by Pene Henson
“Nothing like that,” says Claudie. She kisses Lien again. “They’re love songs.”
Lien’s heart skips three or four beats. “Well, that’s a relief,” she says. “Because I don’t think I can stop myself taking over your social media now and then.”
“I guess I can live with that.” Claudie traces Lien’s cheekbone with her thumb. They sit close together in the greenish light, as the wind twists down the street. “So Lien. Can I take you back to my place?”
Lien nods. “I’ll grab a couple of things. Are you cold? You can wait inside with Beau and Annie.”
“Oh, no.” Claudie says, but she follows Lien inside.
Beau and Annie look up from the sofa. “Hi, girls,” Beau says.
“Hi.” Lien can’t help but beam at him and Annie. “I’m going to run upstairs for a second,” she says.
“I see,” says Beau. Annie smiles at everyone.
Lien shakes her head and leaves Claudie to fend for herself with her best friends. In her room she grabs a change of clothes. She looks in the mirror and takes a shaky breath. The brightly colored light lands softly on her face. A murmur of voices travels up the stairs. She turns out the fairy lights and makes her way downstairs.
“I won’t be home tonight,” she tells Beau. She tries to sound cool, but Beau nods and grins, showing all his teeth, and Annie lets out a little squeak that ruins everything.
Lien and Claudie walk the back streets to Claudie’s place. Traffic noise from Oxford Street blends with nearby voices and the general hum of humanity. A group of kids stands and smokes on a street corner. A cloud of fruit bats swoops above, catching the wind, wings translucent against the sky. A car revs its engine. It’s an ordinary night in an ordinary city. But Claudie takes Lien’s hand as they walk, and the city fades. They’re the only inhabitants of a huge, secret world.
18
Grand Echo’s first big show since re-forming is at the Hopetoun Hotel. They could have gone elsewhere, but the Hopetoun is a classic place for local rock bands to cut their teeth. The building is an old house. The stage is in the former living room, with wood-framed windows and a flight of stairs curling up behind the bar. The room isn’t huge, but the ceilings are high and the sound equipment is excellent.
The room is packed. People have been talking about this comeback. Lien made that happen.
On stage Claudie gets her guitar plugged in, then adjusts the microphone that was already pretty perfect. While Boyd and the sound guy mess with his setup, she glances around the room.
There are a couple hundred strangers here, some turned to talk, some bellied up to the bar, others already watching the stage. Lien’s near the front, waving her hands and chatting to some people Claudie doesn’t know. Claudie smiles. However much Claudie might be the one on stage, everyone in the room is drawn to Lien.
People cheer the moment Claudie speaks. “We’re Grand Echo. Thank you so much for coming to our first show at the Hopetoun in way too long. We’re gonna start you off with a new tune.”
They open it up, perfectly in time. Claudie grins at Mercy and lifts her head to sing. She catches Lien’s eye, then scans the room. She’s always confident in front of a crowd like this with her guitar and her microphone. And this crowd is the most enthusiastic she’s performed for. The music comes together. The crowd adds energy. Everything is alive. Claudie looks back at Gretchen, sings harmonies with Boyd, meets Mercy’s focused look. And now and then Lien’s eyes catch hers. Claudie buzzes to the soles of her feet.
Afterward, there are people everywhere: diehard fans and new enthusiasts. Claudie can’t move until she talks with some of them. She waits for the crush to die down. As soon as it does, she makes her way to where Lien is propped against the bar.
“That was amazing.” Lien’s bouncing on her toes. “Even more than I already knew it would be. You’re perfect. You guys sound incredible.” She goes up on her toes and kisses Claudie.
Everything’s better with Lien there.
Claudie opens her apartment door. Lien’s sweaty and pink after an afternoon’s soccer training with a local women’s team.
“Shower,” she says and leans in for a kiss.
Claudie grins. “How did you go?”
“Great. I’ll only be a minute.”
Lien strips off her kit as she walks to the bathroom. She leaves the door open and hums away to herself as the water flows. They’re on their way to dinner at Mercy and Mary’s place. It’s not the time for Claudie to be distracted by the thought of Lien’s skin under warm running water.
Claudie slides open the glass doors to the balcony and steps out. She looks up. This might not be the wilderness, but there’s sky everywhere on the planet. Tonight it’s turning gold at the edges. The streaks of cloud are outlined in light. Pigeons wheel in the air and ghost above the buildings.
Claudie's phone rings. She takes the call on the balcony. By the time she hangs up, Lien’s beside her, her newly-washed skin wrapped in a towel.
“Who was that?” Lien asks.
Claudie stares at her phone. The news is still sinking in. “That… was the booking manager for Splendour in the Grass.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my god. Oh. My god.” Lien pauses. “What did they want?”
