Romance in A minor: A musical romance (5 page)

"Oh?" Tom looked at her, his face showing surprise. "Any reason?"

"No. I just want to play music again."

"This would mean weekly rehearsals, I'm guessing."

"Probably."

"What about our evenings together?" They went to the gym a lot of those evenings. Tom didn't like going places alone.

"We could go to the gym three nights, spend one night going out and you could come to hear me play one night." Although rehearsals would be boring, and she didn't even know what the other players would say if someone turned up with a chaperone. But that aside. She hadn't thought about this aspect of it, and was making it up on the spot.

"I guess I could..." But he didn't sound convinced. Classical music was really not his thing and he really hated being alone. Damn it, she felt sorry for him.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. Go and do something I find boring, like squash." She didn't have very good hand to ball coordination and if they played together, they always lost because she just wasn't very good at judging a hit.

"I suppose..." He still didn't sound convinced.

"You really like squash. I don't mind if you find some people to play with. I'll just play in an orchestra instead."

Justine's heart thudded while thought about that for a while. The small frown never left his face. "What about when we go to Singapore?"

"I guess I'll have to find an orchestra there."

"Seems not much point in starting with a group here when we'll leave after the wedding."

"But that would be months away."

"True, but won't you be busy organising the wedding?"

"All the time?"

"Well... women seem to spend a lot of time on things like that. Who sits next to who and things like that. You still have your job as well."

Justine laughed. "Don't you want any say in how we hold the wedding?"

"That's, like, a women's thing, isn't it?"

"Not really, and I have no help from my mother."

"I guess..." He still didn't look convinced and clearly considered organising weddings women's work. "And my mother will probably start asking for all our guests' star signs and giving them their horoscopes, talking about power crystals or the healing properties of flowers." He pulled a face.

Justine laughed. Tom's mother was the classic hippy type, complete with the bushy hair and the animals in the back yard. Tom's mates were his colleagues at the bank, and they were into fast cars and real estate and money.

Justine liked Caroline well enough, but Tom was embarrassed by her.

"I don't like the sound of having to negotiate with the mothers. Sounds like a lot more trouble than it's worth. It's our wedding, not theirs."

"You were thinking that maybe we should have a secret wedding."

"Something like that." He grinned. "I can just about see your family and my family at the table together. What a disaster that would be."

There were many differences between them, but that was an important thing they had in common: their families were both disappointed with them. Tom knew what it felt like to think of yourself as a failure. His mother had tried, and had utterly failed, to turn him into a political activist. She had almost disowned him for studying Finance. He had overcome it. He had helped her overcome her feelings of failure and she was grateful for that.

D
appled light filtered through the large Morton Bay fig trees onto the tables and chairs of the café in the Botanic Gardens. It was lunchtime and quite busy with a variety of people. There were tourists with backpacks and cameras. A man kneeled on the ground trying to take a picture of an ibis that strutted under the tables. A couple of old ladies in white bowling clothes were just about to start on their tea and scones which were being offloaded from a tray by a waitress dressed in black with pink hair and lots of earrings.

"Justine!"

Darren sat with his back into the sun. The light lit his flyaway curls from behind, making them shine like silver.

Justine crossed to the table.

"I'm sorry I'm a bit late," she said while pulling the chair back and sitting down. "Have you ordered yet?"

"I was waiting for you." His brown eyes met hers. One corner of his mouth moved up.

"It's quite a walk here from work." And she'd had to think up an excuse about where she was going and why the girls from the office couldn't come.

"It's all right. I don't have any appointments—" The waitress turned up at the table. "Could we have a flat white and..." He looked at Justine. "What do you want?"

"A skim milk cappuccino."

The waitress noted it down and disappeared inside.

"What did you want to see me for?" She'd been surprised to get a call from him this morning.

"I've got a job for an ensemble and I need a cello. There is this conference of dentists or something like that and they're having a formal dinner and want a chamber group to play. It pays three hundred dollars."

What?
"A paid gig?" This was going much too fast for her liking.

"You did say you wanted to go back to playing music, right? There is no point if the music isn't being enjoyed. If it is being enjoyed at a party or other venue, you should be paid for it, simple as that."

"Do you really think I'm good enough?"

"We practiced for five weeks. I think you'll be fine. The music isn't hard."

True . "All right. Does that mean we have more practices?"

"Just the one. Tuesday at eight. My place."

"Oh." Her courage sank. So far, she'd been able to schedule practices at times when Tom was still at work so she never had to ask him and he never knew about them. Tuesday was when he came home early.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that... we're kind of busy at work on Tuesday. I'll need to see if I can be there."

"All right. Just let me know as soon as you know for sure, because I'll have to find someone else if you can't do it." The look in his eyes was one of disappointment.

"Yes... yes." God, she was being a goose. Not just a gig, but a paid gig. She'd not had too many of those, even when she still studied music. It was all about who you knew, people said, and she evidently hadn't known the right people back then.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. Just a bit... surprised." She wished so badly that she could promise him that she would be there. Of course she should just ask Tom, and he'd say yes, because he wasn't a moron. At least she didn't think he was, but he was going to be upset. He was always talking about how she should not
go back to that world
. She guessed that the money might mollify Tom's reaction. Although three hundred dollars was nothing for him. He paid more than that for going out to lunch with some people. It wasn't even half a day's work for him.

He'd say, "You don't have to do that sort of stuff. I'm sure you can do a lot better." And that was a kind of disapproval in a roundabout way.

"You don't look all right to me."

She shrugged and looked at her hands, folded at the table. Why was he so perceptive?

Musicians are sensitive
.

They said nothing while the waitress came to the table with their coffee. Justine looked up.

