“There was no ghost,” I say.
“Don’t be so sure. People in the units have reported hearing footsteps up and down the hall. There’s never anyone there. And some guy saw a face at his window.”
“Bullshit.”
“You’re a sceptic now?”
I fold my arms across my chest. Am I supposed to still be angry? Or supposed to have let two years wash away the bad times? It’s late and I can’t think clearly.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” I say.
“I’m not. Well- I am. I mean, Nick told me you were coming back. But I didn’t expect to run into you like this.”
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
“Trying to build up the courage to come and talk to you. I’ve started walking to Nick’s about five times. I never get any further than the end of the street.”
I don’t answer. The cicada stops shrieking and I feel the weight of the silence.
“So,” Justin says finally. “How’s things?”
“Okay.” I shoo a mosquito away from my face. The storm has brought them out and they’re eating me alive. With any luck I’ll catch dengue fever or something. “So what are you up to now?” I ask dutifully.
“Fishing,” says Justin. “Working for Dad’s company. It’s pretty good.”
I nod.
Justin swallows heavily. “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you? I can understand why you would be, but really, it was ages ago. I hoped you’d be over it…”
So two years is supposed to have washed away the bad times.
“Look.” I rub my eyes. “No offence, but I really need some sleep.”
Justin looks a little taken aback. “Okay. Want me to walk you?”
I force a smile then remind him that I know the way.
THIRTY-EIGHT
In the morning, the heat is stifling. I can’t tell if it’s hotter than usual or if I’ve just become acclimatised to Melbourne’s grey winters. I drift out of Nick’s house and stand outside Justin’s. With a deep breath, I click open the side gate.
Justin has a box of fishing tackle spread across the outdoor table. He’s untangling a length of line, wearing nothing but a cap and pair of yellow board shorts.
“Hey.”
He looks up. “Abby. Hi.” He grabs his t-shirt off the table and throws it over his brown shoulders.
“So I didn’t really like how last night went,” I manage.
He drops the fishing line into the box. “No,” he says finally. “Me neither.”
I try to give an assuring smile. “You know I’m not mad at you. I should have told you that last night.”
“You’re not?”
I shake my head. “You’re right. It was a long time ago.” I’m surprised at myself. Wasn’t sure I had it in me to forgive him.
Justin gives a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Sorry about last night,” I tell him. “I was tired, that’s all.”
“I’ve been scared shitless ever since Nick told me you were coming home. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me. But it’s so good to see you.” He catches my eye. “So do you think we could still be friends? I’d really like to hear about your course and stuff.”
“You want to know about all that? I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I just didn’t think it was your thing.”
“It’s not my thing. But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested. I care about what you do, Abby. You were such a massive part of my life.”
I smile crookedly. “Past tense.”
“No.” He corrects himself with a shake of his head. “You are. Always will be.”
I let him hug me. The stubble on his chin pricks my cheek and I can smell his sunscreen.
“I missed you so much,” he says. I’m not sure if I can say the same.
I climb awkwardly into our Antarctica dinghy, which still teeters on the lawn. Justin watches with a smile as I stretch my legs over the bench seats.
“Here.” He pushes his cap over my ponytail. “You’re so white. You’re going to burn if you’re not careful.”
He sits beside me. The hems of his shorts slide up over his knees, revealing the pale curls on his thighs. He shuffles awkwardly in the narrow benches. I remember when we had been small enough to lie between them.
“I have to admit,” he says. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you sitting in this little boat again.”
I look down at my outstretched legs. Nail polish and toe rings have replaced the dirty bare feet and grazed knees.
“You know,” I smile. “I wish that just once there had been no island, leaving us to fight the raging sea until a helicopter pulled us all to safety.”
Justin laughs. His eyes sparkle the way they had when we were children. “I wish that just once, Rachel had let us land on Fiji.”
“Those days were so great,” I say. “I wish I’d realised it at the time.”
He smiles at me. “Yeah, they were. But you must be having a ball at uni now.”
“No. I’m not going back.”
“What?”
I nibble my thumbnail. “I’m dropping out of my course.” I hear the words echoing in my ears. I can’t believe I’ve said them. I hadn’t planned to. My subconscious mind has made the decision for me; a decision I wasn’t aware I was even contemplating. As soon as I speak, I feel a weight fly off my shoulders.
Justin frowns. “But you were so sure. That was all you ever wanted. What happened?”
I’m silent. He doesn’t ask again and I’m glad, because I’m not able to give an answer. Not to him.
“What will you do?” he asks.
I shrug. All I know is I can’t go back to the Con. Can’t put myself through three more years of bleeding fingers and bitchy rehearsals. I see a hazy, different future stretch ahead of me. An indeterminate future, but one that doesn’t make my stomach turn. My body is confirming that I’ve made the right choice. I sit in silence and watch two pigeons hop over the grass. White t-shirts flutter on the washing line like sailcloth.
“I can’t pretend I’m not pleased,” Justin says finally, covering my wrist with his hand. I feel the calluses on his palm. “Having you back here would make me really happy.”
