by Pene Henson
“You want to talk about Sacha,” Dani says. She leans back in her chair.
“Yeah, I want to set something up. But first I want to talk to you about Claudia Sokolov.”
Dani raises her eyebrows. She draws the words out. “Claudia Sokolov. Well, I haven’t heard that name for a while.” She tips her head and studies Lien.
“She was the lead singer of Grand Echo. You managed them three and four years back.”
“I know who she was, babe. I know who she was.” Dani’s making a point.
“You two were more than professionally connected?”
“That’s public knowledge, of course. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, of course not,” Lien says. She’s a little out of balance though, which she covers by hunting through her bag for a notebook and pen, then lifting her head in a suitably professional way. The woman’s pretty hot. Her dark hair is short and perfectly styled. Her eyelashes are dark, and her close-set eyes are clear pale green.
“So, I’m doing some research for a story about what makes musicians abandon a career in music. The Grand Echo guys pointed me to you.”
Dani raises her brows. “Claudie sent you to me?”
“Gretchen did.”
“Oh, the drummer. Okay. Cool. She’s a great girl. So. Grand Echo.” Her tone is nostalgic.
Lien opens the notebook. It’s interesting how sometimes people tell you things because you have a notebook. “Where do you want to start?”
Dani looks at her watch. “I need to meet with some kids I just signed. So let’s keep this quick.”
“Sure. Can you tell me what you know about why Grand Echo split?”
Dani’s silent, and Lien looks up. “First, can you tell me about your interest in the band?” Dani asks. “Is it professional or personal?” Dani’s smile makes it light, though it’s weird to be asked.
Lien tames her blush. “Like I said, I’m writing an article about musicians and bands who were on their way to the big time and then left it all behind.”
“Sounds good. But how did you even come up with Grand Echo?”
“I was in the wilderness up north heading for Rivers Fest. I’m not much of a camper and I had a fall in a storm, and Claudie helped me out. She's a ranger up there.”
“Really. How romantic.” Dani’s eyes are knowing.
Lien shakes her head. “No, it’s not like that. I guess I owe her some of my time. I was interested in her story.”
Dani raises her eyebrows. “Fair enough. I don’t know much, though. The girl left suddenly.”
“Left you or left the band?”
“Left both. Both.”
“So tell me. From your point of view, what happened?”
Dani sips her coffee slowly. “Did she tell you about Lou? Louisa?”
“Gretchen told me about the tragedy.” She’s not imagining the relief on Dani’s face.
“It’s no secret. Louisa was a friend of the band. We’d all been close for years. She was our opening act, and we were small-scale enough that she was traveling with us.” Dani pauses. “We all liked her. Great kid. I mean, I didn’t know her that well. But she was close to Claudie. They just understood one another somehow. But the girl had a pretty bad pill habit. When Lou’s parents called Claudie and gave her the news, she was distraught. She never really recovered.”
“How did Lou die?”
“It was an accident. An overdose of painkillers and—it happens. It was just an accident. But it was terrible. Claudie was hit hard. She was a bit intense after that. She wasn’t around. And then a month later she shut her phone off and disappeared. She told us where she was going. But she didn’t tell us how to keep in touch. It killed Grand Echo.”
It’s a sad story. And it makes sense. Something is missing, though. But Lien doesn’t know how to pin it down. Dani has tears in her eyes, and none of these people need to talk to her at all.
She asks some more questions about the band’s prospects and about their plans for the future, but when she leaves she’s dissatisfied.
Lien’s been home four days and somehow she hasn’t called Nic. It’s not as though she’s avoiding her. Not really. It’s just easier to do the things that don’t make Lien the bad guy.
But she can’t ignore a person and hope she’ll disappear. Nic’s not her girlfriend, was never her girlfriend. But Nic deserves better than being overlooked. Lien breathes deep and writes a text.
I’d like to meet.
Delete.
Let’s get together
Delete.
