and there was a pink and blue sign draped across the walls of the bland, classroom-like room in the community centre: Congratulation Leonor and David! They had also met in secret to learn the harmonies of Cliff Richard’s ‘Congratulations’—not bad for a Portuguese choir. All they needed now was for the couple themselves to arrive, and the surprise would be complete. It was unusual for them to be this late, but it was fortunate for their purposes, and as they waited, the room was alive with chatter, like a class of teenagers left alone, waiting for their teacher. When Rosie had joined the choir a few weeks earlier, she had been heartened by the friendliness and sheer energy of the choir. Coming from the UK, it was a nice change to be around people who were so embracing … even if it was just for a few weeks.

As always, she was sandwiched between Sofia and Gita, with Carolina in the seat beyond.

I can’t imagine being married for thirty years, Sofia said, looking over at the sign and shaking her head. Although she was one of the few singers who could speak English, she spoke in Portuguese, a language in which Rosie was also fluent. In her late-forties, Sofia was a little older than Rosie but by no means the oldest singer in the choir. That would be either prankster Rui or the tiny, white-haired woman in the altos, whom Rosie hadn’t really got to know yet. She thought she saw her fall asleep once, but she may have just been resting her eyes. Sofia, by contrast, was full of life; she had never met a woman with such energy and exuberance.

Thirty years? Gita laughed. You’ve never been with anyone longer than thirty minutes? Rosie joined in the laughter. She had enjoyed hearing all about Sofia’s encounters with the opposite sex, and it was by no means a secret that she was a love ’em and leave ’em kind of woman.

So, how did it go with the Italian cyclist guy the other night? Carolina asked. What was his name?

Christian, Sofia answered and took a deep breath in through her nose, closing her eyes and beaming, remembering whatever it was they got up to.

That good, huh?

Put it this way. My bits were buzzing more than my drill at work the next day. I’m surprised my patients couldn’t hear it.

The three women laughed hard at this, and Sofia pulled what smelt like a sardine sandwich out of her bag and bit into it. Rosie had to admit that she had judged the woman in so many ways when she first met her. She had never seen a dentist who looked or talked like her before. And when she first started sharing stories about her liaisons, it had surprised her. She wasn’t young and classically good looking; in fact, she carried more than a few extra pounds and swore like a sailor if you caught her on the right day, but the men ate her up with a spoon. It was a confidence thing. She couldn’t care less how she looked or what people thought of her; she couldn’t sing a note, but