Romance in A minor: A musical romance Page 2

  He went back into the kitchen.

  Justine nervously licked her lips. "So, what is the special occasion?"

  He put down his glass. "A lot of things are going to change. First of all, we're going to leave this crappy unit."

  He was always talking about how terrible he thought their unit was, but she didn't think it was that bad. Granted, the bedrooms were small, but it was close to everything, and the building was only five years old, so no leaky baths, no thin walls where you could hear the neighbours snore and no shag pile carpet.

  "I guess we could look at something to buy, but..." She twirled her glass around. Tom had expensive tastes. Who was going to pay for the massive mortgage?

  "No, we're not going to buy. I want to get out of this stupid, provincial town. I want to live in a real world city."

  "Like where?" He often talked about leaving Sydney, because everywhere else was better simply because it was somewhere else.

  "Singapore."

  What?

  "Don't look at me like that. The manager asked if I was interested in a transfer, and I said I was."

  "Is this, like, a promotion?"

  "You could say that. We pay almost no tax, and we'll live in one of the expat communities. The bank is looking after housing. We'll have a big house with a pool and tennis court and a cleaning lady and cook, so you can do whatever you like and live like a princess."

  "But what about..."

  —my work?

  But her job wasn't really that much. She liked her colleagues—sort of. They were very different, but they were friendly and she had a lot of fun with the girls. But the job itself was quite dreadful. "Well, it's a bit of a shock, but I guess I could get used to it."

  "The bank pays for visits home twice a year, and we can easily pay for more visits, if we want to see our families."

  Whenever they visited his parents' place, Tom always ended up having stupid arguments with his mother over really trivial stuff, like whether he brought a bottle of spring water to the gym or a drink bottle with water from the tap. Caroline argued that the bottles were bad for the environment, and Tom said that reusable bottles went disgusting on the inside. There didn't seem to be a buy bottled spring water, refill when empty until the bottle gets disgusting and then take another one option for either of them. It was really tiring to listen to. Tom's father usually made himself absent during those discussions.

  Justine's parents lived on the Gold Coast these days and if they moved to Singapore, she'd probably see them just as often as she did now.

  A big house with a pool and tennis court sounded nice, and maybe she could—

  —If she wanted to start playing music again, whatever meagre contacts she still had in the music world were here.

  Music is meant to be fun. Ring me if you're interested. God, why was she even thinking about her chance encounter with Darren?

  Tom fumbled in the pocket of his jacket. No doubt his phone was buzzing or maybe it was someone from work, and he would spend the next fifteen minutes talking about I mentioned it to her, and she says it's good. He took the phone on his knees, where she couldn't see it. Just as well.

  But he didn't pull out his headphones and he kept looking at her with this intense expression.

  A feeling of dread crept over her.

  This was Really Important News of the kind that said They made me director of the branch and I'll be earning lots and you'll be expected to host lots of parties.

  Her heart thudded. Last time he got a rise, his hourly increase in salary was more than her entire hourly wage.

  "The biggest change of all, honey, is that I'd like you to come with me as my wife." He put something on the table. Not his phone, but a small box.

  Justine's heart skipped a beat.

  "Open it," he said.

  She pushed up the lid. Of course there was a ring inside, one with a big flashy stone, much bigger than she would have chosen for fear of the cost.

  Tom got up from his chair and dropped to one knee next to her. All the guests at the tables around them stopped talking and watched.

  He said, in a clear voice, "Justine Marie Feldman, will you marry me?"

  The people in the restaurant sank in an expectant, tense silence.

  Justine wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. Her tongue felt like rubber.

  For a couple of long moments, there was an awfully tense silence. A silence that would affect the rest of her life. A silence in which she could say yes, or she could say no. Although did she really have a choice? Tom was good to her. He had helped her so much when she needed it. He was her beacon of strength. And she guessed that once she was his wife, she would no longer need to worry about paying an equal share of their expenses, although she hated the idea of being a kept woman, and would have to do something about that. Later.

  He held her hands, and his palms were sweaty. His eyes were big and pleading like those of a puppy dog.

  Justine's cheeks burned, and the thought of all those spectators made her even more flustered. Trust Tom to do something grand and embarrassing like this. She hadn't expected this. She had expected him to eventually move on when he grew tired of her.

  "You're serious, right?"

  "Never been more serious. You make my life worth living. I want to share it with you." And he smiled that cute smile that made her melt inside. Yes, they were different, but that had never stopped her parents loving each other.

  "You silly, of course I will."

  All the strangers cheered and clapped.

  * * *

  They returned home late that night. Justine was already feeling light-headed from the champagne, but Tom insisted on having another glass of wine. They sat in the living room, keeping most of the lights off so that the glow of the city lights illuminated the room. Another thunder cloud produced soundless flashes on the horizon.

  She didn't know if it was the wine—rather more than she usually drank—but Justine was overcome by melancholy. You were supposed to be very happy when you decided to get married, right? Well, she didn't feel like that. In fact, she felt the beginnings of a panic attack. The sweaty palm and racing heart. Those attacks had been so debilitating in her second year at the Conservatorium.