“They want Grand Echo. They want us to play Splendour in the Grass. It’s not the main stage but—fuck, Lien. It’s Splendour. The line-up is going to be huge.”
“Oh my god, Claudie! That is massive.” They beam at one another. Lien comes close and grabs Claudie’s hand. She drops her towel. She picks it up and wraps it around herself. “Come inside,” she says. “I’m naked out here.”
Inside they jump around the room. Lien asks, “So what’s your plan? What’s your playlist?”
“Well, first I need to call the guys and let them know.”
“Are you driving up? Will you camp there on the site?”
Claudie laughs. “Camping might be a bit rough for some of us. Not everyone’s used to the outdoors.”
Lien narrows her eyes. “I assume you’re talking about Gretchen.”
Claudie goes on. “Maybe we can rent a house up there. We can drive into Byron for our sets and hang around and see the other bands, but we can get away when we want some quiet.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“What’s the chance someone will want you to cover the festival?”
Lien lifts her hands to shrug. “I’ll talk to some of the local mags. But even if no one needs me to write anything, I am so coming with you.” Her beam is pure joy. “Splendour, Claudie. You are on your way.”
19
They borrow Claudie’s parents’ car and leave early, long before the winter sun is up. Lien wouldn’t call herself a morning person, but they want to do the nine-hour drive in time to stop in to see Shelley and Dylan and brand new baby Ruby. Claudie takes the first driving shift. Outside the city, oncoming headlights light the cabin of the car then fade away behind them. The center lines of the road are bright in the black night.
“Tired?” Claudie asks.
“No way. I’m good.” Lien covers a yawn.
“It’s five in the morning, Li. You’re allowed to be tired.”
“Yeah. But I don’t want you driving alone. You don’t need to worry. I’m going to stay awake.”
Claudie smiles. “Thank you.”
There’s scarcely any traffic. The city buildings rise up around the expressway. They’re dark, just one or two strips of windows lit up by early workers. The sun won’t be up for an hour or more, but above Sydney Harbour the horizon catches the light. Lien says, “I found the greatest long-sleeved dress in this vintage place. It’s as if it belongs to Little House on the Prairie. I had to bring it with me.”
Claudie laughs. “It sounds about right for the festival.”
&n
bsp; The sun comes up before they swap drivers. Claudie sits in the passenger seat with her hand on Lien’s thigh and munches on a granola bar. The wide open space expands in front of them.
“Music?” Claudie asks.
“Sure,” says Lien. She’s even amenable to Claudie choosing the playlist, especially if she sings along.
It’s a long trip. The visit to Shelley’s place takes more time than they expected. So the sun has already set when they arrive at the farmhouse they’ve rented. The house sprawls across a low hill and looks over the valley. Its lights welcome them as they pull in.
The rest of the band and a couple of friends will join them in a few days. But for now they have a house for eight with a view over the Byron Hinterlands and only the two of them to fill it.
Lien hops out of the car. She has the keys.
“I love that first time you open the door to a rental house,” she says. “So many possibilities. So many rooms.” She’s giddy and tired after the long day.
“I don’t care as long as one of them’s a bedroom,” says Claudie. She wraps her arms around Lien as they step onto the porch. Her thumb brushes against Lien’s breast. Lien fumbles the key in the lock.
After dinner, Lien stands on the deck under the clear sky and lets the crisp white stars press down on her.
“Hey,” says Claudie. Lien turns. Claudie’s wiping her hands on her jeans.
“Hey.”
They stand side by side.
“Do you miss your cabin?” Lien asks. She’ll probably never stand looking from a deck without remembering the cabin.
“All the time. But, I guess, not as intensely as I expected. I have space in Sydney and I think I’d forgotten how much I love being around other people who are working creatively. There’s more here than I expected.” Even in the dark her gaze is clear.
“We could always holiday somewhere remote.”
“We could. If we can ever afford a holiday again.” Claudie laughs, but without bitterness.
“Cabins are cheap. Anyway, you guys are going to make it big time,” says Lien. “We’ll be holidaying on a yacht.”
Claudie pulls her close.
They chose their room earlier, one with an en suite bathroom and a huge picture window looking over the grassy valley. Lien pulls on her pajamas and leaps onto the bed.
“Clean sheets are the best,” she announces, wriggling her way under the covers. “Quick, get in!” She grins at Claudie.
The bedroom lights are out. Claudie’s framed in the window, wearing her T-shirt and underwear and nothing else. Lien’s no photographer but she would photograph that. “You know what, hold that thought,” she says.
Claudie’s lips quirk but she stays where she is. Lien closes her eyes to capture the image. When she opens them, Claudie is still watching her.
Lien draws a slow breath. “Take off your shirt,” she says.
