Making Music

by Ling, Maria

  "It's just -- " he lowered his voice cautiously, his back still towards the table -- "this thing with -- " a quick almost imperceptible movement of the head, to indicate the women behind him. "Karen will tell you about it."

  "Oh." Much as she would prefer to keep out of the details of his current love life, and especially any contretemps regarding Cathy, Jen found she could not bear to see him worried. She nodded sympathetically. "I understand," she said.

  "She's told you already?" He did not wait for her denial, but went on, his voice tense with suppressed emotion. "Hell, I understand too -- but all the same…" he tailed off, and before she could ask him what he meant, Karen spoke up from behind.

  "Come on, Stuart, hurry up! I'm starving. Where's that food you've been promising us?"

  "On its way." Stuart picked up the bread again, and got the cheese out of the fridge next to him. "Have a seat, Jen," he added over his shoulder. "Make yourself at home."

  "Thanks." There was little else to do, so she strolled past him, still mystified by his cryptic remarks about Cathy, and joined the others at the table.

  "Peter's coming this evening," Karen told her as she sat down. She spoke rather hastily, as if trying to save Cathy from having to say anything. "He's picking Rhoda up from the airport at four, and then he'll bring her and Sue. You know Sue was in a car accident a couple of months ago?" Jen nodded. "Well, she still doesn't like to drive. So she's going in Peter's car."

  "She's all right though, isn't she?" Jen asked anxiously. As far as she remembered, Sue had got a terrible fright, but luckily no physical injuries. She wondered if something had cropped up later, something she had not heard about.

  "She's fine, she just doesn't want to drive. I should think it'll take a while for her to feel comfortable behind the steering wheel again. But she's fine."

  Jen nodded, reassured.

  "Here you are," Stuart's voice was once more confident and relaxed. "Preferential treatment for Karen, since she insists on it -- "

  "Naturally," Karen interjected crisply.

  " -- and for Jen, since she's the driver." He smiled at Cathy. "Yours is on its way."

  "Thanks." She was smiling back at him, with what Jen privately judged was a rather exaggerated expression of gratitude.

  If she tells him to his face that he is a sweetheart, Jen reflected, stabbing viciously at the golden-toasted mound in front of her and making the cheese ooze out lava-like in all directions, I swear I will rise up and push this blasted sandwich in her face.

  Then, admonishing herself that she had no business interfering in this particular relationship, she cast Cathy a repentant smile. It was wasted, of course. Cathy was still watching Stuart with eyes that could melt an igloo.

  Good luck to her. She would find out soon enough what kind of a man he was. And if she is happy to share him with mini-skirted groupies fresh out of school, Jen thought bitterly to herself, then she is welcome to him!

  She applied herself to her food, and it vanished with startling speed, so that she had finished by the time Cathy and Stuart settled down to the second half of their interrupted meal.

  "Put the coffee on, Jen, would you?" Stuart asked. "It's dead simple, even you shouldn't be able to mess it up."

  Charming, Jen thought. Admittedly he had only just sat down, but he might have been slightly more polite about it.

  "I hate to refuse you," she said blithely, making Karen choke on her fork, "but I can't make anything except instant, and I'm sure you won't have that in the house."

  He looked at her with sheer exasperation.

  "You're not telling me you don't know how to work a plain ordinary coffee machine?"

  Jen held her hands up in pretended surrender.

  "Sorry," she said. "Not the faintest idea."

  "I'll do it," Cathy said, her gentle voice settling over them like soothing oil on rough waters. Jen glared at her.

  "No, Cath!" Stuart transferred the exasperation to her. "Sit down!"

  She obeyed his command without demur, giving him another liquid glance, and Jen shot up from her seat.

  "I'll learn," she said resolutely, gathering up her plate and cutlery. "I learn fast."

  "I'll show you how it works," Karen said, shoving the last piece of her sandwich into her mouth. "It's not a new model or anything, is it, Stuart?" she demanded, mock serious. "You gave me so much hell over the one in your flat, I'm not in the mood for a repeat performance."

  Stuart gave her a measured look.

