Authors: Jay Northcote
Imperfect Harmony
Imperfect Harmony
by
Jay Northcote
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Blurb
Imperfect harmony can still be beautiful…
John Fletcher, a former musician, is stuck in limbo after losing his long-term partner two years ago. He’s shut himself off from everything that reminds him of what he’s lost. When his neighbour persuades him to join the local community choir, John rediscovers his love of music and finds a reason to start living again.
Rhys Callington, the talented and charismatic choir leader, captures John’s attention from the first moment they meet. He appears to be the polar opposite of John: young, vibrant, and full of life. But Rhys has darkness in his own past that is holding him back from following his dreams.
Despite the nineteen-year age gap, the two men grow close and a fragile relationship blossoms. Ghosts of the past and insecurities about the future threaten their newfound happiness. If they’re going to harmonise in life and love as they do in their music, they’ll need to start following the same score.
Copyright
Cover artist: Garrett Leigh.
Editor: Sue Adams.
Imperfect Harmony © 2016 Jay Northcote.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Warning
This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.
CHAPTER ONE
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay?” Maggie asked. “You might enjoy it, and the people in the choir are ever so friendly. Why not give it a try, just this once?”
Maggie meant well, but John inwardly recoiled at the thought of spending time in a room full of strangers. Friendly strangers were the worst because they’d want to engage him in conversation, and then inevitably he’d have to answer questions about himself, and talk about things he preferred to keep locked up tight inside.
“I don’t really think it’s my cup of tea, Maggie. So I’ll pass.”
“It just seems daft for you to have to drive back and forth twice.”
“It’s no trouble.” John kept his voice light, but he curled his fingers more tightly around the steering wheel, staring ahead into the darkness beyond the swish of the windscreen wipers. The tension in his muscles made his back ache. He could never relax while he was driving. “I’ll help you inside. Then I’ll come back and pick you up at the end.”
“Your mum always used to talk about how musical you were,” Maggie said. “She played me the CD you sent her a few years ago, of that band you used to play with. It was so beautiful, the way you played the violin. Don’t you miss making music? If you don’t fancy the choir, maybe you can find an orchestra or a folk club instead?”
John gritted his teeth against the spike of pain her words elicited. A lance through his heart, sharp and fresh, it took him by surprise. His grief had long settled into a cold, grey pall that he wrapped around himself to keep the world out. He did miss making music, but he missed so much more than that. Music represented the joy he’d lost when David died. John couldn’t even listen to music anymore, much less pick up his fiddle and play. Choked by the sudden rush of unwelcome emotion, he couldn’t reply.
Maggie seemed to sense she’d pushed him enough and changed the subject to something safe and neutral. “It’s foul, this weather, isn’t it?” She sighed. “It’s the only upside to me being stuck in the house at the moment, nobody would want to be out in this anyway.”
As if backing up her words, the wind buffeted John’s car and the icy rain fell faster.
“Yes,” John agreed. “Even Billy didn’t want to go out tonight when I came to fetch him. Once around the park was all he was good for. I’ll take him for a longer walk tomorrow if it’s nicer.”
“It’s very good of you,” Maggie said. “I’m so grateful for all you’re doing for me. I hate being a burden. The doctor said I could drive again in a few weeks, so at least you won’t have to be my taxi service for much longer. But I won’t be taking Billy on any long walks for a while yet.”
“I don’t mind.” John slowed down for a junction and turned into a side street. “It gets me out of the house, which is no bad thing, and Billy’s good company.” He gave Maggie a sidelong glance and a smile. “Like his owner.”
Billy was Maggie’s dog—a lively little ball of white fur who was always gratifyingly pleased to see John when he went next door to take him for walks. When Maggie had a hip replacement three weeks ago, John had gladly volunteered for the duty, as well as offering her lifts when needed. It was the least he could do for Maggie, who’d been a good friend to John’s mother during her illness and was endlessly kind to John—if a little keen to drag him out of his shell and into community activities.
Luckily there were still some parking spaces outside the church hall where Maggie’s choir met. John made sure they arrived a little early so Maggie wouldn’t have to walk too far. She was managing well on one crutch, but she still tired easily. After he parked, he got out and hurried around to help her out of the passenger door.
“Thanks, love,” she said, patting him on the arm. “I can manage now.”
A vicious gust of wind whipped a strand of hair into her face. It was dark, still sleeting, and probably slippery underfoot. There was no way John was going to leave until she was safely indoors. “I’ll just see you inside. Let me take your bag.”
Maggie let him have it without argument, and he popped it over his arm. He hovered close to Maggie as she made her way slowly to the double doors. He held one open for her and was hit by a blast of warm air. Then he accompanied her inside as she crutched along the corridor towards an open door. Yellow light flooded out, and the sound of a tenor voice singing “I Can See Clearly Now” raised the hairs on the back of John’s neck with its pure, clear beauty.
“I thought you said the emphasis was on fun rather than perfection?” he said quietly. “He’s got quite a voice.”