Back here… I toss the thought around my head. “I don’t know if I can stay here. My mum… She doesn’t want me here.”
“Oh yeah,” says Justin. “Cos of that thing with Nick.”
“Guess you heard.”
He shrugs. “Forget about what your mum wants. She can’t stop you from being here. You’re a grown woman.”
I nod slowly. Can I really stay here after all the years I spent fighting my way out? Everything I’d fought for hasn’t turned out the way I planned. Here, I’m safely away from the Con. Back where I had fallen in love with music instead of having my passion stolen from me.
Justin leaves his hand resting on my wrist and after a while, it becomes such a part of me I forget it is there. I shuffle closer to him and lean my head against his shoulder. The sun is hot against my cheek. As I close my eyes, I feel myself relaxing; feel the muscles in my neck melt. My heart slows and I take long, even breaths.
“I feel like I’m home,” I admit. “I didn’t think I would.”
“You are home.” Justin moves his head so it touches mine. His breath near my ear makes me shiver. He pushes gently against my shoulder to make me sit up. “Will you give me another chance?” he says suddenly. He bends to catch my eyes under the brim of the cap. “No more dumb games. I won’t screw you round, Abby, I swear. I just want to be with you.”
I take off the hat and squeeze the peak between my fingers. “I don’t know, Jus. This is kind of sudden.”
He laughs gently. “Are you serious? It’s taken me nearly twenty years to tell you that.”
I can’t help smiling a little.
Justin leans his forehead against mine. “You and me is simple, Ab. You know tha
t.”
I feel his breath tickle my nose. I miss simple. I long for simple. For a second, I am twelve again, kissing him in the street under the New Year’s fireworks. But I can still hear Matt’s voice in my head:
“Find the reason you started playing in the first place.”
THIRTY-NINE
Andrew’s brown eyes sparkle when he sees me. I rush forward and hug him.
“Look at you Abby,” he gushes. “You gorgeous thing.” He waves me down the hallway. The rest of the house is quiet and I guess Hayley is out, avoiding me no doubt. I give a small sigh of relief.
I perch on the edge of the couch and cross my legs. The ticking clock on the mantle booms through the empty rooms. I hear birds on the roof scratching noisily.
“Guess what,” I call into the kitchen. “My brother’s getting married.” I hear the clinking of glass.
“Yeah?” Andrew tugs open the cutlery drawer. “I’ve seen him round the place with his girlfriend. I didn’t know they were engaged though. Good for him.” He pops the lids off two beer bottles and hands one to me.
“I need to tell you something.” I wrap my hands around the cold glass.
Andrew sits beside me on the couch. “Everything okay?”
“I’m going to quit the Con.” I stare into the bottle. I’ve spent all day tossing the decision around my head, debating how to tell him I’m throwing all the time he spent on me down the toilet. A few months ago I had wondered how he could have even contemplated giving up his career for love. Now I’m giving mine up for nothing. But it’s a refreshing, liberating nothing without master classes or violin lessons or concerto rehearsals.
For a moment, Andrew doesn’t speak. “Why?” His dark eyes catch mine and my rehearsed conversation becomes a puddle on the floor.
“I can’t do it,” I mumble.
“Why not? Are you too far from home?”
I shake my head and cover my eyes. I feel like such a failure. “I can’t cope. With the pressure and the competition and the bitchiness…”
Andrew grabs my wrist and pulls my hand away from my face. “You know all those things you create yourself. You can either choose to get caught up in all the rivalries, or you can concentrate on what you’re doing and forget about everyone else.”
I stare at the rafters to stop the tears that have begun to burn behind my eyes. “Why do you always know the right thing to say?”
Andrew smiles half-heartedly. Two tears slide down my cheeks.
“Jesus,” I cough, pushing them away. “I was happy about this ten minutes ago.”
“I don’t want to see you walk out on this, Abs,” says Andrew. “You’re too good a musician.”
“My teacher says performance isn’t for me.” I feel the sting of the words.
“Did you ever think maybe he said that to fire you up? To get you motivated enough to prove him wrong?”
I frown. “Do you think he would do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But I’m sure it wasn’t his intention to scare you away from music altogether. It’s hard going from being the best to being just one of the crowd. I know that. But if you want to make it as a performer, you can’t let anyone push you down.”
I lean back against the cushions and sigh. “I don’t think I even want to perform anymore.”
“What happened to that excited little girl that used to rush to my house for lessons every week?”
I sniff. “She grew up and realised some dreams never come true.”
Andrew slams his bottle onto the coffee table with a sharp crack. I sit up in surprise.
“That is bullshit,” he says. “You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I can’t believe you’re giving up this quickly. I thought I taught you better than that.”
“Don’t you go acting all self-righteous!” My voice rises to compete. “You gave it all up too!”
“That’s completely different. I didn’t just give it up because it got too hard!”
“You still chose the easier life, though. So don’t go judging me for doing the same thing.”