  "Water," he said. "Filter. Coffee. Jug. Switch. Put both your brains to it, and we should have a result by next week."

  "Thank you, darling," Karen said lightly, and dragged Jen away by the arm.

  The operation was a success, thanks to Karen's advance training, and without counting such minor mishaps as spilling water all over the worktop and knocking the coffee jar over so that half of its contents went irretrievably the same way. They did accomplish the set mission of producing a jugful of steaming black coffee, and distributing it between four mugs. Jen felt quite proud of herself, and refused to be cowed by Stuart's look of disbelief and his curt: "I suppose I should be pleased you didn't burn the house down."

  "You should," she said, adopting Karen's brisk, no-nonsense tone. "I might do it yet, unless you're careful."

  Stuart shook his head and turned to his mug. For a second or two, she thought she saw the beginning of a smile on his face, quickly suppressed.

  "I'm sorry," Cathy said plaintively, "but can I have a splash more milk in mine?"

  "You can," Karen said promptly, and got up again to fetch the tetrapack from the fridge. "Do you want some water in it as well?"

  "No, just milk." Cathy smiled gratefully -- and she did have a lovely smile, Jen conceded. "Thank you."

  Jen frowned briefly. She could not fathom why both Stuart and Karen were being so protective towards Cathy. Perhaps Stuart had a good reason, but Karen…? She was the best and dearest of friends, no question, but she had little patience with what she termed "shrinking violets" -- complete with quotation marks -- and it seemed to Jen that Cathy plainly fell into this category.

  Not that it mattered to her. She was here to do a job, and after that was completed she would never come here again…and probably never see Stuart again.

  The thought saddened her.

  "I'm going for a lie-down," she announced to the world in general. "Wake me up when the others arrive, if I'm not up and about by then."

  "Will do," Karen said readily. "You have a nice snooze, you look exhausted."

  "I'm not surprised," Stuart said, still intent on his coffee mug. "Trying to follow your navigation -- "

  "Oh, you -- you creep!" Karen reached across the table and slapped his arm.

  Jen pushed back her chair, and began to beat her retreat.

  Once she was upstairs, comfortably stretched out on one of the beds that floated like islands in the cream expanse of carpet, she found to her surprise that she really was tired. Her eyelids were becoming heavier by the second, and she could hear her own breathing slowing down. She thought vaguely about getting under the cover, but before she could do anything about it she was fast asleep.

  She woke with a sense of disorientation. The room was too big, and the bed underneath her soft and yielding. Where was she?

  Memory flowed back gradually. Of course -- Stuart's house! She had gone for a lie-down after lunch, and she had slept for -- she consulted her watch, blinking in disbelief -- almost four hours.

  She stretched luxuriantly, and thought about having a quick shower. It seemed a shame to wait until morning to enjoy the elegant bathroom facilities. She went through her travel bag mentally. Yes, she had brought an extra change of clothing for this evening. She had even brought a dress with her. It had occurred to her that she might want to wear one, so at the last moment she had thrown in her new dark green dress, which she had picked up at half price in a sale, and loved passionately. She could change into that.

  The shower proved
to be a work of art in its own right. High pressure, but soft touch: a veritable massage in a cubicle. Jen felt more kindly disposed towards the ex-owner's wife -- or ex-wife, strictly speaking -- than ever. She had done well for Stuart's guests. The wicked thought occurred to her that she might have done very well for Stuart himself. Birds of a feather!

  Washed, dressed, and blow-dried, she emerged into the corridor. There was no one else about, but the door to the adjoining room was open, and voices were coming from it. She recognised Cathy's soft plaintive tones.

  " -- but he says he's not ready for children yet. But I didn't mean to -- and I love children. I don't see why I should have to -- " the voice subsided into tearful sobs.

  "Don't mind him." That was Karen. "It'll be all right. He just has to get used to the idea. And you know he loves you -- "

  "I thought he did -- "

  "He does. Now come on, Cathy, calm down. You know it will be fine. Don't cry or you'll spoil your breathing. You have to play tomorrow, remember."

