James Cardigan: i’d luv to c u sing!
I am a genius.
I sign off pretty soon after that because I have to work in the morning, but the last thing I feel like doing when I get into bed is sleeping, even though I know I’m going to curse myself when my alarm goes off at 5am. Cardy’s coming to watch me sing.
I map out how it will be. Cardy will be at the booth in the corner, watching me with rapturous eyes while I sing. He’ll admire my dress, my legs, my shoulders, my neck, the fall of my long blonde hair, my voice. He’ll come up to me and look into my eyes and we won’t need words. I’ll take his hand and we’ll sneak out the back.
The cloakroom is tiny and pitch-black but we won’t care. Cardy will kiss me hungrily, and I’ll kiss him back, twining my hands into his short hair. ‘It’s always been you, Pearl,’ he’ll whisper into my ear, ‘it’s always been you,’ and we’ll emerge holding hands and I’ll only sing love songs from then on and they’ll all be to him and Disey will tease me mercilessly but I won’t care because he’s finally mine, all mine . . .
The restaurant is dark, the lights dim, candles flickering on tables. I sit at the piano. He’s sitting in at the booth in the corner.
I can feel his eyes on me. He comes up to me and we don’t need words. He offers me his hand. I take it.
He kisses me hungrily up against the coats. He’s holding me off the ground and my hands are in his hair and I can feel his hot breath against my ears. ‘It’s always been you, Pearl,’ he says raggedly, and I can’t form any words but his name because the feelings raging through me are too intense for anything else: ‘Finn – Finn!’
My eyes snap open. My breath is coming in deep, heavy gasps, and I’m sweating as if it were the middle of summer.
My mind is such a traitor.
Ranga Dave snaps the strap of my swimmers at a quarter to eight after I’ve been half staring, half drowsing for two hours. Turns out that when your traitorous brain wakes you up from a horrible sexy dream in the middle of the night and you can’t get back to sleep afterwards, so you spend the rest of the night with your headphones plugged into your keyboard songwriting out your feelings, it makes you tired. Added to which, watching people swimming can totes put you in a trance. Trust me. I’ve worked as a lifeguard at the local pool for nearly a year now. I know.
I also know that thing about cold showers is completely untrue. Jumping into the cold water this morning did absolutely nothing to get that dream out of my mind. And it is far from the first time I have disproved that particular hypothesis.
‘Sorry, what?’ I say to Dave.
‘Girl, you were a thousand miles away,’ Dave says. Ranga Dave is the other morning lifeguard and is, to this date, the only person I have ever dated. It was probably the most awkward three weeks of my life, and it ended . . . well, awkwardly, but we’re still friends. Sort of. ‘What’s up? I’m here to cover for your school thing, as promised. Your wish is my command.’
‘You look kind of pale – are you all right?’
‘Oh yeah, fine,’ he says, and promptly starts coughing.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, yeah – go.’
Oh well. If he wants to infect the greater public with swine flu or whatever it is that he’s got, that’s his business.
Dave waves to me as I leave the pool and I wave half-heartedly back, wondering what Cardy is doing right now. If the universe was a just place, it would be him meeting me this morning to show this new girl around, but instead it’s Finn. Ugh.
And guess who doesn’t show up?
‘Are you sure we shouldn’t just start the tour?’ the new girl asks me. She’s tiny with curly white-blonde hair and bright-green eyes and the most flawless skin I’ve ever seen, which I’d totally be jealous of if I had room to feel anything other than rage.
‘I can’t believe that he didn’t show up,’ I fume.
‘Um, it’s nearly 8.15, so –’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ I say. Probably ‘raging psycho’ is not the best image for a school captain to have. ‘Sorry – what was your name again?’
‘Jenny.’
‘Jenny. Okay, let’s go.’
I calm down a bit as I show Jenny round, telling myself that I can plan my revenge during assembly. I feel a bit sorry for her – it must be difficult starting at a new school when the HSC is only a year or so away. ‘Where did you live before here?’ I ask.
‘Oh, a long way away,’ she replies vaguely.
