by Tony Parsons
“It would,” she agreed. “I can play up to a certain standard.”
Donna was suitably impressed with the workroom and made a quick appraisal of the books on the long shelves along one wall.
Steele picked up a guitar, played a few preliminary chords and then began to sing. It wasn’t anything Donna had ever heard but her mother whispered in her ear and told her that it was a song Steele had composed for Billy Sanders. Steele’s voice was a revelation; it was so melodious and so true. He put a sheet of music on a stand, nodded to Glenda and she walked across and stood beside him. “This was the song I wrote for Billy that was the first one he recorded,” he said. When he began to sing it, Glenda joined in to Donna’s surprise. It had been a long time since she’d heard her mother sing. It had been at a Carols’ night and Donna had glowed with pride because so many people had complimented her mother on her voice. It now seemed that her voice hadn’t deteriorated with the years. What was also apparent was that her mother thoroughly enjoyed singing with Clayton Steele. Her eyes radiated happiness and she gave occasional side glances at Steele, patting his left arm unconsciously in time to the music.
When they’d finished, Steele laid the guitar down to Donna’s clapping. “That’s enough of that for now.”
“That was great,” Donna said enthusiastically.
“It’s better when Billy’s singing too,” Glenda said.
“I suppose so, but I enjoyed it. I was thinking that I hadn’t heard you sing since that Carols’ concert and that was a day or two ago.”
“It was, wasn’t it? Clay cajoled me into singing with him and Billy. On warm nights, we used to sing on the front veranda.”
“Now for dinner?”
Glenda looked at her daughter who nodded, “If you’re sure we won’t stretch your resources too far, Clay.”
“Not a bit. I went to town and bought a few extra things. Nothing too flash. You can have steak with mushrooms or lamb chops, either with my tomatoes and potatoes,” Steele said.
“Tell us what we can do, Clay,” Glenda said.
“Yes, what can we do?” Donna asked.
“You can use your imagination to conjure up a dessert or use that slice you brought,” he said. “Have a look in the pantry and see if there’s anything there that appeals to you. There’s custard and cream in the fridge or ice-cream in the freezer. You can set the table, too. Glenda knows where everything is kept. I’ll go and dig some fresh spuds and pick some tomatoes. There might be some beans ready, too.”
Donna took a last look at the books on the shelves before following her mother across to the house. She would have liked to make a more thorough examination of the books Steele had recently acquired just to get a line on where his current interests lay.
Donna hadn’t eaten a more substantial Sunday dinner for years. When Clay produced a bottle of chilled Riesling to drink with the dessert, Donna was prepared to say that the dinner couldn’t have been bettered.
“I couldn’t eat another morsel,” she said.
“Not even one chocolate,” Steele asked.
“Well… maybe just one,” Donna sighed. She adored chocolate but had severely rationed her intake of it in deference to maintaining her figure. “I’ll have to go on a diet for the next few days.”
“Me, too,” Glenda agreed.
Steele shook his head from side to side and the gesture was immediately picked up by Glenda.
“Now, you know very well how hard I work at staying fit and trim. And I’ll bet you never dated someone who wasn’t.”
“I’m trying to think. There might have been one,” he said.
“How old was she?” Glenda asked.
“Nine, as I recall.”
“She wouldn’t count,” Glenda said.
Though she’d only met Clayton Steele that afternoon, Donna felt totally at ease. It was the dialogue between Steele and her mother that set the evening apart. It seemed to her that they almost perfectly complemented each other even down to the mundane task of washing the dishes when Glenda put on an apron and washed while Steele wiped. It was done to duets of song, which was an absolute first in her experience.