  Whether due to Karen's astringent pragmatism, or to sheer exhaustion, Cathy stopped sobbing and blew her nose instead.

  Oh, heavens! Jen thought, stealing softly past the door and hurrying away so as not to overhear any more. What a situation to be in! Her heart went out to Cathy, and to Stuart as well. Of course it would come as a shock to him -- he was the least likely man in the world to think of settling down, even with someone as pretty and admiring as Cathy. But then for her to have to choose between him and her baby -- that was too cruel. Poor girl!

  Then it struck her that this must of course be the reason why Karen and Stuart had both fussed over her so. Only she, Jen, had shown no consideration at all. She had not known about this, but all the same she could have been kinder, and she ought not to have grudged Cathy a bit of what Stuart called ‘special treatment'. She felt miserably guilty.

  She also had the key to Stuart's cryptic utterances. "I understand too," he had said, and then added "but all the same…" No wonder he was confused and worried. If he genuinely loved Cathy -- it hurt to think of it, but Karen had sounded so certain -- then it would be a difficult thing for him to adjust to as well.

  What a mess! And in the middle of it all, a group of friends who had all known Stuart much longer than Cathy had were descending on the house, wanting food and beds and general looking after. And they had a record to make in the morning.

  Jen chewed her lip. At least she herself could try to be as little trouble as possible. She had already got herself out of the way for the afternoon, although not by design. She would keep out of both Stuart's and Cathy's way as much as she could.

  A loud electronic buzz tore suddenly through the house, stopping her in her tracks halfway down the stairs. What on earth could make such a noise?

  She got the answer almost immediately. The door opposite the kitchen, on the left-hand side as she stood looking down into the hall, opened briskly and Stuart emerged. He strode across the hall floor, and opened a small metal box suspended on the wall next to the front door.

  "Hello," he said, and then: "Hi Peter! I'm opening the gate -- just drive straight through." He pushed something which Jen could not see, presumably a button, and then closed the box and turned around.

  "Jen!" He looked up at her in surprise, as she stood in the middle of the staircase. Then the look of surprise gave way to open admiration. "You look beautiful! New dress?"

  "It is, actually." She walked down the rest of the stairs. "Was that Peter arriving?"

  "Yes." He was still gazing at her. They had met at the bottom of the stairs, and she found herself almost walking into his arms. He had shrugged on a blue cotton check shirt over his T-shirt, and the collar was turned in on itself. Without thinking, she reached out and turned it outwards. She could feel the warmth of his skin under the fabric, and the heat of his gaze fixed on her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for her simply to lean against him, and let his arms fold gently around her, drawing her close…

  She breathed in abruptly, and brought her emotions under control. No matter what had happened two years ago, or even two weeks ago, she could not allow herself to feel any attraction towards him. There was Cathy between them now, and Cathy was in this very house, and was carrying his baby.

  "You -- you'd better go and meet them," she said quickly.

  He was silent for a moment, watching her intently, as if trying to work out what she was thinking.

  "I guess so," he said blankly, and turned away towards the door.

  Headlights swept through the room, and the sound of a car engine running lasted for a while before being switched off. Doors slammed, and voices were raised in greeting.

  "Peter -- good to see you. Sue, sweetheart."

  "Stuart, my angel! How are you, my wonderful man?"

  Rhoda, Jen thought, smiling to herself. If the strong, strident voice had not been immediately recognisable, the words would have identified her for certain. Only Rhoda would dare to address anyone in such terms -- and only Rhoda would get away with it.

  "What the hell have you brought with you, Rhoda? This case weighs a ton!"

  "Tell me about it." That was Peter, a dry, slightly high-pitched voice. "I had to carry that all the way to the car."

  "I did have a trolley, Peter dear, but that nice man was collecting them all, and -- "

  The remainder of the tale was lost as Rhoda came through the door in person.

  "Jen, my dearest! How are you?"

  "Fine," Jen smiled, letting herself be crushed in a perfumed hug. "And you?"

