by Tyler, Anne
Anna’s lip twitched. “I’d agree with that. Carrie?”
Carrie still looked a little sulky. “If you ask me it’s like she took all her favorite pieces from all her favorite musicals, flung them into a blender with a few lines of dialogue, and this is what came out.”
By the window, Lola smiled serenely. Good girl, Carrie. That was exactly what she had done.
Bett turned to Anna. “Could you actually work out what was going on?”
“I think so. It’s set in Terowie, at wartime, where the townspeople—”
“Or the villagers, as she calls them,” Carrie interrupted.
“The villagers get wind that General Douglas MacArthur is coming through on a train—”
“Cue three verses of ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo,’ ” Bett recalled.
“And a big row breaks out between two rivals in the local Country Women’s Association over who will organize the welcoming party at the railway station. Which develops into a full-scale row—amazingly like the fight scene from West Side Story. And of course the son of one rival and the daughter of the other are secretly in love.”
“And just happen to be called Romeo and Juliet, those two common names in 1940s Australia,” Carrie said.
Lola bristled. They might well have been common names in Terowie. How were the girls to know? She listened closely as Anna, Bett, and Carrie took it in turns relating the story. They might have been laughing at her musical, but at least it meant they were talking about something.
“But then Juliet starts falling for the young American GI who is organizing MacArthur’s visit. And Romeo gets jealous and they split up.”
“So the GI starts feeling guilty for wreaking all this havoc on a small town and confesses as much to the lad-about-town who’s been watching all the antics from afar.”
“Who happens to be the nephew of a train driver and has the bright idea to get the GI himself to dress up as General MacArthur and arrive at the platform one day early. So the CWA women scurry around and prepare his welcoming party.”
“And then they pretend that for security reasons he’ll have to do it all over again, so they bring the train through again the next day, except this time of course it’s the real MacArthur.”
“And the other group gets to serve their morning tea and do the welcoming party, too, and that’s when General MacArthur delivers his big ‘I shall return’ speech.”
“And the GI and the cheeky lad-about-town laugh to themselves about the fact he has already returned.”
Ingenious, Lola thought proudly.
Anna leaned back elegantly in her chair. “And they all live happily ever after, including the couple. Cue ‘Happy Talk’ from South Pacific.”
“Has Lola actually made up all the General MacArthur business?” Bett asked.
“No, it’s true,” Carrie said. “I checked on the Internet this morning. He did stop in Terowie, and that is where he made that famous speech. But I don’t think any of that other stuff happened, especially the war scenes in the beginning.”
“No, I’d hardly imagine Mrs. MacArthur singing ‘My Favorite Things’ to her scared little son in that first scene, when they’re flying in from the Philippines,” Anna said.
“And I don’t reckon the Terowie villagers came out every day, gazed at their cornfields, and sang ‘Oh What a Beautiful Morning,’ ” Bett added, fighting another smile.
“At least she didn’t have the CWA catering women singing that ‘MacArthur Park’ song.” Anna was actually laughing now. “I was sure I could see it coming. A chorus row of women upset because their cakes had been left out in the rain.”
Outside, Lola wasn’t laughing. She had written a scene just like that. She’d taken it out only because she wasn’t sure if they would be able to manage rain special effects at the Clare Town Hall.
“There were some good bits, though, didn’t you think?” Carrie said. “I loved the scene where the couple are dancing around the local football oval, singing ‘I Am Sixteen Going on Seventeen.’ ”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “You mean the scene that is a direct lift from The Sound of Music?”
“Well, that was always my favorite scene in the film, too,” Carrie said defensively. “And I also liked that scene the night of the first MacArthur’s visit, when the lead actress sings ‘I Could Have Danced All Night’ from My Fair Lady.”
Bett knew that song well. It had been Carrie’s most popular solo moment in the Alphabet Sisters days.
“But I don’t think it works when the next day she sings ‘I Like to Be in America,’ ” Anna said. “Not when she’s been going on about how much she loves the Australian countryside and that man, Romeo, or whatever his name is.”
