‘He wasn’t that bad,’ Aimee said.
‘He was dreadful. Couldn’t sing to save himself.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t know anything about singing?’
‘I don’t, but I know the difference between good and bad. There’s no way I’m sitting through three hours of opera singing. Uh-uh. Not for me.’
‘Aren’t you curious to hear Harry? He has an incredible voice, you know.’
‘Maybe a little curious,’ Eddie admitted. ‘Okay, very curious, especially after just reading some of the online reviews.’
‘You could always join me in the first-aid tent. We could have fun perving on people and laughing at all the oldies in their pearls and twin sets.’
‘That sounds like torture. I said I’m happy to go on call for the SES. I’m sure they can keep me busy directing traffic or something well away from the patrons and their pearls.’
‘You’re no fun.’
Eddie stuck out her tongue.
‘You’ll come out afterwards though, won’t you?’ Aimee asked. ‘To the party? All the locals are invited.’ She winked. ‘And I’m sure Harry will be there.’
‘Why would I want to hobnob with a bunch of toffy strangers?’
‘Harry’s not toffy. Besides, there’ll be free food and drink. And you never know, if Harry doesn’t get your blood pumping you might meet a hot violinist.’
Eddie snorted. ‘Is there such a thing?’
‘There is, actually. I saw this guy on YouTube from Germany. Mamma mia.’ Aimee pretended to swoon and fanned her face again, this time with the flyer. ‘After a while you don’t notice the violin.’
‘Should I remind you once again that you’re married?’
Aimee sighed theatrically. ‘I’ve got about as much hope of getting you interested in music as I have Gus. I swear he’s a philistine.’
‘I hardly think that’s fair. Gus came along to that art show last year.’
‘Are you kidding me? He has no appreciation of art, intellect or beauty unless it has to do with four-legged friends.’
Eddie laughed. ‘He’s a vet, Aimz. What do you expect?’
‘I’ve met plenty of vets who understand culture. My husband is not one of them.’
‘But you love him.’
Aimee grinned. ‘I do. But we’re not talking about Gus, we’re talking about you. Will you come to the party?’
‘All right. But if I go and it’s boring, I’m out of there faster than Usain Bolt. And if any old, overweight opera singer with an overbite cracks onto me, I’m sending him straight to you.’
‘Fine. Deal. Whatever.’ Aimee picked up a thick chip, dunked it in aioli and popped it in her mouth. ‘Hey, I keep meaning to ask you, did you ever hear from Harry on Christmas Day after he left to go to the hospital?’
‘I called him a couple of times and left a few messages, but he hasn’t replied.’ Eddie wasn’t going to admit she’d left more than a few messages, or that she’d developed feelings for Harry and was disappointed she hadn’t heard from him. She tried to understand it from his perspective. He and his family were going through something enormous and returning her calls was probably low on his priority list. The alternative – that he wasn’t interested in her – was something she didn’t want to consider.
‘Perhaps he’s just busy.’
‘Probably. Nan told me his dad’s really sick. She bumped into his mum at the hospital in Wodonga.’
Aimee glanced up.
‘Motor Neurone Disease. Just diagnosed.’
‘That’s awful. Poor Harry.’
Eddie nodded.
‘How much longer is he in town?’ Aimee asked before slurping on the last of her milkshake.
‘No idea.’
Aimee plonked her glass on the table. ‘There’s your reason to call him.’
Eddie fiddled with the serviette. ‘You don’t think that’s being too pushy? I’d hate him to think I’m some weird stalker or something. He probably has women fawning over him all the time. Besides, he’ll be busy dealing with things with his dad. The last thing he needs is me hassling him while he’s trying to cope with family stuff.’
‘Stop overthinking this, Ed. There are no rules. Call him. Ask him how his dad is, then ask him what he’s doing for New Year’s. Invite him out.’
‘I can’t do that!’
‘Why not?’
‘What if he has a girlfriend?’
‘What if he doesn’t?’
Eddie rolled her eyes. ‘What if he thinks I’m only interested in him because he’s famous?’
