by Jenni Ogden
“He probably realized that, and that’s why he broke off your relationship.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “It did seem too perfect—and too quick—to last.”
“Perhaps.” I raised my coffee cup. “And Harry, my dear friend, here’s a promise to you. I’ve never been unfaithful to Adam, and I never will be.”
Over the weekend our intimacy grew, and it felt as if, for the first time in seventeen years, I’d found a friend I could talk honestly to about anything. Or nearly anything. I could sense that Harry shared my feeling of closeness. Poor guy, he’d been starved of friendship for too long. We found we had so many things in common: our passion about medicine; the raw emotions our relationship upheavals had exposed; our children; and even our fledgling fears about growing older.
I had any number of friends in London, but apart from Sonja, most of them were also professional colleagues, and our conversations were never really personal. This time with Harry uncovered another precious part of life that I’d been missing. When I got home I’d put a lot more effort into nurturing the friends I already had, and take the time to make new ones.
During the weekend Harry had been called out only a couple of times, but on Monday he reluctantly returned to work. After breakfast, as he was leaving, he mentioned that he had an old LP record I might want to listen to. He looked worried, and feeling a sudden apprehension, I asked him why.
“Last night I decided it would be wrong not to show it to you. I just hope it doesn’t bring you more grief.”
“Harry, you’re making me nervous. What on earth is it?”
“I’ll leave you to find out for yourself.” Harry buffed his polished scalp. “You’ll find a pile of records in the cupboard by the stereo; it’s in there.” I felt the touch of his lips on my cheek and then he was gone, leaving me with the breakfast dishes and an unsettling quiver deep in my chest.
After forcing myself to clear away the breakfast things, I pulled the stack of old LPs from the cupboard and sat on the floor to go through them. All sorts of good stuff: blues, folk, jazz, even the occasional sugary musical. What was I looking for? It was obviously some record that was going to bring back memories, presumably of Danny, but what on earth could it be? He’d never had the chance to make a recording before I dragged him away from his shining career, so it couldn’t be that.
Aha, this must be it. I turned over the old LP; a live recording made at Snug Harbor; Harry and I had gone there before we’d rocked up to Danny's Piano Bar. Harry was a funny old coot. Why would he think this would upset me?
I opened the lid of the fancy-looking modern record player and placed the LP on the turntable, childhood memories flooding back as I carefully positioned the needle on the edge of the vinyl. I closed my eyes as the needle found its groove, the crazily dancing forms of my teenaged friends leaping in my head. Adam and I should buy one of these new old-fashioned stereos so Lara and Finbar could experience this pleasure. Or would they? Without the memories, would it still be this evocative? Opening my eyes, I continued to flip through the record stack, my uneasiness vanquished by the jazz that shimmered from the high-tech surround speakers.
I almost flipped right past it but the flash of red hair caught my eye. My heart somersaulting, I pulled it free. With eyes blurred I stared down at the cover. Danny Leaumont: Live at Danny’s Piano Bar. And there he was, seated at the grand piano in his sea-green shirt, the black face of his bass player barely visible behind him and the skinny young drummer peering over his drums. Feeling drunk, I turned it over and read the blurb on the back. It was printed over a photo of the club’s iconic blue door, framed by a massive oak tree, its sinuous, moss-dressed branches arching through the star-pierced dark.
Danny Leaumont was a popular draw card at ‘Danny’s Piano Bar’ in the French Quarter of New Orleans. In January, 1987, soon after returning to New Zealand to visit his parents, he died tragically. This recording was made live at the Piano Bar the week before he left New Orleans and released posthumously six months after his death. Danny Leaumont has left us a musical treasure, rich in its breadth: blues, jazz and ballad. As rough as the bark of a Live Oak, as immersing as the rain that soaks our skin as we lie beneath it, as warming as the sunlight dappling its deep shade—here is a voice that will make you dance or dream or weep—a voice that, sadly, we will not hear again.