Can we meet up tonight?
She hits send.
Nic replies almost immediately, even though Lien’s pretty sure she’s at work at the gym.
Sure. Sounds a bit ominous. Do I need to worry?
It’s impossible to answer that. Everything Lien can say leads to them breaking up by text message. She's not going to do that.
No. I’ll come to your place if Bea is at training?
Nic lives in Newtown. They’ll get some quiet in her house. Anyway, Lien wants to talk to Nic at her place. That way if it doesn’t go well, Nic is already home, where she’ll want to be.
The text comes back.
Okay.
No smiley face, no kisses. Lien bites her lip. Nic knows something is up.
It’s still light out, but Nic’s house faces the wrong way to catch the late sun. Lien’s pressed the doorbell many times before. Usually Nic opens it with a beaming smile and a kiss. Now her smile is tentative.
“I’ll take your bag,” she says. Lien hands it over awkwardly and follows Nic down the hall to the living room. “Let’s—do you want to sit down?” Lien asks. She shifts on her feet.
Nic perches at the edge of the sofa. “Sure.” Her lips are set.
Lien can see no point in delaying. She sits opposite Nic. “I’m so sorry. I need to break up with you.”
“Fuck.” Nic closes her eyes.
“Nic, it’s just… We have such different interests and I—”
“You know we’ve always had different interests. That’s part of the fun.”
“I know. I loved what we had. It was fun, and you’re a great girl.”
“But you’re breaking up with me.” Nic meets her gaze. “It’s not just ‘different interests,’ is it? You met someone. At that fucking festival.”
“That’s not why—”
“Did you meet someone?” Nic’s focused.
“I did meet someone. But not—”
“I knew I should have come to the festival. Everyone hooks up.”
“I didn’t hook up with someone at the festival. It’s not like that.”
“What, camping?” Nic thinks for a moment. “Oh, fuck, you’re talking about the park ranger.”
Lien meets her gaze. “Yeah.”
“And you’re going to do some kind of long distance thing? I know you. That’d never work for you.”
“No.”
“She’s moving here already? Fucking hell, Lien. That’s fast.”
“Nic. We’re not. We’re not doing anything.”
“You’re not even together?” Nic gives a little pained bark of laughter. “And you’re still breaking up with me.”
“That’s not the point. It’s not about her, it’s about us.”
“You slept with her.” Nic’s voice is dull. Lien hates that she’s hurt her.
Lien inhales. “You and I weren’t exclusive.”
Nic doesn’t look at her. She swallows. “You might not have been. I was. But yeah, I guess I was fooling myself.” Lien can’t think of anything to say. “Ah fuck, Li. This is fucked. And you know what? Mostly I’m embarrassed. Because you went off and chased after someone who was probably a lonely old lady wanting a bit on the side. Is she even going to come to Sydney to s
ee you?
“Probably not. I haven’t spoken to her again. So probably not. But Nic, the thing is, it just clarified things for me.”
“What, that you were using me till you could find someone different? You’re a fool if you think she’s going to uproot her whole life and come down here to be with you.”
“You and I both deserve something better, Nic. It’s not about her.”
Nic’s clear eyes are both skeptical and hurt.
“It’s not just about her,” amends Lien. “I think I need to spend some time alone.”
Nic looks away. “Whatever you want to tell yourself. I still think we could have had something real. I could have made you happy.”
“I know. I know. I know. It’s only that I have to believe a relationship can be more. I don’t want something that’s just good enough.”
Nic takes a breath. “It was never just ‘good enough.’ That’s the worst part. It was never just ‘good enough’ for me.”
“I’m truly sorry,” says Lien.
Nic slows down and takes a breath. “I don’t want this break-up. Honestly. I don’t want this.”
“I know.” Nic’s hands shake, and Lien’s not sure, for a second, if she wants this either. “I don’t want to trap us both and not even look for something better.”