‘Show him that you’re not.’
‘Do you know what Kathy said at church on Christmas Day?’ Eddie asked, changing the subject.
‘You know I don’t care what Kathy says or does. Seriously, Eddie, you need to stop thinking no man will ever love you and that you’re going to be left on the shelf.’
As always, Aimee could read her like an open book.
‘And who said I’m not? Jeez, Aimee, at twenty-five you already had three kids. I’m thirty-five next birthday and no sign of any babies in my future now, thanks to Jarrod.’
‘You don’t need a man to make babies,’ Aimee said.
‘Yeah, right,’ Eddie scoffed. ‘I don’t think my grandparents would understand if I showed up pregnant and there was no father on the scene, just a sperm donor.’
‘They’re not that old-fashioned.’
‘You forget how they apparently handled things when Mum fell pregnant with me and she wasn’t married.’
From what Eddie had been told, Frank had been ready to send Maggie to Melbourne on the next train to have the baby in secret and give it up for adoption. It was only thanks to the intervention of Daisy’s church friends that he agreed Maggie could have the baby and keep it. From all accounts, Frank had been totally smitten from the moment of Eddie’s arrival and promptly forgot he’d wanted nothing to do with an illegitimate grandchild, and any discussion about putting the child up for adoption was immediately dropped.
The topic of Eddie’s father never came up these days, but it became a massive issue when Eddie was a teenager and started asking questions about who he was and why no one ever spoke about him. It was one of her regrets that she’d never asked her mum about him while she was alive. All she knew were the bare details, and those had been told to her through her grandad’s skewed lens. She’d asked her nan a few times, but Daisy was a master at changing the subject and avoiding answers, so Eddie had just dropped it. She didn’t need to know any more than she did.
Aimee’s phone chimed. She checked it and pulled a face. ‘Oops. I have to go. Joshua is looking after the younger two and I promised him I’d only be an hour. I still need to get to the supermarket and grab some bread and milk.’ Scooping her bag from the floor, she tapped the concert flyer with a fingernail. ‘Book your ticket, put a smile on your face and go and buy yourself a new outfit.’
‘Why? I have a wardrobe full of clothes.’
‘You need new clothes. I swear you haven’t updated your wardrobe since the nineties.’ She pointed to Eddie’s faded denim shorts with a rip in the seat that wasn’t made in the name of fashion, down to her scuffed ballet flats. ‘And you’ve had that T-shirt since uni.’
‘This shirt is only two years old.’ Eddie re-tucked the polo shirt into her shorts and tried not to take offence.
‘Live a little. Buy something different.’
‘What about the outfit I wore on Christmas Day? That was different. I thought I looked nice.’
‘Okay, that was an exception. I don’t know where you pulled that number from, but I’ll admit that turquoise shirt looked amazing on you. Perfect for your colouring. And your legs looked hot in those white pants. Still, you need to go shopping and find something that will make Harry speechless when he sees you again.’ She gave Eddie a tight hug. ‘And call him, would you?’
After she left, Eddie picked up the flyer and opened it. Her gaze fell on Harry’s familiar face and suddenly she co
uldn’t wait to hear him sing.
Chapter 16
A week after Christmas Harry turned down the tree-lined driveway to Glenview. In the midst of hospital appointments and dealing with his mum and sister he’d finally had a chance to call Eddie. When she’d invited him to pop over he’d been so relieved that his silence hadn’t put a wedge between them. With all the crappy things going on with his family at the moment, the only thing that brought a smile to his face these days was thinking about Eddie. An anticipatory shiver buzzed inside him. He couldn’t wait to see her.
A small single-storey stone house set among established gardens greeted him. A timber post and rail fence provided a border between the house garden and the surrounding clearing. The house was tucked into the side of the mountain with views over the entire valley. It was too overcast to see far but he imagined the views would be spectacular. Behind the main house was the little cottage where Eddie lived. He pulled up in front of it, switched off the engine and grabbed the flowers from the passenger seat. He blew out a long breath and inhaled slowly, willing his heart rate to steady itself. This was crazy. Why did he feel so nervous? It was worse than an opening night.
