Songs for Abrielle

by Mae Temson

  I consented. I had to. They were all so keen that to refuse would have been petulant and childish. Besides like I say I was intrigued and if we could find that elusive new dimension we wanted sooner then all the better. Dermot was thrilled and certain we wouldn’t be disappointed. We agreed a time for the following day. I can't honestly say what or who I was expecting but I wasn't expecting Siobhan Gallagher.

  She was small, slim and attractive in a way that wasn't immediate. She was natural and unassuming. She had the carefree nature of most of the Irish people I have ever met. Nothing is ever too much bother. What's theirs is yours. We worked together over the next few weeks. Trying new arrangements, adding instruments, taking them out. I was really intrigued about the logistics of getting a harp to the studio but Siobhan was permitted to play the one that belonged to the church a couple of villages over any time she liked. One of the most moving evenings I have ever had was listening to and recording her play one of my songs on it. We lit just a couple candles and her and the harp did the rest. It was stunning and not something I will ever forget. We included it as a bonus, instrumental track on Viper Moon. I really enjoyed her easy going company. She wasn't at all phased by our relative fame. We were musicians and she lived for music, that was all that mattered. Our devotion to music was our link from the off.

  I began to look forward to her arrival on the days she was available. Her happy go lucky attitude was the perfect antidote to the stress of completing an album. She had the patience of someone who had grown up in the middle of a big family. Nothing seemed to phase her. Worry was a wasted emotion she said. She was a local girl and had her family all around. She was often dashing here and there to see her mother or have coffee with a sister or collect a nephew from school often she would dash in on the phone in the middle of a conversation to this brother or that. I envied that. I know what it is like to belong to a big family and having them there all close by was a luxury I couldn't imagine but would have loved. Yes I keep in touch with my family when ever I can but the joy of seeing them regularly was something I forfeited with my choice of career.

  At her invitation I joined Siobhan and her family for several evening meals. They were always great, fun occasions. No swank or swagger, no airs and graces. All were welcome. It went without saying. There was always plenty of great home cooked food and you were encouraged to dig in and help yourself. She would say that if anyone didn't have enough to eat they only had themselves to blame. I realised in that time that home cooking was something I missed terribly. Siobhan’s bacon and cabbage was enough to heal any soul.

  A couple of her brothers were also musical and we often ended a visit singing and playing in to the early hours. More than once Siobhan and I made it to the studio by the skin of our teeth after very little sleep. Exhausted but happy. I was accepted in to her family so easily. I was certain she thought of me like a sister. I, however, was beginning to get that familiar shift in my feelings. I found myself thinking about her after she had left the studio for the day. I realised I was watching her more intently as she played this instrument or that. I loved the way her eyes danced in delight as she concentrated, determined to get her part down just they way we wanted. I valued her input and relished our time alone which was made sweeter by its rarity. I tried to push it down, ignore it but when she found her way in to my dreams and new lyrics I knew I was in trouble.

  I couldn't suddenly cut her out of the process could I? We were so far in to the album now that it would be inexplicable and unworkable. I couldn't remove myself from the situation and I couldn't alter the way I was with her, we were too close already. She would want to know what she had done and I couldn't tell her. It was too late. I remember the confusion I had, the feelings of conflict. I didn't want to lose her friendship if I told her how I felt. She had never given any indication of even having a private life, aside from family, let alone how she conducted it. She had never alluded to any love interest of any sex She saw me as a sister, I was convinced of it. That's what made what happened next all the more surprising.

  We were all set to have dinner with two of her brothers at Siobhan's cottage one evening but she rang in the afternoon to say they had bailed to join friends in Dublin for the weekend. The friends had some relations come over on a whim and they had decided to take them out on the town. My band boys decided to crash the party and cadged a lift to Dublin in Siobhan's brothers van. I didn't fancy it. Jammed in in a van with boisterous lads for one and, knowing them only too well, being blotto for two days solid. Been there, done that. I decided to make the most of a quiet studio and work on a couple of new tracks I had going round in my head. I knew only too well where the lyrics were coming from but I wasn't ready to acknowledge it just yet.

  Looking back I guess I just assumed that Siobhan had gone with them. I was engrossed between notepad and guitar, trying new riffs, new melodies, enjoying the quiet of the studio when heard the front door open. Groaning inwardly I hoped to God it wasn't Dermot. He was a great guy and we got along fine but I just couldn't face him right now. I couldn't face anything serious Maybe it would be Noreen, a lady from the village who cleaned the place. It was Friday after all and she was due in any time. I strained my ears for clues but no-one entered the main studio immediately and so I carried on working.

  A short while later the door behind me opened. Fearing Noreen and her mop bucket would break my Mojo, I turned to tell her not to bother in the studio too much today only to be met by a smiling Siobhan.

  “I thought you had gone to Dublin with the boys. I..”

  She walked towards me, her eyes never leaving mine and, taking my guitar from my hands she placed a silencing finger on my lips,

  “Shush, shush now.” she whispered in that enticing Irish accent, “Shush, Delta, shush, if I don't say this now I never will and I can't live easy if I don't tell you today.”