“You found something better? With a girl you won’t see again maybe ever.” Nic sighs. “The thing is, Li. I thought this was it…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Okay.”
“I really am.”
Nic sets her shoulders. “Okay. Can you go? Please.”
“Of course.”
“Go. I’m feeling pretty stupid right now. And used. I don’t want to look at you.”
Lien heads home. The thought of Nic in her house, crying in her living room, is painful. But there’s nothing she can do. She’s the last person to be able to help.
Beau’s in his room. Lien stands in the doorway until he looks up. “I broke up with her, Beau.” Her eyes sting.
“Oh, babe. You had to.” He stands, and she wipes her eyes. “Want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Not really.”
“Want to watch reality TV instead?”
“Yes, please,” she manages. “Thank you.” He follows her downstairs.
12
Gretchen and Tan’s band is playing at The Factory, opening for a rock duo from Melbourne. Lien hovers at the back of the dance floor. It’s all good stuff, though not new.
Once they’re finished she walks over to the band. Gretchen grins to see Lien. Her face is lit by the stage lights, which reflect from the drums. “Hey! You came!” she says. “Did you like it?”
“Absolutely. You and Tan were great.”
“We were better in the old days with Echo,” Gretchen says. Tan frowns at her from where he’s putting away his bass. “Come on, you know it’s true,” she tells him.
Tan shrugs and heads to the bar with the others.
Lien helps Gretchen pack up the drums. They carry the kit out to the back lane and pack it into a station wagon there.
“We were going somewhere new with Grand Echo,” Gretchen says as she slams the trunk closed. “We’d started something. Claudie was out from that awful US producer’s net, and Dani had stopped trying to make us into a pop rock cookie-cutter band. Claudie was writing new originals. Top stuff. You should’ve heard it.”
“Yeah? I can imagine.”
“Yeah.” Gretchen opens the back door of the venue. A wall of sound meets them. “You might not need to imagine it. We recorded some of it, a rough cut. But it was amazing. It was going to make a really awesome record. And then Lou. And everything was awful, and Claudie disappeared. I’ve no idea where that recorded stuff is. It was good.” She thumps out the beat, one fist against her palm. They walk back onto the dance floor. “Have you heard these guys?” Gretchen asks, waving at the band on stage. “They do some amazing stuff.”
Late the next morning Lien calls Dani.
“Gretchen thought there would be some old tracks from Grand Echo’s last year together,” she says. “I’m hoping you can point me in the right direction.”
“Nope. Sorry kid, no idea,” Dani says.
“Okay. Thanks for that. Do you remember who did the recording?”
“Yeah, not really. It was a long time ago.”
“What about the studio? Sydney doesn’t have that many,” Lien persists.
“Yeah.” Dani sounds irritated. “If I remember, we recorded at the studio on Fig Street. It’s under the bridge in Ultimo. I can’t help you more than that.”
“Okay, thanks, Dani.”
At the studio, the sound engineer is with another band. But he knows Lien, so he gives her access to the tapes from three years ago. It only takes five minutes to find Grand Echo’s work. An hour later Lien is still writing notes. Claudie might not remember how good she is, but she needs to hear this.
Claudie smiles at the bartender as she walks into the pub. He places a beer on the bar before she gets there.
“Thanks, Pete.”
By the time she’s finished her beer, the MC says, “Here’s Claudie Sokolov back to play for us. I saw you walk in, Claudie. I’m pretty sure there are a few more people here this week. Is that down to you?”
A small cheer answers him.
Claudie smiles at the floor as she walks onto the stage.
“Evening all. I’ve got two covers and an original for you. First, some Billy Joel.”
Loop cheers. He’s the one guy at the bar who always wants Billy Joel.
After the third song, a woman shouts, “Let her play more, MC.”
When the set is over, Claudie sits at their usual table next to Shelley.
“You’re amazing, sis,” Shelley says.