"Thank you," Darren said to the waitress, and then he fixed Justine with his brown eyes. Those eyes were very expressive and sharp. As if with one look, he knew everything about her. "I'm serious, Justine, whatever happened to you over the past two years has really knocked the stuffing right out of you. Why should you even ask if you are good enough to play some simple popular classics? Stuff you could do in high school. Seriously, Justine."

Justine shrugged. Tears pricked behind her eyes.

There was a time that she'd walked up on the stage and sat down to play with a world class musician. There was a tine that she'd dreamed of playing in the big orchestras, of travelling the world and seeing all the amazing halls.

These days, she did travel and saw different parts of the world sometimes, but they relaxed and took pictures. She'd been telling herself that that kind of life was much better for her. Much more relaxed. But lack of challenges had made her passive and mortified. She'd been shy as a kid. Music had helped her overcome that shyness. But because Tom did everything and decided everything and complained if things didn't go his way, she'd gone back to being shy and passive. Back to being the little girl who did everything her parents wanted.

"It's up to you, of course," Darren was saying. "I can't make you deal with the issues that turn you into this shy person, but I would very much prefer you to be the happy, laughing person again."

"I was never a happy laughing person."

"That's how I remember you. Standing on that stage, smiling your face off. Whenever I saw you in the corridors or in the library after that, you were always with a bunch of friends."

He'd noticed her that much? That was embarrassing and kind of... romantic as well. She'd had a secret admirer, and had never even known about it.

"Will you try to be happy again?" Darren said.

"I don't think I'm unhappy." Should she tell him she was getting married?

"Then smile! Laugh, do things without going
I don't know if I can...
about it. If you make a mistake, so what? You're a musician. Mistakes happen. It's how you cover them up that's important."

"Yeah, I guess so."

For the rest of lunchtime they talked about pieces they wanted to play and upcoming performance. At first, Justine had to make an effort to forget all her nervousness—what if someone saw her here? What if Tom called? But she gradually relaxed. Talking about music was exhilarating. It was as if a part of her had died and started to wake up again.

Lunchtime went fast and it felt like hardly any time had passed when she noticed the time.

She gasped. "I'm going to be so late back to work."

"Go on, then. I don't want to cause you trouble at your office."

Justine rose, but felt like she couldn't just run away. "Thanks so much for considering me."

"It's all right. I needed a cello."

"No, really, thanks. You don't know how much this means to me."

"I'm glad to help." His smile warmed her. "But do run now, because I'd hate for you to get into trouble."

Justine rushed back to work. She came into the office, sweaty and red-cheeked from running and dropped herself into her chair with a deep sigh.

"What have you been doing?" Donna asked. It looked like the girls had been back from lunch for some time. The atmosphere in the office suddenly felt stale and dead.

"Oh, I... went for a walk. I'm too fat to fit in any nice wedding dresses."

Donna's face lit up. "Hey, that's a good idea. Maybe we should start a walking club." She turned around, and, in typical Donna fashion, yelled out, "Who wants to join a lunchtime walking club?"

Marisol said that was an excellent idea and Katrina said she would bring her sport shoes tomorrow. And then Justine had to promise to bring her gear as well. Damn it.

On the way back home in the bus, she wanted to send Darren a text that they couldn't meet in the gardens anymore, and something made her stop.

What was she doing? If Tom would find the text, he would think all sorts of things that weren't true.

And there was no reason to be quiet about Darren because there was nothing to hide. But she still didn't send the message.

"A
rehearsal?" Tom asked, raising his eyebrows.

They were standing in the kitchen eating breakfast.

"Yes. Tonight." Justine tried to sound confident, but her heart was hammering in her throat. Despite her intentions, she had put off this talk so long and now she couldn't put it off any longer. Tom wouldn't be home yet when she came back here to pick up her cello.

"You know that tonight is my night off?"

"I do, and I'm sorry." She cringed. "It's just that I... I met some... friends, and one said they needed a cello for a concert and... it's a paid gig and tonight is the only night they can rehearse."

"Paid?" Again those eyebrows, but with a little bit more interest.

"Three hundred dollars."

"Oh." The eyebrows sank.

There was a little, tense silence.

"Anyway, it starts at seven thirty, so I'll put your dinner in the fridge. I'll make something that you can easily heat up." And there she cringed again because Tom often professed his dislike for microwaved dinners.

He gave her a pointed glare. "And... what time are you going to be back?"

"I don't know. Something like ten, I guess. There are a few pieces we have to play through, but none of them are that hard."

"What is it for?"

"Some conference of dentists. A formal dinner."

His face cleared. "Oh. All right." He would have been to plenty of occasions like it. "And tonight is at friend's house, right?"

"Yes."

"Do I know this friend?"

What is it with all the questions?
She could still hear Darren's voice telling her,
Whatever happened to you over the past two years has really knocked the stuffing right out of you
.

"I don't think so. It's a music person, and there are a lot of other music people coming, so it doesn't really matter. They're not, like, personal friends."
Liar, you don't have any personal friends left
.

He opened his mouth. Justine was expecting a lecture on what her emotional state had been when he first met her, and that he wanted no repeat of that. And then she would say that she was an adult and could have interests if she wanted to, but he only said, "If it's late, give me a ring and I'll pick you up."

"Okay. I don't think it will be necessary, but thank you."

Another uneasy silence.

"All right then, I'll be going to work." She walked into the bedroom to get dressed. Well, that was easier than she expected. It was obviously a shock to him that she wanted to start playing again, but he seemed to have accepted it.

She pulled on her skirt and top, stockings. Then she went into the bathroom to put her hair into a bun.