One More Song

by Nicki Edwards

  ‘Can you sit down now for a bit? The kitchen can wait until tomorrow surely.’ He lifted his hands so she could wipe the table in front of him.

  ‘I can’t sit,’ she said, heading over to the sink to rinse out the cloth. ‘If I do, I might not be able to get up again.’

  She kept her back to him, but Harry heard the crack in her voice and saw her brush away at silent tears. He stayed quiet and eventually she turned to face him.

  ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ she said, looping the tea towel over the oven door handle before pulling out a chair opposite him. ‘All I seem to do these days is talk about Dad.’

  He exhaled lightly. ‘Sounds like a great idea to me. That’s one of the reasons I came over. Mum is going around in circles trying to work out what to do about him.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  The shadowy presence of Motor Neurone Disease hovered over all of them.

  ‘How’s your love life?’ Claire asked, pasting on a bright smile.

  The question and total change of direction startled Harry and he smiled. ‘Cool your jets, sis. Why don’t you start with the easy questions first?’

  Claire waved him off. ‘I already know what you’re up to professionally – Mum keeps me up to date when you forget to call.’

  ‘Ouch, sorry. I get busy, you know, and the hours I keep aren’t always conducive to picking up the phone for a chat.’

  ‘We’re all busy, Harry. But that’s no excuse.’

  He sighed heavily. He didn’t like this new stressed-out version of his sister. ‘If I’d called more often would you have told me about Dad?’

  She hesitated. ‘Probably not. Now, don’t change the subject. We’re not talking about Dad, we’re talking about you. Do you have a girlfriend yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why are you still single? I thought you’d have women begging to get into your bed.’

  ‘Claire!’

  ‘I’m just calling it as it is. You might be my brother but you’re a good-looking bloke. I thought you’d have met someone by now.’

  ‘Not anyone I’m interested in spending the rest of my life with.’ He bit the inside of his mouth to stop from blurting out anything about Eddie. He was getting way too far ahead of himself imagining a future with her, given they’d only shared one kiss the night before.

  ‘Do you go out?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he confessed. ‘But it’s too tiring. Especially with the type of women I meet in the theatre. They’re so needy and . . .’ His voice trailed off. He wasn’t sure how to describe most of the women he knew.

  Claire narrowed her gaze. ‘Are you gay?’

  It wasn’t the first time Harry had been asked. ‘Why? Because I like to sing on stage?’ He expelled air through his teeth. Why did some people presume that because someone is creative they have to be gay? It was such a cliché. ‘Because I’m not married with two kids by the time I’m thirty doesn’t mean I’m batting for the other team, Claire.’

  ‘I’m only repeating what I heard Dad say one day. You know what he’s like.’

  Prejudiced. Judgmental. Narrow-minded.

  Harry was filled with instant remorse. What kind of person was he to be having these thoughts about his father when he was dying?

  ‘Surely you want to meet someone though? Get married? Have kids?’ Claire prodded, a worried look on her face.

  ‘Of course I do, but I don’t need you putting the pressure on me too. Do you know what Dad said the other day when I was at the hospital with him?’

  Claire waited for him to continue.

  ‘He said it was hard enough that he was dying, but what was worse was that he’d never get to meet my future wife and kids because I was taking too long to settle down.’

  ‘Oh Harry, don’t read too much into it.’

  ‘You didn’t hear his tone.’

  ‘You have to see it from his view. He wants you to be happy. To me that shows how much he cares for you. He wants to see you living your own happy-ever-after like him and Mum.’

  Harry sighed. ‘I guess you could be right, but I didn’t like his implication. Like he was blaming me for still being single because I’m too picky. Or worse, presuming that because I am single, I’m not happy. And like it always does, it comes back to him blaming me for not wanting to take over the farm.’

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way,’ Claire said. ‘Just be glad at least he’s talking to you.’

