by Pene Henson
Claudie takes a sip of her coffee. “I like the haircut,” she says.
Lien runs her hand through her shorter, choppier hair. “Thank you.”
“So this is it. Interview time,” Claudie says.
Lien nods and draws a breath. She gets out a pen and paper.
“I need to ask, are you going to write about Lou?” Claudie says. Her stomach is heavy, as though it has rocks in it.
“I’m not planning to.” Lien doesn’t flinch. “Like, the article might include a sentence to say your close friend died. But I’m talking about the industry, not one tragedy.”
Claudie looks at the steam swirling from her coffee. Up in the cabin the steam had been a friendly presence, had made her less alone in the bush. “You don’t know everything about it,” she says.
“No.” Lien moves her chair around the table slightly. She’s closer to Claudie now and half in shadow so Claudie no longer has to look into the sun to see her. “Just what I heard from Gretchen and Dani. Neither of them said much. But that’s okay. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. You’re my friend first. I won’t be using anything you don’t approve.”
For a time Claudie stays silent. “I trust you,” she says at length.
Lien’s eyes soften over the top of her giant mug of tea. She puts the mug carefully on the table. “You’d just come back from doing solo stuff in the US, I think.”
Claudie nods.
“How was the band going? It would have been tough, I guess, getting back together after your time abroad.”
Claudie looks at the posters on the wall beside the window. “It was fine. I’d taken a hiatus; we hadn’t broken up. The US was awful to begin with. I’ll tell you more about that, if it’s relevant.”
Lien nods.
“But right after I came back, I heard about Lou.”
“And then you left the band.”
Claudie looks out the coffee shop window. “I did leave. Again. Yeah.”
Lien takes a mouthful of tea. “Because of Lou?” she prods.
Claudie hesitates. If she starts to talk, she knows all the words will rush out. “I’m going to tell you the whole story.”
“Okay.”
“Lou warned me, you know. Before I went to Los Angeles, Lou told me that Dani was in it for herself. I didn’t listen. I was angry with Lou about it. Dani was my girlfriend, and, even though we didn’t agree about everything, she’d brought me this great opportunity. I was getting a record deal. And one of my best friends couldn’t be supportive when I was finally getting the things we all wanted. I thought she was jealous.” She breathes. “But it was a fair warning, as it turned out.”
Lien nods, her eyes focused.
Claudie says, “So, here’s the story. I headed across to L.A. I had an understanding with a producer from over there. Dani went with me. She had all these suggestions. She wanted me to bleach my hair and change my name.” Claudie smiles crookedly. “Sokolov is difficult to spell. The label had suggestions too. They had this image of what I was going to be for them. It seemed as though they wanted a new Pink—that pop-rock kick ass thing that really works for her. They had this idea of how I should talk, how I should dress, how they wanted me to sound.”
“That would’ve been horrible,” Lien says.
Claudie nods. “I mean, at first it was amazing, all the lights and a growing fan base and the opening gigs, the limo rides to the recording studios. I was making it.”
“It’s the dream.”
“Yeah. Something like that. But it wasn’t too long before I realized it wasn’t working. I’ve got no problem with people earning money for what we do. I’d be pretty happy with that, actually.” Lien nods her understanding. “But I felt like I was selling myself out. I was giving up who I was and giving up what music was too. I was getting something I wanted, sure, but I didn’t want it like that.
“I didn’t notice how much Dani was part of this until it was too late. I was old enough. I should’ve known what was going on but—I’d always been with her. I didn’t see what she was doing. I’ve had to forgive myself for being an idiot.”
“You weren’t an idiot.”
“Eh. I was. Anyway, the record tanked. And my LA dream was over. I came back home. Dani wasn’t happy. She didn’t want me to give it all up. We were barely seeing each other. She was traveling back and forth between new clients in L.A. and old clients in Sydney. “You’re going to be huge, babe,” she’d say. “Do it for us.” But it felt like someone else was going to be huge. Not me.”
“I get that. Absolutely.”
“I mean, I can’t complain. Honestly. They were giving me what they thought I wanted. They were definitely giving Dani what she wanted, and she was the one talking to them.”
“But it wasn’t what you wanted. So you came back—”
“So I came back, and, not long after that, Lou died.” Claudie takes a mouthful of coffee. “She—she always had trouble sleeping, and anxiety sometimes hit her hard. She wasn’t as careful about meds and that kind of stuff as she could have been. We were at the rehearsal space when I got a call from her mother. I walked home. It was a long way to Dani’s and my place. I didn’t cry, then. But I opened the door and climbed the stairs, and Dani wasn’t there.” Claudie swallows hard.
“Okay.”
“She was in town, but I couldn’t get her on the phone. I figured she couldn’t help that. She didn’t know what had happened. Later that day she came back, and everything seemed okay.”
Lien nods. “Okay,” she says again. She’s watching Claudie closely.
Claudie shakes her head and keeps talking. “But it was weird, because someone had called the ambulance. And no one knew who it was. It was a part of the investigation into Lou’s death. Because someone was there, at least afterward. Someone was at Lou’s place.”