Claudie clears her throat. “It’s your fault I’m here at all. But anyway, I didn’t sit here to talk about me. Tell me what’s going on in town.”
It’s been a long time, but Claudie's waking up again.
13
The local store is cooled by a couple of large ceiling fans, but it’s the middle of the day in the middle of summer, so it’s still too hot. Claudie’s there to find something inspirational to cook for her dinner. She walks out with tomatoes and lettuce and a tin of mixed beans. The cilantro is growing well up at the cabin, and she has onions and chili peppers. It could be worse.
“Hey!” The old guy who runs the post office hails her from across the road. She remembers his name. Neil. Claudie crosses the road.
“We’ve got a package for you,” he says. “It’s been there a couple of days. I’d’ve let you know but I still don’t have a phone number for you. I was gonna send my kid to the park with it this weekend.
“A package?” The last things Claudie ordered were the guitar strings that arrived a week before Lien did.
“I’ve got it at the post office.” His eyes, quick and eager, lift to her face, and Claudie suppresses her irritation. “I’ll walk you back,” he says. “I put it safely there under the front desk.”
“Thanks.”
“Been a while since you got anything in the mail now, hasn’t it?” Of course he notices. It’s a small town; it’s been a small town the whole time she’s lived here.
“It’s not a big cabin up there. I think if I got another guitar I’d need to build an extension.”
Neil laughs. “You got a few, that’s for sure. Worth it though, the way you play. That’s what I hear. Nina reckons you’re the best guitar player the open mic night at Sheila’s ever had. I been meaning to come and see you. I don’t hear too well, though.”
In the post office he goes behind the desk and pulls out the package. It’s wrapped in brown paper. It’s not large. He slides the package toward her as she signs for it.
“Thank you,” she says. His
eyes are glued to the package. She relents.
“Do you mind if I open it here? I’ve no idea what’s in it.” Inside, three layers of bubble wrap cover a small pile of CDs, along with a note. Claudie opens the note. It’s signed “Lien.” Claudie’s heart stutters. Her smile pulls her face too tight as she folds the note and pockets it. The CDs are labeled with dates, that’s all.
“CDs,” the guy offers. “Photos maybe. Or some music. You got something you can play them on?”
“Yeah. I’ve got something in the cabin.”
She packs the CDs up and drives back through the park. Cirrus clouds skim across the sky; the hills rise around the car. She’s shaken. The whole way home her heart hammers out a prickling and hopeful beat.
Claudie keeps Lien’s note in her pocket until she’s stepped onto the deck. The sky is still. The bush is tranquil below it. Whole hosts of birds are hidden there. They twitter and squawk as she unfolds the note.
“Dear Claudie,” Lien’s handwriting is neat and curvy.
“After I left I couldn’t stop thinking about your music; the stuff you played for me and the Grand Echo tracks, too. I spoke with some people from your old band and they pointed me to the recording studio.
“And the studio guy played these recordings for me. Your original stuff. I don’t know what these will mean to you, if anything. But I think they are remarkable. Unlike anything else. The way you use the electronic stuff to lift the guitars to a new level without overpowering your guitar work. And your vocals. I knew I enjoyed your music, but this is even more than I expected.
“So I wanted to send them. In case you want a reminder of your talent.
“And I wanted to say thank you. You rescued me and you woke me up to some things. My life’s changing, and I will always appreciate that.
“Yours, Lien.”
Claudie reads the note over again. Then she folds it into her pocket.
She rummages through the cupboard to pull out her old CD player. She wipes down the interior with a dry cloth. When she plugs it in, the CD player whirs to life. She selects a CD at random and positions it in the player.
The song that rolls over her is one she wrote the year before everything fell apart. It’s quirky; the lyrics are overly wordy and complex maybe. But the guitars are sparse but interesting, and the echo in the electronics gives the lyrics space. Claudie’s voice sounds fragile and growly at once, rich and mobile but perfectly in beat.