  ‘Yeah, true, but like I said, it’s put the pressure on.’ He rubbed the back of his neck in the hope of easing the tension that had nestled there since Christmas. ‘I’d like to get married one day, but whoever it is will need to understand the industry. It’s a crazy lifestyle. If I was doing a show, they’d never see me at night.’

  ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people in your industry who make it work.’

  ‘Possibly.’

  Claire leaned forward, eyes shining for the first time since he’d come home. ‘What kind of partner are you looking for?’ she asked. ‘Who’s your dream woman? For all you know, she’s right under your nose and you haven’t opened your eyes to see her.’

  Harry had to set her straight. Quickly, before she started calling every eligible female within a hundred-kilometre radius of Yallambah. He didn’t need her getting any crazy ideas about setting him up with someone. Especially not now he’d met Eddie.

  ‘I tell you what, sis, as soon as it gets serious, I’ll tell you.’

  Claire tilted her head. ‘Have you met someone?’

  He smiled. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And you think she could be the one?’

  ‘I promise you’ll be the first to know. For now, subject closed. Deal?’

  She hesitated. ‘Okay. Deal.’ Her smile faded. ‘Now, what are we going to do about Dad?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to talk about him,’ Harry replied.

  ‘We have no choice. He’s not going to get better.’

  ‘Which is why I think he needs to be in a nursing home.’

  ‘Good luck convincing him and Mum of that,’ Claire said. ‘You know he wants to die on the farm. He’s always said that.’

  ‘We need to be realistic. He needs full-time care. You and Mum can’t be expected to do that at home. The house isn’t set up for it. You heard Kristen. He’s going to need a wheelchair, a frame, a hoist . . . all that kind of nursing home stuff. And you’ve got Sime and the kids to worry about.’

  ‘I don’t want Dad to go into a nursing home. It’s not fair.’

  ‘And I don’t think it’s fair on you and Mum to look after him here at the farm and wait until he dies.’

  Claire let out a huff of irritation. ‘The problem is, Haz, you think you can ride in here on your white horse and save the day, but it doesn’t work like that. This is not some soppy musical production with a happy ending. I swear sometimes I think you live in a parallel universe. You’re certainly not living in the real world as I know it.’

  He sat back as if she’d slapped him. Claire never spoke to him like that. ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘Yeah. No. I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Regardless of what you want, you’re going to be in Melbourne and we’ll be up here dealing with Dad. We have to take into account what he wants, not what you want, or what you think we want.’

  He sighed heavily. Despite how much Claire’s words hurt, she was right. He was behaving like a spoiled, selfish child. He didn’t want to fight with her over this, but he was fearful that once he went to Melbourne he wouldn’t get a say in his father’s care.

  ‘What’s this awful disease going to throw at us next?’ he said.

  It was a rhetorical question, but Claire picked up a brochure lying on the table and shoved it towards him. ‘You’ve read the literature.’ She brushed away a tear. ‘What comes next? Dad’s muscles will waste so badly to the point he won’t be able to use his hands or legs and he won’t be able to eat or talk or breathe.’

  ‘Dad’s strong. H
e’s a farmer. He’ll fight this for as long as he can.’

  Claire pursed her lips. ‘That’s not how it works. I read one lady’s blog, where she said it’s like taking the bolts out of a bridge from different places one at a time then sitting back and waiting to see what part of the bridge would collapse first. Which bit will fail? How long will it hold up until the whole damn thing comes crashing down?’ Tears coursed down her cheeks and she swiped angrily at them.

  Harry reached behind him for a box of tissues and passed them over, not sure how else to offer comfort to his older sister. She’d always been the stronger one.

  ‘I feel like we’re on a runaway train in one of those kids cartoons, you know?’ she said. ‘It’s like we’re all heading downhill with no handbrake, and we’re moments from derailment.’

  He rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. ‘I know, sis. Someone has to jump on board and pull on the brakes.’

  ‘They’re doing the research but it won’t help Dad. Not in time.’