“But that’s the whole thing,” Carrie said passionately. “She thinks she loves Romeo, but now her head has been turned by MacArthur and his GI and all the drama and talk of America. She’s torn between her simple life in the country and the pursuit of her dreams.”
Anna stared at her. “You’ve really lived this, Carrie, haven’t you?”
“Well, I can see what Lola’s trying to say,” Carrie said, blushing. “And I think that song is perfect there.”
That song, which just happened to be Carrie’s second-favorite song from the Alphabet Sisters days, Bett thought. She’d just realized what Lola had done.
Anna’s tone was now extremely businesslike. “And what did you both think of the Alphabet Sisters cameo in the second act?”
Bett’s smile disappeared. “I crossed it out.” She didn’t look at Carrie.
“I did, too,” Carrie said, not looking at Bett either.
Anna felt the tension in the room increase. She glanced between the two of them. “Fine. I’ll cross it out, too.” She patted her script. “Here’s what I think. It’s completely mad, of course, and it needs a bit of work, but it could be done. That’s if Lola is actually serious about it.”
Lola popped her head up over the window ledge. “I’m quite serious.”
They all jumped. Anna frowned. “Lola, this is supposed to be a private meeting.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You must have known I’d be eavesdropping outside. But you spoke too low for my poor old ears at the end there. What did you all think of it?”
“It’s actually very good,” Anna said.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Lola said.
“I really enjoyed it,” Bett said.
“I knew you would.”
“There’s definitely something in there for everybody,” Carrie said.
“That was my whole intention. So it could work?”
“Well, yes,” Anna said. “But it’s not like the Alphabet Sisters performances, Lola. It isn’t just the three of us standing up singing a few tunes wearing matching dresses. It would need a hall, for a start.”
“I’ve booked it.” She waved the flyer at them. “For March twentieth. It’s the anniversary of General MacArthur’s visit. Perfect, don’t you think?”
“That’s so soon. What about sets? Costumes?”
“Len the butcher said he’d be happy to help. He’s not a bad carpenter. I’ve been tucking bits and pieces away for costumes from the charity shop for the past few months. If you don’t like them, we could hire some in Adelaide.”
“And what about a band?”
Lola gestured grandly at Bett. “Who needs a band when we’ve got Bett? You could use the piano here for rehearsals, and we could move it to the town hall for the show. Though there are lots of talented musicians in the Valley if you wanted more than piano.”
Bett was going through the song list. Lola had looked after her, too. She had chosen many of her favorites, ones with lots of bright piano music.
Anna was leafing through the script again. When she first left drama school in Sydney, she’d joined a musical theater group that put on mini musicals for corporate functions. That was how she had met Glenn. He’d been organizing the Real Estate Association Christmas party. She’d picked up all sorts of
tricks and tips for staging a show on a budget—how to use one backdrop for lots of different scenes, and how to make rapid scene changes to keep the action moving. Lola’s script was surprisingly good, but she could see where a little cutting here and there would help it.…
Lola was now all eagerness and excitement. “I thought you could put an ad in the paper calling for auditions. I’ve got some wording for it here, look.” She waved another bit of paper at them.
Bett wasn’t convinced. “It’s still very tight time-wise.”
Anna took a diary out of her bag. “Not if we got moving with the auditions, then started rehearsals twice a week. Carrie, would this room be available?”
“I’d have to check the bookings, but it’s usually free on weeknights. And we haven’t got any weddings for a couple of months. But hold on a moment. Are you all going to stay in the Valley? Here in the motel?” Carrie looked from Anna to Bett. This was moving too quickly for her. “What about your work, Anna? And Glenn?”
Anna’s face was expressionless. “If we did decide to do the musical, I could juggle work. Go up to Sydney for two days a week. Ellen could come with me.” She didn’t mention Glenn.