“That’ll be Rhys, our choir leader,” Maggie said with a smile. “Come and meet him, even if you’re not staying.”
Maggie paused when she reached the doorway and put a finger to her lips. They listened and waited for Rhys to finish singing. John peered over Maggie’s shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of the man the voice belonged to. Rhys, John presumed, was alone in the room. With his back to the door, he stood at a table pushed to the edge of the room, shuffling through some papers as he sang. All John could see of him was that he was small and slight and quite young, based on the cut of his clothes. A hood covered his hair.
When he finished, Maggie started clapping.
Rhys wheeled around. “Oh my God! You made me jump.” He pushed his hood down and his face lit up as he beamed. “Maggie. How are you?”
John’s eyes widened as he took in Rhys’s front view as he approached Maggie and gave her a careful hug. His hair, which was shaved at the back and sides, was long on top and dyed peacock blue. His eyebrow was pierced, his arms were covered with tattoos, and the front of his T-shirt was emblazoned with a glittery equals sign in rainbow colours. All in all, he was at least twenty years younger than John had expected and completely unlike how John would have imagined a choir leader to look. In this dingy church hall in their small market town, Rhys looked like a bird of paradise that had accidentally ended up in a cage full of sparrows.
“I’m not too bad, thanks, love,” Maggie said. “A bit sore still, but it’s good to be up and about.”
“Well, it’s great to have you back. The altos missed you.”
“Oh, I’m sure they managed perfectly well.” She waved a hand. “It’s good to be here, though. I missed my singing. I’ve been doing some around the house, of course, but it’s not the same without company. Did you have a good Christmas?”
“Yes, thanks. Not that I did much. Just had a quiet one with my mum and my brother, and Gran came over for lunch.” Rhys turned to John then, as if suddenly noticing his presence. “Sorry, how rude of me. Hello, I’m Rhys.” He offered a slim hand and shook John’s with a strong grip. “Welcome. We’re always happy to have new male voices in the group. The women rather outnumber the blokes.”
“Oh, um… I’m John.” John floundered, pinned by the bright blue of Rhys’s eyes and expectant smile. His heart beat faster, and long-forgotten neural pathways lit up as he felt a surprising flicker of interest in another man for the first time in years. “But I’m not actually here to sing. I’m Maggie’s taxi service for the night. I’m her next-door neighbour.”
A shadow of disappointment crossed Rhys’s features, chased by a blush as he backtracked. “Oh, I see. Sorry. I got a bit overexcited at the prospect of a new man in the group. We’re always a bit pathetically glad when we get one. They’re like gold dust in community choirs.”
“I’ve tried to persuade him,” Maggie said. “John’s musical—he plays the fiddle like a maestro. But I haven’t had any luck.”
They both looked at him hopefully, and John felt himself weaken. “I haven’t sung in years, though…. I’m not sure I still can.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle,” Rhys said. “You never forget. Your vocal cords might be a bit rusty, but it’ll come back once you start using them again.”
Adrenaline surged as John nodded. “God. Okay, then. I’ll give it a try.”
“Oh brilliant!” Maggie sounded thrilled, and Rhys’s smile made John glad he’d agreed.
He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
“Right, Maggie, do you need a chair?” Rhys asked. “I’m assuming you won’t be joining in with the physical warm-up today.”
“Yes to a chair, no to the warm-up.” Maggie chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that invisible hula-hooping is on the list of things to avoid for a while after a hip replacement.”
Hula hooping? What the hell have I let myself in for?
John thought.
Once Maggie was settled in a chair, Rhys got John to put them on the register. Maggie paid for both of them because John had come out without his wallet. He hadn’t been expecting to stay.
Soon other people started to arrive and Maggie introduced John as they came over to greet her and ask how she was. John felt overwhelmed by the attention and the small talk, and was relieved when Rhys clapped his hands and got the group engaged and ready to begin.
It was like being back at primary school. John felt like an idiot walking around, waving his hands in the air and wiggling his fingers. And when Rhys had them making weird buzzing and humming noises and chewing imaginary gum, he felt even more daft. But everyone else was laughing and seemed to be enjoying themselves, and at least they all looked equally ridiculous.
John was glad of the excuse to study Rhys while he copied his movements. His slight body was full of energy, like a coiled spring. He moved with the grace and poise of a dancer or gymnast. John found him fascinating. He was everything John wasn’t—young, confident, vibrant, and full of life, and John couldn’t look away.
Then Rhys had them play a game to help learn the names of the new people in the group. John was glad there were two others aside from him, so he wasn’t the only nervous one tonight. There were about thirty of them altogether. Mostly women, as Rhys had said, but there were three other men aside from John.
After that, the singing finally started, and compared to the embarrassment of the warm-up at the beginning, John found it comparatively easy to join in and sing. Rhys taught the group a simple Native American round, leading with his clear tenor and getting the group to sing it back to him. Once they’d all got the hang of it in unison he split them into four groups and explained how he’d split off one part at a time until they were singing in harmony.