He pushed open the gate, strode up the path to the cottage, knocked once on the back door, then stood and waited for Eddie to answer. He was still deciding whether to hold the flowers in front or behind his back when the door swung inward and Eddie stood there, framed in the doorway, a beaming smile on her face. ‘Come on in.’
Harry followed her into the kitchen. As always, she robbed him of his breath. Denim shorts showed off her long tanned legs and her singlet top dipped low, clinging to her curves like a second skin. Her hair was up in its usual ponytail, but today it snaked out the back of an R.M. Williams steer’s head logo baseball cap.
He held out the flowers and willed his heart to stop hammering.
‘Thank you,’ Eddie said. ‘These are beautiful. What are they for?’
‘To say sorry for not returning your calls. It’s been a crazy week.’
The grey-green eyes that met his were clouded with sympathy. ‘Don’t be silly. I heard things have been tough for you and your family.’ She opened an overhead cupboard and pulled out a vase, filled it with tap water and dropped the flowers in, arranging them artfully before burying her head in the blooms. She smiled. ‘They smell amazing too. Are they from your mum’s garden?’ She placed them on the dining table.
‘They are.’
‘Homegrown flowers are always the best.’ She smiled again. ‘Can I get you a drink? Something hot? Cold?’
‘I’d love a soft drink, thanks.’
His eyes roved slowly around the cosy setting of Eddie’s cottage. The open-plan room was lovely – not extravagantly decorated but everything about it was welcoming and comfortable. The soft guitar music playing in the background added to the ambience. If he had a place of his own, he’d decorate it like Eddie had with lots of earthy tones and rich colours.
Eddie handed him a Coke and led the way to the back deck. The scent she wore was fresh and flowery without being too overpowering or sweet.
‘Gorgeous place,’ he remarked.
‘Thanks.’ She gazed around, as if seeing it through his eyes. ‘I love it.’
‘You’re lucky to have a place of your own. I rarely settle down, and when I do I feel like I’m still living out of a suitcase.’ He stopped to admire a large canvas hanging on the wall. ‘I’ve never even had a chance to put up artwork.’
Her eyes lit with pleasure. ‘That’s a favourite of mine. It’s Aboriginal. The first in my collection.’
More surprises. ‘You collect art?’
She chuckled. ‘I plan to. Like I said, it’s the first in my collection. But it’s also the only one at this stage.’
It was still warm outside, despite the cloud cover and threat of rain. Eddie indicated a garden setting in a shady part of the yard and Harry waited for her to sit before he sat next to her on the bench seat.
When she touched him lightly on the forearm, her hand lingered for a moment. ‘Nan told me about your dad’s diagnosis. How’s he doing?’
‘Not good. It’s devastated all of us.’
Her eyes glistened with compassion. ‘I can only imagine.’
‘That’s why I didn’t call you back. It hit us for six, and to be honest I didn’t want to talk to anyone.’
She set her drink down on the table. He watched tiny rivulets of condensation slide slowly down the can like tears and fall onto the wooden surface.
‘Totally understandable.’ She touched his arm again, but this time she didn’t move her hand away and it felt warm against his skin. ‘I’m so sorry for you and your family. It’s a shocking disease.’
‘As we’re discovering.’
‘Has he been unwell for long?’
‘He’s been going downhill for the past six months and no one knew why. After he had his fall, the doctor in Beechworth guessed what it was straight away. She sent us off to Wodonga and had the tests to confirm it.’
Eddie nodded. ‘That would have been Kristen. She’s a good doctor.’
‘You know her?’
‘I work with her.’
He frowned. There was so much he still didn’t know about Eddie. ‘You’re a doctor?’
‘No, I’m a nurse. I work at the Beechworth hospital.’
‘I wish I’d known. Not that it would have changed anything.’
She smiled wanly. ‘I’m sorry, Harry. Not much of a Christmas present for you and your family.’