  She had never considered that Tom would ask the question because he had never said anything about it before, not even asked her semi-officially before asking the question in such an embarrassing place as a restaurant.

  Did he really want to spend his whole life with her? She'd always thought that he needed a woman who worked in banking, whose life revolved around the gym and had expensive tastes.

  They had both drunk too much for making love, but made an attempt at it anyway. With Tom falling asleep on top of her after doing his thing but before pleasing her, it was really lame, but she guessed there were plenty of other occasions to do a better job.

  Justine had to push Tom aside and worm herself out from under him. She fell asleep for perhaps an hour and then lay awake listening to Tom's snores. He would inhale in a deep breath, then there would be a short silence followed by a snore that sounded like a poorly-maintained lawnmower.

  She would listen to that sound for the rest of her life, lying awake at night. She might poke him and then he'd stop snoring for a while, but it always came back. Yet being with him was safe. He always knew what to do. Being married to him would be a good thing. But that stupid feeling of doubt always plagued her at night, when doubts became fears and small problems became so big that she couldn't see anything else.

  Chapter 4

  Tom rang her at work the next day when it was almost lunchtime. He wanted to know if she had told her parents yet, and when Justine said she hadn't, he suggested that the parents be told at the same time, because his mother was an awful gossip and she might ring around and tell everyone.

  When Justine got off the phone, Donna was staring at her, mouth open, eyes wide. "Is this what I think it is? Are you getting married?"

  "Yes, but please—"

  Too late. "Oh, girls, listen to this. I have the most awesome news." Donna climbed on her chair and stood in the middle of the office garden. She had pushed her glasses on top of her head and her curly hair bounced around her face. In typical Donna style, she was wearing a bright red dress with polka dots, the type you'd see in the 1950's style movies.

  The usual group of girls gathered around, a gaggle of glittering bangles, painted eyelids, lip gloss and very high heels.

  Justine cringed. Why did Donna always embarrass her so?

  Most people were still at work. From surrounding cubicles came sounds of people talking and phones ringing.

  Stella stood up and looked over the edge of her cubicle."Shhh, be quiet."

  "Don't be such a bore," Donna said.

  "Some people are working. Some people don't like being marked down on their performance reviews."

  Donna rolled her eyes. "No one will care once you’ve heard this news: Justine is getting married."

  Several of the girls gasped.

  "Really?" Katrina asked, her eyes wide.

  Justine's cheeks glowed.

  "Congratulations!" Marisol called out, one shoe in her hand. She was just taking off her heels and putting on her flats so that she could go for a walk.

  Donna called over the heads of everyone in the office garden, "Did everyone hear that? Justine is getting married."

  Calls went up from behind the partitions.

  "Congratulations!"

  "Congratulations."

  "Congratulations. Does that mean you're off the market?" came a British voice, and a bearded face appeared above the partition.

  "Andy!" Katrina and Marisol said at the same time. Katrina rolled her eyes.

  He grinned and sat back down.

  "Oh, you are going to be so happy." Katrina enveloped Justine in a perfume-scented hug.

  Marisol said, "Come, let's go to lunch. You must tell us about your plans. Coming, Fiona?"

  "Yes, sure."

  Fiona was new in the office. She only started last week. She seemed nice enough, but a bit shy. Donna was very good at making people feel at home, making a point of inviting them to come to lunch of after-work drinks. She'd done the same when Justine arrived at the office, feeling lost and bewildered and she knew no one and nothing. After quitting the Conservatorium, she had done a brief course in administration, mostly attended by girls a few years younger than her, but other than that, she felt like she'd moved to a foreign country. Here were all these people who got out of bed before midday and who worried about pencil skirts and high heels.

  Justine, Donna, Katrina, Marisol and Fiona took the lift down to the food court at the bottom of the building. Lunchtime was full of talk about wedding dresses and different types of ceremonies.

  Was she getting married in the church? Was she going to have a party and reception? Could friends come to the reception? How many guests? How many bridesmaids? What about the dress?

  The girls told about experiences with their sisters, their friends and their cousins. None of them were married, but they knew everything especially Marisol, who came from a very large Spanish family and had a gazillion sisters and cousins.

  In the middle of all that talk, Justine met Fiona's eyes across the table. Fiona hadn't said much.

  "Do you have a sister?" Justine asked her.

  "Yes, but she's only twelve."

  Donna exclaimed, "Twelve?"

  People at the next table looked over their shoulders and frowned. Wasn't that just like Donna? Make a lot of noise and embarrass people. She did have a good heart, but if only she didn't blurt everyone's personal stuff out to everyone who was within earshot.

  Fiona's cheeks went red. "Yes, she's from my father's second marriage."

  Donna sighed. "Oh yes, don't talk to me about wedding and divorced parents."

  "Actually, my mother died of cancer when I was little."

  That resulted in a deep, embarrassing silence.

  "Oh," Donna said and her cheeks had gone beet red. "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "There is no need to."

