Making Music

by Ling, Maria

  "Nothing," Jen said evasively. She did not want anyone to know, or suspect, what had happened between her and Stuart in this room. "He must be upset about something else."

  Peter shrugged.

  "Maybe so. Come on, let's get something to eat."

  Peter was definitely out of sorts, Jen reflected, as she walked with him through the hallway and into the dining room next to the kitchen. He looked both worried and irritable. Perhaps Stuart had kicked him in the teeth, to make up for his own rejection. She did not like that idea. Peter was what Karen would call a sweet man. Still, he had known Stuart forever -- since school, as she recalled -- and ought to know how to deal with him.

  The dining room was as sumptuous as the rest of the house, with dark forest green wallpaper brightened by a tracery of gold, matching dark green curtains, and gold light fittings. It was dominated by a huge polished mahogany table surrounded by sixteen chairs -- Jen counted them in awe. Above it, in the exact centre of the room, hung an imposing crystal chandelier that shone and glittered with light.

  "I don't usually eat in here," Stuart said, almost apologetically, to no one in particular.

  "Why ever not?" Rhoda exclaimed. "It's glorious!"

  "Thank you, Rhoda," Stuart said, with a smile that looked somewhat forced.

  "Not your style though, is it, Stuart?" That was Karen, breezy and calm as always.

  "No."

  The simple meal of chilli con carne and rice was in absurd contrast to the opulent surroundings, but they were all hungry and did not let themselves be overawed for long. Jen noticed that Stuart sat as far away from her as possible, and was silently grateful.

  What was strange was that he and Cathy were not sitting together, and not even looking at each other very often. She and Peter spent more time looking at each other, but it was an odd game of surreptitious glancing, interspersed with exaggerated indifference whenever they happened to catch one another's eye. Jen could make nothing of it. She supposed they must have fallen out over something, but could not understand why they were acting like lovers wanting to make up after a row.

  "Oh, Jen!" Rhoda's voice, sharp and tactless, cut through the silence that had fallen as they all applied themselves to the food. "I picked up a magazine at the airport, and it had an article about you on the music pages. It said you'd been touring with a Dominic something."

  "That's right." Jen was glad to have a reasonably neutral topic introduced, what with Stuart, Cathy and Peter all appearing to contemplate some secret sorrow.

  "It also said that the two of you are engaged."

  Jen dropped her fork, nearly breaking the plate.

  "What? They can't write that!"

  "You mean it isn't true?"

  "Absolutely not." Jen was indignant. "They can't write things like that! Which magazine was it?"

  "Oh, I don't know. It's upstairs, though, if you want to have a look at it."

  "Are you really not engaged?" Sue asked, curiously.

  "No!"

  "Going to be?" Stuart asked, tensely -- whatever business it was of his.

  "No!" Jen held up her hands in front of six pairs of sceptical eyes. "Look -- no rings! I'm not with anyone at the moment, all right?"

  Stuart frowned.

  "You're not?"

  "No!"

  He stared at her for a while, with a puzzled look, as though he could not fathom why she would not be. For a moment Jen was tempted to say that she had had more than enough of men, but she bit down on the words. She was not going to start an argument -- not here, not now, not in front of their friends. Besides, it would be unfair on Cathy to allude to the fact that they had once been lovers. Stuart might not even have told her as much.

  Come to think of it, Jen reflected, Cathy could have no inkling that there had once been such a relationship. No one, however perfect in every way, could be so overtly pleasant to her own boyfriend's ex-lover.

  "I don't see why not," Rhoda said, balancing a heap of rice on her fork. "That Dominic is a dish. Or it was an unusually good picture of him."

  "He is," Karen said. "At least from the pictures I've seen."

  "Picture," Jen corrected coldly, giving her false friend a quelling glance. "You said ‘picture' to me."

  "I did, didn't I?" Karen smiled at her, not at all put out by her tone. "It was only one picture, actually -- you're right. But you have to admit he is dishy."

  Jen groaned in spirit. She would start looking as dismal as Peter if this went on much longer.

  "Dishy maybe," she conceded grandly, retrieving her fork. "But not my type. All right?"