Still in a daze, I lifted the needle from the record still spinning and replaced it with Danny's final performance. I lay on the floor and closed my eyes, his voice transporting me back. It was a wonderful recording and I felt myself smiling as I heard the lewd comments from some hecklers and Danny’s smart replies. And then he said he’d come to his last song and the words of ‘Danny Boy’ washed through me, my Danny’s grainy voice somehow sounding perfect, even in a blues club in New Orleans. As he presumably left the dais, the stamping, clapping and calls for more were tumultuous. The sudden hush was broken by his oh so dear and sensual voice.
“Thank you friends. And yes, I do have an encore. If you hadn’t wanted one I would have sung it anyway.” A burr of laughter from the crowd. “This is, for me, a special song, and it is the last one I’ll sing here for a while…” I heard a break in his voice as the tears pushed against my eyelids. “A song for the people I love most in my life—my family and especially Savannah Leaumont, my grandmother, who I know will keep Danny’s Piano Bar sizzling until I return. But Georgia—my love, my future—most of all I sing this for you.”
I lay, unmoving, long after the haunting notes of ‘Georgia On My Mind’ had floated out the window to be swallowed by the sea. In the late morning I found myself on the beach walking aimlessly through the dunes, possessed by bittersweet memories—the joy of that magical Cape Cod weekend and the pain that our brief happiness was destined to bring to me, to Adam, to Fiona and Leroy, and now to Lara. So many people who loved Danny and who missed him when he never returned.
“Where did you find it?” I asked Harry that night over dinner.
“It was an amazing fluke. I was in New Orleans a few years ago, and couldn’t resist browsing through bins of second-hand records. Caroline had just given me the new turntable so I was always looking for gems. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw Danny's record.”
“He never told me. I wonder why?”
“I bet he was going to surprise you; present the record to you when it came out.”
The heavy fog filling my head softened. “Perhaps he was. I’m going to find a copy so I can give it to Lara.”
“That copy is yours,” Harry said. “On the condition that you bring your whole family to stay here one day. Before your kids grow up.”
“Thank you. Somehow I knew that coming here would be healing.” I grinned. “But a large G&T would be even more healing. Enough of all this deep and meaningful chat.”
Harry's mouth turned down. “Even a G&T is beyond me now. Half a bottle of wine is about my limit if I want to stay awake and be in a fit state to tend to the Cape Cod aristocracy tomorrow.” Then a smile changed his face as he put his hand on his heart, and in a tune that was clearly made up on the spot, warbled, “But, Georgia, my sweet Georgia, all I need, all I need, is your smile…” His warbles lapsed into speech. “And if the fastest way to get there is by plying you with G&Ts, I’m your man.”
Early next morning, a cold mist hanging over the sea and my head surprisingly clear, I sank into Harry's bear hug. We’d promised each other that in future we’d spend time together whenever I visited Boston. As I was about to get into my car, Harry handed me a photo.
“I thought you might like this,” he said, a catch in his voice. “Caroline snapped it the morning after my thirtieth birthday party, as you and Danny were coming back from your walk on the beach.”
I gazed at the photo, a little yellow around the edges but the colors still true. In it Danny and I strolled towards the photographer, not touching or looking at each other but laughing at the camera. Our feet were bare and I was carrying my sandals in one hand. My other hand was
brushing my wind-tousled hair from my eyes, and I was glowing with health and happiness. My blue jeans were rolled up to mid-calf and I had on a white, polo-necked jersey. Danny had on his dress-up jeans from the party the night before, and his green shirt was crumpled, the sleeves rolled high. We both looked so very young. And inside me was the tiny beginning of Lara.
I looked at my friend, the tears that I’d held back finally in my eyes. “Oh, Harry. This is a memory worth keeping.”
Harry gently touched the image of Danny's face. “They shall not grow old as those that are left grow old,” he murmured. “Age will not weary them nor the years condemn.”