  When conversation continued, Justine said in to Fiona a low voice, "Never mind Donna. She means well."

  "It's all right."

  But she could see the pain in Fiona's face.

  Then Fiona asked, "Do you have a sister?"

  Justine shook her head. "I don't have any sisters at all, no brothers either. Just me and my parents." That was why she was such a disappointment to her mother, who had wanted her to become a doctor or a lawyer or anything else that would impress her extended Chinese family.

  Guess she was a failure, and marrying Tom would improve that impression only a little bit. Her mother would be happy because she could tell her relatives that her daughter had married a banker. Also, Tom impressed her mother with his good looks and flashy car, but Justine didn't think that her father liked Tom very much. Whenever they visited, they were always very cool to each other.

  When lunchtime was over they all went back upstairs, chatting in the foyer and the lift, which was full of other people returning from lunch.

  To Justine, it was all rather surreal. It was as if this wedding was happening in a different world that didn't involve her. They hadn't even set the date yet. She might have said yes, but it didn't feel real to her.

  "By the way, I don't think I've said congratulations to you," Fiona said in a low voice as she walked next to Justine back to their desks.

  "Thank you." There was a kind of awkward silence. Fiona was the quiet type, and Justine felt like she ought to say something, but she didn't know what. "I'm sorry for Donna asking about your family. We didn't really need to know that."

  They had arrived at Fiona's desk and Fiona sat down, shifting her mouse so that the screen of her computer flickered back to life. "Don't worry about it. It's OK."

  "No, I don't think it is, but things get a bit crazy here sometimes. Too much gossip. Everyone just assumes things about you because of the way you look."

  She had never felt like that with her music friends. They didn't ask blatant things like why Justine looked Asian while her name was not. Those things just happened in the music world. It was very international.

  Fiona smiled. "No, really, don't worry about it. I don't usually fit in very well. I'm used to it."

  Justine didn't think she fitted in all that well either. She didn't care for gossip or tv. She didn't care much for clothes.

  Fiona could become a soulmate in this office.

  She was about to go back to work when she noticed an ad on Fiona's screen, with a picture of a violin. "Hey, what's that?"

  She looked closer. It was for the North Sydney Orchestra with a visiting violinist from Europe.

  Fiona's cheeks coloured red. "Oh, that's just... I was going to book tickets for that at lunchtime, but there's no time for that now."

  "That should be a good concert," Justine said. That was the orchestra where Darren played, wasn't it?

  "Yeah. I was going to take my mother. She loves concerts. I don't mind them. Do you know much about classical music?"

  Justine hesitated.

  Donna said, "Are you kidding? She used to be at the conservatorium before she joined us mere mortals."

  Fiona's eyes widened. "Is that true?"

  Justine cringed and nodded.

  "What did you play?"

  "The cello." Justine spoke quietly. Most of the girls thought she was being uppity about music, but she truly couldn't care less about the music the girls liked, and no longer had the money to go to concerts or the contacts to get in for free.

  "That's such a wonderful instrument. I love the strings. That's why we're going to this concert. You know I once went to a concert with Hiroshi Hideka? It was wonderful."

  Justine bit her lip.

  Chapter 5

  When Justine came home, she stood in the doorway to the spare bedroom. The top of her cello case poked out from a couple of boxes in the corner. Tom's exercise bike stood in the way, but it wasn't heavy and she could easily move it aside.

  She carried a chair from the dining table and put it in the unused bit of floor just inside the door.

  The case opened with a familiar click. The lid was a bit stiff, but when it opened, that familiar smell wafted up from inside. Two years of non-use had not made any visible marks on the instrument.

  She carefully lifted it out of the case. Her sweaty fingers left moist fingerprints on the wood. She took the spike from the case and screwed it into the bottom of the instrument.

  Then the bow. Two hairs had come loose, but she cut them off.

  She sat on the chair leaning the instrument against her shoulder. The feeling of it was so familiar, the feel of her fingers on the strings so comforting.

  The first note sounded quite dreadful, but after a few, she got back into the feel of it. She played a couple of scales. Whatever happened to her music books?

  She leaned the cello against the chair while she found her music in the cupboard. She couldn't find a music stand, so she got a second chair from the kitchen for the books. Most of the pieces were still familiar to her but while her mind could hear the music, her fingers didn't quite produce the sound she wanted.

  Oh boy, that was hard.

  If she wanted to play in an ensemble, she had better do some serious practice.

  Justine played until her fingers ached and until she realised with a shock that Tom would be home soon and she hadn't even started thinking about dinner. She packed away the cello and the music and took the two chairs back into the living room.

  She was just making coffee when there was the noise of the front door opening and closing.

  "Hello honey."

  Tom came into the living room. He carried a bunch of flowers, which he pushed into her hands.

  "For me?"

  There were pink roses and orange gerberas, some kind of variegated leaf and sprinkles of tiny white flowers. "How pretty. They smell so nice."

  Justine put the flowers in a vase and then poured coffee.

  "I'm sorry I haven't done anything about dinner yet. I was... busy."