Piping Her Tune

by Maggie Brown

  “Damn nothing. Now are you satisfied? Talk about something else.”

  Abby shot forward on the seat. “I wouldn’t have called it damn nothing,” she snapped.

  “Oh, wouldn’t you?” Vic growled.

  “Considering there were no male appendages to cut off, you managed very well to be an arsehole and think of something.”

  “What I did was deserved. You humiliated me.”

  Abby pressed her lips together. “I painted what I saw.”

  “And what exactly was that?”

  “A self-important woman who had little regard for me or my talent,” Abby replied evenly.

  “You’re the artist?” Fran’s face was a mask of incredulity.

  “Abby Benton,” Wilma interjected. “I knew I’d heard that name before.”

  “But, we’ve moved beyond all that,” Abby continued.

  “If you say so,” murmured Victoria.

  Abby turned to Wilma abruptly. “I’ve got to go to the loo.” She looked with apology at Fran and Wilma and fled the room.

  * * *

  Fran cleared her throat, and started to say something, but then closed her mouth shut again. Wilma stepped into the breach. She took Victoria’s glass. “I think you need another drink.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m really so very sorry. I didn’t realize she painted the portrait, though I had the feeling I’d heard her name. I ignored her when she asked me not to show you. You’re different with Abby, Vic. You like her, don’t you?”

  “There’s something about her that strikes a chord with me. She irritates the crap out of me sometimes but if she’s not around, I miss her. I can’t help myself.” She clicked her tongue with irritation. “And I don’t know whether I’m even going to get past first base with her. She’s very friendly with an old friend of mine.”

  “Who?” asked Fran.

  “Chantal Du Bois.”

  “Chantal! God, she’s every lesbian’s fantasy, rich and drop-dead gorgeous.” Fran’s face was a study of disbelief and amusement as she slapped Vic’s arm. “Damn girl, you’ve got some serious competition there. So what the hell were you doing with sleazy Gina when you had Abby all to yourself?”

  Victoria snarled. “’Cause I had a brain fart, you idiot. Not everyone’s as clever as you.”

  “It’ll do you good. You’ve ignored every poor woman who’s tried to win you, so you’re getting some of your own back.” Fran began to laugh.

  The sound of the door opening silenced any more conversation and Abby entered the room. “Sorry about that. I’m sure you’ve got heaps more to say to each other and I don’t want to spoil your evening.”

  “Do you want something more to drink?”

  “A cup of coffee would be great, thanks.”

  True to her word, Abby sat back in the chair not offering a word. Victoria began to relax again as they talked into the night. It was getting late when Fran asked. “Do you ever see your father?”

  Victoria’s voice thickened. “I haven’t seen him for twenty years.”

  “Isn’t it about time you did?”

  “He disowned me, don’t you remember?”

  “Come on, Vic. You’ve got to see him, if only to have closure. If you’re free of him, you won’t need to push yourself so hard. You need a life.”

  Angry disgust flared over Victoria’s face. “Hell can freeze over before I see the mongrel again.” Without warning, she began to shake and gasp for air.

  Abby moved quickly to her side and took her arm. “Shush. Come on. Take some big breaths. In out, in out. That’s it, honey, puff the tension out.”

  After the attack subsided, Abby moved away. Fran, looking mortified, muttered, “I’m sorry, Vic. It was none of my business.”

  Victoria gave a tight smile. “No, it’s me who should be sorry. I just made a total ass of myself and my only excuse is I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I always did let him get to me. I think we’d better be going. We’ll keep in touch about your wedding.”

  On their way home in the taxi, Victoria, no longer able to contain curiosity, asked the question that had been plaguing her all week. “Who was the woman you were with the other night, Abby?”

  “You saw me with Patsy?”

  “Patsy…was that her name. Where on earth did you pick her up?”

  Abby pursed her lips. “I didn’t pick her up. I met some nurses and they invited me to join them for drinks. Patsy escorted me home, which was extremely nice of her. Anyhow, you seemed to have a good time with Gina, a very good time by all accounts, so what’s the problem with me meeting someone?”

