River Song, page 8
‘Well, you find the people who want to build this dam and tell ’em that, or whoever has the bright idea to make a buck or three out of clearing the place for it.’
‘I’ll do that, Harry.’ Leonie sighed. ‘But I don’t know how many wars I can fight,’ she muttered. Things felt like they were getting on top of her. Costs for the farm were spiralling, its income was patchy, and there were a dozen things to do around the place. Tony’s idea of rewilding with regenerative farming was becoming harder to manage. She straightened up. ‘We’d better keep our eyes out for any signs that there have been trespassers, and I’ll make some enquiries about the dam.’
‘I haven’t heard anything on the news,’ said Harry as he opened the passenger door.
‘If you do, then we’ll have a fight on our hands,’ said Leonie, banging her door shut with some force.
*
‘Sorry to interrupt, just wondering what’s happening about dinner tonight? Want me to cook?’ asked Ray, poking his head into Sarita’s sewing room.
‘That would be great, I just want to finish this.’
‘Whose funeral are you doing?’ he asked, looking at the swathes of black fabric Sarita had draped around her sewing table.
‘Ha! No such thing. I’m making the shirts for the cast. To go with white pants. We’re going with a black-and-white piano theme.’
‘Ah. Sounds a bit boring.’
‘Well, it’s not a full production. Not yet, anyway. Chrissie and I came up with the idea, and we’ll have a stark white and black background.’
‘Right. Could look good. I’m sure Leonie would love to stage the whole thing with all the frills but we’d never get the budget for it.’
‘Hmm.’ Ray paused. ‘I heard some news in a meeting at work today.’
Sarita stopped and looked up at her husband, frowning at his expression. ‘Like what? What’s the council up to now?’
‘I was doing a bit of number crunching, as they’re looking at ways to raise money –’
‘Flog things off, you mean?’
‘Now, that’s unfair. It’s called harmonisation.’
‘So?’
‘The Riverside Playhouse was mentioned. It might be closed down.’
‘No way!’ cried Sarita.
‘Hang on, Rita. They’re not pulling the building down. At least, that’s what they’re talking about at the moment.’
‘We’d lose all the magic of having the theatre in the heart of town! Leonie was right to be worried about the rumours we all heard a while back. What do they plan to use it for, then? Riverfront highrise luxury apartments? And isn’t it heritage listed?’
Ray put up his hands placatingly. ‘I’m not sure! If I hear anything more I’ll pass it on.’
‘Hearing about it is one thing, stopping it is another,’ said Sarita.
‘Don’t tell anyone yet, nothing has been decided. I don’t want to start a panic.’
‘Of course. Just keep an eye on it, though. Forewarned and all that.’ Sarita sighed in frustration and turned back to her sewing, but Ray paused at the door.
‘There was one other thing that was floated in the meeting – they’re thinking of building a new dam,’ said Ray.
Sarita looked up again. ‘What about it?’
‘The site they’re considering sounds pretty close to Leonie’s property. Has she mentioned anything about it?’ he asked.
‘No, nothing. Why? Could it be a problem?’
‘Maybe. Water’s always an issue – not enough or too much and it floods. And dams can harm the environment, especially big ones. I can’t imagine this would be a monster, but dams can cause issues for the natural waterways.’
‘There’s that beautiful creek that runs through Leonie’s property. It has platypus and turtles in it!’ exclaimed Sarita. ‘I reckon she must not have heard about it. Surely she would have mentioned it if she had.’
‘Maybe it’s just another thought bubble from the mayor.’ Ray rolled his eyes. ‘Anyway, this show you’re doing sounds different from anything you’ve done before,’ he continued, changing the subject.
‘Yes, it is different, not choreographed or a full-on production. A concert format, Fleur calls it,’ replied Sarita.
‘Gotcha. So why is Fleur doing it here? No offence to the magnificent Riverside Players, but it’s a far cry from Broadway.’
‘Chrissie and I were wondering the same thing. I think she just happened to stumble across Leonie and the Riverside Players,’ mused Sarita.