Exactly what Kristen had said. He clenched and unclenched his jaw.
‘How is your mum handling it?’
‘She’s not. Neither is my sister, Claire.’
‘And you? How are you doing?’
He let out a long breath. ‘Not good. I keep reminding myself it’s not about me. It’s about Dad. And Mum. But it’s so hard. Dad didn’t want me to know he was sick so my family kept me out of the loop. I didn’t know anything until I arrived home two days before Christmas.’
Eddie frowned. ‘Do you know why?’
‘My father and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.’ He took a drink and swallowed. ‘We’ve had a strained relationship for years, ever since I turned my back on the farm to pursue a career on the stage.’
‘He must be proud of you though.’
Harry shrugged. ‘Who would know? He’s never seen me perform.’ He heard the edge of bitterness creep into his voice and hated it.
Eddie’s eyes widened. ‘Never?’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘He’s a farmer. You know what they’re like.’
Eddie smiled. ‘The moment the doctor says “it’s a boy”, they’re drawing up the succession plan.’
‘You got it. And singing isn’t how he thinks I should be wasting my time.’
‘What about your mum? What does she think of your career choice?’
He smiled. ‘She’s the number-one ticket holder of my unofficial fan club. If she could she’d be at every performance. My sister is awesome too. Even her hubby Simon is pretty good. He doesn’t get the whole theatre world, but he supports what I want to do.’
‘Have you talked to your dad about how you feel?’ Eddie asked.
‘Over the years I’ve tried, but it’s like talking to the proverbial brick wall. He’s old-school, you know. Keeps to himself and keeps his emotions well hidden.’
‘Things might be different now he’s sick.’
‘I hope so, but so far nothing’s changed. My father’s a complicated man, and he’s never been a natural communicator. Even as a kid I remember he always preferred to sit and listen rather than talk. I guess it didn’t help that they sent me away to boarding school, and the distance became not just a physical one, but an emotional one, too. I’d come home and it would take us days to reconnect, then it was time to go back to school. I always felt like I had nothing in common with him, and the older I got, the more that was apparent, especially when I showed no interest
in the farm.’ He took another sip of his Coke.
Eddie sat quietly, waiting for him to continue.
He repositioned himself on the seat. ‘Listen to me, would you? Here I am complaining about my relationship with my father and making it all about me while he’s facing this incurable disease.’
‘I’m sure it’s normal to be reflecting on your relationship with him.’
‘Do you remember the ice bucket challenge thing that went viral a few years ago? Everyone’s social media pages were filled with photos and videos of friends and celebrities filming themselves getting drenched in the name of research and awareness.’
Eddie nodded. ‘Most of us at the hospital did it too, but I think a lot of people have no idea what Motor Neurone Disease really is.’
‘I didn’t. I guess if it doesn’t touch you personally, you often go along with the crowd.’
‘Is there family history of MND?’
‘Kristen asked us that and no, not that any of us know of. Which is good, I guess. My sister was worried it was hereditary. She’s keeping Kleenex in business.’
Their conversation lapsed into silence. Harry could hear birds, insects and the scratching of an animal nearby. The clouds parted and he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face. He sat back up and met Eddie’s gaze.
‘Sorry. I came over to catch up and get to know you better and now I’ve bared my soul. You’ll probably never want to see me again.’
Eddie smiled warmly. ‘It’s not an issue. I’m glad you feel like you can share this with me.’ She paused briefly. ‘It’s probably not my place to say, and sorry if I’m overstepping the mark, but I think you need to talk to him before he gets too sick. Clear the air while you have the chance. This disease will take away his ability to communicate with you very quickly. I’m sure Kristen explained that.’
Harry let a soft sigh escape. ‘Yeah, she did.’
‘Sorry if that came out sounding pushy.’
She smiled again, as if to take the sting from her words, but he wasn’t offended.
‘I know you’re right, I do need to talk to him, but it’s so hard. Hard because I don’t know where to start. It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper conversation.’
One More Song Page 15