  "What is your type?"

  Stuart again, sounding dangerous this time. Jen glanced at him in surprise, mixed with a fair bit of irritation. He might still fancy her, but that hardly gave him the right to pry into her private life -- not to mention the fact that he was hardly a pillar of virtue himself. And why was he looking like a thundercloud?

  "No business of yours," she said shortly.

  Silence descended once more, a tense forbidding silence, the kind that cried out to be broken by the sound of smashing crockery.

  "Right," he said after a while, in a voice as cold and distant as hers. "Fine."

  Jen saw Karen close her eyes, with a look of despair on her face.

  "Does anyone want more food?" Sue asked brightly. "Otherwise I'll finish it off."

  "I'll do the washing-up," Jen said, more as an excuse to get out of the room than for any other reason. If sparks were going to fly every time she and Stuart were in the same room, she might as well save everyone embarrassment by making a tactful withdrawal.

  "You only have to load up the machine," Cathy said, doing her little-girl-lost look. "I'll help you. No, really, Karen, please. You did all the cooking."

  "Forget it, Cathy," Sue said. "And you, Jen. I'll do it. I haven't done a single useful thing yet."

  "Ladies, ladies!" Peter was holding up both hands in mock horror. "No fighting!"

  "I'll bet on Jen in a fight any time," Stuart muttered, in what was clearly meant as an aside to Peter, but which carried to Jen's ears. For a moment she was going to take issue with the remark, but then decided to ignore it.

  "I suggest," Karen said decisively, "that we all help. Then it should take -- what, ten seconds? -- and we can get on with the real business of the evening. If we can run through the song a few times tonight, then we'll be able to iron out any problems and be ready to record tomorrow. Any objections?"

  "Carried unanimously," Peter said, after a glance around the table. "If you've finished, Sue -- "

  "Nearly."

  " -- then let's adjourn to the lounge."

  "Coffee," Stuart said morosely.

  "Our host wants coffee. Very well. It shall be provided. I nominate Sue, since she wants to be useful."

  "Shut up, Peter," Rhoda said. "You're giving me a headache."

  They adjourned accordingly, and Jen went upstairs to get her and Karen's guitars. Karen's might not be used, as she did not play nearly as well as the others, but had simply got into the habit of accompanying herself when she was rehearsing. Still, Jen thought, since it was here she might as well bring it.

  As she entered the living room for the second time that day, she noticed that it was beginning to get cluttered with instruments. There was Peter's guitar, and Rhoda's, and now hers and Karen's too, and Sue's bodhran, and a slim elegant case that looked likely to contain Cathy's flute, and there was a nice-looking pair of acoustics -- a very familiar Martin, and a Takamine which she did not recognise but which presumably also belonged to Stuart -- and lodged comfortably in one of the armchairs there was a gleaming steel Dobro.

  Her throat tightened. From the first time she had met him, Stuart had dreamed of a steel Dobro, and here it was.

  "Isn't it beautiful?" Rhoda, henna-haired and immaculate, with fresh make-up and gleaming red fingernails, had walked in behind her. She shook her head briefly, making her dangly jet earrings jingle. "I've heard a lot of Dobro players
in the States, and not one of them matches Stuart. He's incredible. I keep on at him to come over, but he won't."

  Jen's mouth dropped open.

  "Stuart's turned down offers from America?"

  "Heavens, yes. I wanted to set him up with a couple of absolute legends, and he said they'd have to come over here. And would you believe it, they did -- after I'd played them a tape of his!" She threw Jen a sharp look. "Do you know what makes him stay here?"

  "No," Jen said blankly.

  "No, I don't suppose you do. Look Jen, I know it's not for me to say so, but I can't believe the way you're treating Stuart. He worships you. And you just won't have anything to do with him."

  Jen gasped for breath. She felt as if Rhoda had punched her in the stomach.

  "The way I'm treating him -- " she managed in an outraged tone.

  "Yes, you. He made a mistake, all right? It happens. You should be glad he realises it. Believe me, honey, I've seen a lot worse. A lot worse. So give the man some credit."