  Victoria sank back in her seat and mumbled. “I just asked. I was surprised, that’s all, considering how friendly you are with Chantal.”

  Abby remained quiet for a moment before she said, “Yes, Chantal has become a good friend.”

  Victoria turned to study her; she needed some kind of a yardstick to gauge what exactly Abby thought of the Frenchwoman, but Abby’s expression remained closed.

  With a sigh, Victoria huddled back into the corner of the cab. It was going to put a damper on their trip if Chantal continued to hover in the background.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was mid-November when they landed in Tokyo. Abby shivered, the sharp chill in the air was a shock after the Perth heat. Their accommodation put her in a better frame of mind. It was enchanting; a traditional style Japanese home, with sliding doors, rice paper screens, an entranceway with a wooden floor and the hallway on the outside. Built in a half square, it allowed the bedrooms and main living area a view of the courtyard. The garden was equally delightful, peaceful and serene, with its pond, rockery and bonsai trees.

  She dumped her bags in the bedroom, then, taking note of the simple aesthetics, unpacked and tucked the cases out of sight before she went out. The Japanese had the art of uncluttering down pat; it would be a shame not to conform. The others were in the lounge when she entered; Fiona closed the lid of her laptop and remarked, “It’s a pretty place, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” agreed Abby. The décor was quintessential Japanese, with hand-painted Shoji screens, lanterns hanging from the ceiling and tatami mats on the floor. “Everything’s so streamlined and uncomplicated. This culture harks back to the principle that the simpler the life, the richer it is.”

  “How long were you in Japan, lass?”

  “Four years. I went to school in Tokyo.”

  “Exactly how well do you speak Japanese, Abby?” asked Victoria.

  “I’m quite fluent. I’m one of the main interpreters at my office in Japanese and Mandarin. I can handle some of the other Southeast Asian languages, though not well. We have lots of Vietnamese coming through the courts too.”

  “And you haven’t been back to Japan since your schooldays?”

  “No. I’m interested to see how it’s changed.”

  “Then let’s do a double-decker bus tour of the city tomorrow. Fiona and I are keen to see it as well,” said Victoria.

  Sightseeing the next day was an eye-opener for Abby. The view of Tokyo as an adult was far different than it had been as a schoolgirl. The megacity excited her, with the crush of humanity in its streets and its bright lights and loud signs. The trees on the pavements were dyed in glorious autumn colours, and chrysanthemums created enchanted displays in the parks and gardens. Over the coming months, she was looking forward to interacting with the tech-savvy people and she knew the shopping would be fantastic.

  Work began in earnest after that and life became busy. One week blurred into the next as they travelled across the country to visit steel mills and meet with prospective buyers. Victoria insisted they negotiate in person. “Phone conferences frustrate me,” she announced after the first meeting. “Face-to-face will win them over every time, especially now that there’s more competition for the markets. It’ll be a dog-eat-dog situation for all the companies until things improve worldwide.”

  Abby’s relationship with Victoria enter
ed an unexpected phase. Instead of the simmering antagonism that had plagued them earlier, they became comfortable with each other and gradually respect grew. From the moment they stepped onto Japanese soil, Victoria treated Abby like a valued employee, careful to listen to and appreciate her opinions. The three of them settled into a routine, each taking time off for themselves when possible after work. Victoria swam at a nearby hotel, where she’d made an arrangement to use their indoor heated pool. Abby took the opportunity to stroll down to the antique shops to forage for bargains (her favourite site the Tsukiji Outer Market and Bazaars), and Fiona settled down with her laptop to surf the ancestry sites. Abby’s trusty Canon camera was a fixture on her arm; she captured many provocative shots, worthy of editing for paintings.

  Abby knew Victoria had come to rely on her at the negotiation tables. Her command of Japanese and its nuances made it less likely for the buyers to successfully haggle down the price. Abby could tell if they were bluffing. With their busy work schedules, apart from the obligatory luncheons and functions, Abby, Victoria and Fiona were content to eat at home. Victoria was an expert in Japanese cuisine and Fiona was no slouch either in the cooking department.

