Rain Music (36 page)

Bella watched the sunlight begin to fade and lose its brilliance as a faint grey scum crept across the blue of the sky.

That evening, Ned made a couple of omelettes which he served with a salad, but they barely spoke as they ate their dinner. There was a distant rumble of thunder, the threatening growl of a gathering storm. Later, as she tidied the kitchen, Bella thought to herself that Ned had judged the food supply pretty well. There was not a lot left, which was just as well, as the two of them had finally decided that they would pack up pretty well straight away. She wasn't sure quite what Ned would do after that, but she knew she had to go to Cairns and then back to Tennyson.

As she settled into bed, she wished they hadn't returned the Bish's box, as she would have loved to have finished reading all of Sister Evangelista's letters. Instead, she put on her earphones and listened to some of Ned's songs on her iPod. As she lay there, she closed her eyes and let Ned's voice soothe her to sleep.

Suddenly she was wide awake. There was a blinding flash of light. Alarmed, she wondered what was happening. An almighty crash answered her question, a boom of thunder that seemed to fall upon the roof. She sat up, pulling the earplugs from her ears and flinging off her bedsheet. But before her feet had touched the floor there was another spearing flash of light that turned everything in the room silvery white. For a wild moment, she thought the bedroom might ignite in the blaze of brilliant luminosity. She started towards her window as another massive roll of thunder boomed around her.

And then came the rain: a pounding torrent of water, as though falling from an enormous, ceaseless waterfall. Bella stood there transfixed, staring into the darkness as the world outside was suddenly intensely illuminated
for a few seconds by another flash of lightning before
disappearing behind the black curtain of rain.

The wet had arrived.

‘Bell, are you okay?' Ned appeared in the doorway and then joined her at the window as they both watched the powerful storm.

‘Yes. Who could sleep through this? Will it stop by morning?'

‘Hope so,' said Ned. ‘Think of weeks of these storms. No wonder life changes in the rainy season. Our river will probably start to rise by tomorrow.'

‘We won't get flooded in, will we?'

‘No, not for a while, I don't think. Let's go and watch this display from the living room. I wonder if the chickens are freaked out?'

‘They're locked up, so they'll be fine. You can't go and check on them in this,' said Bella.

They settled into chairs in the dim living area off the billiard room and bar space, one small, dim lamp casting long shadows about the strangely cluttered room, and watched the amazing light show.

‘What time is it?' asked Bella.

‘Bit after three. Wonder if we can get a photo of this lightning show?'

‘I think you'd need time lapse or something to get it properly. This is crazy stuff. Do you suppose any trees might come down on us?'

‘They could, I suppose. This storm is pretty fierce,' said Ned. ‘But the trees around the house have been through it all before.'

They watched for a few more moments, Bella still jumping slightly each time the thunder crashed over them.

‘It's the lightning that's scary,' she said.

Ned chuckled. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?'

‘Why not! Yes, thanks, that would be nice.'

Ned got up and went to the kitchen. ‘Won't take long to boil the kettle. I reckon the storm will pass soon.'

They quietly sipped their mugs of tea as the weather raged outside. The rain showed no signs of easing up, although the thunder and lightning were becoming fainter as the storm moved away.

Eventually Bella said, ‘I've been thinking. Perhaps I dreamed it. About your show. Musical. Opera. However it comes out. And I had an idea. Don't laugh at it, but it's been percolating in my mind for a little while now.'

Ned looked up warily. ‘Yeah? Okay, what's this idea?'

‘The hook you wanted . . . to be able to tell the stories of the far north. I think that the central narrative has to be told through a main character, someone the audience will fall in love with, but who's also a part of the historical tapestry. Maybe it should be a real person.'

Ned nodded slowly. ‘I'm with you so far, but who is this real person? Do you have any ideas about that?'

‘I do. She's there in the pages of Sister Evangelista's letters. She's the person I mentioned yesterday, the singer I was asking the curator about. And I know about her too. I know where her roots sprang from and it's all to do with music. She's a perfect fit!' said Bella triumphantly.

‘Who? Who are you talking about?' Ned took a breath.

So Bella went over what they knew about Atlanta, her time with Roberta's family and then with the Pedersens, her schooling at St Mary's and her career as a singer, and her eventual rise to fame as a beloved Queensland daughter.

Ned stared at her, his expression hard to read. Finally he said, ‘I think you've come up with a wonderful idea that might just work.'

‘Think of the music, Ned!' continued Bella enthusiastically. ‘The harmonising of the South Sea Islanders, the stamping and singing of northern Aborigines, the timpani of Chinese music, the Irish sea shanties, all the people that Sister Evangelista told us about in her letters.'