‘And decided to try it out in Fig Tree River?’
‘I guess so,’ said Sarita. ‘Maybe it was fate.’
‘Oh, you and your airy superstitions,’ he said, laughing. ‘Back to whipping up those tops. You’re not sewing the pants too, are you? Though, given you’ve outfitted everyone from Cleopatra to Chewbacca, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.’
‘Don’t forget Cinderella and Captain Hook!’ She laughed. The costumes were all stored at the theatre and it occurred to her that it might be time to sort through them and check they hadn’t been attacked by moths or mould. She couldn’t help thinking of the costumes she could do for Percy and Ella in a full production of the show.
‘I’ll let you know if I hear any more rumblings about the theatre or the dam,’ said Ray.
‘Okay, thanks,’ answered Sarita above the whirring of the sewing machine.
‘Spag bol for dinner?’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ said Sarita, not looking up.
*
Maddie and Charlie were hiking along a bush trail at the edge of town. Since they’d caught up after she’d finished work and gone fig picking, they’d formed a pleasant, easygoing friendship. Their mutual interest and involvement with Fleur’s show gave them common ground.
They had slowed their pace as the track was now wide enough to stride side by side.
‘So there’s been no contact from the ad Leonie put in the paper looking for the piano man?’ said Maddie.
‘Nope. But it’s only been three days.’
‘Why did she ask for a piano tuner and not just a pianist?’ said Maddie.
‘Yeah, well, I guess she didn’t want to be bothered with a bunch of wanna-be-famous pianists. Do you play?’
Maddie shrugged, looking where she was stepping on the rocky track. ‘I guess so. I mean, I just taught myself.’
‘Ah. Right. So have you thought of studying music?’
‘Not really. I’ve hardly left Fig Tree River,’ said Maddie.
He stopped and looked at her. ‘Why not?’ he asked.
Maddie turned and stared at him. ‘Why would I? Most of my friends are here, my family is here, I know everyone, I have a job, I’m happy here. I have my music.’
‘But that’s just it – you have real talent! I don’t know much about songwriting and shows, but I’ve heard you sing and I think you’re really gifted.’
Maddie smiled. ‘Thanks. I love music, it’s just my own thing, you know?’ she said simply. ‘Why would I go and try to compete and struggle to get known? I like my life as it is.’
*
Leonie heard someone calling out to her and she turned to see Troy, Chrissie’s husband, smiling broadly at her. ‘Hi there. How are things doing, Leonie?’
Chrissie was lagging behind him, holding her children’s hands. Thomas’s Under 10s soccer match had come to an end and the older boys had just started.
‘Hi, Leonie, is Corby playing?’ Chrissie asked as she joined them. ‘Thomas’s game ran late today.’
‘Yes, he’s out there in the chaos.’ Leonie smiled, waving a hand at the field.
‘Might be chaos to the uninitiated. To us experts, it’s like a finely honed game of chess.’ Troy winked. ‘There’s a girls’ game next Saturday but I wouldn’t waste your time watching it. They can’t match up to the boys.’ He laughed.
Leonie bristled. She found Troy to be a bit of a loud-mouthed know-it-all. ‘You might be surprised,’ she said archly. ‘Think of how the whole country came together to watch the Matildas. Your Mia might like to try it.’ She nodded down at Troy and Chrissie’s daughter, then turned back to the game.
Leonie loved the town’s oval and the adjacent park, encircled by shady trees, though a few concrete eyesores like the sporting club and an office building had replaced some older gems over the years.
‘I’ll wait for you and the kids in the car,’ Troy said to Chrissie. ‘See you, Leonie.’
Leonie and Chrissie watched Corby’s game for a few more minutes while Chrissie’s children kicked a ball around on the grass behind them. ‘I’d better get going too, I guess,’ said Chrissie. She paused awkwardly, then said, ‘And I’m sorry, Leonie, but I won’t be able to do those backdrops for you. For the show.’
