Stories
A life is not recalled in order.
It returns as a bus journey, a missing shoe, a wrong chord and a chair drawn alongside somebody frightened.
1987 · The 29 bus
The guitar case would not fit between the seats.
Catherine stood with it through Camden until the zip opened and her music scattered along the bus.
Half the passengers helped collect it.
She arrived late, damp and convinced London was kinder than it looked.
1993 · Formation
Catherine packed one suitcase and returned to Eileen's flat, certain she had mistaken enthusiasm for vocation.
She worked supply days, avoided Sister Miriam's letters, and finally admitted that ordinary life had not made the question disappear.
She went back without pretending certainty had arrived.
1998 · Nathan
Nathan Okoro could sing inside a group but froze when anyone faced him.
Catherine moved his solo off the stage, sat beside him looking in the same direction and played softly.
He sang one line.
She did not praise him loudly.
She asked if he wanted the next one.
2001 · After school
Three mugs.
No teaspoons.
One council telephone number written on an envelope.
Marisol came to discuss lateness and stayed for nearly two hours.
Her family was about to lose its tenancy.
Catherine listened, found the right housing adviser and quietly arranged for every school expense that term to be marked “already covered”.
2012 · Rehearsal
She played the wrong chord, stopped, and played it again.
Thirty children collapsed.
Catherine declared it an experimental arrangement.
Former pupils later greeted her by humming the incorrect note.
She always knew exactly what they meant.
2016 · School gate
She recognised former pupil Hannah Morgan by the way she twisted a coat button.
Beside her stood Elsie, joining Year One. “Your mum used to do that,” Catherine said.
Elsie was delighted to discover her mother had once been small enough to be known by a teacher.