Page 2 of Coming Home to Winter Island
The doctor smiles and nods patiently. ‘Your singing voice?’ She looks at me and then shakes her head slightly. ‘I can’t say, sorry. It may come back, or...’ She lifts her shoulders, knowing how painful her words are. ‘Only time will tell.’
‘You don’t know?!’ Joe lets go of my hand and runs his fingers through his hair, showing his widow’s peak. ‘But this is everything! This could be disastrous!’
I feel myself sliding deeper and deeper into a dark hole.
‘Like I say, only time will tell,’ she repeats.
Time is the one thing I don’t have. We have gigs booked all over Christmas and New Year. And an A&R person who needs to see what we can do!
‘Get some rest,’ she tells me, letting me know our ten-minute slot is up. ‘Enjoy your Christmas and try to relax.’
Easy enough for her to say, I think, standing and feeling dazed. Joe doesn’t thank the doctor, but marches out. I’d like to apologise for him. He’s not usually rude; in fact he’s the opposite, quite the charmer usually. All the band love Joe. He’s funny, and even flirtatious. But I can’t explain all that on this little notepad he’s bought me from the newsagent’s, and so instead I nod my thanks and she smiles a tired smile, like she’s seen it all before.
‘Try not to worry,’ she says as I leave the room. But worrying is exactly what I’m doing. My whole life is in the balance here. Mine and the band’s, mine and Joe’s. We had it all planned. A quiet Christmas Day to celebrate our engagement, fitted in around gigs, and then a party once the busy Christmas and New Year party season is out of the way, when there’s nothing else going on. Make a big splash and tell the world.
I walk out of the surgery, tinsel and cheap baubles hanging from every available space and on a tree outside, blowing in the damp, grey December day. I look down at my phone, thoughts crashing through my mind. Get some rest, she said. Enjoy your Christmas.
‘I’ll message Jess,’ says Joe, who’s standing in the entrance with his coat collar turned up. He pulls out his phone, once again taking control, while I stand there numbly listening to the Christmas tunes on the radio in the waiting room and staring at the soggy tinsel on the tree. There is a draught every time someone comes in or leaves and the double doors whoosh open and close. Despite the heater blowing warm air from above, it’s freezing and I’m shivering. I’m not sure if it’s shock or cold.
We had a stack of gigs lined up over Christmas that Jess is now going to have to cancel – unless she can find a stand-in singer. And I can’t even bring myself to ask about the A&R woman.
I look down at my phone, but can’t think who I should text apart from Jess, and Joe is already doing that. She’ll tell the band. I just feel I’ve let them all down.
‘It’ll be fine.’ Joe turns to me and takes hold of my shoulders. I look up at him and just wish I felt as convinced as he sounds. ‘Look, the doctor’s right,’ he says firmly. ‘You need to rest your voice. Do exactly as she says. Jess’ll keep things going with the band.’ He looks back down at his phone. ‘I’ll talk to Lulu about taking your place while you’re away. Here, let me grab her number.’
He takes my phone and scrolls through my contacts. I feel a bubble of panic rise up in me, like I’m trying to hold on to everything I’ve worked for. I don’t want someone else stepping into my shoes.
He looks up. ‘She’s just keeping your seat warm,’ he says, as if reading my mind. He knows me so well. ‘We’ll keep it low profile,’ he adds, ever the PR consultant.
A message pings through on his phone. ‘Jess thinks the band can still hold on to the gigs,’ he says. He attempts a smile. ‘I think she’s right to carry on. The band can’t let people down this close to Christmas by cancelling gigs at the last minute.’
I go to argue that I might be fine in a couple of days. ‘I could...’ I croak.
‘Shh...’ He pulls me close and silences me. ‘Remember what the doctor said.’ He nods down to the notepad in my hand. I’m already beginning to resent it. It stands between me and everything I have known nearly all my life: singing. I pull back.
I could mime, with backing tracks, I write.