Normally I’d press for details but I’m not actually that interested (because I am a stunningly nice and likeable human being), so I introduce her to my friends instead and let them do the talking.
‘Hey Pearl,’ Cardy says from behind me.
‘Hey!’ I exclaim, fighting to get my blush reflex under control, because I am the lamest person ever.
‘What’s new?’
‘Um –’ quick, think of something to say! ‘– you haven’t met the new girl! This is Jenny.’
‘Hi, Jenny,’ he says. ‘James Cardigan – call me Cardy, everyone does.’
‘Sure, Cardy,’ she says, shaking his hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’ No doubt she’s thinking that it’s nice to meet someone sane, after the display I’ve put on this morning.
‘Cardy’s going to be vice-captain next year,’ I say.
‘You’re not the one she’s furious at, are you?’ Jenny asks.
‘I hope not,’ he replies.
‘Not you. Finn. He didn’t show. I took time off work and everything to do this –’
‘I’m –’ Jenny begins.
‘– don’t be sorry, so not your fault,’ I say hurriedly, ‘but he didn’t even bother turning up! You don’t have his number, do you? I should really see where he is.’ (Read: crush kill destroy.)
‘Um, yeah, I do.’ Cardy pulls out his mobile and starts scrolling through. His hair falls over his eyes. Unf. ‘Here you go.’
He passes me his phone (his own personal phone, which his hands have touched . . . would that I were that phone!) and I scroll through until I find Finn’s number and call him.
Finn answers on the sixth ring. ‘What?’
‘It’s Pearl. Where are you?’
‘Home. Go away.’ And he hangs up.
I stand dumbstruck for a second before the rage sinks in. Finn Blacklin does not hang up on Pearl Linford. That is not the way things go. I call him again. He doesn’t answer, so I call again. And again. And again. And –
‘Pearl, I’m sick, okay? Leave me alone!’
‘You are irresponsible, immature and –’
Silence.
I hate him. And my stupid brain. And everything, really.
Finn isn’t at school at all for the rest of the week. I guess this lends credence to this alleged illness that he’s claiming, but it doesn’t make me any less angry. I spend my nights alternately stalking him and Cardy on Facebook while doing my homework. Because I am a shining example of a sane human being.
I rant to Phil on Friday night over the phone as I try to find something to wear to my gig. ‘I don’t think he even cares about his responsibilities,’ I fume, throwing things around my cupboard willy-nilly. ‘School captain is massive! There’s all this responsibility! And you just know that he’s not going to do anything!’
‘Pearl, I’m sure if –’
‘No one sees straight around him! I know he’s pretty, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make a good captain! What kind of logic is that?’
‘Pearl –’
‘You know what? I bet he doesn’t even care that he got captain. It doesn’t mean anything to him! He’s never cared about anything a day in his –’
‘Pearl, can we please talk about something else?’
Yeah, so this isn’t exactly the first time Phil’s heard this rant this week.
‘Sorry. I’m just – ugh, I’m so mad.’
‘I know. You’ve told me. A lot. What songs are you singing tonight?’
I give he
r a rundown of the set list, holding the phone between my ear and my shoulder while I pull on my skirt. (I’ve chosen a little pink skirt, teamed with a lacy black blouse, and I watched a YouTube make-up tutorial to get the perfect smoky eyes. I think the whole look is sophisticated while sexy. Cardy will love it. I hope.) It’s getting dark outside, the sun setting over the trees in our backyard, and stage fright is beginning to kick in.
‘Hey, that’s weird,’ I say, cutting Phil off.
‘Julian taking me to the movies is weird?’
‘No, no. There’s a cat staring at me.’
I stare at the black cat on the windowsill. Our house is surrounded by bush, so I’ve been dressing with the curtains and the window open. I wonder how long it’s been there.
‘Probably just a stray,’ Phil says.
‘Yeah, probably,’ I say. It’s probably just a trick of the light or something, but I swear it’s staring right at me – unblinking, unmoving, like a statue. It gives me a brief flashback to the horse at the party and I shiver. I try and shoo it away, but it doesn’t move.
