by Judy Nunn
The prospect of the tour filled Rose with apprehension. She dreaded what would happen when Toby went out on the road with the band. He’d accepted the news of her pregnancy with surprising calm. She’d been nervous when she’d told him, unsure of herself, wondering what his reaction might be, for they’d never talked of a baby. He might well be angry and she reckoned he had every right to be because she was always forgetting to take her contraceptive pill. She’d thought he might insist she get rid of the baby, but she really didn’t want to. She hadn’t forgotten to take the pill on purpose, she would never do that to him, but now she was pregnant she didn’t want to get rid of it. She would like to have Toby’s baby.
‘Don’t you worry, love,’ he’d said, ‘a baby will fit into our lives quite nicely. Don’t go fretting now.’ Toby could see all the fears that were circling like demons in Rose’s head. He could always see Rose’s demons. He hadn’t planned on a child, certainly, but they’d get around it all right. Who knows? he thought in his typically laid-back fashion. It might be rather fun being a dad.
As the tour date grew ever nearer, Rose’s misgivings loomed larger and larger with every passing day. Toby would be leaving to travel around the country with a famous rock band. He’d be surrounded by the band’s adoring fans and all the trappings of success. He’d be living a life of reflected glory. Why would he bother coming back to her? What place could there be in that new life of his for a black woman who didn’t fit into his circle and a child he’d never asked for and couldn’t really want?
Again, although Rose kept her fears to herself, Toby could see the demons circling.
‘Let’s get married,’ he said, the week before he was due to leave.
‘What?’ She was struck virtually dumb.
‘We’ll get married and you’ll come on tour with the band. The boys won’t mind – you can work your way, you’re a damn fine roadie.’
‘Married,’ she repeated, sounding foolish, but unable to think of anything else to say.
‘Sure, I’m not having a child of mine born a bastard.’ Toby hadn’t actually given the matter much thought, but now, in allaying Rose’s fears, it occurred to him that marriage was a rather good idea. He loved her and she was having his baby. Why not? he asked himself. Why not get married? It’s what people do, isn’t it?
They married at the Registry Office the following week and spent their honeymoon on the road with the band.
The tour was as hectic as had been expected and as madly fan-fuelled as Lenny’s promotional drive had dictated it should be. Television crews, photographers and journalists were lined up at every stop along the way and crowds were whipped into a frenzy of adulation.
For Toby the work was gruelling. The endless setting up and bumping out of one-night stands was relentless and he was grateful not only for Rose’s company, but for her practical assistance. Despite her pregnancy, Rose worked as hard as any of the three roadies who followed the bus in their beaten-up Holden.
Rose loved every minute of the tour. She’d been well past the morning sickness phase when they left, having suffered little discomfort in any event, and she revelled in her usefulness.
By the time they returned to Sydney, her pregnancy was patently obvious and over the next couple of months as the New Year crept in and January slipped by, the larger she grew the more they both basked in the sight.
‘This is what they mean by “huge with child”, Toby said as they sat naked together in bed, Rose propped up on pillows. He ran the palms of his hands over her taut black skin, his fingers tracing the impressive globe of her belly. ‘Huuuge with child,’ he repeated, chanting the words, milking them for all they were worth and enjoying the sound, ‘huuuuge with child. It makes a man feel humble, it truly does.’
Rose laughed. He’d just smoked a joint. ‘You and your Irish blarney,’ she said, but she delighted in his admiration, knowing it wasn’t just the dope and that he was only half joking.
She gave birth in early March, a relatively easy delivery, and when they returned home from the hospital with their little brown bundle Toby remained lost in awe.
‘Look at her now,’ he said, gazing down at the baby in its cradle, studying the tiny hand clutching his little finger with such surprising strength even in sleep. ‘Was there ever a more perfect baby?’
‘No. Never.’ Rose savoured the moment, holding it close, knowing that this was the happiest moment in her life, simply because no human being could possibly be happier.
With the proceeds of the tour, which had paid well, Toby put a deposit down on a modest one-storey terrace house in the neighbouring suburb of Balmain, not far from the harbour.
‘I’ll not have my daughter raised amongst a horde of doped-up, drunken musicians,’ he said with mock severity, ‘oh dear me, no, it’s the straight and narrow for our Jess.’
Rose smiled. Toby would always be surrounded by musicians wherever he lived, but once again she knew that he was only half joking and that their days of heavy partying were probably over.
‘It’s ours, Rosie,’ he said as they wandered around the house, Toby running his hands over walls that were badly in need of a fresh coat of paint. He addressed the baby asleep in her arms: ‘What do you think, Jess? Our very own home, every brick of it, all ours. Well, no,’ he corrected himself, ‘not all ours – all the bank’s actually, but it’ll be ours soon enough.’
They stepped out into the backyard, which was surprisingly large, particularly given the size of the house. The backyard was the reason Toby had chosen the property.
‘And here’s where the recording studio will go,’ he said, arms outstretched, encompassing the entire yard, ‘right here.’ A recording studio of his own had always been Toby’s dream. A state-of-the-art affair with plenty of space for the band to set up, a huge dividing double-plateglass window, a sixteen-channel mixing desk and big JBL speakers for perfect playback: he could see it all.
He put his arm around Rose and together they surveyed the tangled mess of weeds and debris over-run by morning glory vines. A crumbling home-made brick barbecue, once someone’s pride and joy, sat on one side, lantana bushes did battle with the morning glory on the other, an umbrella tree and a rubber plant vied for supremacy down the back and in pride of place stood the metal skeleton of a Hills Hoist clothesline, ubiquitous symbol of suburban Australia.
‘It’ll take a few more tours I reckon,’ Toby said, sensing as he did that might be something of an understatement.
Three years, three tours and three albums later, The Real Goodes had faded from the charts to be replaced by other bands with a hotter, newer sound and Ray and his brothers were back playing the clubs and the pubs, although now they performed their own songs and for a far higher fee. But by then Toby’s house was paid off and renovated, and he had his dream studio. He also had a burgeoning reputation as one of the finest sound engineers in the local music industry.
In a further two short years, Balmain Sound had become the studio for aspiring rock bands and hard-nosed entrepreneurs with an eye for the main chance. Toby Manning’s services were eagerly sought, his clients ranked among the best, he was on the road to success and the timing was perfect. His daughter had just reached school age.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
The Otto Bin Empire: Clive’s Story
9781925324853
The Otto Bin Empire: Clive’s Story first published by Random House Books in
2015
Spirits of the Ghan first published by William Heinemann, an imprint of Penguin Random House Australia, in 2015
Copyright © Judy Nunn, 2015
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Penguin Random House Australia book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au
Random House Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com/offices.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Nunn, Judy, author
The Otto Bin empire: Clive’s story/Judy Nunn
ISBN 978 1 92532 485 3 (ebook: epub)
Short stories, Australian
A823.3
Cover images: wall © Naruden Boonareesirichai/Shutterstock.com; bins © tumsuk/Shutterstock.com
Cover design by Isabel Keeley-Reid
