AT 29 (42 page)

McCabe referred to his notes, always within reach on his desk. “That would be Buckman. I don't know. Your public recognition is tied to Button.”

“We both know the band is finished.”

“You have your fans.”

“They'll know my music.”

McCabe hesitated. “How often does someone change his name in this business?”

“I want to start over.”

“Let me think about it.”

Jimmy nodded. “You have your conditions and I have mine. Now, what do you want me to do with the English groups?”

The little boy who tearfully took Sister Marie's hand as he watched the battered red pickup drive away, took longer than other orphans to find his place. For Sister Marie it was a mystery. At first, she treated him like all the others, with caring warmth and gentle discipline. She monitored his progress, knowing that it was vitally important that he mix well and find friends who would aid his adjustment to his new world. Yet, as the weeks passed he played alone, clinging only to her when challenges arose.

Nigel Whitehurst talked little and when he did it was always a question about his father. She parried his entreaties, trying to turn his attention to other things, but she sensed in this child a superior intelligence that recognized her deception and would not be put off. He was bigger than most of the boys his age, more coordinated as well and he spoke with a command of language beyond his years. This, she knew, was born from loving attention that must have been provided by his parents. What happened to them? Why did that big man, obviously so in love with his son, simply leave the boy behind? What became of him and where was the child's mother? She doubted there would ever be any answers. There seldom were with the children who came to Saint Malachy's.

She decided to treat Nigel differently from the others. He needed more guidance, at least for a while, until he could assimilate. Something happened to him that hampered his ability to trust the world without his father at his side. She would take the man's place as best she could until the memory of whatever it was faded. She stole time with him alone in the early mornings and at other times when the rest of her charges were engaged in other activities. During these times she nestled him in her arms and squeezed him to her so he could feel safe. They talked as a mother and child might, about simple things and the goings on all around. She used these private times to draw his attention away from the darker thoughts that plagued him. Gradually, he stopped asking for his father and after a year, when he was four, he began to find his way. Sister Marie let him go, but she continued to watch his progress with special care because periodically he withdrew into a distant loneliness she recognized as depression.

He started his schooling a year earlier than normal. By the time he was five, he had taught himself to read. His precocious nature was uncommon among the children, many of whom had academic challenges. His willingness to learn caught the attention of his teachers and by the age of ten he distinguished himself in all of his subjects.

He physically outpaced his peers as well. At eleven he stood nearly six feet tall, lanky, but with a prowess on the field that enabled him to join the school's football team, competing with boys four years older. By thirteen, he led the team to the city schoolboy premiership. He reveled in the glory of his accomplishments, garnering self-confidence. Sister Marie maintained her vigilance, finding comfort in his eventual escape from the painful unknown memories that had once kept him isolated. A bond developed between the religious administrator and the budding star. The many hours spent together continued through his youth. For her, it was a chance to tutor a vibrant mind, to fashion that intellect with all that she knew to be good and right for she believed that intelligence without character had no value. Nigel came to view her as his confidante, the only person he trusted with his deepest thoughts.

Bouts of depression seemed to come without cause. Sister Marie could always tell when he was wrestling with his tortured emotions because he went quiet, unable or
unwilling to commune with his friends. During these times he even thwarted her attempts to break through. He cared about nothing, found joy in nothing. Occasionally, she caught him weeping. He was careful to hide this from anyone near, but she saw through any charade he threw up. Her heart broke when she glimpsed redness around his eyes. What tormented this boy so deeply that he could not hold back the tears? She forced herself to remain aloof, girding her emotions so she could find a way to heal his.

After many approaches, from counseling to mere hugs, Sister Marie settled upon music as the best remedy to break Nigel's spells. Saint Malachy's Boys Choir rivaled its football team for notoriety in the Melbourne area. While every boy was required to audition for the elite group, not all had the quality of voice for admittance. It was a badge of honor for the chosen few, not only for the special gold blazers each wore with pride, but also for the perks the choir enjoyed. While the football team played a circuit limited to Melbourne and a few surrounding towns, the choir traveled throughout Victoria and once each year to Sydney where it performed with other choirs in the vaunted Sydney Opera House. On the occasion of each trip, the choirboys were excused from classes and all chores, much to the envy of their classmates.

Nigel was reluctant to audition. He knew he had no choice, but those who listened as he was put through the scales, detected a deliberate attempt to hide a magnificent voice. No matter, the choir director decided after the first audition, there are plenty of others who want to sing. Let this one break his bones on the football field. Sister Marie saw through Nigel's childish attempt to avoid the responsibility of his gift. Each time he was rejected, she brought him back with a scold, telling the choir director to test him again. It became a battle of wills among all three. The choir director wanted no one who was not committed. Sister Marie would not tolerate anything less than the best effort from one of her boys. Nigel would not be compelled to do something he did not want to do.

“Why do you fight this?” she demanded.

“Why do you make me?” he sullenly replied.

“Football cannot be your only outlet. You must develop your other skills. Then you will have more choices when you become a man. Choice is good.”

Even at thirteen, Nigel had his sights set on the huge stadium across the city where the professionals played Australian Rules football. He dreamed of one day being one of the stalwarts who marched onto the field to the cheers of thousands. He was determined to become a football star. Apart from his studies, he would tolerate no other distractions. He continued to fight her and dismissed the pompous choir director.

The turning point came six months after his first audition. He had just turned fourteen, reached a height of six foot two and was once again leading Saint Malachy's to the premiership. By now the long hours of practice and physical conditioning were beginning to sculpt his body into a perfect combination of sinew and muscle. He was fast, strong and confident. Anchoring the center, he was the one who carried the oblong ball, called footy, the farthest and kicked it the longest through the goals. Saint Malachy's was the team to beat and every opponent circled the date when it would face the reigning champs.

