Romance in A minor: A musical romance (6 page)

When she went out, Tom still sat at the breakfast bar, looking at her as she walked past. His expression made her uneasy.

"Is anything wrong?" Yes, there was,
she
had been wrong about this going to be an easy discussion.

"Give me the address. I'll come and pick you up tonight."

"But—"

"I don't want you to catch public transport by yourself at night."

"I'll be catching the bus three stops down. That's all. And I... don't know exactly where it is. Somewhere in Newtown. I have to ask. I'm meeting someone in the city and then we'll be going together. She knows where this guy lives."

"You're going to see a guy?" He fixed her with an intent stare.

"What are you getting at, Tom? We're playing music. With an ensemble. There will be other people there. Guys, girls, I don't know.
Musicians
. Anyway, this guy is gay if that's what you're worried about. He lives with his partner and the partner will also be playing."

"Oh."

God, she was sweating now. And getting angry besides. Since when couldn't she do anything with male friends? Why was it necessary for her to point out that a male friend was gay? Why was she even lying about not knowing Darren's address?

"All right. Just ring me later today when you know the address."

"Uhm, yeah, but it's really not necessary. I'll be fine. Anyway, look at the time. I better go or I'll miss the bus."

Justine kissed him fleetingly on the lips, ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and was just in time for the bus.

Staring out the window while the city went past, her heart finally calmed down. She realised two things: in the first place, that something about Darren's questioning about what happened to her in the past two years had struck a deep nerve with her. Secondly, that she was afraid of Tom's reaction to things she said or did. She cowered when he complained about food or the apartment not being tidy enough. She was afraid to ask him anything, including time for herself.

That thought left her feeling deeply unsettled.

"T
ada!" Donna strutted out of the bathroom into the office garden wearing gym wear. The outfit looked brand new: matching tights and shirt in hot pink and grey, the colours still bright and unwashed. Donna was not slim, and the pants were tight in all the wrong places. To be honest, she looked like a giant pink sausage.

Andy whistled.

Donna whirled around, wriggling her backside at him. Donna was being typical Donna and she didn't care about what she looked like, wriggly bits and all.

Sometimes Justine wanted to tell her
You know you're really beautiful on the inside. Don't worry about people saying that you're fat
. But there was never a reason to say it, because Donna genuinely didn't worry about what people said about her, and that made her a beautiful person.

Justine went to put on her sports shoes and gym gear, nowhere near as new and colour-matched as Donna's.

Katrina also came, Marisol always went walking so of course she was coming and Fiona had also changed into gym shorts. She had a beautiful figure with long legs and pale skin that she was smothering in sunscreen.

"I wish I had your skin," she said to Justine. "I get burnt just from thinking of going outside."

Then they were all ready and left the building for the gardens.

The midday sun was hot and the air humid. There would probably be another thunderstorm tonight. Justine hoped that she wouldn't have to carry her cello through the rain. The case was waterproof, but the water that ran off it always made her back very wet.

They entered the Botanic Gardens behind the Opera House, another place full of memories for Justine. Would she ever have the chance to play on the stage again?

They walked past the ponds and all the ibis nests and the café where she had sat with Darren. The table was taken by a mother with two young children. The older boy was making a mess of a muffin, the younger girl sat in a pram while the mother fed her fruit puree from a jar.

"So cute," Donna remarked. She was already sweating a lot in her pink outfit. "Phew. I'm really not very fit, aren't I?"

"Don't worry, we'll get you into perfect shape," Katrina said.

"If Justine will let us come to the wedding, I'll wear a skinny dress."

There was quite a lot of work to do before Donna would fit in a skinny dress.

They walked over the road to Mrs Macquarie's Chair and then back along the water. The girls chatted about office gossip, mainly about Stella whom no one liked.

Justine and Fiona walked at the back of the group.

"You're very quiet today," Fiona said. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Justine said in a non-committal sort of way. But she was not all right, or at least not yet.

She asked, "You know how you sometimes wonder if you're doing the right thing?"

"Oh yes, I get that all the time."

Justine took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I'm making the right decision in getting married." There. She said it. And saying it should make it better, right? At least that was what people always said.

"Why not?"

Justine shrugged.

"Is there someone else?"

"No. It's just that... I don't know. I don't feel ready for it." She sighed. It was hard to express her feelings, because all the words she could find to describe them sounded far more serious than it was. Tom was not
uninterested in her unless she did things he liked
and he did not
stifle her interests
and
isolate her from all her old friends under the guise of helping her
. He was not a
control freak
or wasn't unreasonable about anything she asked him. He even suffered her attempts at paying her own way with good humour.

Fiona said, "Well, my dad would say 'make a list' of all the advantages and disadvantages of the thing that you're trying to decide, and when you've done that, study it, and then throw it out and do what your heart tells you."

Justine laughed and then a chill came over her. Do what her heart told her. What if her heart couldn't make a decision?

"You do love him, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Is there a problem?"

"He's very different from me. I've tried to be like him, but I'm not sure if it's working, and I don't think he realises it yet."

"Is it so bad that a discussion over a nice dinner wouldn't sort it out?"

Justine shrugged. "Guess not." But she was bad at those sorts of discussions. She always seemed more concerned with what the other person wanted to hear than what she actually wanted, and she had trouble articulating what she wanted. More freedom? Well, marriage was about sharing, and if she wanted absolute freedom, she shouldn't get married at all. Her doubt was not about that.

"Well then, there you go. A lot of very successful couples are very different."

That was true. And she was being ridiculous in being afraid of Tom's reaction. That was her own lack of confidence speaking.