“No, Ellen couldn’t, actually.” Lola gave a guilty smile. “She’ll be in school here. I spoke to the principal today. She’s a friend of mine. She said they can certainly find a place for her.”
Carrie turned to her other sister, fighting a feeling of panic. It was one thing hiding Matthew’s absence from her sisters for days, but for weeks? “And you, Bett? What about your work?”
Lola stepped in again. “She’s accepted a part-time job at the Valley Times. Haven’t you, Bett?”
Bett stared at Lola in amazement. She’d only phoned Rebecca that afternoon. She’d decided to accept the job first and worry later about living so close to Carrie and Matthew.
The mobile beside Anna started vibrating. She checked the number. “Excuse me,” she said, walking outside to answer the call. “Glenn?”
“Anna, hello. How are things? How’s Ellen?”
“Fine. How are you?” So stiff, so awkward with each other.
“Fine, fine. Big news up here. The Singapore trip is on. I leave in two days.”
“I see. How long will you be away for?”
“Three weeks to begin with. But it’s only eight hours’ flight from Sydney. I’ll be back and forth. I’ll still ring Ellen every night, of course. In fact, I’m thinking about getting her a mobile.”
“A mobile? She’s only seven years old, Glenn.”
“I like the idea of her having one anyway. To keep her safe.”
One more dig at her failure as a parent. Anna felt very tired, even as she realized he’d just helped her make the final decision. “As it turns out, Glenn, that works out well. We’re going to stay here in the Valley for a month or so.” She didn’t tell him about the musical. He wouldn’t have been interested.
His anger came down the phone line like a sonic wave. “Just like that? Without discussing it with me? At least I told you the Singapore trip was on the cards. What if I hadn’t been going there? When was I going to get to see Ellen?”
She walked farther away from the motel building, her voice low, the anger only just controlled. “When would you want to see Ellen? In between nights at Julie’s house? In between conferences? Work trips?”
“Anna, I love her. She’s my daughter. You know I see her as much as I can. And just because I’m not with her every hour of the day doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about her. What are you going to do about her schooling? Your work?”
Anna had to sit down on a bench, her chest tight with anger. “I don’t know yet. We’re still sorting it out.” There was a long pause, and then she had to ask. “Is Julie going to Singapore?”
He tried to bluster through it. “Well, she’s my senior assistant, and it’s a big deal to set up a brand-new office. I couldn’t be expected to do it on my own.”
“Is Julie going as your lover as well as your assistant, Glenn?” Anna’s voice was smooth. He wouldn’t have guessed for a moment that her stomach was churning, her hands were sweating. She wanted the truth.
“Julie’s coming with me, yes.”
So it was still happening. “Look, Glenn, I can’t talk now. I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
There was a pause, then he spoke again. “Okay, then. Fine. So will you give Ellen my love?”
“I will. Good-bye.” She hung up and sat for a moment trying to quell the desire to throw up. She felt her heart. It was racing. Her skin was clammy. She shut her eyes for a moment, waited for her breathing to calm, and then stood up. She used all the years of drama school training to put a smile on her face as she walked back into the function room. “That’s all sorted. Glenn’s got to go to Singapore for work for a while, so the timing couldn’t have been better. We can definitely stay.”
Still outside, leaning in through the window, Lola noticed Bett was humming one of the songs under her breath. Carrie was mouthing some lines. Anna was the only one who seemed a little distracted. Perhaps she’d had to fight with Glenn to be able to stay on. He’d always been possessive. Still, they’d talk about it later. She gazed at her three granddaughters. “So have you definitely made a decision? Will you do it?”
Anna looked at Bett, who looked at Carrie, who looked back at Anna. Then they all turned to Lola. “We’ll do it.”
Chapter Nine
In the function room a week later, Bett was practicing songs on the piano for the following night’s auditions.
Their parents had left for their holiday that morning. Lola, Anna, Bett, Carrie, and Ellen had stood waving on the forecourt as the two of them had driven off, smiling and waving back. They’d all been thinking it, but it was Lola who said it out loud. Jim and Geraldine were like newlyweds off on their honeymoon.