‘It’s a thought,’ Joe says. ‘But if the A&R woman comes back, she’d know.’ He shakes his head. ‘We need your voice to come back. The doctor said to rest. Take Christmas off. The band will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.’ He smiles and kisses me. ‘I’ll keep an eye on everything until your voice is back,’ he adds, with only the merest glimmer of panic on his face.
I look at him. Handsome Joe. I love that he’s as invested in my career as I am.
‘And then, when you’re well...let’s hope there’s still a shot at that recording contract.’ His disappointment is creeping in. He lifts my chin with his finger. ‘Then maybe we can start celebrating being us. We could still get engaged y’know, if you want. We don’t have to wait.’
But I want to wait. I want us to have a contract, to feel we have some sort of solid foundation to build the rest of our lives on. I shake my head and I know he understands.
‘I agree. It will be wonderful to get the recording contract and then really celebrate. So, okay, get yourself booked somewhere nice. Maybe go and stay with your mother...or perhaps that’s not such a good idea.’ He smiles. ‘You need to get away, somewhere you can rest. Away from the band so you’re not feeling you’ve got to go back before you’re ready. I’ve told you I’ll keep an eye on things here.’ He kisses me again. ‘It’ll be fine, Rubes. You’re destined for great things. This is just a little hiccup. We’ll get engaged next year. You’ll be right back on form.’
But will it really be fine? I slowly let go of his hands and we walk in separate directions to our parked vehicles. Joe’s right. I can’t just sit in the flat doing nothing; it would drive me mad. I could go and stay with my mother in Spain like he suggested. At least I think that’s where she still is. My mother likes to live in the moment and goes to visit friends old and new with amazing frequency. It’s always been the same. She’s never liked staying put for long.
I push the key into the lock of the van door – yes, I still have a vehicle that needs you to actually put the key in to unlock it – then climb up and sit in the driver’s seat. The damp drizzle gathers on the windscreen, almost obliterating the view. I look down at my phone. At least it would be hot and sunny if I went to visit my mum. But on the other hand, it wouldn’t really be a rest. Mum doesn’t do resting. She loves to socialise. It would be back-to-back drinks parties and introducing me to new friends. Really not restful at all.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, but instead of texting my mum, I find myself googling warm and relaxing getaways...and avoid the word Christmas! In no time at all, I’ve found it. A three-week winter special, a vocal retreat with yoga in Tenerife. Sun, silence, relaxation. Just what the doctor ordered, I think. When I see the price, though, I gasp. It would use up all the savings I’ve put aside for the engagement party. But if I don’t get my voice back to where it was, then none of the rest of the stuff will happen anyway.
I chew my lip. I need this, I think, then quickly, before I have a chance to change my mind, I enter my personal information and card details and press send. I watch as the circle whizzes round, processing my credit card, and then, finally, the screen tells me that my transaction is complete. Phew! I breathe a sigh of relief. Thankfully I don’t have many Christmas presents to buy: just Joe, something to send to my mum, usually a bottle of something, and then Jess and the rest of the band. I’ll get them all something really lovely from Tenerife, I decide, and text Jess to tell her my plans.
When an email confirmation comes in from the vocal retreat, I can actually feel my spirits lifting. I imagine the warmth of the sun on my face, the sea air opening my chest as I join in the early-morning stretches. This is exactly what I need to escape a Christmas at home, where I’d be trapped with a pile of selection boxes and the whole ofThe BodyguardandKilling Eveto catch up on, stressing about not being able to perform.
I turn the key in the ignition and the radio comes on. It’s the soon-to-be Christmas number one, this year’sX Factorwinner. I quickly switch the radio off. It’s not that I don’t wish them all the luck in the world. I do. And they’ll need a lot of luck. But it’s about hard work too. And somehow that song reminds me of everything I’ve just missed out on, how my luck has run out on me. I open my mouth and try and let out a note, just to see if my voice really has gone and isn’t simply playing tricks on me...Nothing. Yup, it’s gone. Let’s hope it’s just on a little winter break and the Tenerife retreat is all it needs to bring it back to life.