She'd given up music because of it, and in the past two years nothing had happened except that she had found someone who was happy to let her be timid and insecure. This wasn't about Tom. It was about her.

J
ustine went home after work to cook chili con carne for Tom. While she was excited about the rehearsal, she felt sorry for him. His job was so busy that he really didn't get much time to relax. He should find something to do for himself.

With the chili in a container in the fridge, she went to get changed. She ummed and erred quite a bit about what she should wear. Not too formal, not too casual. She knew nothing about the other people in Darren's ensemble. She wanted to look professional but not over the top and finally settled on a flowery sleeveless dress. It was a bit longer than what she would wear to the office or going out, and would be perfect for occasions where carrying music cases on the bus and bending over was required.

Then she grabbed her cello, worming her arms into the shoulder straps in the corridor.

On her way out, she stopped briefly in the kitchen looking into the living room with its white couch and glass coffee table that was super-annoying because it was forever collecting dust. There was a waist-high white cupboard along the side wall with sleek doors that had little chrome knobs. The top of the cupboard was empty except for a vase with a couple of wriggly willow twigs. The table was empty. There were no cushions on the couch. Last year, she and Tom had been to New York, but they had brought no souvenirs. There was no cushion collection, no tottering piles of music, no books. No cat.

Whenever she left something, a book or a piece of clothing, on the couch or the table, Tom would put it away. Little bits of junk, scraps of personality, he put all of it in the cupboards. She had an unsettling thought: this apartment could catch fire and apart from her cello, she wouldn't miss anything, because there was nothing in here to miss.

It was quite hot and by the time she had gotten off the bus and lugged her cello to Darren's house, she was sweating in her summery dress.

The sound of voices and a woman's laughter drifted through the open window. When she dropped the lion's head knocker on the door, footsteps sounded in the hall. A moment later, a young Asian man with a vaguely familiar face opened the door.

"Oh, hi. I'm Justine. I'm here for the rehearsal."

"Come in. We were just about to start. I'm Trevor, by the way."

She remembered him then. "Trevor Leung? You play the violin, right?"

"Yes, and you're Justine Feldman. I remember you from that concert. We all wondered what happened to you. And here you are, back again."

Well, that was embarrassing. While she'd been away, she had turned into a celebrity.

Darren was at the kitchen bench and a young woman with blond hair sat on the couch scratching behind the ears of Beethoven the cat. A small instrument case lay next to her, the shape and size of an oboe case.

She looked over her shoulder when Justine came down the steps, being careful not to trip with her cello case.

Darren exclaimed, "Justine! I'm glad you made it. What did you tell them at work?"

Justine cringed. She'd forgotten that she told him that she'd be busy at work. She'd told everyone so many lies, it was hard to keep everything straight.

Why was she even lying?

Because I'm scared of what will happen when I don't
.

She said to Darren, "It turned out that we were not so busy after all."

"That's good. This is our ensemble. You've already met Trevor, and this is Charlotte Stephenson."

"Oboe," Justine said.

The woman smiled and gestured at her case. "How did you guess?"

Justine sat down on a chair Darren brought from the dining table. He gave out the parts and brought music stands, of which there seemed to be an endless supply in the next room.

Then they started playing.

He had been right, the parts weren't hard. They were excerpts from famous classical works and film music, all the popular tunes that people liked hearing.

They worked through all the pieces at least once. It was fun and sounded good.

"That was a really great rehearsal," Charlotte said when they were all packing up.

"Yes, I think Justine fits right in," Trevor said. "We could use her more often."

"Are you a regular feature?" Justine asked.

"Yes," Darren said. "We call ourselves Bows & Whistles and we play this sort of music at weddings and other functions and in shopping centres and places like that."

Justine had to laugh at the group's name. "Am I replacing someone?"

"We had a cellist a few months back, but he left because he got a scholarship in Europe. We'd been making do without him, because we need someone who is not only good enough but someone who works well in the group." Darren's eyes met hers. "So I'm really glad that you could come, because I think it will be great having you with us."

"I agree," Trevor said.

Darren let everyone know the arrangements for the concert which would be held the next day in some hotel in the city.

Then Charlotte rose. "I have to go home now, because I really have to feed the baby."

That surprised Justine. "You're a mother?"

Charlotte smiled. "The little one is three weeks old and I hope my husband has survived the experience of being alone with her. It's very tiring being a new parent, but you know, I'll try not to let my practice slip—Anyway, I'll see you all next week." She picked up her case and left the room.

Justine was impressed. She had always assumed that women with babies had to give up playing.

"She's awesome," Trevor said, leaning back on the couch.

"Yes, she is. I don't know that I could do it." Darren opened a cupboard door in the kitchen. "Justine, would you like a drink?" He took some glasses from the cupboard and picked up a wine bottle from the bench. Three glasses, she noticed.

"Just a small one, then." It was only half past nine and she'd said to Tom that the rehearsal would last until ten.

Darren poured. He handed one glass to Trevor and took the other two to the table, where he set one on Justine's side and the other one on the short end of the table.

"I agree with Charlotte. I thought it was really great. I hope that you can become a regular member of our group. I would really like that." His eyes met Justine's, his expression hopeful.

"Yeah." She didn't know where to look. She didn't know what to say. She very much wanted to play, but playing at weddings involved weekends, right? Tom would have a fit.

A jingle went off somewhere in the room. Trevor jumped up and grabbed his phone from the kitchen bench.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Kath... no, we just finished, so..." He disappeared down the corridor while talking.

"His girlfriend," Darren said. "She's in Hong Kong."

His girlfriend?
"But I thought..." Justine looked from the corridor entrance where Trevor had disappeared to Darren and back.

"You thought we were two gay guys, right?"