Music From Standing Waves (21 page)

“Are you free tonight?” she asked. “You
probably have plans already, but I’m leaving early Sunday
morning.”

I nibbled my thumbnail. Julian was attempting
to cook roast chicken for us that night and it promised to be
comedy gold.

“Tonight would be great,” I said.

I was nervous about meeting Hayley. That day
had been the first time we had spoken in over eighteen months,
despite our promises to keep in touch.

I pulled her inside out of the cold. Her
blonde hair was pinned back; a dark red scarf bundled around her
neck. I threw my arms around her, my nerves disappearing.

She kissed my cheek. “God Abby, look at you.
You’re all grown up.”

At twenty-six, Hayley was all grown up too.
Dressed in black with her hair up and her nails short and bare, she
was a more subdued, adult version of the girl I had known in Acacia
Beach. The big sister I had never had.

A cold wind whipped off the river as we
walked into the city. Hayley shivered and buttoned her jacket.

“How’s your sister?” I asked.

“Good. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen
her. Plus, it’s nice to have a break from things in Acacia.”

“What things?”

Hayley shrugged. “Just things. Being a
mother.”

A flash of coloured light shot out from the
bridge and arched across the water.

“Then let’s go get hideously drunk,” I said,
linking my arm through Hayley’s. For the first time, I almost felt
her equal. “I know the best little bar to go to.” I grinned to
myself as we crossed the bridge to Southbank. My last visit to
Charlie’s Bar had involved doing the
Macarena
on a table and
dirty dancing with a vending machine.

“What are you giggling at?”

“Just stupid uni stuff.”

“So have you got a boy?” asked Hayley, her
heels clicking on the walkway.

I smiled. “Yeah. Matt. He’s a composer.”

“Nice. Is he hot?”

“Very. In a grungy muso kind of way.”

We passed a bar with a crowd spilling onto
the footpath. Laughter mixed with the sound of a jazz band. I felt
myself stepping in time to the music. A sax solo floated out of the
open doors.

“So you’re finally over Justin,” said
Hayley.

“I’m over him,” I said frostily. “So over
him.”

Hayley raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like I
hit a nerve.”

“Sorry,” I said, weaving my way through a
group of girls wearing ball gowns and tuxedo jackets. “I just don’t
like to think about Justin any more. All that’s behind me. I just
want to concentrate on the life I’ve got now.”

“I don’t believe you. He did something to
hurt you, didn’t he?”

I shook my head, feeling guilty for lying. “I
don’t think about him any more, that’s all. I’m with Matt now.”

“I envy you, Abby,” Hayley said, pushing her
hands into her coat pockets. “I envy your life.”

I faced her in surprise. “You envy
me
?
Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re doing everything
you’ve always wanted in this awesome city. You’re on your way to
making it big…”

“Making it big!” I laughed. “I don’t know
about that!”

“Come on,” said Hayley. “Anyone from Acacia
Beach that makes it into a music school like you did is making it
big as far as I’m concerned.”

I smiled dubiously. “Well, you know I was so
jealous of you when I was growing up. I wanted to be just like
you.”

Hayley frowned, her eyes glued to the
footpath. “Why would you ever want to be like me?”

“Because you’re so gorgeous and confident and
you always had such good advice for me-”

“Good advice! I sincerely hope you never took
any of my good advice, Abby! Do you know how I spent my
twenty-first birthday? Cleaning baby spew off my couch!” She
hurried past me into the bar and tapped her fingers on the counter.
“Let’s buy expensive champagne.”

We bought our drinks and climbed onto the
tall stools at one of the tables. At the other end of the bar, two
guys were playing pool while girls in matching white mini skirts
tried to pick them up. Hayley slid her jacket onto the back of her
chair and smoothed her black halter neck. She filled the glasses.
Bubbles overflowed onto the glossy tabletop.

“Here’s to not waiting this long to see each
other again.” She clinked her glass against mine. “You should come
back to Acacia Beach and visit. Or at least call us some time
dammit!”

“I know I should.” I took a sip. My nose
always seemed to get in the way when I drank out of champagne
flutes. “It’s just hard. My parents don’t exactly speak to me since
Nick ran off.”