  ‘Which is why I think he should be in a nursing home. Eventually he’ll be unable to do anything for himself. Far better for someone else to care for him in the middle of the night than Mum. Can you imagine how hard it will be for her? She’s not strong enough to pick him up if he falls. And if he starts choking and can’t breathe? You’re too far out of town to call an ambulance in time.’

  ‘We could get a nurse here at home,’ Claire suggested.

  ‘With what money? Have you looked around the farm lately? It’s not like you’re harvesting hundred dollar bills. I’ve talked to Simon and he’s told me how bad it is.’

  Claire’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘Besides, what if he lives another five years?’

  ‘If he lives for another five years in a nursing home, I guarantee that will kill him.’

  He stood and stared at his sister. ‘MND is doing a bloody good enough job of that already, don’t you think?’

  *

  Silence followed Harry back to the main house. He’d never felt so frustrated in his life. Frustrated that his father hadn’t wanted him to be know he was sick, frustrated with his mum and Claire, and frustrated by this stupid disease. No, not frustrated. Annoyed. Annoyed he couldn’t make it go away. He allowed the flyscreen door to slam behind him as he stalked down the hallway to his bedroom. He hated that he had to go back to Sydney and leave Claire and his mum in the lurch, but he had no choice. He needed to pack up his stuff and clean out his flat. At least when he was in Melbourne he’d be closer.

  As he was folding clothes and packing them into his suitcase, his phone rang. It was Eddie. His annoyance dissipated in a flash and he smiled as he slid his finger across the screen and brought the phone to his ear. ‘Hey. You okay? What happened last night?’

  ‘I’m fine, but I’m so sorry for running off on you.’

  ‘It’s not a problem. You told me you were on call.’

  ‘Did you hear what happened?’

  ‘Yeah, Mum told me this morning. She said the fire was deliberately lit.’

  ‘It was. Thank God they got onto it quickly before it spread to any of the other businesses. It could have been a total disaster.’

  ‘Funny we didn’t hear any sirens.’

  ‘I don’t think they had time to turn them on. The fire station’s only two doors down from the supermarket.’

  ‘Was anyone injured?’

  ‘No, thank goodness. But the store was totally gutted and you can only imagine the stress that’s going to put on the community. It’s devastating. Especially for the oldies who rely on being able to walk to the supermarket. Now they’ll have to find someone to drive them into Beechworth to get their bread and milk. It’s not fair.’

  ‘Do they know who did it?’

  ‘Yeah, a fifteen-year-old local girl ticked off because they didn’t give her a job. I still can’t fathom it. The fire could have burned down the entire town.’

  ‘Lucky it didn’t,’ Harry said. ‘I have your shoes, by the way.’

  When Eddie laughed he pictured the way her eyes crinkled.

  ‘Did I leave them down at the creek?’

  ‘Yeah. I was wondering if I was going to have to search the entire district to find out who they belonged to.’

  ‘Aw, aren’t you sweet? A regular Prince Charming . . .’

  ‘Looking for my Cinderella.’ He smiled. ‘Do you need them? I can drop them over before I head off.’

  There was a long beat of silence.

  ‘Are you still going back to Sydney today?’ she asked.

  Was that disappointment in her voice?

  ‘Yeah, I have to. But I’ll only be gone for a few days, a week at the most. I need to pack everything up then I’ll come straight back here for the concert before heading to Melbourne. We can catch up then.’

  ‘So you don’t have time for that coffee before you go?’

  He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Eddie, I don’t. I’m heading to the hospital to see Dad now, then I need to hit the road and get to Melbourne to catch my flight.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  This time there was no mistaking her disappointment.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said.

  There was a short pause. ‘Will you call me?’

  He grinned. ‘Every. Single. Day.’

  Chapter 19

  Harry’s time in Sydney passed in a blur of packing and saying goodbye to friends. Before he knew it, Friday arrived and he was driving back down the main street of Yallambah with his entire worldly possessions packed tighter than a tin of tuna in the back of his car.