“God,” Lien says.
“Yeah.”
“Dani.” It’s not a question. Lien already knows.
“Dani.” Claudie doesn’t cry about this stuff anymore. But she hates admitting it. “The police turned up to interview her. And they kept coming back. In the end she told me. She’d stopped by Lou’s place and found… It made no sense for her to be at Lou’s. So she panicked and ran off before she called the police. It’s understandable. But it wasn’t okay.” Claudie doesn’t know if Dani could have saved Lou. Probably not. But it will always be a question.
“They were having an affair?” Lien says.
“They were. Whatever, it’s a common story, right? I just hate that it’s my story. And Lou’s. Lou was important to me. Dani too, I guess. And then they were both gone. I never told the others. It wasn’t fair to hurt Lou’s reputation. And honestly, I was ashamed as much as I was hurt. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye.”
“Hell, Claudie.”
“Yeah. So Lou was gone. And it hurt to even think about Dani. And the band—I’d been seduced by L.A. and the lights over there and I’d fucked everything up.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lien says. Her voice is shaky and her eyes are bright.
“I know that now. But there you go. That’s what dragged me out of my dream life and up into a cabin.”
Lien takes Claudie’s hand.
“I’m fine, now. I miss Lou, but I’m getting the band back together. Not everyone gets a chance to do that. And you saw the cabin. That place was a dream too. In its way.”
Lien meets Claudie’s gaze with so much knowledge and warmth and memory that Claudie moves back. Lien releases her hand.
“Thank you for telling me,” Lien says.
Claudie nods. “So, for the article you need to know more about my contract in L.A.”
“That’d be great. I’ll get us another cup?”
Lien walks over to the barista. The barista beams as though Lien’s already a fr
iend. Of course she is.
16
A day later, Claudie calls Mercy. “Can I stop in? I’ve got some music thoughts.”
“Sure. I’m home now if you’re around.”
They stand in the kitchen as Mercy makes tea.
“I talked with Lien yesterday, and she said she can get us a show at the Newcombe. We might want to leave it till we get a full band together. But it seems like a good prospect.”
Mercy lifts her head from pouring steaming water into mugs. “Lien’s your journalist friend?”
“Yep. I know we haven’t talked about it, but, it’d be a great place to have a first show. Just an introduction. We could add some drums and bass to lift the energy for a live show.”
Mercy doesn’t move.
“Mercy?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Oh. Right.” Claudie didn’t expect that. She slows down. “Right. Because of last time?”
Mercy hands Claudie a mug and carries hers to the window. She props herself against the frame. “It’s not that I blame you for going. It was hell. Lou held us together, and she was gone. But I don’t know how I can trust this again.”
Claudie sits at the table. “I’m sorry.” She takes a breath. “It was tough, Merce.”
Mercy pauses before saying, “It was tough for all of us.”
Claudie swallows. She’s never told Mercy what happened that day. She presses her knuckles against the hot mug.
“It was different for me.”
“Yeah, I know that. But you never said anything, Claudie. I know, but I don’t really know anything.”
It’s long past time to talk about it, but Claudie doesn’t know how to start. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay.” Mercy turns and looks out the window.
Claudie can’t let this go without a fight. She tries another angle. “The thing is, in every song that I’ve written I’ve imagined your keyboard work, Mercy. You make my music better. And I know I make you better, too. Will you give it a go, maybe talk to Gretchen? For old times’ sake?”
Mercy raises an eyebrow.
“For the sake of the music.”
Mercy presses her lips together. Then she holds out a hand to shake Claudie’s. “Okay, okay. You win. But this is a trial.”
“Of course.”
Claudie keeps her face serious, but she’s grinning inside.
With Mercy on board, convincing Gretchen to play will be easy. She and Mercy are close; they were old roommates until Mercy moved in with Mary. Gretchen might have another band, but she’s flexible. All she wants is to play the drums.
The next day at Mercy’s house, Gretchen sets up her kit. Claudie plugs her guitar into the amp. Mercy sits cross-legged in front of her keyboard.
“Tan’s a no-show,” Gretchen says. “I tried everything, but he’s pretty committed to this other band and… Look, we’re going to need another bass player.”
“That’s okay,” Claudie says, though her heart sinks. It’ll be hard to get the band together without him.
Gretchen’s set up the pieces of her kit she brought along. “This is gonna be cool,” she says.
At first it’s not cool. Not even a tiny bit. Claudie seems to have lost the knack for explaining what she hears in the music. Mercy’s tracks clash with what Claudie’s imagining. Gretchen’s beat is too much, too loud and showy in the small room.
For half an hour, for an hour, they tussle with it. Claudie tries to add vocals, but they seem to make it worse.
Claudie sighs. The lights are too bright. She says, “Maybe I’d better call it. This isn’t exactly what I imagined.”
“No,” says Gretchen. “One more try, though?”
Mercy’s silent. Claudie flicks at her pick.
“Look, to tell you the truth. I’m fighting with it,” says Mercy. “I, I’m not over the way things ended. I know it’s been a long time but I’m not over it.”
“Maybe you don’t need to be,” says Gretchen.