“That’s what you think?” he says. “That I chose the easier life? Jesus… Do you think it was easy leaving behind everything I spent my life working towards? Following the careers of the friends I used to perform with? And giving it all up to be a dad at twenty-two?” He rubs his eyes. “I mean, I love Ollie to death but, Jesus Abby, don’t you dare tell me I chose the easy life.” He stands up and walks into the kitchen, leaving me alone on the couch.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but the words catch in my throat. I don’t think he hears me. I follow him into the kitchen.
“You know, you have changed,” he says. “And I think I liked the old you better.”
I sigh. “So do I. That’s why I need to stay here. I hate what the Con has turned me into. I’m sorry,” I tell him again. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve been so anxious about telling you this. I knew you’d be disappointed in me. But I just want you to understand.”
“This is a huge decision, Abby. I don’t want you to regret it.”
“You know one thing you taught me that I’ve never forgotten,” I say. “That music is a love. I don’t feel that anymore.”
“Why not? What happened?”
What did happen? Matt happened. Clara happened. Standing Waves and the quartet and Hayley’s secret happened. Music lost its associations with freedom and love. Now it’s just betrayal and struggle and heartbreak. I rub my eyes. This had all seemed so simple this morning in the Shipwreck boat with Justin.
“I guess it’s just not for me after all,” I say. “I don’t have the talent to make it as a performer. My teacher made me see that.”
“Well this guy sounds like a tosser to me,” says Andrew. “What about what your old teacher said? Doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”
I pick up the bottle tops and roll them around my fingers. “You know it does.”
“And now you’re just going to throw it all away? You asked me once if you would ever be good enough to perform. What did I say to you?”
“Don’t patronise me. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Yeah I can see that,” says Andrew. “I’m not patronising you. I’m trying to make you see how stupid you’re being.”
“Thanks. That’s much better.” I throw down the bottle tops. They bounce across the bench and onto the floor.
“There’s nothing for you here, Abby,” he says. “You know that.” He pauses. “Is this because of Justin? Because if it is-”
No way in hell am I getting into this conversation.
“I’ve made my decision,” I say, interrupting. “Please don’t try and change my mind.”
“A lost cause, hey?”
“Something like that.”
He touches my arm. “Look, why don’t you stay for tea. Hayley and Oliver should be home any minute.”
“I have to be somewhere,” I say quickly.
“That’s too bad. They’d love to see you. You won’t believe how tall Ollie is now.”
I race into the lounge and grab my keys off the coffee table. “Another time maybe.” I don’t want to stay, regardless of Hayley. I’m pissed off at Andrew for making me all confused over my once simple decision. I can hardly claim to be surprised by his reaction. I just hadn’t been expecting to leave feeling so loser-ish and cowardly. His disappointment in me stings.
“Hey I forgot to ask.” He follows me to the door. “How did your competition go?”
“Okay,” I mumble. “I made the final.”
“Great. And?”
I twirl my keys around my fingers.
“You didn’t play, did you.”
I shake my head. “It’s tomorrow night.”
“So what did you really come home for?” asks Andrew. “Your brother’s wedding or an excuse to miss the competition?”
I chew my thumbnail in silence.
“It’s not too late,” he reminds me. “You can still make it back.”
I smile b
itterly. “No thanks.”
“I’m upset for you, Abs,” he says. “I’m upset that you’ve lost all that passion. You know you don’t belong here, don’t you?”
I’m not the only one. Andrew could still have a real performance career. He still has the talent. Still in his twenties.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll shut up. Just make sure you’ve thought this through.”
I wonder if Andrew can see the irony in this advice coming from him.
I mooch back to Nick’s, turning my phone off silent. I have a missed call from Jess. No doubt she’s found the note I’d slipped under the coffee jar explaining I’d be away for a while. She’s left a long-winded voicemail in which she jabbers on about missing the concerto final and next week’s music history exam and how if I make her do the choir parts test on her own I had better bloody well stay in Acacia Beach because she’ll poke my eyes out if I ever come back to Melbourne.
Then the voicemail cuts out and she texts me.
‘Matt???’
‘Just needed to come home.’
When I reach the house, I see Dad’s Ute parked out the front. Tim is sitting on the bonnet playing with his mobile. I’m surprised at how much he looks like Nick; the same scruffy blonde hair and wide but slender shoulders. He grins and jumps off the car.
“Dad told me to wait out here and make sure you didn’t run off when you saw us.” He slaps me on the back. My little brother is a whole head taller than me.
I chew my lip. “Is Mum here too?”
“Nah. You know what she’s like.”
“She’s still pretending I don’t exist then?”
Tim gives a noncommittal smile. I draw in my breath and walk inside. Dad is perched on the edge of the couch, his fingers clenched around his bare knees.
“Come home, possum. Please.”
I hover in the doorway. The tears that won’t go away after my conversation with Andrew gel in my throat. Dad looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him, right down to the sorrow in his eyes. I long to be a little girl again; sitting on his knee, blowing my nose on one of his enormous topsail hankies.
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