Leonie looked at the younger woman in surprise. She had always been so enthusiastic and keen to be involved in their productions before. ‘Oh, Chrissie, that’s a shame. You’ll be missed. But of course, no problem if you have other commitments. Feel free to come back anytime if you change your mind,’ she said.
‘I’d love to, but I just have things on at home. It’s hard to get away, especially in the evenings. The kids . . .’ She glanced down at the youngsters. ‘Anyway, I gave Sarita my notes and ideas.’
‘Yes, stylish simplicity, and I love the black-and-white theme,’ said Leonie. ‘No one else will do them nearly as well as you, though, you know. We’ll be very sorry to lose you. I do hope you can come back and re-join us someday.’
Chrissie looked at her, then said hesitantly, ‘Well, maybe I could make the backdrops at home in Troy’s shed? It’s certainly big enough.’
‘Oh, that would be great, if it’s not going to inconvenience you?’ said Leonie quickly. ‘We’ll fit in around you.’
Chrissie nodded, then glanced towards the car park, where a car horn beeped. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Right, enjoy the rest of your weekend. Maybe we can catch up soon?’ said Leonie gently.
‘Sure. See you later, Leonie.’ Chrissie gave a quick wave and called out to her children, who grabbed the ball and ran to her. Then she hurried them over to the car, where her husband was waiting.
*
Fleur had her laptop open on the dining room table as she FaceTimed with New York for the fourth time that day.
‘Agreed.’ Fleur smiled. She had dealt with New York impresarios before and knew how to sell a show. ‘I’ll have the video of the run-through to you as soon as it’s ready. Then let me know how you’ll be pitching it.’
After more assurances and a friendly goodbye, Fleur signed off from the call and sat looking thoughtfully at the blank screen. Then her phone started to ring.
‘Hi, Leonie, what can I do for you?’
‘Fleur, I’ve found Percy! At least, I mean, he’s answered the ad!’
‘You’re not serious!’ Fleur said excitedly. ‘When can we meet him?’
‘I didn’t push it. He asked a lot about the piano. He seemed intrigued when I said it was in the old theatre, but I told him that Mrs Lang, the building manager, is there this afternoon from three o’clock and she can let him in. I’ll meet you there before that and we can wait for him to turn up.’
‘We should tell Charlie, as he was in on the plan as well.’
‘All right. Can you ring him, Fleur?’
Fleur did just that.
‘You make it sound like it’s a first date,’ laughed Charlie, when Fleur told him of their plan. ‘I’ll leave the delicate tiptoeing around to you, but since you have no real idea of what he is like, I’m glad to come for backup. Do you want me to bring my camera?’
*
It was cold in the Riverside Playhouse as Fleur, Leonie and Charlie sat in the front row, waiting for the mysterious pianist to arrive.
To pass the time, Fleur asked Charlie about his dreams beyond Fig Tree River.
‘I don’t want to be doing weddings or real estate and car sales commercials forever. I’d throw it in tomorrow if a better offer came along. Especially to travel. I’ve been to a few interesting places, but . . .’
‘Hollywood beckons?’ Fleur smiled.
‘There’s no beckoning. That’s the problem. I plan to save enough to go and knock on doors with a decent showreel.’
‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘If you find yourself in New York, you can stay with me until you find your feet.’
‘I’ll take you up on that. Thank you,’ Charlie said.
They had left the door to the theatre open, and the trio couldn’t help glancing over their shoulders occasionally as they sat waiting.
‘This place is spooky,’ whispered Charlie.
‘Oh, I rather love it in here. The smell and the atmosphere, the empty stage . . . it’s like waiting for the magic to happen,’ said Leonie.
‘Da-dummm . . . and the curtain rises and . . . There’s no business like show business, like no business I knowwww . . .’ sang Charlie with a flourish of his arms.
There was the sound of clapping behind them and they turned to see a figure coming down the aisle.
‘Bravo!’ said a cheerful voice.
The man was tall and slim, fair haired and neatly dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. Fleur rose to greet him, guessing him to be in his early thirties. Up close she noticed how good-looking he was, with even features and a pleasant smile.