Later, as she drank coffee to the strains of Sinatra singing ‘Strangers in the Night’ in the background, she tried to come to terms with the fact that she was spending an evening with the one writer above all others who’d been instrumental in helping to chart the direction of her life. If it hadn’t been for Steele’s books, she might have followed her mother into law or, alternatively, opted for medicine. It had been Steele’s books which had changed her life. And here the man was, exchanging repartee with her mother who seemed absolutely at home in his company. It was a vastly different scenario from the ghastly tail-end years of her mother’s marriage. She remembered those years and her father’s pathetic behaviour only too clearly. It seemed so awful that two people who had been sufficiently in love to marry should end their marriage in such disastrous fashion.
What was even more remarkable was that her mother, who had sworn never to be involved with another man, was so clearly at ease with Steele.
Of course, she had to admit that her mother was a remarkable woman mentally and physically, and she had little doubt that Steele, who was supposed to be extremely bright, recognised her qualities and appreciated them.
There was only one aspect of the evening that really puzzled her and she broached it with her mother on their drive home when her mother gave her the opening she needed.
“So, what do you think of Clayton Steele now you’ve met him?” Glenda asked.
“Have I met him?” Donna asked.
“What do you mean, Donna?”
“Where was the other Clayton Steele, the real Clayton Steele? Don’t tell me that the author of those great books was with us tonight. There wasn’t a hint of him, not even when he was singing. Singing, even composing, isn’t a manifestation of great intellectualism. Where were his great issues? He didn’t mention human rights, not once,” Donna said.
“Donna, darling, that’s why Clay is such a pure delight. He doesn’t parade his intellectualism. He never has. We usually discuss plants or cooking or perhaps music and art and more often than not, Billy’s progress. I make it a rule not to discuss anything legal with him. It’s balm to one’s soul to be able to talk about anything but work. If you need to take your mind off your problems, I definitely recommend trying a couple of new recipes for a meal. It’s absolutely therapeutic,” Glenda said.
“Yes, but…” Donna began.
“No buts, Donna. Putting to one side the fact that he didn’t immediately dazzle you with his intellect, how did you find Clay?” Glenda asked.
“He’s certainly different and nothing like the men I’ve known and worked with in London. Chalk and cheese, really. I wouldn’t say that Clay is a hermit but he’s not exactly an extrovert, is he?”
“If you mean that Clay doesn’t go out of his way to seek the company of other people, you’re right. He doesn’t. But he’s a simply wonderful conversationalist once you get to know him and he can speak with people of any level. I know a little bit about public-speaking and about presenting an argument and Clay is right up there with the best I’ve ever heard. It’s just that he isn’t interested in trying to impress people by force of argument. Clay puts all his creativity into his books and composing, which he regards as much more positive and worthwhile. I think he’s a quite wonderful man,” Glenda said.
“You know him and I don’t, Mother. But if you’re asking me for my impressions of Clay as a man, then I’d have to say that I doubt he’s my cup of tea. I didn’t spend all those years in London to come home and be an earth woman. I’ve got the chance to carve out a decent career and I’m going to need to mix with a great many influential people. Beyond that, I want a nice home, a good car and money to travel and live the life I want to live. If the right man comes along, well and good, but right now, I don’t regard a man as essential in my scheme of things,” Donna said forthrightly.
“What is?”
“How different two sisters can be. Debbie says she’d live in a tent with Clay if he’d have her. She thinks he’s wonderful.”
“She knows him better than me and she’s ‘earthy’ herself, but Clay obviously doesn’t have the same high opinion of Debbie as she does of him because it seems there’s nothing doing there. How any red-blooded male could ignore Debbie is hard to figure as she’s quite a dish, isn’t she? So, it’s obvious that Clay doesn’t want a woman in his life,” Donna said.
“I wouldn’t say that. He’s always been very comfortable about me coming to spend time with him.”
“You’re not a threat to his way of life as a younger woman would be. It seems to me that Clayton Steele simply isn’t a man who wants to make a commitment,” Donna said.
“That’s not entirely true. Clay certainly made a commitment when he took on Billy Sanders and nobody could fault the way he looked after him.”
“Perhaps he cares more for males than females. I suppose he’s straight?”