  She inspected her flawless fingernails for a while, leaving Jen to struggle for utterance.

  "Besides," Rhoda went on, "if there really isn't anything between you and this Dominic person, then I think you should tell him so."

  "Why?" Jen exclaimed, finding her voice. "What difference does it make?"

  "Because he seems to think there is, and it's hurting him."

  "Good," Jen said viciously.

  Rhoda gave her a strange look.

  "Grow up, Jen," she said, and walked out of the room.

  Jen sat down abruptly. She was too stunned by what Rhoda had said to feel upset by it. The idea that Stuart had turned down offers to play, maybe even record, in America, was nothing short of astonishing. Especially since that was the home of the blues, the slide, and the Dobro. For Stuart that combination ought to be irresistible.

  Of course, she knew better than Rhoda that there was no way Stuart was rejecting such opportunities because of her. It must be Cathy he was thinking of. If that was so, then Karen's words began to ring very true indeed. If he were willing to pass up those opportunities for her sake, just to be able to stay near her, then he must really love her.

  That hurt. It hurt more than anything else -- more than the memory of the girl in the hotel, more than the thought of all the other girls in all the other hotels, more even than the thought of Cathy in Stuart's bed. He was entitled to make mistakes, Rhoda was right about that at least, and it would be frankly unreasonable to expect him to remain celibate all his life merely because things had not worked out with her. And if Cathy was prepared to put up with his infidelities, then perhaps she made a better partner for him.

  But the idea of him turning down America…

  Was it possible that Cathy meant more to him than everything he had dreamed of and worked towards all his life? Could it be that he rated her higher than the music that he loved, heart and soul? Maybe she, Jen, had been the mistake after all. Maybe Cathy was the one true love he had never thought to find, and now that he had, he would not let her go -- not for anything.

  It was agony to think of it -- sheer heart-slashing agony -- but try as she might, Jen could not escape the conclusion that it must be the truth.

  What did he see in her? She was pretty and slim and sweet, but other than that there was nothing in her that could entrance Stuart to such an extent…surely.

  Approaching voices brought Jen to herself, and she was able to present a calmly dispassionate face as everyone trooped into the room, Sue at the head of the column with a tray full of steaming mugs in assorted colours. Stuart's choice, Jen decided at a glance. The previous owner's wife had clearly had no input there.

  Her heart gave a last painful wrench as Stuart came in through the door, with one arm casually around Cathy's shoulders. She looked as if she had been crying again. Her pregnancy must be a real problem between them -- unless she only did it to gain attention.

  Jen frowned suddenly. If Stuart loved Cathy enough to give up his musical ambitions for her, why would a baby trouble him so much? He was not exactly a family man, but even so… If he loved her enough to put her happiness before his own, why make such a fuss over her wanting children? It made no sense.

  She felt a brief, unexpected stab of envy. She and Stuart had never talked about having children -- it had never been an option. They had both been totally committed to their music. Now she was surprised to find that she would have loved to have a family with him. And he would make a wonderful father, no doubt about it: laid-back, relaxed, but authoritative when he needed to be. It was strange that it had never occurred to her to think about it before.

  "Okay then." Stuart gave Cathy's shoulders a last, encouraging squeeze and went over to reclaim his guitar. "Karen, you've got the sheets -- right?"

  Karen nodded, and began to distribute the sheaf of papers she was holding. Jen pulled her copy towards her and studied it intently. A simple enough idea, straightforward chord progressions, a few nice touches here and there of changing into a minor key, and -- she paused, and looked again -- very powerful words. It was a song about loss, and pain, and emptiness; its very rawness giving added emphasis to the words. It was uncredited, too. She looked around in some surprise, wondering who had written it. Certainly it was no ordinary manufactured pop item.

  "First," Stuart went on, "I should tell you all that I didn't write this. Peter and Cathy did, and -- " he glanced across at Cathy for a moment -- "okay, Cath?" She nodded. "Right, and it's about Cathy's sister who died of leukemia six months ago. The idea is that if it makes any money, it all goes to help fund research into the disease. None of us are going to get paid, we're all doing this for free. Is everyone okay with that?"