‘And not just that period of history,' said Ned, and Bella felt a frisson of delight at hearing the eagerness in his voice. ‘Jack told me about the blues that was sung here during the war to entertain the troops. And we haven't even got to the Italians, Yugoslavs or Greeks who migrated to this part of the world, bringing their own music with them.' Ned's eyes were bright, his smile wide. ‘Bella, how can I thank you? You've just pushed a button and a green light has come on! A lot of the music I've written already can easily be adapted to fit in with this idea, although the lyrics might have to be modified. Of course, I'll need to do more research, but this is quite simply a fantastic suggestion. I know it will work.'

Bella grinned. ‘You should meet Roberta. I'm sure she'll be able to tell you more about Attie. And Miz Irene, in Cairns – she interviewed you for her radio programme, remember? She knows lots about the music here, especially jazz and the blues. Of course, you'll have to put Sister Evangelista in the storyline, but you can write a song about anything or anyone. Ned, you're a genius!' Bella could hardly contain her excitement.

Ned was shaking his head in wonder. ‘Oh, Bella. You've opened a door and given me so many ideas. I have a lot of thinking to do now.'

‘I suppose you do, but even I can see how the concept would work fabulously.'

‘I can see it, too. I get it. And I can also see that what's before me is huge and daunting. Actually I think we might have come up with a few too many ideas. I think that my musical should just be about Attie. Her life seems to be just perfect for what I want to do. I really think I'll try and concentrate on her.'

‘You can do it, Ned.'

‘Yes. I think I can.' He spoke as though he was trying to suppress his jubilation.

‘Well then, Ned, why don't you jump up and down and yell or something?' exclaimed Bella. ‘I'm excited and I haven't a clue what's coming, but I know you have it in you to create something wonderful. That's the trouble with you, always trying to be Mr Cool and not show your emotions.'

Ned shook his head. ‘Maybe I don't want to show them. People can misinterpret them and sometimes it's best not to give the wrong impression. Better to keep things to yourself.'

Bella frowned. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Ned? It's me, Bella. Your sister. There's nothing in the world you can't tell me. You don't have to pretend with me.'

Ned was silent as he gazed out at the flashing storm.

Bella looked at him and narrowed her eyes. ‘Is there something that you haven't told me? Is it about Toni?'

He shrugged. ‘Yeah, Toni. And Ashleigh. My whole life. Our family.' He turned away. ‘Dad.'

Bella felt a chill go through her. ‘Dad? What about Dad? I don't get it. Ned, I so want to understand you, but I'm finding it very hard. So please, once and for all, will you tell me what your problem is?'

11

Ned looked out of
his bedroom window at the dripping trees and sodden sky. Throwing on a pair of shorts, he went outside onto the top terrace and gazed at the river in the gloomy morning light.

The river's mood had swiftly changed. No longer was it a quiet, placid backwater, meandering its way gently past the house. Now it was a determined surge which was already lapping at the edge of the bottom garden. As Ned watched a branch rush by, he realised just how fast-flowing the river had become.

Back in the kitchen, Bella was already making coffee.

‘No more swimming,' announced Ned as cheerfully as he could. He wondered uneasily if Bella would again raise the subject of their father as she had done the night before, an ugly moment which had ended when he had refused to take the bait and she had flounced angrily off to bed. But as he smiled at her, she smiled calmly back and put a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster.

‘Oh, is it flooded after all the rain we had last night?'

‘Running a bit of a banker. Very fast, in fact. And it's up to the edge of the bottom terrace already. We'll have to start moving the furniture from there before it gets swept away. At least I've already put the canoes back in the shed, so we don't have to worry about those. Are you up to rearranging Carlo's garden furniture?'

‘Sure. Here, have some toast while I go and have a look outside.'

Ned was munching toast and sipping coffee when Bella returned.

‘Geez, Ned. That's amazing. All that water in just one night. You're right, we'll have to pack away Carlo's tables and chairs before the river rises any further.' She paused, a concerned expression on her face.

‘What are you thinking?' he said.

‘I think we should start right now and go as soon as possible. I'm worried about that water; yesterday when we drove back I noticed all those tracks through the scrub and it registered that not all of them have been made by vehicles, or even wandering cattle. I'm sure that some of them are waterways created by the wet season floods. Ned, this whole area must become a sea. I don't want to be marooned!'

Ned swallowed his last mouthful of breakfast. ‘Yes, I agree, though I think we'd be all right
for a few more days. But if you want to leave tomorrow, I'm sure we can manage that.'

‘Well, I feel it would be the safest thing to do.' She looked at Ned. ‘It's the end of a chapter, leaving this place. I mean, do you suppose you'll ever come back here?'

‘To this house? Maybe. I'd like to meet Carlo one day. I'd like to thank him for his hospitality, although we could have done without those appalling men,' said Ned ruefully.

Bella nodded emphatically. ‘I suppose Frederick and Theresa will say something to him about the intruders, but unless Carlo actually knows them, he won't be able to do anything, just like everyone else. I don't think we'll ever see them again,' said Bella, a note of finality in her voice. ‘Anyway, we're moving on. At least, I am.'