  Abby discovered she had been so wrong about Victoria. She was not self-absorbed, but thoughtful, kind and very smart. A little overbearing at times, though Abby figured that came with the territory of her high-powered position. As Victoria’s official partner, she dutifully went along to all the functions, and it was easy to pretend they were a couple, for the Japanese were not ones for outward displays of affection. She found them to be careful and meticulous in nature: from the trains that ran dead on time, to the sublime works of art. But rural Japan interested her the most. While the metropolitan centres were mostly westernized, the provinces still held many of their traditional customs and the pace was slower, the people friendlier. Beautiful landscapes of wooden houses dotted vast rice fields and fishing villages clustered in hives against the backdrop of the sea.

  Abby morosely threw a piece of bread to the birds in the garden. It’s Christmas Eve and if all’s so peachy, why am I not content? She knew why, of course. She was happy with work but more confused than ever by her attraction towards Victoria. She admitted to herself now that she liked Vic far more than she should. The feeling was becoming more acute as the weeks wore on. Every accidental brush or touch sent a shiver of delight through her. It was as if her body had a mind of its own; Abby found she deliberately put herself in positions where they would have to come into fleeting contact. Embarrassment spiralled through her at how she was behaving. She had fast become consumed with wanting to touch Victoria and a concerted effort was needed to quell the impulse. She was only tormenting the shit out of herself. I can now be officially classified as pathetic.

  At the sound of a step, she turned. Victoria stood in the doorway, dressed in woollen slacks, a warm jacket, gloves and a blue knitted scarf protecting her neck. It was very cold; winter had arrived with a bitter wind and a flurry of snowflakes. “Ready?” Vic asked.

  Abby buttoned up her coat as she took in Vic’s scarf arrangement. No matter what she wore, she always managed to look elegant. A hard act to follow. “I’ll grab my purse and I’ll be with you.”

  “We’ll take a walk first after the taxi drops us off and have a look at the decorations. Fiona’s waiting outside with the cab.”

  The inner-city streets were ablaze with lights. Even though Christians only made up one percentage of the Japanese population, lavish, spectacular decorations dotted the city. Here Christmastide was more a time to spread happiness rather than a religious celebration, but all the universal symbols were evident: nativity scenes, Xmas trees, reindeers and Holiosho, the Japanese equivalent of Santa Claus. They strolled and took in the sights, until finally Victoria looked at her watch. “Okay, let’s eat.”

  “Where are we going tonight?” asked Fiona.

  Victoria grinned. “Fried chicken is a traditional Christmas Eve food in Japan.” She moved to the middle and took their hands in hers. “We’re off to Kentucky Fried Chicken.”

  Abby couldn’t remember when she’d had such a fun night. They washed down the meal with Coke, and lingered over coffee and Christmas cake while they exchanged anecdotes of their lives. Fiona was particularly carefree as she kept them amused with her stories of her childhood in Scotland. However serious she was now, she seemed to have been a wag in her youth. Before they rose to leave, Victoria pulled out two small packages from her coat pocket and handed one to each of them. “Christmas Eve here is something like St. Valentine’s Day at home. Well…,” she gave a little cough, “at the risk of being sentimental, I want you to know you’re my favourite people.”

  Abby caught her breath as she looked at the diamond earrings in the blue velvet box. They were gorgeous. Fiona had tears in her eyes when she pinned on her brooch, which was fashioned in the shape of bagpipes with a sapphire set in the middle. Abby was at a loss for what to say as she stared at her gift. Her life flashed in front of her—the loneliness of being truly alone. Nobody had ever given her something so precious. Emptiness swamped her. She had never awakened in the arms of someone she loved, never touched a lover in true passion. Her eyes wet with tears, she leant over and kissed Victoria on the cheek.