  It had taken him longer than he’d anticipated to pack up his flat in Sydney, and while he’d hoped to only be there for a couple of days so he could get back to Eddie and his family, it had stretched into a full week. He glanced at the clock on the dash. After a seven-hour road trip he was cutting it fine to make it to the concert rehearsal on time.

  Like the last time he’d driven into town, the sun was shining and a cloudless blue sky stretched endlessly overhead. Last time he’d been dreading going home and seeing his father. A different type of unease filled him this time: he was dreading finding his father’s condition had worsened. While he’d been away, Jim was discharged from hospital. Harry called home every night to check on him and although his mum reassured him nothing had changed, he wasn’t convinced she was being honest. One night he’d raised the issue again of putting his father into a nursing home, but Jenny had shot him down. Later Claire had called and berated him for upsetting her.

  His one glimmer of hope was seeing Eddie again. He’d missed her like crazy but as he’d promised, they talked or texted every day. Sometimes he called just to say hi, other times their conversations deepened as he shared his ongoing concerns about his father’s illness, or Eddie talked about her grandparents and her own fears for them as they aged. Harry had been so preoccupied with his own family’s problems he’d barely registered Eddie’s grandparents had health issues too. The way she described them, they were still active despite their age, but her grandmother was taking a long time to recover from her hip replacement and Eddie was concerned about her grandfather’s diminishing memory. She clearly adored them though, and Harry looked forward to meeting them.

  He flicked his indicator and turned up Hammond Street. Disappointingly, he’d run out of time to get home to see his family or out to Glenview to see Eddie first. The primary school car park was full and he had to park two blocks away and walk. He jogged back up the hill to the school, surprised to feel excitement for the first time in ages. It would be good to see his theatre friends again.

  Like most casts, the cast of Les Miserables was one big family – albeit dysfunctional at times – and with their help he hoped to put his concerns about his father behind him for the moment as he immersed himself in playing the role of Marius again. They were going to spend the afternoon rehearsing at the school, have a late dinner together at the pub, then on Saturday morning they’d have another rehearsal befor
e helping set up the stage for the concert. They’d have time for a quick rest in the afternoon before performing that night. The afterparty would follow that. It was a packed schedule.

  Although the cast knew the show back to front, they needed extra time to rehearse because doing a scaled-down concert version of a show was very different from a full production. As well as getting used to a minimalist set and a smaller cast, they’d need to rehearse with a different orchestra.

  The first person Harry saw when he arrived was Andrew, the resident director. They greeted each other with a warm hug and a back slap.

  ‘Great to see you, Harrison. What a gorgeous neck of the woods you live in.’

  Harry smiled. ‘Thanks. To be honest, I’d forgotten how much I love it up here.’

  ‘As long as you’re still excited about coming to Melbourne,’ Andrew said. ‘Not long now.’

  He hesitated for a fraction too long.

  Andrew frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’

  He dragged in a deep breath. ‘Dad was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease over Christmas.’

  Andrew removed his sunglasses. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Harrison. How bad is it?’

  ‘Bad.’

  ‘You going to be okay to sing?’

  Harry licked his lips. ‘Hope so.’

  ‘Will your dad be there tomorrow night?’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  ‘Good. Sing your heart out. Make him proud.’ Andrew slipped his sunglasses back down over his eyes. ‘Might sound harsh, but you know what they say . . .’

  ‘The show must go on,’ Harry said.

  ‘And the show will go on. Rehearsal’s in half an hour. See you there. And make sure you have something ready to say to the media.’

  Harry frowned. ‘What media?’

  ‘Some woman from Stage Whispers and someone else from the Border Mail. They’re here to interview you.’

  ‘Why me? Surely Tim should be the one to do it.’ Normally the media wanted to speak to whoever played the role of Jean Valjean.

  ‘They want you because you’re a local.’ Andrew slapped him on the back and headed off.