She drained her coffee and poured a refill. Ned watched her and, seeing her brows knit together, he could tell she was working up to saying something.

‘Ned . . .'

‘Mmm?' For a second Ned thought she was about to bring up the subject of Alex again, and was relieved when instead she began to talk about his musical.

‘Have you thought more about what I suggested . . . about your show?'

‘Of course I have! I haven't stopped thinking. It's a brilliant idea, but daunting. Huge canvas. Big story, big music.' He shook his head. ‘And imagine mounting such a show. Yes, Bella, I love your ideas, but realistically, perhaps I should simplify things, cut it down. Make it a smaller, more intimate story, perhaps . . .' Ned saw Bella's expression harden.

‘Why? Why not think big?' she demanded.

‘The logistics. I'm restricted to a stage, not a cinema screen. And consider the budget . . . let alone trying to pitch such a huge show to a producer. Imagine the cost!' exclaimed Ned.

‘Ned! For God's sake,' cut in Bella. ‘Stop limiting your imagination! You're your own worst enemy! Write what you want. Picture it all on a big canvas, on stage or screen. Let others work out the logistics.' She threw her hands in the air. ‘As I say, you need to think big!'

Ned was silent for a few minutes. ‘I'm taking a huge leap from sitting on a stool singing a few songs, telling some stories, to creating a massive musical.'

‘Stop underrating yourself. You've had a very successful album. You've sung to several thousand people at concerts and festivals and had them enthralled. Music promoters still chase you because they love your music, Ned. You're a storyteller in music and that's what people want.'

‘I just feel overwhelmed about where to take the whole thing,' began Ned.

Bella banged her hand on the table. ‘Stop right there, Ned. You've let your anxieties get the better of you, and it has stifled your creativity. And you're assuming that you have to do it all by yourself. Well, you can't. I think you should just play to your strengths. You compose the music and write the lyrics, be the creative lynchpin of the whole project, but let others do the rest. A show like this has to be collaborative. You need to involve a whole team of other people to make it work: producers, arrangers, orchestral people, staging people, designers . . . the whole box and dice.' Bella was becoming quite animated.
‘Maybe you should even make an album first, release some of your songs so that people will know the music before they see the show. It will all need a lot of promoting. But first it will be necessary to sell the concept of this idea to someone who is prepared to go with you, back you, someone who gets your idea and is knocked out by it.'

Ned shuddered. ‘Bella, this is way beyond anything that I am capable of doing. I'm not sure I would even know where to start. Let's face it, I'm not good at that sort of organisation,' he said, and realised with some embarrassment that he could hear the negativity and desperation in his voice. But it was true. The mere thought of having to contact industry people and set up meetings sent a chill down his spine. He was about to protest further when he saw Bella suddenly freeze. She stood perfectly still, just staring into space, lost in thought.

‘Bella?' Ned asked, peering at her. ‘Earth to Bella?' He waved his hand in front of her face and she blinked.

‘You're right, Ned. You're not good at organisation,' she said slowly. ‘But
I
am. Ned – I should be your manager.'

Ned stared at her quizzically, but then it was like something suddenly clicked and the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.
Of course
, Ned thought. He opened his mouth, but Bella rushed on.

‘I want to be entrepreneurial. I like selling ideas. Heavens, I've sold the story of Tennyson quite successfully for a number of years now, but I want to spread my wings. I've been stuck between a rock and a hard place: I don't want to go back to the tourism scene in Tennyson, but I've been thinking a lot about Antony's ideas and I think they have a lot of holes in them. Maybe they're just not workable.' Bella gave Ned a lopsided grin and then shook her head. ‘Ned, I know I would be really good at being your manager, if you'll let me. I could research the music market and the stage business and find the right people, and then sell them the whole package. Believe me, they'll be begging to sign you up.' Bella grinned, her eyes sparkling. Ned could see she was on a roll and hugely excited about the idea, but he didn't want her to rush into such a big commitment.

‘Bella . . . slow down,' he said, holding up his hands. ‘You want to manage
me
? You're not serious!'

‘Deadly serious. I know that if you are ever going to get this project off the ground you have to have a manager who believes in you.' Ned looked at her doubtfully, but she went on. ‘The music business can be a bit of a minefield, and I know that sometimes you feel you've been ripped off, but I'm smart, Ned, and I can deal with people. You won't be cheated if I'm your manager.'

‘Wow. You really are serious.' He smiled at her cautiously, and for the first time allowed himself to consider the idea as a genuine possibility. ‘Well, I think it all comes down to trust, Bell. I've always been reluctant to put my music into a stranger's hands. There are terrible stories around about musos being cheated by managers and agents and I've already had a couple of unhappy experiences with record companies, but if you're doing things . . . Well, you're my sister. I can trust you.' Ned felt a sudden surge of excitement, a sense that his musical dreams might actually turn into something real. ‘But will you leave your job, Bell? Am I something that you would just do on the side?' he asked dubiously.