Part III
DANNY
New Zealand, September 2005
Chapter 24
The welcome home dinner Mum had prepared so lovingly made it impossible to voice what I needed to say before I could begin to relax. Andrew and his family were there as well, and I was bombarded with questions about Katrina. I found myself trying to make it humorous, but that didn’t prevent Mum’s tears as I described the rescue mission—complete with snake—from the Park Plaza to Memorial. Dad’s eyes were suspiciously shiny as well, but I hardened my heart, and when I finally fell into bed, exhausted from the long plane journey and too much emotion, my sleep was far from restful.
It was 10am when I staggered into the big kitchen for breakfast; Mum and Dad had long since finished theirs. But they kept me company at the table while I picked at the bacon and eggs Mum put in front of me, before I gave up, excusing my poor appetite on jet lag. “I need some fresh air.” I said. “It’s such a lovely day. Dad, let’s drive down to the beach and have a long walk.”
I saw Mum’s face fall and felt mean, but I needed to confront Dad first. I wasn’t sure I would be able to talk about this with Mum. How could I blame her? She’d had to deal with Dad’s affair; Leroy seemed to think she’d known about it for years. Then came the shock of discovering who Danny was and who his brother was, and her fear for me in the psychiatric unit, and on top of all that finding out that I was having Danny’s baby. How she and Dad were even still together was mind blowing.
Dad of course suggested we all go for a walk, but Mum, sensitive as always to my moods, declined, saying that she had things to do, and it would be lovely for Dad and I to have some time together.
“I’ll drive.” I took the Toyota keys from Dad. I needed to be in control, and I knew that if I sat in the passenger seat I’d somehow feel like a child again. Seeing the sign to the beach I turned the vehicle sharply and parked on the strip of grass bordering the sand. Dad opened his door. “Let’s sit here for a bit,” I said, the blood thundering in my ears.
Dad pulled the door shut again and we sat in silence, separated, it felt, by an ocean of lies. I fixed my gaze on the calm blue waters dotted with the occasional white sail.
Finally Dad spoke into the void. “Is something wrong, love? It must have been horrifying, what you’ve been through. I guessed there were things you didn’t tell us last night because it would have upset your mum and Andrew’s children.”
I took my hands off the steering wheel and shoved them under my thighs. It didn’t stop them trembling but at least it wasn’t so obvious.
“Are you all right?”
Dad’s words penetrated the red fog filling my head and I swallowed. “No, I’m not all right. Dad, I know about you and Fiona. That you had an affair.” I forced myself to look at him, this man I had loved all my life.
He was staring straight ahead, out the window, his face gray.
A slow burn coiled through my body. “How could you do that to Mum? Was it a one-night-stand? Some boozy night in the pub while Mum was at home with Andrew?”
“How did you find out?” Dad said, his voice a croak.
“I met Leroy, Danny’s father…” I stopped, my head burning. “I met him in New Orleans. I went to see if Danny’s grandmother’s house had been damaged in Katrina, and Leroy was there. He was sick of all these lies and he told me. Told me that John, Danny’s brother, was your son. How Fiona was so upset, so upset because you had got her pregnant and then abandoned her and her baby. After all those years I finally knew why Danny changed his mind about marrying me. After seventeen fucking years.”
“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me? You knew how upset I was that Danny rejected me. How could you think it would be worse if I knew it was because he’d found out that his brother was your son, and he didn’t want to cause his mother any more grief?”
“I didn’t think about it like that. You were so sick; you don’t realize how sick you were. We were scared to tell you. Your mother thought it would send you back into that terrible state and you’d never come out of it.”
“But I was pregnant. Pregnant with Danny’s child. How could you keep that a secret from Danny’s parents?”
“By the time we knew you were pregnant Fiona and Leroy had left New Zealand. Fiona had made it clear she never wanted to hear from us again. We talked about it, about trying to track down a contact for them… but we decided to leave it be. Having Danny’s baby inside you was all that was keeping you from…”
“From what? Say it. From what?”