‘Hi there, you must be Julian. I’m Fleur, and these are my friends, Leonie and Charlie.’
‘Hello. Why are you all here?’ Julian asked, looking slightly perplexed.
‘I admit, we’ve been hoping to run into you, Julian,’ said Leonie. ‘You have been recommended to us as an excellent pianist and singer, but we didn’t know how to find you, hence our ad. We’re putting on a run-through for a show and we’re hoping you might be suitable for one of the parts.’
‘Oh, well, sure.’ Julian shrugged, as though this sort of proposal happened to him all the time. ‘Best way to test that out is to play for you.’
‘Hang on and I’ll turn on some lights,’ said Charlie, heading to the wings as the two women and Julian stepped up onto the dim stage where the piano stood.
Julian sat at the piano and immediately leaned forward to look at Fleur’s sheets of music. He skimmed the pages, taking it all in. Then he tapped his finger on a key, his head cocked.
At that moment Charlie flipped the master switch and the stage was flooded in light.
To their immense shock, Julian lifted his arms high and slammed his hands down on the keys in a startling punch as he ripped through the opening bars of the overture to Percy and Ella, never taking his eyes from the sheet music.
Charlie rushed across the stage, camera to his eye, filming, while Julian flung each page to the floor as he played.
Fleur stood motionless near the piano, watching Julian’s hands fly across the keys without pause as if he’d been playing this music all his life. Leonie realised that much as she appreciated Roger’s skill, his piano playing was pedestrian compared to this. The themes of the musical numbers – the bravado, romance, sadness, wistfulness and joy – rolled through the theatre, giving the audience of three goosebumps as the show came to life in a way it never had before.
Julian stopped when he came to a second set of musical scores and peered at it.
Fleur leaned towards him, saying quietly, ‘There’s lyrics to this section.’
Unperturbed, Julian nodded and picked out the notes of the opening bars one by one. Then his hands fell on the keys like before, and he began to sing as he played.
Charlie was moving quietly around the stage, panning up to Fleur’s face as she stood by the piano watching Julian gently sing the wistful, haunting song. Tears were running down her cheeks and she held fingers to her smiling lips as she watched her Percy come to life.
Seeing her expression through the lens, Charlie switched his focus to his ears rather than his eyes, still holding the shot steady as he listened.
Julian sang with a light warm voice until he came to the underlined chorus . . . ‘And you left me, left me, oh so high, still I ask you why . . . why . . .’ and it seemed he hit the notes with his fist and repeated almost in a shout of pain . . . ‘I still ask why . . .?’
He lifted his hands as the notes and his anguished voice echoed around them and faded away. He looked at Fleur.
‘Who is this?’ he demanded.
She stared at him a moment, deciding what to say, then said simply, ‘Percy Grainger.’
Julian rolled his head back and looked up into the gantry, his face breaking into a smile. Then he thumped the top of the piano with the palm of his hand.
‘I thought so! This is reminiscent of . . . ah, what was it called . . . when his mother died?’ He frowned as he thought.
‘“The Nightingale and the Two Sisters”,’ said Fleur.
‘Yes. Yes, that’s it. Such wistful music,’ said Julian. ‘He never recovered, really, did he?’
‘No. I don’t believe so.’ Fleur paused then said, ‘I have a lot of questions to ask you. Who are you?’
‘Just Julian.’ He smiled. Then, as Charlie moved around to focus on his face, Julian lifted a hand and ran his fingers along the piano keys. ‘This piano is perfectly in tune.’ He glanced at Charlie, gave a flutter with one hand as if brushing him away, and smiled.
Charlie straightened up, lowering the camera, and glanced at Fleur and Leonie.
‘Let’s sit down,’ Fleur said.
She and Leonie sat in the front row. Julian sat between them. Charlie sat on the edge of the stage, cradling his camera.
Fleur was trying to think how to ask Julian about his personal situation; though he looked clean and tidy, the jacket was well worn, but then leather was like that. His gold-blond hair was a bit long and curly but maybe he just preferred it that way. He was certainly attractive and also very much at ease.