  I remember I was stunned and more than a little confused. She couldn't have picked up on my feelings could she? Maybe she was going to give me the thanks, I'm flattered, but no thanks. I don't want to lose your friendship speech. I admit I was nervous which is not a normal emotion or feeling for me.

  “Please,” she continued “Don't look so worried or you'll have me regretting this.” She took my hands in hers and stepped up so close I could smell her perfume. The perfume that had lingered after she left the studio everyday. The perfume that, if I smell it now, takes me straight back to Ireland.

  “I know this is a cliché” she went on” but seriously I just don't do this. Ever. I can't be sure you've felt it but I really hope you have or I am going to look like a proper eejit. I have so loved all our evenings together with the family and working with you here but I have so been wanting to get you lone. That sounds wrong, I mean.. I... ah Jesus Delta do I have to spell it out?”

  She looked so vulnerable and scared. I couldn't let the moment pass. I dearly hoped we were on the same page. I pulled her yet closer,

  “I hope I know what you are trying to say.” I breathed as I lent in and placed the gentlest of kisses on that soft, sweet, sexy mouth. I pulled away to look at her again, “Did I get it right?”

  “More than.” she smiled and pulled me back for a deeper, longer kiss. “I was hoping you would,” she said when we parted again “I have a plan.”

  “A plan?”

  “Yup, A plan and let me say stage one is going rather well.”

  “There are more stages?” I grinned, enjoying seeing her light up.

  “There most certainly are, but we have to get out of here. Nosey Noreen O'Connell will be here soon with her smelly mop and she really would not approve you know.”

  We kissed again before I gathered up my guitar and my notepads. She took my hand and led me to her car. As we drove away from the now deserted studios we passed Noreen coming up the lane. Siobhan tooted the car horn and blew Noreen a kiss as we passed. Her eyes dancing with joy as she laughed.

  I was surprised when she didn't take the turning for her cottage and m
ore so when we began to leave the lakes behind us. I soon gathered we were heading towards the Wicklow mountains.

  “Are you kidnapping me Siobhan?” I said, watching the scenery become more and more beautiful with every mile.

  “I am so. I hope you don't mind?” She reached over and squeezed my leg. The surge of desire I felt was electric,

  “Willing hostage right here.”

  We turned off the main drag and took an even more rural road,

  “My friend has a cabin near Glendalough.” Siobhan said, by way of explanation. “He has always said I could use it when ever I wanted and now I wanted.” she smiled again and with that we took another turn into an even smaller lane and then off down a single track.

  “Wow this is remote,” I said “beautiful though.”

  “Kenny likes his own company a lot of the time.”

  Siobhan slowed and took one last turn in to a little clearing. The Cabin stood centre stage and the run up to it was lined with a combination of solar lights and real fire beacons. Smoke rose from the chimney.

  “Do we have company?” I asked trying so hard to disguise the disappointment I was feeling,

  “Would you rather we did?” Siobhan asked, concern flashing across her face as she pulled to a stop beside the cabin, “I...I..”

  “No!” I said, taking her hand, “No. I was just surprised to see signs of life”

  She laughed, obviously relieved,

  “When the brothers started making noises towards a weekend in Dublin I decided to have some alone time out here. I stayed here last night. I guess I assumed you would go with them but when I heard you weren't going, I took my chances and here we are.”

  The cabin was cute. It had everything you'd need for a spell away from the madness of life. Siobhan really had planned ahead. There was a meal ninety per cent complete and wine chilling, along with some beers.

  “I'm sorry there's no choice in dinner” she said as we relaxed over a drink.

  “I am fine with what ever you have made.” I said, already knowing that her cooking skills were well honed and deliciously good.

  While Siobhan finished dinner I sat by the fire and played my guitar. The sensational smells from the kitchen filled the place and I was more than ready to eat when dinner arrived. I remember we ate and drank, chatted, ate and drank some more. That woman made an apple tart to die for. Being in her company was so easy. When I returned with topped up glasses for the second or third time she took them from my hands and pulled me to sit with her on the floor, by the fire.

  “What were you working on, in the studio, when I arrived tonight?” she asked, moving my hair from my face, “It sounded new.”

  I swear I blushed. I knew then that she had really got to me.

  “Yeah, it's new.” I said, taking her hand, “New lyrics, new tunes. Just something I have been working on.”

  “Inspiration struck huh?” she said, turning to me “It's quite something isn't it? When something,” she kissed me gently, “or someone..” another kiss, “takes you over entirely.”

  I had no time to reply as she kissed me again, fuller and more deeply now. This time she didn't pull away and her hands found their way to my face, gently cupping it before moving down to stroke my neck. Her touch was as gentle as silk yet it shot through me like electricity. If I had any doubts about getting more involved with someone I was working with they were truly dispelled as her hands found their way down my back to my waist. Musicians hands are deft and swift and before we had time to ease down to the rug hers had loosened my shirt from my trousers and found their way to bare skin.

  I could feel my stomach tremble and quiver as she moved over it with the barest of touches. My heart was racing and a breathtaking wave of desire hit me. I remember Siobhan as being a woman who liked to be in control but at the same time was sensual, sweet, sensitive and extremely seductive.