Hayley nodded. I could tell from her unfazed
reaction that my family’s business had become the latest gem of
gossip in Acacia Beach.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s awful. No
wonder you don’t want to come home.”

I wriggled on the narrow bar stool and hooked
the heels of my boots around the legs. “It’s okay. There aren’t a
whole lot of people there I really want to see.”

Hayley raised her eyebrows and I said
hurriedly: “Except you, of course.”

“What about Andrew?”

I nodded slowly. I was missing Andrew more
than I felt I should admit to Hayley.

“He wants you to call him,” she said. “He
told me to tell you off for not keeping in touch. In fact, give me
your phone. I’m going to put his new mobile number in there for
you.”

Hesitantly, I slid my bag across the table.
Took a long sip of champagne. “How is he?”

“He’s good. He misses you though. He misses
teaching someone with talent.” Hayley handed me back my phone. She
traced a circle in the condensation on the side of her glass.
“Anyway,” she said mutedly. “I’ll tell him you’re happy. It sounds
like you’re having a ball.”

I smiled. “I am. I mean, I’ve made some
stupid mistakes, but hasn’t everyone?”

“Of course.” Hayley spun the ashtray in
circles. “I love Andrew,” she said suddenly. Her voice wobbled. “I
love him so much.”

I took a mouthful of champagne and felt the
bubbles shoot back up my throat. “Of course you do.”

“No. You don’t understand.”

I frowned. “Is everything okay, Hayles? Did
something happen between you guys?”

She stared into her glass. I reached across
the table and touched her wrist.

“What is it?”

“Nothing happened,” she said finally. “We’re
fine. Really.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So if I called Andrew
and asked him, he would say nothing was wrong?”

“He would say everything was great.” Hayley
pulled her hands out from underneath mine and slid the bottle away
from her. “I really shouldn’t drink this stuff.”

I graced the chicken dinner at midnight,
champagne still dancing in my brain. I sashayed into the lounge
room and gave Matt a sloppy kiss. “How was the roast?”

“We had pizza,” Julian said sheepishly.

Jess kicked her legs inside her sleeping bag.
“Jules carved it up and it was still raw inside. “Brown Dog loved
it!”

“How was your country-bum friend?” asked
Clara from her perch on a kitchen stool. “Did you discuss the
latest trends in cow manure?”

“Of course,” I laughed, thinking Hayley would
probably head my list of the top twenty people who wouldn’t touch
cow manure with a ten-foot pole. Well, maybe a close second behind
Clara. I slipped off the couch and exploded into giggles.

“You’re so pissed!” laughed Jess. “I thought
you were never drinking again.”

“Tonight got a little full-on,” I said.

Matt raised his eyebrows. “It didn’t go so
well then?”

“No, it was good,” I said. “Just
full-on.”

“Hey I can’t make quartet rehearsal
tomorrow,” I told Clara. We walked out of the Con into the chilly
autumn night. Peak hour traffic was banked up along the
boulevard.

“Why?”

I chewed over whether to tell her. “I’m
rehearsing with Matt.”

“Oh great.” Clara broke into a sudden stride.
“So he finally convinced you to play then. Isn’t it funny how sex
has so much power.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it,” I
snapped.

“Isn’t his little studio in his bedroom? I
bet he doesn’t want you to just pack up and go home after
rehearsal.”

I glared at her. “God you’re a bitch
sometimes.” We stopped at the pedestrian lights and I smashed the
button angrily. “I just love his music, that’s all. I think the
world needs to hear it.”

“Yeah well the world also needs to hear the
Beethoven
F Minor
at this gig on Saturday night,” said
Clara. “So you’d better know your part.”

“I’ll know it, okay.”

The lights shot to green. Clara’s leather
shoulder bag swung in time with her clicking boots.

“So I guess you won’t be doing the concerto
competition?”

I turned to her in interest. “What’s the
concerto competition?”

She gave an airy laugh, which reminded me of
the froth on a cappuccino. “Only, like, the biggest deal of the
whole year for performance students. It’s an opportunity to perform
in front of the whole Con. And the winner gets so much exposure
they’re basically guaranteed an orchestra gig when they graduate.
The cellist that won last year is playing with the Melbourne
Symphony now.” She tossed her red plait dreamily. “The
MSO,
Abby. You practically have to wait for someone to die before a spot
opens up in the MSO.” She patted my arm. “I would have thought
you’d be entering. But you probably won’t have time now you’re
doing this thing with Matt.”