‘Pearl?’
‘Sorry. The cat is being creepy.’
‘It’s a cat.’
‘Yeah, but it’s a creepy cat. You know that feeling when all the hair on the back of your neck stands up? I’ve got that.’
‘Pearl. It’s a cat.’
‘It won’t stop looking at me.’
‘You’re being spied on by a cat?’
‘It sounds stupid when you say it like that, but –’
‘Pearl, you’re just nervous about the show.’
I am nervous about the show, but it’s not that. However, I also know that Phil won’t understand a word of what I say if I try to explain it, so I leave it at that.
There are two things you need to know about Philippa Kostakidis. One, she is my best friend in the world. Two, she is the most aggressively sensible person in the history of time.
The first time I met Phil we were five. It was our first week of kindergarten and we were in the playground. ‘Want to come play?’ I asked her.
‘Okay,’ she answered.
‘Let’s play Snow White. Can I be Snow White? Or do you want to be Snow White? I can be the evil queen, if you like.’
Phil just stood there.
I crossed my arms huffily. ‘I said you could be Snow White! Why aren’t you playing?’
‘I thought you meant a proper game, like tip or something.’
‘This is a proper game!’
‘But it’s not real.’ And with that, five-year-old Phil turned on her heel and walked away.
So Phil and I didn’t really start our friendship off on the right foot. That all changed a few days later when Finn laboriously coloured in the end of one of my plaits with green highlighter during story time without me noticing. I burst into tears, Finn burst out laughing and Phil spent recess in the girls’ toilets, helping me wash the ink out.
Our relationship has basically followed the same pattern ever since. I get into some mess or work myself into a fit over something, and Phil tries her best to fix it. She might not be very imaginative, but she’s the most generous, loyal person I’ve ever met. She’d give you the shirt off her back if she could see a logical reason why you needed it.
I close the window and pull the curtains shut. If that cat wants to stare at me, it’s going to have to develop laser vision.
So it’s not like I’m a performance rookie or anything, but I swear I’ve never been this nervous before. We’re not just talking garden-variety stage fright here – I’m talking cold sweat, shaky hands, forgotten-my-own-name type nervous. When I get to the Saffron Room, the manager Jean-Paul gives me a glass of water and shoves me into his office to warm up (read: get me out from under the waiters’ feet) and I descend into full-blown panic.
I can just see how it’s going to be. I’m going to walk out there, catch Cardy’s eye and I’ll open my mouth and nothing will come out and everyone will laugh at me except Disey and Shad, who will just be horrified, and Cardy will be laughing too and he’ll tell everyone about it at school on Monday and no one will ever take me seriously ever again and –
Okay, Pearl, calm down. Calm down. Just think of how it will be if it goes right. I’ll walk out there and catch Cardy’s eye and I’ll wow him and then we’ll sneak off to the cloakroom and we’ll kiss and kiss and kiss and I’ll wrap my fingers into his long dark hair – I mean his short hair, fingers pressed against his scalp, and –
WHY IS MY BRAIN SO SCREWED UP? GAH I CAN’T EVEN.
Jean-Paul comes to get me at five to seven, just as I’m finishing my warm up. The restaurant isn’t that big, but it’s pretty full. I walk gamely to the piano and sit down, trying not to look at anyone. I know Cardy’s out there and watching, and knowing exactly where he is would stress me out to an epic degree. Not to mention the breakdown that would ensue if he wasn’t there. Nobody has time for that.
I can’t, however, miss my family. One of the advantages of having your older siblings as your guardians is that they’re young and cool enough not to completely embarrass you in public, but the Hellbeast, despite her age, is another matter altogether.
‘Hi Miss Pearlie!’ she hisses across the room, and I can see her waving at me out of the corner of my eye. She’s wearing her blouse inside out. Typical Helena.
Situation 1, Pearl 0. All I can do is hope that the world at large didn’t notice my totally humiliating sort-of sister-in-law.
I arrange my music at the piano before pulling the microphone to me. ‘Good evening,’ I say. ‘I’m Pearl Linford, and welcome to the Saffron Room.’