Penfold College, an elite grammar school accustomed to winning before Nigel arrived in the league, was bent upon regaining its former glory. To that end, it recruited the best athletes it could find from across Victoria and even outside the state where
indigenous families from the Northern Territory and Western Australia were invited to enroll their sons on full scholarship. This year, Penfold's football club was a formidable machine, running up impressive scores against all comers. The midfield boasted players equal to Nigel in both size and strength. Penfold's coaches drilled the team seven days a week, not only to be sure it would crush its smaller opponents, but most importantly, so it would be ready to overwhelm the hated Saint Malachy champs.

When the teams finally met in a match that would decide the pairings for the preliminary final, the players on both sides were prepared for a fight. The rainy afternoon made the footy difficult to hold. At the Full Forward position, Nigel was his team's leading goal kicker. He was marked by Penfold's powerful back line, prepped to keep him at bay no matter what it took. The hitting was hard and not always clean. Throughout the afternoon he was buried beneath a sea of bodies pounding him into the mud. Each time he endured intentional elbows to his face and gut. Nearing the end of the match, the teams were tied in a low scoring affair sprinkled with brief interludes of aggressive pushing and shoving. A few punches were also stealthily thrown when the umpires weren't looking. It had become a grudge match.

With time dwindling, an errant Saint Malachy handball was picked up by an alert Penfold player and kicked high through the goal for a score. Nigel stood for a moment to catch his breath before returning to the forward line where his team would battle for possession of the final center bounce, one last chance to even the match before time expired. As he turned, a Penfold player came alongside and delivered a crushing elbow to his face out of the umpire's view. Nigel dropped to his knees as his assailant quickly ran to his teammates.

A hallmark of boy's athletics in Australia is proper comportment. While scrums often take place, they end quickly with harsh punishments meted out to all involved. Nigel followed the rules because he had been taught to remain disciplined and because he knew his importance to his team. In the back of his mind he also feared retribution from Sister Marie. This time, however, his temper got the better of him. Kneeling with his throbbing face in his hands, he watched in rage as his assailant returned to his position laughing. Then in a fit of anger he leapt to his feet and ran after the boy. With two Penfold players trying to hold him back, he delivered four quick blows to the boy's face, rendering him helpless. Quickly the umpires separated the teams, assessing a fifty-meter penalty and free kick against Saint Malachy. As the last seconds ticked off, Nigel's rage turned to remorse as Penfold kicked a goal, putting an insurmountable twelve point advantage on the scoreboard. For the first time in four years Saint Malachy's failed to qualify for the semifinals.

Sister Marie's wrath would not be contained. For weeks she sentenced him to the kitchens, making sure he performed the most onerous tasks the cooks could find. When he was finished she sent him off to scrub the toilets. She met his protests with stony silence, giving him no hope of reprieve. Unlike the choir standoff, he had no leverage. She held him under her thumb.

“Do you want me to sing?” he asked, hoping.

“I want you to do what you are doing.”

“Please, I'll join the choir.”

“It does no good to pursue it now just to avoid responsibility for your behavior.”

The agony lasted another month before Sister Marie sent him again to audition for the skeptical choir director. This time, thoroughly chastened by her reprimand, Nigel gave his best effort, winning immediate appointment. By the time the choir headed to Sydney for its annual concert, he received his gold jacket. He was inducted into the prestigious choir not only as a member of the chorus, but also as a soloist.

Taking the lead frightened him. It did not come naturally as it did on the field. Secretly, he was conflicted by his talent. He worked hard to master the notes and to bring them from his lungs precisely the way the choir director demanded. But, too often, he fell short in his own mind. There was the manner dictated by the director and there was the way Nigel felt it should be done. He hid his misgivings, fearing it would be judged as one more sign of stubbornness that would meet with further discipline from Sister Marie. The chance to play football could not be risked again.

The bus ride to Sydney opened new vistas. There was certain wanderlust in his heart, born of his aboriginal heritage. Farms and bush extended in every direction, awakening wonder to his senses. He felt himself aching to stroll into the grassland so he could breathe in the air and listen to nature. When the coast came into view, he saw surfers in the distance, looking like sticks bobbing on the waves. He dreamt of joining them in their search for perfect harmony. He vowed one day to make his home along the coast, but never far from the majestic bush lands that skirt its teeming waters.

Sydney brought love. Her name was Reina, the Hindu daughter of the Bangladeshi Consul based in the city. Reina played the violin and attended the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. She was a year older than Nigel, statuesque with long black hair and smooth olive skin. They met by chance when she brushed his arm in the reception area of the Tulip Hotel where Saint Malachy's Choir was staying. The beautiful young woman excused herself with a confident smile then continued on. Nigel followed her with his eyes, captivated. Up to that moment he'd taken little notice of girls. Few graced the halls of his all-boys orphanage and his studies and sports afforded little idle time to meet them socially. Reina was the opposite. She knew many boys from the formal affairs she attended with her widower father and through her education in the finest private schools wherever his duties took her. While their brief encounter merely resulted in momentary awkwardness, Nigel was smitten. That night he saw her again on the stage of the Opera House where she displayed her talents performing a difficult piece. Her skill was clear, even to the ears of the young orphan. When it was Saint Malachy's turn to perform he looked out into the audience, hoping she would notice him as well.

Later, at the post-performance celebration, he watched her across the room with her friends. He could not bring himself to approach, but when she took the floor with the many boys who invited her to dance, he was filled with envy. Reina had none of his self-consciousness. When a dance ended and just as she came close to where he stood, she politely sent her partner off and came to his side.