NOT WITH A
BANG, BUT A
WHIMPER
It was like your worst nightmare. I was sitting
in the middle of the middle row of three,
scarcely enough room for my knees,
sideways on to the concert audience,
listening to the world-class soloist finish her
song before we in the choir were due to
resume our seats on the stage. Along with
the audience, we had been specifically
requested not to make noise of any kind,
coughs, sneezes, phones going off and so
on, as the BBC were there recording the
concert.
whispered ‘This may help’. I could feel the
tears pouring down my face, not emotion but
a physical reaction to the cough. The solo
came to a close and the audience
applauded loudly. I took the opportunity to
draw a strangled breath and cough. And
cough.
Luckily it was time for the choir to go back on
stage, and slowly we filed along our rows
towards the stage. As my fellow choristers
swerved left up the steps, I carried straight
on, down the corridor that led to the back
room. I held it in until I was able to dash into
the Ladies room, where I hastily shut the
door, turned and coughed my heart out.
At rehearsal that afternoon I had been
delighted that my lingering cough had not
appeared at all, and, suitably dosed with
cough mixture, throat sweets and sips of
water, I congratulated myself on getting
through to the last three items on the
programme. After the next two light songs by
the choir, we were to close the concert by
accompanying the mezzo soprano soloist in
a beautiful classical piece.
I emerged to hear the sweet singing of the
choir – and gosh, didn’t they sound lovely!
When you’re amongst them you don’t get
the full effect. So I spent the rest of the
concert standing behind the door listening.
When it came to the bouquets I went and sat
down out the back. I still had tears on my
cheeks when the choir came off. ‘Oh, were
you overcome by the soprano’s singing?
Wasn’t she wonderful?’ someone said.
The soloist came to the climax of her song,
a moving and evocative story which held the
audience spellbound. I breathed deeply and
felt a warning rattle emanate from my chest.
I had asked the conductor earlier what was
the best thing to do if I should start coughing
during the concert. ‘Swallow it’ was his reply.
I swallowed. And coughed. This was not just
a cough. This was a volcano, a geyser, an
explosion, 7 or worse, an implosion, in the
making. I held it down, literally. I put a hand
over my mouth and held my breath. Little
sub-coughs emerged and somehow I
smothered them. Nobody looked at me
except my companions on either side. One
touched the top of my head gently and
whispered ‘This may help’. The other
handed me her bottle of water and
Belle Walker
PS
Dear Reader
Well I don’t know! 10+ years of devoted
service, then onto the scrap heap without so
much as a thank you or a gold watch! It’s not
me I’m worried abou Ё