“Of course, he is,” Glenda said quickly.
Donna looked sideways at her mother and immediately thought about what Debbie had hinted at with regard to her mother and Steele.
“So, that’s the way it is?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Donna.”
“It’s all clear to me now. You’ve been sleeping with Clay, haven’t you? Why would he want to get married when he’s got you, Mother? Dad said you were hot in bed, which was all he got out of the marriage. Clay’s got you, so he doesn’t have to make a commitment, which suits him right down to the ground. Poor Debbie! No wonder she’s never stood a chance,” Donna said.
“That’s a very cruel thing to say, Donna.”
“Mother, I didn’t come down in the last shower. I saw the way you looked at Clay. You love him, don’t you? You want to finish your life with a worthwhile relationship because your marriage was such a disaster. You always said you wouldn’t look at another man but that’s what a lot of women say until they find what they think is the right man. How long has this been going on?”
Glenda hesitated. “For some years, Donna,” she finally admitted.
“Before or after Clay met Gillian?”
“Before that.”
“And you didn’t mind Clay having it off with Gillian and fathering a child with her?”
“No, I didn’t mind. We weren’t in a fixed relationship. Even the episode with Gillian wasn’t what you probably imagine. Gillian wanted Clay and when she saw he didn’t want her, she wanted the next best thing, which was a child by him. Clay, being Clay, which is a very compassionate man, gave her what she wanted. He didn’t take advantage of her wanting him. Gillian desperately wanted a child and she could afford to have one because she was left a lot of money and she didn’t require Clay to be responsible for it. Gillian was the only woman Clay has had anything to do with since he arrived here,” Glenda said.
“You mean apart from you?”
“Yes, well, apart from me. He’d have only had to lift a finger and Debbie would have slept with him. I suppose that was one of the reasons I slept with Clay the first time. Debbie was so young but she was madly in love with Clay and I was worried about what she might do. Apart from that, it was a huge relief to get a few knots out of my system with a man as nice as Clay. As much as I love and admire Clay, I’d willingly stand aside for Debbie if Clay was serious about her. But he isn’t and although I’m older than Clay, the fact is that he likes me and I like him and I don’t see that I should pass up what is probably my last chance to really enjoy being with a man. That’s about it in a nutshell, Donna,” Glenda said.
“I see. It seems Debbie is the big loser. You’ve got what you want, Clay’s got you and Gillian’s got a son. What has Debbie got?”
“She has a masters and before long, she’ll have a doctorate. If anything were to happen to me, Clay might think differently about Debbie. It depends how long she’ll continue to love him because I assure you she does still love him. The degrees are simply a substitute for Clay and she wants him to be proud of her. I know he is,” Glenda said.
“Like I said, it’s better than the ‘Bold and the Beautiful’. And here’s me thinking you were slogging away in your magisterial role with a loveless personal life and all the time, you had Clayton Steele on the side.”
“It wasn’t quite like that, Donna. My visits to Clay were few and far between because Billy was living with Clay very soon after I met him. It was only after Billy left that I’ve seen much of Clay and only those weekends when Debbie wasn’t here,” Glenda explained.
“So, you must still think he’s pretty hot,” Donna said.
“Oh, yes, very hot,” Glenda agreed.
“It took a while to get the whole picture, but now I’ve got it. I’m hugely relieved. I was going to suggest that you take a break and have a real holiday, but it seems that you get your breaks out there with Clay,” Donna said.
“How very perceptive you’ve become, Donna.”
“I’m what some people refer to as a hard-nosed investigative journalist, Mother,” Donna said with a fleeting smile. “You could say that I’ve developed a great capacity to get at the truth.”
“Well, dear, let me say that, speaking from what I know of the legal and political picture in Queensland, you may very soon find yourself very heavily involved in getting to the truth of some very questionable behaviour. You couldn’t have come home at a better time to investigate some very ‘stinky’ matters,” Glenda said. And they, Glenda thought, ought to keep her too well occupied to be concerned with her mother’s private life.