  The intensity of Victoria’s gaze startled her, the eyes luminous in the muted light and there was something in their depths Abby had never seen before. She opened her mouth to speak but musical rings in her coat beat her to it. Aware of the dark eyes studying her as she pulled the phone out of her pocket, she groaned when she read the number. No—no—no. Not now, Chantal. She was tempted to switch it off, but didn’t have the heart. She flashed an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.” She got up and walked to the corner to answer. “Hi, Chan. We’re still out on the town so I’ll ring you first thing tomorrow. Okay?”

  “All right, chérie, ’til then. Bye.”

  Abby knew when she got back to the table the real connection was lost. Victoria, though still pleasant, seemed to shrink back into herself. Abby felt the sudden distance like a cold hand against her skin. They kept up the bright chatter though, as they wandered through the street homeward bound. Abby chewed over the events of the night. Victoria’s gifts were as unexpected as they were emotionally overwhelming, not only to her, but also to Fiona. The Scot had been really affected by the present. Victoria was proving to be a paradox. Abby didn’t really know if Vic even liked her as a person. She had come to value her as an employee but like…?

  And Chantal was another puzzle. Did she look on Abby as merely her friend or something more? The phone calls had become routine: nearly every night they would chat and discuss their day. Abby looked forward to the conversations, and knew she would miss the comfort of knowing someone cared about her. Even though they had only seen each other twice, Abby felt she was coming to know the Frenchwoman very well. The more they exchanged confidences, the more Abby liked her. She guessed it was probably no different from Internet dating; same thing, only their way was more personal. Chantal intended to meet her in Hong Kong and Abby would know then what the woman’s attentions meant.

  Christmas Day dawned to an early snowstorm. Victoria announced they’d stay in and have a traditional roast turkey dinner with all the trimmings, even though it was not a holiday in Japan. Tomorrow, work would start again in earnest. They opened their presents from home, and exchanged gifts in front of the artificial tree, decorated with coloured balls and tinsel from a yen store. Much to Abby’s relief, her phone call home found her mother was in good spirits. Her sister had arrived from Hobart for a week’s stay over the festive season. Her mum gushed over the Christmas present Abby had sent: an attractive hand-painted ivory fan from one of her sojourns through the bazaars.

  After the heavy meal, they rented videos and spent the afternoon like couch potatoes. At nine o’clock Fiona got up with a yawn. “I’m going to bed. See you both in the morning.”

  Abby made a motion to follo
w, but Victoria waved a hand. “There’s no rush.” Her voice was gentle. She turned off the main lights, leaving the fireplace to illuminate the room. “Nightcap?” she asked.

  “That would be nice,” Abby murmured. Victoria retrieved a bottle of port and two glasses from the small galley kitchen.

  Abby kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her. The setting was cosy; Victoria looked quite lovely as she sat cross-legged on the thick rice-straw tatami mat. Lights flickered over her eyelids, like images across a computer monitor.

  For a while, they remained in companionable silence with their drinks. “What do you want out of life, Abby?” said Victoria suddenly.

  The query caught Abby off-guard. She hesitated for a moment. “That’s a loaded question, Victoria. My standard answer would be to say I want to paint and be able to support myself with it, I suppose, and of course give mum an easier life. I could be cute and throw in world peace as well. But I’m probably no different from anyone else. I want to be happy—to love and be loved. And I’d like some children of my own one day. What about you?”

  “Oh, I’ve never really thought too hard about it. I’ve done what I had to do, although I’d like to slow down, do something for myself for a change.”

  “Why don’t you? You’ve got everything you’ll ever want. Enjoy yourself before you get too old.”

  Victoria toyed with her glass, twisting it in her hands. “Maybe I will.”

  Abby watched the fingers twiddle on the shiny surface. Strange that something so innocuous could captivate her. She wondered what it would be like to have them touch her like that. “Why are you still alone, Vic?” The words sprung out before Abby could suppress them.

  By the look on Victoria’s face, Abby knew she had struck a nerve. “You think no one can put up with me?”

  “Annabelle would.”

  A frown creased Victoria’s forehead; Abby thought she’d gone too far. But Victoria merely shrugged. “We’re good friends. We’ve never been lovers and never will be.”