“What’s a honeymoon?” Ellen asked.
“A holiday for people who have just got married,” Anna answered.
“Did you and Dad have a honeymoon?”
“Yes, for two weeks.” They’d gone to an exclusive resort in Fiji. Glenn had confessed on the plane on the way over that he’d heard it was an excellent place for networking business contacts.
“Why didn’t you take me?”
Anna ruffled her hair. “You weren’t born yet.”
Ellen turned to Carrie. “Have you ever had a honeymoon, Auntie Carrie?”
Bett and Carrie both stiffened. “I have, Ellen, yes.”
“And you, Auntie Bett?”
Before Bett had a chance to answer, Lola gave a very loud moan. They all spun toward her, alarmed. “Lola, what’s the matter? Are you all right?”
She moaned again. “It’s just my arthritis, I think. It comes and goes in this damp weather.”
It hadn’t rained in weeks, and Bett knew for a fact that Lola didn’t suffer from arthritis. Short of screaming “Quick! Change the subject!” at the top of her voice, her grandmother couldn’t have been any more obvious. But it had worked. The five of them had walked back into the motel and even managed to have a peaceful enough meeting about the work rosters.
Bett was on reception duty that night. She’d already interrupted her piano playing twice to welcome guests and give out room keys. Carrie had been in the bar earlier, serving rounds of drinks to a small group of people. It was now dark in there. Bett assumed Carrie had closed it all up and gone home for the night. Anna had been in the kitchen when Bett had passed through earlier. She’d been preparing the guests’ breakfast trays, reading through the ticked forms, distributing little boxes of cereal, portions of jam, and sachets of sugar. Ellen had been beside her, standing on a chair. With her tongue visible between her lips, she’d been folding the red paper serviettes into passable fans.
Bett finished playing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” and picked up the sheet music for “Chattanooga Choo Choo.” She loved the smoothness of the piano keys under her fingers, the familiar tunes filling the room around her, the feeling of being in c
harge of the music, adding elaborate notes here and there. She worked her way through each of the songs, memories of different Alphabet Sisters performances coming back to her—singing “My Favorite Things” to an audience of five, two of them dogs, at an agricultural show in New South Wales. She remembered one hot, dry day in country Queensland, midway through their version of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,” when the three of them had inexplicably gotten the giggles so badly that Bett and then Carrie had fallen off the stage. It had almost become their party trick.
She stopped playing, walked to the window, and stared out into the carpark. Being back in the Valley again was sparking all sorts of memories. Not just about Matthew, and the terrible fight with Anna and Carrie, but everything that had happened afterward as well. Her mind had been filled with thoughts of it all week.
The morning after the fight, she’d gotten up at dawn, packed one small bag, filled her car with petrol, and started driving. From a roadside motel en route to Melbourne she’d phoned the Valley Times office and taken leave without pay until further notice. She’d called a friend from journalism college now based in Melbourne and explained what had happened. By nightfall, she was set up in her friend’s spare room.
The next three months had passed in a kind of frenzy. With too much time on her hands, she’d started drinking too much, talking too much to cover the hurt and confusion. She had found some freelance work with city newspapers, started falling in and out of bars with a fluid, rowdy gang of reporters, sub-editors, photographers. She hadn’t told anyone the real reason she was in Melbourne. She’d done her best to block it out of her mind and nearly succeeded.
Until the night in Carlton, seeing a band in a new club, she had bumped into an old work colleague from home. She’d been surprised to see him. “I didn’t realize you were in Melbourne.”
“I didn’t know you were here either.”
She didn’t know if he knew the circumstances of her leaving the Valley, but she was strangely glad to see a familiar face. He bought her a drink, then another one. She hadn’t eaten all day and ignored the light-headed feeling. The vodka fueled her confidence, helped her pretend to be carefree, as they swapped stories of newspaper life, keeping it light, fun.