  The memories of that weekend are a haze of heady passion. If we weren't in bed we were by the fire. We ate, we drank, we made love but more than that we talked. I realised then that for all the time we had spent together, at the studio or at her home, we had never had time to simply talk. We acted on the very obvious physical attraction that we shared and then we really got to know each other. Siobhan is a deep, beautiful, well rounded soul. I say is because she has become one of my closest friends. We may have acted on our desire for one another that weekend but neither of us wanted long term commitment. Her life was in Ireland, mine on the road.

  She has joined me for spells along the way and we have spent some fantastic time in each others company since that weekend but we have never re-enacted or revived the passion. Good friends we became and good friend we remain.

  9

  Re visiting the past kept me awake for quite a while. When I did eventually fall asleep I dreamt of my home and my my parents. It is becoming a regular pattern and that tells me only one thing. I need to see them both and soon. In my dream we were home. All of us, the whole brood. In reality a very rare and practically unheard of occurrence. Still, here we were, all of us gathered in the house my mother and father still live in. How they brought us all up here I will never understand. It seems to shrink every time I go back.

  In the dream we filled the kitchen and spilled out into the yard. The noise was one I adore. Passionate, emotional Italian family chatter. To an outside ear it would sound like a whole lot of noise I guess but I could hear the music and the love in it. Someone was yelling at someone else for being late. Another was playfully ripping the heck out of someone else's outfit. Someone was complaining about their work, another, their partner. Normal family conversations. It seemed like a happy scene but there appeared to be an edge to it in the way dreams make you feel. You know? Like how you sense way more than you actually see or hear. No one seemed to know why we were all there at all. It felt as though it was a special occasion or that there was going to be some kind of announcement.

  My parents were there, both of them but they were not joining in the chatter. They were stood to one side watching us all. It was as if they were waiting for a lull, like the noise was not something they were enjoying at all. I tried to shut my siblings up but my calls for quiet were only shouted down and the noise increased. I tried and tried until finally I remember standing on a chair and screeching. It was at this point I woke myself up. I lay there for quite a while listening to the roll and hum of the tour bus and decided that in the upcoming three day break in the tour schedule before we hit Italy, I would go home. The boys were planning a trip to Vegas for a blow out. I kinda liked the idea of that but this time around the call of home won over.

  The boys feigned disappointment when I announced I wasn't joining them. They played at trying to persuade me to change my mind but were soon back to planning their trip and reminiscing about previous excursions to sin city. I have been with them and it was a blast. You know what they say, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I have been with them a good few times, I had my fun and they had theirs but it was exhausting and that is not what I am needing right now so the day after tomorrow I will take my leave and head home.

  10

  I got home with no problems. I enjoyed a rare fan free journey on the train. I guess there may have been fans but I caught no-ones eye. I like to to be able to blend, to disappear, to feel like I did before moderate popularity caused regular recognition. I love my fans, don't get me wrong, I am nothing without them but sometimes I just want to blend.

  I didn't tell my mother I was coming and the look of joy when she opened the door was worth it. Of course she went in to immediate overdrive. How was she going to feed me with empty cupboards? The house was not ready for visitors, my old room was such a mess. None of it true of course. Divinely home cooked food arrived as magically as it always seemed to and my old room, now my mothers sewing room, still had a bed in it ready for any one of us to use at any time. My father arrived home later from an afternoon of playing bridge and the usual entreaties ensued.

  “
Stellina, You look so tired. Your hair? You always had such lovely hair, why you got to treat it so badly?”

  “Tesoro, you are too, too thin no wonder you never bring a husband home to meet me.”

  Seriously, I love him, I adore him I really do. I adore them both and he knows all about my life, my life style, I have never hidden it from them, but still he has to say these same things. I know that he is proud of me though and that is all that counts. Their love and support has meant so much to me and kept me going in harder times.

  Later I was unpacking my bag and revelling in the memories that being in your childhood bedroom conjures up. I was reliving this squabble or that, picturing us all crammed in but happy when my mother knocked the door. She had a letter, addressed to me. She said it had arrived a couple of weeks ago. She had not known how to get it to me and so had held on to it. I assumed it was fan mail, a very retro approach to fan mail at that. Lord knows how they had found out my old address but those that are determined will succeed somehow. I have not lived here in years. Early on in my career my parents would come home from work to find one or two lost souls on their doorstep hoping for a glimpse of me. I have done the same to idols myself. If I knew they lived in London or its surrounds I often made hopeful pilgrimages. Waiting in the heat or the cold, the wind and the rain just to be in a place where they had been.

  I put the letter aside for now and went down and spent the evening with my parents. An evening of reminiscing and catching up on family news. I had forgotten about the envelope by the time I went up to bed full of home cooked desserts and more tired than I had felt in a long time. The opportunity to totally relax had taken its toll. There is nothing that eases the soul and relaxes me like being at home. I was shattered but when when I saw it still propped up against my clock I was intrigued. Once organised I pumped up the pillows, climbed in to bed and reached for the envelope:

  My Dear Delta