Chapter Twenty
Steele had recognised that Billy couldn’t be tied to him forever and that he’d have to be given the freedom to develop both his career and his life. Billy could play the piano as well as he could play the guitar, but it was his voice that so many people wanted to hear. For a time, Steele had chosen the venues for Billy and accompanied him. He hadn’t allowed him to go too far afield but he was aware that he couldn’t go on doing this for too long. If Billy believed Steele thought he was incapable of travelling about under his own steam, it could lead to resentment and a fragmentation of the special relationship he’d built with Billy. But the truth was that Steele was more than a little concerned about Billy’s ability to cope with the wider world. Billy was reckless with the money Steele doled out to him and would give it away to anyone who persuaded him that he needed help. Those who seemed to need it most were mostly distant family and friends who gravitated towards Billy after he left school and started earning money from gigs. They all thought he was Christmas-come-early and Billy enjoyed their company and adoration. To them, he was a kind of hero.
So, Billy began to play the club circuit. He was young, nice-looking, extremely talented and dressed well. Everyone wanted to see and hear Billy Sanders and money piled up in Billy’s account. But it didn’t stay there very long as Billy always found some reason to spend it, or someone to spend it for him. He recorded his first album and it sold well. Life was just as he had always wanted it to be. He had a lot of fun, particularly with girls, and began to drink a little.
In between gigs, Billy came back to see Steele. He told Steele about the audiences he’d entertained, the places he’d visited and gave him a rough accounting of the money he’d made. But Steele, who knew the young man backwards, saw changes in Billy. He was no longer the boy he’d taken under his wing, but a brash young man. Too brash. To a certain extent, the success he’d enjoyed had gone to his head.
“Is everything all right with you, Billy?” Steele asked on one of Billy’s visits.
“Everything’s just fine, Mr Clay,” Billy assured him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Steele about the speeding fines or the girl he’d got pregnant and had to pay off. These misdemeanours were all wiped away by money and he had plenty of it
with engagements stretching months ahead.
As time went on, Billy drank more and some mornings after a late-night session, he didn’t feel so good. It was about the same time that Billy got mixed up with some Aboriginal activists, including a girl called Jackie Banda, an abbreviated form of her virtually unpronounceable tribal name. Jackie was the closest female in looks and figure to the mother he remembered when he was a young boy, and just as beautiful. Jackie was darker than his mother but, with a far better brain. She had clear goals, too, whereas his mother had never looked beyond the next male who wanted her. Jackie was a fiery speaker and she was also great in bed and Billy fell for her like a ton of bricks. He bought her fancy clothes and jewellery, and she presented an eye-catching picture when she accompanied him to his gigs.
Billy was proud of Jackie and eventually brought her home to meet his mother and Steele. He imagined that Steele would complement him on his choice of woman. Steele didn’t, but he didn’t criticise her either. It didn’t take Steele long to recognise that Jackie wasn’t the right woman for Billy. The way she looked at Billy made him suspect she was simply using Billy and his money to push her cause. He didn’t blame her for her Aboriginal activism, as long as Billy wasn’t hurt too badly or taken to the cleaners. Jackie had a better brain than Billy, and from what he could see, Jackie was going to use his popularity for all it was worth. But in terms of a woman to keep Billy on the right course, Jackie Banda was absolutely the wrong choice. In some respects, she was quite brilliant and if she’d had a tertiary education, she might have become anything she wanted to be. As it was, she’d come a fair way through her own efforts and was set to go further. But this still didn’t make her right for Billy.
“Clay doesn’t like me,” Jackie said when she and Billy were in the van and heading off for another engagement.
“How do you know? Mr Clay didn’t say anything to me about not liking you and he’s always been upfront about everything,” Billy said. He didn’t like hearing any criticism of his mentor who, to him, was still the best man in the country.