‘Oh yes, what was her name? Ashley or something? Whatever happened to her?’
I wish I could make Justin understand. I feel an ache of regret for leading him on. I suspect I’ve hurt him more than he ever hurt me.
“I’m different now,” he’d said tonight in the pub. But not different enough to bridge the gap between us.
I think about calling him; making an attempt at an explanation. Try to make him see the way my passion has a hold on me and won’t let me escape. Then I realise that he understands enough. Understands music will always be between us. Understands he can’t break me away from it.
And then I remember. Even if I wanted to call, I no longer have his number.
I change planes in Brisbane and make a quick call to Matt. He answers on the first ring.
“Don’t make me get on a plane, Abby. I swear, I’ll die in all that sun. I’m like a vampire.”
I laugh. “Don’t get on a plane. I’m on my way back to Melbourne. Can you pick me up?”
I hear a smile in his voice. “Yes. Yes, of course I can. Just text me the details.”
It’s past three in the morning when my plane arrives. Matt is waiting at the gate. He envelops me in a giant hug.
“What’s your story, woman? You had me worried. I thought you’d given it all up.”
“I thought about it,” I admit. “I tried. But I couldn’t do it.” I step back from his embrace. “Will you take me back in Standing Waves?”
A smile spreads across his face. “I can’t believe you think you have to ask.” He leans in to kiss me but I hold him back.
“No. Not this. Just Standing Waves.”
His face drops slightly. “Okay,” he says finally. “I guess we can do that. But, I gotta say Ab, that kind of sucks.”
“You broke up with me,” I remind him.
“I broke up with crazy obsessed Abby. Not this sandy, suntanned one who smells like the sea.”
“Yeah well, you don’t get to choose which bits of me you want.”
He takes my bag and starts walking me to the car. “Fair enough,” he says with a slight smile. “I can respect that I guess.”
“Anyway, did you really expect me to come running back to you after you shag Clara of all people?”
Matt puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’ve come running back to Standing Waves.”
“Yeah well. It’s your music I love, not you.”
Matt grins. “We’ll see.”
I catch his eye challengingly but can’t help smiling. His self-assurance makes me lose some of mine.
“So,” says Matt as we drive into the city. “Post concert drinks are still going. Want to make an appearance? Jess has been worried about you.”
I smile. “Sure.”
Matt finds a car park close to the bar. Music and laughter spills onto the street. Across the road, the Con is bathed in darkness. I take my violin out of the back seat and swing it onto my back. Matt rolls his eyes teasingly.
“Just leave it in the car.”
“Are you kidding? This is a Pollastri! Plus, it’s been to Julliard.”
“What?”
“I'll tell you later.” I begin to walk towards the pub, then change direction.
“Where are you going?” Matt follows me across the grass to the Con. I let myself inside with my access card. The foyer is shadowy. Leftover programmes from the concerto competition are scattered across the tables. The bins overflow with bottles and papers. The hallway creaks. Clara emerges from the shadows in her evening dress and a fluffy pink cardigan.
“Clar? What are you doing here?”
“Practising.” Her eyes are red and glassy.
“At four in the morning?”
“I didn’t win,” she says blankly. “I wasn’t good enough.”
I smile wryly. “At least you had the guts to get up there.”
“I wanted this so badly,” she says.
“No you didn’t. Your dad wanted it. Screw him.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You know we don’t all find it so easy to walk away from our family.” She looks at Matt but he avoids her eyes. He takes my arm.
“Come on. Let’s go get a drink.”
“Wait,” I tell him. “There’s something I want to do.”
I give Clara a final glance, then swipe my access card over the auditorium door. I step onto the stage. The hall is dark and quiet. Shadows hang over the organ.
I start to play. Yearning, beautiful Elgar that fills the empty theatre. Music that takes me backwards. I let the melody drift into a lyrical improvisation. I want music that takes me forward, not back. Matt sits at the piano and matches gentle chords to my melody.
“So, no more competitions?” he asks.
“No more competitions. I’m not going to spend my whole career keeping score. I just want to perform. Play your stuff.”
“Our stuff.”
I smile. My mind drifts to salsa rhythms, red wine and Matt’s Kanji freedom tattoo. I think of his lips on my neck and of snuggling in bed above the coin-laundry, while the winter winds lash the windows. My melody transforms.
“Stratosphere,” says Matt. He grins.
I let the violin fall from my shoulder. The last notes disappear into the reflectors. Silence settles over the hall.
“So Standing Waves is going to go places, right? Cos I’m not up for just sitting round getting pissed all the time.”
“Hell yeah,” he assures me. “We’re just going somewhere different to where all the divas are going.”
“Play,” I tell him. His hands return to the keys. The music rises, takes me with it. Circles me, pulls me in.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to the Victorian Writer’s Centre for the invaluable feedback, Jane Howard for so generously editing for me and Kasia Dulinska for imparting a little violinist’s expertise. Thanks also to the many people who ploughed through early drafts, especially Kate Francis, Ally Craven and Squish Davis.
Most of all, thank you to Davis for your endless support, patience, edits and writer’s retreats.
Finally… my wonderful friends from the Con. Thanks to you, I will always remember which is the fourth movement of Haydn’s London Symphony.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Johanna Craven is an Australian-born writer, pianist and film composer. A graduate of the Melbourne Conservatorium, she currently lives in London.
Her more questionable hobbies include ghost hunting, meditative dance and pretending to be a competitor on The Amazing Race when travelling abroad.
Check out Johanna's books and music at http://www.johannacraven.com and follow her on Facebook or Twitter at @JohannaCraven.
To keep up with Johanna's new releases and read sample chapters from her upcoming books, join her mailing list.
Music From Standing Waves Page 26