  "Oh, awful! You wouldn't believe the flight. And three hours of security checks at JFK." Rhoda shook her short hennaed bob. "It's a good job I slept on the plane. I can sleep anywhere, anytime. Mostly I only get to sleep when I'm travelling, so I've got used to it. Put me in a plane or a coach or a car, and I drop off straight away." Her effervescent dark-brown eyes shifted past Jen. "Karen, my angel!"

  Suppressing a giggle, Jen went out to the car, to see if she could help with the baggage. Peter and Sue were still unloading, and stopped long enough to give her a hug and a hello. Stuart was already heaving an enormous suitcase towards the door.

  "Rhoda's?" Jen queried as she passed him.

  "Rhoda's," he confirmed grimly, and gave the thing a fierce yank across the threshold.

  Jen shook her head, smiling, and picked up Peter's guitar-case, which was leaning against the side of the car. It was instantly recognisable, being of black leather stuck all over with labels, and scuffed and scratched to the point of disintegration.

  "Are you never going to buy a new case, Peter?" she asked teasingly.

  "What? Certainly not. That case goes everywhere with me. Put it down, Jen, I can carry it myself."

  He rebalanced the oversized sports bag that was hanging awkwardly from one shoulder and stretched out his free hand to prove his point. The other was clutching two travel bags, probably Sue's and Rhoda's judging by their respective styles. One was a smallish knapsack in a cheap-looking orange fabric, the other a smart little thing in dark red leather. The light from the hallway fell unforgivingly on them both, creating the most hideous clash of colours Jen had ever seen. Slung onto his back was a solid-looking guitar case in some dark colour, possibly navy, that looked likely to contain Rhoda's contribution to their collection of instruments.

  "You look fully laden as it is. I'll take it, Peter."

  "Well, if you must…thank you."

  Sue slammed the boot shut.

  "I'll lock up the car, if you give me the keys," she said. Peter began to trawl rather helplessly through his pockets with his one free hand.

  "They're still in the ignition," Jen said, gesturing towards the open driver's door.

  "Oh, Peter!"

  "Yes, yes, I know. I'm useless. Cut the lecture, Sue, and lock up the car."

  Jen glanced at him in surprise. Peter was rarely this irritable.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  "Nothing. Let's get all this st
uff shifted, shall we?"

  He set off towards the front door, buckling slightly under his load. Jen followed him, puzzled. Everyone seemed out of sorts. Stuart was worried, and Cathy was tearful, and Peter was snappish. She knew the reason for the first two, of course, but what was bothering Peter?

  "Ignore him," Sue said, appearing at her side. "He's been like that all day. He and Rhoda had a right set-to at the airport, it was all I could do to stop her from storming off and grabbing a taxi instead."

  "She seems to have calmed down," Jen observed, listening to Rhoda's exuberant chatter from somewhere in the house.

  "Oh, you know Rhoda -- up in arms one minute and all smiles the next. I don't think she knows what holding a grudge means. Of course, she was tired from the flight as well. Luckily she fell asleep as soon as we got her into the car, so it all settled down by itself. I don't know what's biting Peter, though. Just don't pay him any attention."

  They had reached the hallway and Sue pulled the front door closed behind her. Jen put the guitar case down on the floor next to the staircase. She did not know where Peter's room would be, and the hall was deserted for the moment.

  "Put that in the living room," Sue suggested. "We're bound to have a jamming session this evening, don't you think?"

  "I hope so," Jen said truthfully. It was the one aspect of the whole event she had been looking forward to with unmixed pleasure. "But where is the living room?"

  "Haven't you been here before? Oh, of course you wouldn't have -- silly me! Sorry, Jen. It's just through here."

  Sue opened the door on their right, next to the stairs, and revealed a large carpeted room with a huge fireplace as its central focus. In front of it lay an impressive Oriental rug approximately the size of Jen's kitchen, on which stood a polished walnut coffee table of matching proportions. Clustered around it were two deep-cushioned sofas and a collection of armchairs.

  "Very nice," Jen said, leaning the guitar case against the wall on her left and looking around admiringly.

  "You can certainly hold a party in here," Sue agreed. "How many people did you fit in at your house-warming, Stuart?"

  Jen turned around to find Stuart behind them, leaning casually against the doorframe.