‘Don't worry, Ned, you'll be my only priority. It's a gamble, perhaps, but when I know something is the right thing to do, I just know.' She gave her brother a broad smile and stuck out her hand. ‘Do we have a deal?'

Ned was stunned by Bella's
suggestion, but he knew it made sense. Sometimes the way his sister stormed her way through life irritated him, but now he could see that her cheerful, positive, savvy approach would make her the very person to have in his corner. If Bella couldn't make this musical happen, then, he thought, no one could. How wonderful it would be to be able to let go of the business side of things, and just focus on creating music.

‘What are you going to do about Antony?' he asked.

‘I'll meet up with him in Cairns. I'll explain to him that I've had a better offer. These things have to be done face to face.'

‘Won't he try to persuade you back round to his idea, though?' said Ned with a raised eyebrow.

Bella grinned. ‘He might, but my mind is made up. Even if he were to offer me something amazing, I'd much rather do this thing with you.'

‘I don't know how I'd pay you.'

‘Ned, I see this as an investment. A partnership, so I'm prepared to put up with working for free for the time being. I've still got some savings and I'm due for long-service leave at the end of the year, too, so there's that bit of income as well. I'll stay in Tennyson – it's easy enough to travel down to Melbourne from there – so I'll be fine until we get a deal.'

Hearing Bella talk about reducing her income to take a punt on him made Ned feel concerned. ‘And if we don't make this work?'

Bella held up her hand. ‘Don't even think like that. You have talent. Terrific talent. You've got a great idea. I know we can make it work.' Bella's face was glowing with excitement, but Ned felt the old stirrings of doubt in his stomach.

‘Can we do it, Bell? Work together? I trust you and I know that you really want this to succeed, but what about our differences . . . ?' he said hesitantly. ‘You know that we don't see eye to eye about everything.'

Bella put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know, but we don't have to be in each other's pockets all the time – and our roles will be quite different. I have to do my homework and then get out there and talk to people.' She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Maybe you'll need to make up a bit of a demo to give me something to pitch to them,' she added. ‘Anyway, you'll need your own space to finish writing the show. You won't want me hanging around all the time.' She continued to beam at him and, despite himself, Ned grinned back. Impulsively he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a bear hug. Bella laughed and hugged him back.

Releasing her, Ned suddenly couldn't wait to get back to his music. He felt the adrenalin begin to pump through his body, in the same way it did right before a show. He grasped Bella's hand. ‘It's a deal, Sis.'

Bella's eyes were gleaming with excitement. ‘Bro, you will now refer to me as your manager, thank you very much. And no matter what anyone says to you from now on, just say, “Speak to my manager, please, she'll sort it.” Got that?'

*

They spent the rest of the day under lowering skies, moving furniture from the bottom terrace and securing it in the shed or on the higher terraces. They locked up the cool room and began tying down the awnings and putting away any tools and other loose objects that had been left lying around the house. Bella picked the last of the fruit and herbs from the garden, giving the greens to the chickens.

Ned checked that there were no dangerous branches which could fall or be blown against the house, but with its corrugated-iron shutters, its stonework and log stanchions, the home was sturdy.

‘This place has been built to survive a few rainy seasons, for sure,' said Ned.

By late afternoon they were ready for a break. Ned was packing up the bar and held up a bottle of wine.

‘I reckon we've earned a drink. What've you found for tonight's meal?' he asked.

‘Spaghetti and a can of marinara sauce, the last of the fresh herbs, a few rather overripe tomatoes and some parmesan cheese.
Pasta à la Bella
, and I can toast the last of the stale banana bread for dessert.'

‘Maybe we should give that to the girls. We'll have to take them to the roadhouse and leave them with Frederick, I suppose. Can't leave them here. Still, I think I'll miss them.'

Bella looked amused. ‘You weren't so keen on chooks and country life when we were growing up. You're absolutely sure you don't fancy settling down with chickens and someone lovely and . . . ?'

‘A baby? In Cooktown? Just when I'm starting out with a hotshot manager and a project I'm feeling quietly
confident about? But it's a conundrum,' said Ned.
‘I think that Toni is special. I really love being with her, but I don't know where our relationship is headed when she won't speak to me.' He was quiet for a moment.

Bella peered at him. ‘That's because you didn't tell her about you and Ash. I've never understood what caused you to break it all off with Ashleigh and move away from us so suddenly. It seemed such a cruel thing to do to her so close to the wedding, and you're not a cruel person. It rocked all of us that you sort of went off the rails, that you ran away, essentially, and I really think there has to be some other reason, because you've never been a coward. I hope I'm right
.
'