“I’ll find time,” I said quickly.

“Good. You’d be stupid not to if you’re
serious about becoming a performer- which you are, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Well then.” She flashed me a quick white
smile. “It looks as though we’ll be having a little friendly
competition.” She pecked my cheek. “Bye, precious.”

She disappeared into the station.

I chose the Dvorak concerto I had heard in
Brisbane to play for the competition. An easy decision. Hearing the
powerful opening chords on a CD I had borrowed from the library, I
was taken back to the night of my first violin performance; the
night music had made the decision for me that I would make it to
the concert hall.

“Are you sure about this piece?” my teacher
asked. “It’s quite a challenge.”

“I’m up for it,” I assured him. I couldn’t
imagine playing anything else.

I hurried from my lesson to Matt’s for a
rehearsal. My train had been delayed and it was dark and wet when I
arrived at the station. I power-walked to the apartment, backpack
on one shoulder and violin case on the other. I let myself inside
and dropped my things in the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” I puffed, flinging open my
case. I looked up. The lounge was empty. The windows were glazed in
condensation and I could smell garlic and tomato sauce.

Matt poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey.
You’re the first. I’m making pasta if you want some.”

I took off my wet jacket and pressed my hands
against the radiator. “I thought we were starting at seven.”

Matt shrugged. “Seven-ish. Want a beer?”

“No thanks. Can I use your room to practise
while we wait?”

“If you want.”

I pulled the Dvorak score out of my bag and
disappeared into Matt’s bedroom. I played slowly through the
opening theme and smiled. Even at half speed it still made me
shiver. Still made my dreams stand out clearly in front of me. I
played it again, letting the last notes fade into the sound of rain
against the glass.

“Guess what?” Matt appeared in the doorway
with a bowl in his hands. “We’ve got our first gig! Next Saturday
at the Royal.”

I lowered my violin. “A pub gig?” I planted
my hand on my hip; diva-esque. “I’m here to play in the concert
halls, not some dodgy bar.”

Matt laughed gently. “Everyone has to start
somewhere, princess! Sorry I couldn’t bust us straight into
Carnegie Hall! It’s a good gig,” he promised. “It’s no dive. And we
need to get our name out there.” He smiled and kissed the side of
my lips. “It’ll be Carnegie Hall for us one day. I promise.”

I couldn’t help returning his grin.
“Okay.”

“Good.” He put down his bowl and flicked my
concerto shut. “Now I want to hear some real music. None of that
crap.” He slid his new score onto my stand and stood behind me.

I scanned through the piece and plucked out
the first phrase.

“Like that rhythm?” asked Matt. “It’s Salsa.
One
and
two and …” He tapped out the beat against the top of
my thighs and suddenly I wasn’t thinking about music anymore.

“Play it,” said Matt. I lifted my bow and
added in the notes as he continued tapping.

“Now you’re talking.” He chuckled close to my
ear. “I bet Dvorak never wrote anything like this, did he.”

As I cooked dinner the next night, I cranked
up my stereo with a Salsa CD Matt had lent me. Jess was out and I
danced through the empty house, slicing carrots in time with the
exotic dance rhythms.

There was a faint knock at the door. I leapt
over the couch and turned down the volume. A second knock came
louder. I clicked off the CD and opened the door.

“Hayley? I thought you were going back to
Acacia.”

Hayley’s eyes were red rimmed, her cheeks
stained with tears. “I couldn’t go yet.” She wrung her hands
together under the cuffs of a faded pink hoodie. “I’m so sorry to
just turn up like this. It’s just… I- Are you busy?”

“No. No.” I ushered her inside and hugged her
tightly. “God Hayles, are you alright? What’s happened?”

She lowered her head and her curls fell in
pieces over her face. “There’s something I need to say,” she
mumbled. “I didn’t know who else to ask. Can I tell you something,
Abby? Please?”

“Of course you can.” I pulled her onto the
couch. “Anything. You were always there for me.”