Silence. I don’t know if it’s the Zen silence of acceptance or the silence of ‘We hate you, where are the rotten tomatoes?’ and I freak out for a second before I collect myself. I’ve done this a zillion times. Singing, not rocket science.
‘I’d like to begin with one of my own songs, which I wrote in summer last year. I’m lucky enough to live close to Miller’s Creek, and I was sitting down there one day when it struck me how absolutely beautiful it is. So I hope I can share a little of that beauty with you now.’
Why do I suck so much? What was that monologue even about? Cardy must be caning himself laughing out there.
‘Thank you,’ I finish lamely, and begin playing.
‘Go, Miss Pearlie!’
Please don’t let Cardy think I’m related to the Hellbeast.
‘That’s all from me tonight – thank you very much and enjoy your meals,’ I finish.
The applause isn’t thunderous – I get a round of golf claps before everyone gets back to the business of eating – but I don’t think this is a raucous applause kind of venue. I close the lid of the piano and look around the restaurant. I know where my family are, and Mr Hunter was practically on top of me, but the piano is in a corner and I can’t see a lot of the tables. Which was good while I was performing, because I could pretend the majority of people weren’t there. But now that I’m done, I need to know if Cardy actually showed up.
There was a love song in there that I wrote for him. Not that I said that aloud, obviously, but I wonder if he noticed?
There were also about a million songs about Finn’s distracting hotness and my stupid brain. I will literally kill myself if anyone manages to Sigmund Freud themselves to the truth on those ones.
My family are waving me over, so I slide in at their booth. ‘Well done, Pearlie,’ Disey says, hugging me.
‘Yes, well done!’ Helena exclaims, throwing herself at me and nearly knocking Disey under the table.
‘Thanks, guys,’ I say. Shad reaches across the table and squeezes my hand and I smile.
‘You were just amazing, Miss Pearlie! There are record companies who would just snap you right –’
‘Have you seen my friends?’ I ask Disey and Shad. Obviously what I really want to ask is have you seen Cardy? but then Disey would tease me mercilessly for approximately the rest of eternity, so I have to phrase it a little mo
re vaguely. And Phil and Julian and Tillie are here somewhere as well. Technically, I have friends, multiple. Oh yes, I do.
‘Over there,’ Shad says.
I turn. And there he is. The dimmed light of the restaurant is glinting off his hair, catching coppery notes in it. He’s wearing a green shirt and it’s such a good colour on him – I can’t even describe how wonderful he looks. He’s not looking at me but that’s all right because it means I can stare at him in peace.
In my fantasy, he did not bring a table of a million people with him. But then we all know that ninety-nine per cent of my fantasies are the absolute worst.
I go over. ‘Hey guys,’ I say.
‘Hi Pearl!’ Tillie squeals, standing up and hugging me in a manner not unreminiscent of Helena. ‘Well done!’
‘Yes, well done,’ Cardy says, standing, leaning over and kissing my cheek.
He kissed me. He kissed me.
‘Thanks,’ I manage to squeak out.
‘We all loved it,’ Phil says sincerely.
‘Thanks,’ I say again, looking round the table. Nearly everyone I’m reasonably friendly with is here – even the new girl Jenny, though I assume they just asked her to be polite. ‘Where’s Marie?’ I ask, saying the first thing that comes into my head. (Also conveniently the one that makes me sound the most like an ungrateful bitch. ‘Thanks for coming, friends – where are the rest of you?’ Nice one, Pearl.)
‘Don’t know – I called her house but no one picked up,’ Tillie says. ‘She’s been away sick all week so she’s probably tucked up in bed.’
Cardy’s opening his mouth. He’s going to speak. He’s going to tell me that he liked the love song I wrote for him. That’s why he brought all these people tonight – he wanted to declare his love for me in front of all our friends so that everyone knows just how incredible he finds me and how much he adores –
‘I think Mr Hunter wants to see you,’ he says.
‘Oh, right,’ I say, and walk away.
Smooth, Linford. Real smooth.
Valentine Page 3