“From staying in a psychiatric institution for ever. We didn’t know if you would even want to live if you had to give up that baby. What if Fiona and Leroy wanted to take her from you? To make up for losing Danny?”
“That’s ridiculous. How could they? I was her mother.”
“You were very, very unwell. What if they’d used that to get custody?”
“You were her grandparents too. Even if I ended up in the psychiatric ward forever, you could have taken her. Shared her even with her other grandparents.” My hands escaped from under my body and bashed the steering wheel.
“Fiona hated me. It was terrible, that meeting at the hospital. I didn’t trust her. Your Mum didn’t trust her. It wasn’t only grief for Danny; it was as if the past, her and me, it was if it had all just happened. If she could have hurt me by causing trouble over your baby…we couldn’t risk it.” Dad’s hands shook as he gripped them together in his lap.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I was well again? It would have been terrible but I would have coped because I had Lara. And at least I would have known why Danny rejected me. Why didn’t he tell me the truth? Why didn’t he tell me that night instead of dying like that?” I covered my face with my hands, Danny’s face in my head. I felt Dad’s hand on my back and jerked it away.
“We didn’t understand. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say.”
“Why didn’t Mum tell me? Did you stop her? Did you stop her because you were so ashamed?”
“No, of course not. I was ashamed, but Hannah and I talked about it . We talked about it many times, but we always ended up thinking it would be worse for you to know than not to know. How could it help? Lara was a beautiful little girl; she saved you.”
“So you think I should keep your nasty secret from Lara?”
In my peripheral vision I saw Dad nodding. “Why tell her? What good can it do?”
I turned my head and looked at this shriveled copy of my father. “Lara wants to know her father’s family. She wants to know who she is. Don’t you think she deserves to know the truth? Know her other grandparents? Her Uncle John? Doesn’t he deserve to know who his father is?”
Dad’s sigh shook through his body. “Lara will get hurt. You can’t risk that. Fiona didn’t want anything to do with us. She made that clear.”
“Well, I’m going to Queenstown to see Fiona, and I’ll ask her if she’s changed her mind. Leroy is going to tell her. He probably already has. I think she’ll want to meet Danny’s daughter. Of course she will. John has two boys. Lara’s her only granddaughter. ”
“No, Georgia. Leave it be. You don’t know Fiona. I don’t think she’s stable. How will Lara feel if Fiona doesn’t want anything to do with her?”
“If that happens, I’ll decide the
n what I should tell Lara. But I think I’ll tell her the truth, however painful it is. If I don’t I’ll be as bad as you and Mum.”
“Did Leroy want to meet Lara?” Dad said, his voice so small I could barely hear him.
“He will, I’m sure of it. He was shocked when I told him about her. He’s a lovely man and when he has got over all the terrible stuff that’s happening because of Katrina, I think he’ll want to meet her. He’ll be a wonderful grandfather for her, I know it.”
Dad flinched and my tears welled up. I sat there, my head down, my body shaking. “Dad, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just meant… you’re her granddad; you’re a wonderful granddad. I just meant…”
“I know what you meant. It’s all right. It’s all right love. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps Fiona will want to meet her, and then she’ll have two more grandparents.”
“And another uncle and two new cousins. Your grandsons.” I blew my nose, and my hand found Dad’s. We sat in silence for a while and then Dad stretched, his body creaking as he moved in the cramped space. “Do you think we could have a bit of a walk on the beach before we go home? I don’t want Hannah seeing us upset like this.”
I nodded, sick to the stomach with the sour air in the car.
We walked for a while in silence. The sea helped, and the smell of the salt in the air. I breathed in and out, in and out, re-lax, re-lax as we walked, and my thoughts and body gradually calmed.
“Dad, why did you have an affair? I always thought Mum was the only one for you.”