Claudie considers her. When she complies, she pulls her T-shirt over her head in a fluid movement. She holds Lien’s gaze and slips off her underwear, reaches behind herself to unhook her bra. Her nipples tighten in the air. She’s breathtaking. Her body is outlined in starry white. She stands with her arms by her sides, deeply comfortable in her skin. The great, bright sky is hollowed out behind her.
Lien aches to touch her. Her mouth is dry. Her eyes are heavy. Instead, she lies back. “Touch yourself for me.”
“Okay,” Claudie breathes. Her eyes are clear and dark on Lien’s. As she slides her hand between her thighs, Lien mirrors her.
There’s a light frost on the ground in the morning. The sunlight reflects off it and lights their bedroom in gray and pale green. The whole world is hushed. Lien’s tangled in the sheets and blankets. Her eyelids are heavy with lack of sleep as Claudie kisses her cheekbones and jaw and lips.
“Good morning,” Claudie murmurs against her lips. Lien turns in her arms and presses herself against Claudie’s sleep-warm skin.
There’s nothing to do that day, no one they need to see. Lien brought some notes with her for an article she’s working on; Claudie brought the autoharp and three guitars she’ll use for the festival. But the house is secluded. The website promised a walking trail. The photos showed gum trees and moss green rocks with tiny, clear waterfalls tumbling between them. They have one another and a wilderness to explore, right outside the front door. Everything else can wait.
Epilogue
It’s the height of summer in Sydney. At seven in the evening even the pavement is still hot. But once Lien, Beau, and Annie come close to Sydney Harbour they find a breeze.
They walk around Circular Quay, past the ferry terminal. Annie and Beau hold hands. Up ahead, the creamy sails of the Opera House curve upward; their tiled edges make bright lines against the rose gold sky.
There’s a crowd of people outside the Concert Hall. “You couldn’t get us into the VIP area, Lien?” Beau asks. Heat makes him cranky.
“You know I could, but I’m writing up this show. I want to walk in with the crowd and see it for real.” She smiles at him. “Don’t worry. You can meet the band afterward. I’ll even get them to sign your merchandise.”
Beau lets out a dramatic sigh.
The Concert Hall is shaped in honey-colored wood; the lighting is warm gold. They find their seats close to the stage, looking down from the front row of one of the steep balcony tiers. The room is full and humming with voices. This is no rock and roll show with fans calling out songs and the dance floor packed and moving as one. But it’s the Opera House. The acoustics are incredible. The walls and ceiling and seating were all designed for music. The place is an icon.
Lien scans the crowd. Some people are old fans, others are young enough that they have to be new. Her heart is full of bubbling pride in Claudie.
“Lien?” says a voice. Lien turns to the woman seated behind her. “Lien Hong, right? I recognize you from your byline.”
Lien blushes. “Thank you.”
“I had to interrupt you. I read your piece on race and designer branding last week. The conversation’s important and suddenly it’s everywhere.”
Lien’s probably glowing right now. “Thank you,” she says again. “I’m proud of that one.”
“So you’re a fan of Grand Echo?” the woman asks.
Lien nods. “I love them.”
The lights dim. Lien turns back to the stage as Claudie strides on, followed by the band. Mercy plays a winding melody on the keys. Claudie steps up to the microphone.
The show is extraordinary from the beginning. The whole room is there with the band. Gretchen and Boyd sound as if they’ve always played together. Mercy’s keyboard work is intricate. Claudie’s guitar is inspired. Her energy is tangible. Her voice surges over the room.
When she sings about love, which is honestly about half the time she sings, she looks up from the stage and catches Lien’s eye. She’s gorgeous. Lien’s heart stops.
Fortunately it starts again.
End
Acknowledgments
My thanks
To my kids. You are exceptional. The world is way better than it was without you.
To Warner, wonderful early reader. You made Beau possible.
To Interlude Press. For your clear eyes and kind words, for your support, and for this glorious cover that reminds me what my book is about. And to Nicki. For your care and for the reminder that kookaburras aren't in everyone's backyard.
To Cameron, brightest and best reader. Your relish for real and kindly observed humans colours all my stories.
To Misha, companion in this universe from its earliest days.
To Jo, still my co-author whenever I make a joke.
To Charmaine, Christine, Rachel, Tania, Heidi. Finest of friends who've talked me down from the tree, shared glasses of wine, accepted uninvited mood boards, and kept me writing.
To E
mily. There are thousands of things you should have seen. Here is one.
About the Author
Pene Henson has gone from British boarding schools to New York City law firms. She now lives in Sydney, Australia, where she is an intellectual property lawyer and published poet who is deeply immersed in the city’s LGBTQIA community. She spends her spare time enjoying the outdoors and gazing at the ocean with her gorgeous wife and two unexpectedly exceptional sons. Into the Blue, her first novel, was published by Interlude Press in 2016.
One story
can change everything.
@interludepress
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