  Discreet nods all round, even from Jen, who felt as though she had stepped over the edge of a precipice.

  "We've been talking this over, and Cathy wants me to sing it, which I'm happy to do, but I'd like it to be a duet with Karen. I think that'll work well. Peter and Rhoda on guitar, Sue on bodhran, Cathy on flute -- that pretty much goes without saying. And Jen -- " a quick ice-blue glance in her direction -- "I want you on lead guitar."

  Jen swallowed, trying not to flinch as she slammed bone-shatteringly into the floor of the abyss.

  "Great," she said.

  "If we find there's room for me to add a guitar line of my own, then I'll do that. We'll run it through a few times, as Karen suggested, and see what we all think. If you have any ideas, just shout. Okay?" Again a ripple of nods. "Then let's give it a go."

  Jen clutched her Washburn nervously. She was not usually troubled by nerves, but in this company she knew she had better be good, and to play lead to Stuart was way beyond her ambitions.

  She bit her lip, and threw a penitent glance at Cathy, who was looking red-eyed but composed. If only Karen had told her! Then she would have been nicer to Cathy, no matter how much it pained her to think of Stuart being in love with someone else.

  There was nothing she could do about it now, except make this song as good as it could be. So she seized her courage with both hands, and closed her eyes, and began to play.

  Stuart and Karen were both accompanying themselves, simply strumming the chords along with Peter and Rhoda, so no one was looking to her to keep the music flowing. She could relax into it, let her hands work without constraint, feel her way towards a line that would carry through the words, echoing them wordlessly in a pain that was beyond expression. It came to her, or through her, and she let it flow outwards and upwards, meeting a clear solo line high above the human voices.

  Cathy was playing. A slow, soft, gentle flute line, dropping into rills in the minor key, speaking sadly but steadfastly of a pain beyond bearing. The voices fell silent, and the instruments, until there was only the last lonely note of the flute, and then that ceased too.

  Jen opened her eyes, and found that tears were running down her cheeks. It was a relief when Sue suddenly put her drum down and got her handkerchief out, and Karen leaned over and gave Cathy a long
hug.

  "A first-taker," Rhoda said in awe, and even her voice was a little unsteady.

  "Shame we weren't recording," Stuart agreed. "Okay, I guess that wraps it up for the evening. I don't think anyone can suggest any improvements."

  He was talking, Jen saw, to allow Cathy time to recover, and she hastened to back him up.

  "I'm happy with it."

  He looked at her, and there was something relenting in his eyes, as if he could tell what she was doing, that she was trying to make things easier for Cathy.

  "You think you've got the line? You'll remember it tomorrow?"

  "I'm certain." Or if she did not, she thought, it would come back to her as soon as she started playing.

  "I've got my part," Sue said pragmatically, stuffing her handkerchief back into her pocket. "I might play around with it a bit, but it's basically there."

  Rhoda nodded.

  "Likewise. I might want to add some vocal harmonies to Karen's line as well."

  "Okay. We can work on that tomorrow, I think -- yeah?" No objections. "Fine."

  "Play something else, Jen," Peter said. "You've come on tremendously well. You have a nice soft touch."

  "Play ‘Imagination'," Sue pleaded. "If you're not too fed up with it. I love that."

  "And let's have a fire," Rhoda said. "I'm frozen. Have you never heard of central heating in this country?"

  "It's on," Stuart said, grinning at her. "But I'll light the fire for you if you like."

  He put his guitar down, and went over to a copper tub full of logs that stood to one side of the hearth, shielded by the arm of the sofa. Jen watched him shift the wood easily into the fireplace, pull out a few sheets of newspaper from the side of the tub, shred them, and tuck them in at various strategic points between the logs. Then he took a box of matches from the mantlepiece and began methodically setting fire to the newspaper shreds.

  "You seem to have got that down to a fine art," Rhoda said approvingly.

  "Huh." Peter was less impressed. "You should have seen him at the housewarming party. How long did it take you, Stuart -- a couple of hours?"

  Stuart half-turned, and directed a gesture at Peter which caused Sue to cough urgently and Jen to bend industriously over her guitar.