Mercy continues. “But, Claudie, Gretch, full disclosure, the music hasn’t been the same without you guys. And this stuff. This is good. It’s different from what we used to do. The song’s got more space in it.”
Claudie half laughs. “Partly ’cause we need a bass.”
“Partly ’cause we need a bass,” Mercy agrees. “But I think… the lyrics are really something. This is good. It’s new.”
“Plus it’s all love songs,” says Gretchen. “You’ve never written those before. And they’re good. I want to give it a shot.” Claudie hadn’t noticed she was writing love songs. She files that thought.
“So, one more time,” says Mercy.
“One more time,” says Claudie.
They do it two more times. It’s not perfect, but it makes a difference. Mercy grins at Claudie from the keyboards. She flicks a pedal with her hand, and the loop echoes through the song exactly as Claudie imagined it. The drums lift it all, make it stronger, give Claudie’s voice reason to be powerful.
“Okay,” says Gretchen afterward.
“We still need a bass,” says Mercy.
“We do,” says Gretchen.
“But that was good,” says Claudie.
“What shall we call ourselves?” Gretchen asks.
It hadn’t occurred to Claudie that they’d need to ask. “Grand Echo,” she says.
Gretchen frowns. “I just thought… I don’t know. I thought we might want to start with something new.”
“But we should stick with the name people already know us by. We spent years building that fan base. Some of it will still be there.”
“It’s not disrespectful to Lou and Tan?” Mercy asks.
Claudie looks at them. “I think it’s more respectful. That’s where the band came from. I want to celebrate our past, too.”
“That smells amazing.” Lien walks into the kitchen. Beau is standing over a wok, delicately turning tofu with a spoon.
“Kung Pao tofu with noodles,” Annie says from the kitchen chair. “My mum’s recipe. Well, she didn’t use tofu.”
“We’re going to have way too much.” Beau transfers the tofu to a paper towel with a slotted spoon. “Invite Claudie.”
“Oh.” Lien doesn’t think too hard before she sends a text. Her phone buzzes. “She’s walking over now.”
Beau raises his eyebrows. “That was quick.”
“If she’s free, she’s free. She’s not a woman who messes around. It makes things easier.”
“Admirable,” Beau says.
Claudie arrives with a bottle of wine in brown paper.
The kitchen table’s not really big enough, so they sit in the lounge room with their drinks on the floor and their food balanced on their laps. Annie and Beau take the sofa. Lien gives Claudie the caramel armchair. She pulls a kitchen chair in for herself.
“Did you finish that huge essay you were telling me about?” Claudie asks Annie.
Annie frowns while she finishes chewing. “Mmm. I submitted it on time. But it’s not my best work.”
“It was exceptional,” says Beau.
“You only read the introduction,” Annie protests.
“As if! I read the whole thing.” Beau looks pleased with himself as he takes a mouthful of tofu. “This food is delicious, if I say so myself.” He beams at them.
Annie rolls her eyes. “When?”
“When did I read it? While you were asleep, love. Ask me anything. I’m now an expert on free trade agreements and China.”
“I imagine it would have cured your insomnia at least.”
He smiles at her. “You made it interesting. So, Claudie, Li tells us your band’s on its way. When can we watch you guys?”
“We’re getting there,” Claudie says. “Neither of you happens to play bass, do y
ou?”
Annie laughs.
“Nope, not even for you,” Beau says. “Everyone’s better off if I stick to the dance floor.”
Annie finishes her dinner first and places her bowl on the floor. She tucks her toes in under Beau’s thigh on the sofa. Claudie looks away.
“We’ll wash up,” says Lien once everyone’s eaten. Beau and Annie disappear into his room. Claudie follows Lien into the kitchen with Beau and Annie’s bowls. Lien fills the sink with soapy water. Their faces are reflected side-by-side in the dark glass above the sink. It takes Claudie back to the sink in her cabin, the lights reflected in the window and that vast outlook.
Once the dishes are finished, Claudie and Lien take over the living room.
Lien stretches out on the sofa. Claudie settles back in the armchair beside it. The windows are open, and the weather’s cooling. She wraps her hoodie around her.
“So rehearsal was good?” Lien asks.
“It was so good. It didn’t fall into place. It wasn’t like some magical thing. We worked on it for an hour, and I honestly thought Mercy was going to kick us out. But then—”
Lien lifts her head. “Then?”
“Something happened. We got in sync, I guess.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Lien’s sincerity warms Claudie.
“So all we need is a bass player. And some more songs; we’ve got about five or six together. Maybe later some gigs.”
“So not much.” Lien twinkles.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind some recording time, too.”
Lien sits up and drops her feet to the floor. She leans forward. “Right. I can’t help with the songs. But I have an idea for a bass player you could use. His name’s Boyd Burrows. He’s sort of a friend of a friend. His band, Canley Reid, is on hiatus, and he’s awesome. Soft-spoken guy and amazing on the bass. I’ll give you his number if you like?”
“Sure,” says Claudie. She’ll check him out before she calls him.
Lien goes on. “Also there are other things I’ve been thinking.”