The Chorister at the Abbey Read Free Page A

Her boss occasionally wondered what it was she had to prove. He’d taken her on as a temp a few months before, and she had stayed, plodding along, doing the tedious jobs and rarely speaking. But she was awesomely thorough.
    Alex sighed, and checked all the expenses chits once again. She was amused to see that Wanda Wisley, the new Head of Music, had high expenses for the last month, whereas Edwin Armstrong, her deputy, had hardly recharged anything. That was interesting. Edwin would be giving Alex a lift to the supper party that evening. He was Lynn Clifford’s younger half-brother, or something, she thought. He was good-looking in a morose way. Alex had noticed him around the college, and someone had told her he was an expert on choral music. Once, that would have intrigued her and she would have looked forward to chatting with him. But now, Alex just had to make sure she looked presentable, said the minimum, and didn’t drink too much – until she got home.
    She was suddenly aware how silent the office was. A few shiny decorations twirled pointlessly in the draught from under the door. There were some dirty, abandoned coffee cups on another desk and the remnants of a box of cheap mince pies. Although she had already eaten four, Alex got up and helped herself to a slice of greasy pastry. It was supposed to be comfort eating, except it brought no comfort. Nothing did.
    She grabbed her old, bulging shoulder bag. There was no way she was leaving it in the empty office while she went on her rounds. It occurred to her that her boss hadn’t even said ‘Merry Christmas’, though he would be off now for the holidays. The thought propelled her into a fugue of self-pity.
    I’m a non-person, she thought bitterly, a fat frump who is functional at best. Is this how depression feels? Her doctor had suggested treatment, but she’d been unresponsive. There was nothing anyone could do. It wasn’t necessary to try and analyse what was wrong. It was obvious anyway Her life had ended in two stages: first when her marriage collapsed and she left London, and then again when her mother died. This was just some sort of existence, dragging on from day to day with no one giving a monkey’s.
    Except the Cliffords, and that was just pity of course.
    ‘I’m still here,’ she said to the security clerk at reception. ‘I’m just going over to Music, but I’ll come back.’
    ‘OK,’ said the guard, hardly looking up.
    She delivered the signed cheques in their sealed envelopes to the in-tray in the Music Department. The office door had been left open but it was empty, and really rather sinister, with a raucous CD blaring out cheap Christmas schmaltz on someone’s computer. The noise was horrible, shrieking and distorted. Half a bottle of red wine and some coagulating fruitcake sat unwanted on a desk. For a moment, Alex was tempted to grab some cake and take a swig, but thought better of it. Then she started to make her way out.
    She was just outside the office when the lights went out. She stayed absolutely motionless for what seemed an age, aware of how utterly silent it all was. Just as she was getting accustomed to it and thinking of groping her way out, the lights snapped on and she hurried towards the double doors.
    The noise of the boy wailing reached her long before she saw him.

3
    Behold, how good and joyful a thing it is, brethren, to dwell together in unity! Psalm 133:1
    In the town centre, Wanda Wisley, the new and controversial Head of Music at Norbridge College, stood in the middle of the Cloister Centre shopping mall and looked angrily at her watch. Ten to six. She’d escaped from the department to do some shopping and she was furious. Where the hell was Freddie? She had so many bags, she had to put them down. And one was from McCrea’s, the dreariest shop in Cumbria. What was she doing, toting carrier bags from Norbridge’s dated department store? So much for her image!
    Of course it was Freddie’s fault. He’d