April 1970
Annie
Annie put the last candle on Dave’s hurriedly iced birthday cake. Why did his birthday have to fall at the height of picking season? She hardly had time to go to the toilet, let alone make a cake. Here it was almost six in the evening, and she had to be back in the packing shed by seven. Today had been stressful. She hated it when the inspectors turned up, poking their noses into everything. When they’d started pulling apart a pallet that was packed and ready to go, she’d wanted to scream. Most inspectors were ex-orchardists who couldn’t make a go of it and now made other orchardists jump through hoops. It felt like being back at school with the teachers checking her work and itching to write a big red F.
‘Hi there.’ Catherine bustled in, rosy-cheeked from the brisk autumnal air, her arms laden with Tupperware. ‘My mother sends birthday greetings to Dave with some of the latest treats from her kitchen.’ Carefully she unloaded her cargo onto the kitchen table. ‘Enough to feed an army.’
‘Luckily I have an army.’ Annie gave her friend a quick hug.
‘Where are they all?’
‘Outside. They kept sticking their fingers in the icing, the bowl and the cake.’
‘Surely not Angela?’
Annie inclined her head to indicate that Angela was under the table.
‘Oh, I see. There’s a fairy in the kitchen.’ Catherine bent down to take a peek. Annie knew what she’d see. Angela had lined up her teddy with the pink bow and one of her dolls under the table and was whispering to them sternly about not putting their fingers in icing. It melted Annie’s heart. Not that she didn’t love her boys but she and Angela had a bond that was special.
‘How is your mum?’
A cloud passed over Catherine’s face. ‘Not so good at the moment.’
Annie knew Judith Turner hadn’t been doing well. Catherine had mentioned her mother was spending more time in her room again. There were some who might say that Judith Turner should be over her grief by now, but Annie understood that losing a child was the sharpest loss of all.
Catherine opened another container of party food. ‘Fortunately cooking still seems to help, so I don’t think anyone will go hungry this evening.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Bottomless pits, every one of them.’ Annie sighed. If it wasn’t for the veggie garden and the chooks she didn’t know how she’d manage. Dave ate like a horse and his sons all took after him. The housekeeping money always ran out before the end of the week. She’d sworn to never ask her parents for money, but as the years went by, her resolve was weakening. Impatiently she brushed the thought aside. The food might not be fancy, but there was love at her table.
‘There.’ Catherine stood back. ‘Looks like a pretty good birthday feast to me.’
‘I’m just going to mix up some Tang and we’re done. Could you see if Dave’s on his way? He should be close by now.’
‘Sure.’ Catherine went out the back door.
Annie could hear her boys mobbing her, asking what food she’d brought and when they could eat it.
‘Mummy?’ Angela emerged from under the table, and Annie felt the familiar flutter in her stomach. When her daughter was little, the feeling had been more of a violent lurch, almost painful at times. The fear of losing her was always so strong. ‘Mummy. I’m hungry.’
Annie bent down and swung Angela up for a cuddle. ‘Anything your heart desires, my darling, you can have.’
Angela smiled at the sight of the pink-iced patty cakes with red glacé cherries on top. Judith must have had Angela in mind when she’d made them. ‘Please?’ she asked. Annie picked one up and put it into her daughter’s waiting hands.
Dave came bursting through the back door surrounded by a tumble of children, with Catherine, Mark and Charlie bringing up the rear. ‘Wow, what a spread,’ Dave said. ‘Anybody hungry?’
The boys roared with approval and in a few minutes the sausage rolls, party pies and patty cakes were demolished.
When it was time for the birthday cake, Annie lit the candles. ‘Make a wish, darling.’
Dave blew them out with a puff and she knew what he was wishing for. Good prices for apples and cattle, fair weather for grafting, decent rains for growth, and no hail. Then he winked at her and she knew his last wish was one she would happily grant later tonight, no matter how tired she was.
When every last crumb was gone, Mark stood up. ‘Catherine and I have a little birthday surprise for you, Dave.’
His use of ‘Catherine and I’ grated on Annie. She’d watched them warily over the past couple of years, especially after Charlie’s illness. As the gossip mounted she had to wonder. Catherine had always confided in Annie, ever since she was a young teenager, but she’d become tight-lipped about her friendship with Mark, despite Annie’s constant questioning. Annie consoled herself with the thought that if there was something going on, they’d be more discreet. Maybe what Catherine said was true. They had nothing to hide. She hoped so.
When faces and hands had been washed, teeth brushed and pyjamas put on, the children and Annie joined the others in the lounge room where the open fire popped and crackled. Dave sat in his armchair wearing the gold paper crown the kids had made him. Catherine was at the old piano and Mark had his guitar strapped over one shoulder. He didn’t look much different to the photos she’d seen of him and his band in the clippings he’d sent Dave ages ago. Dave had been proud to be best mates with someone famous. Annie hadn’t been impressed. What did a man like that know about hard work and family values? She had to admit he’d surprised her over the past three years. He’d turned out to be a diligent worker and a good father to Charlie. It didn’t stop her wishing he’d pack his things, go back to Melbourne and never return.
‘We’ve been practising. I know Mark will get it right but as for me—’ Catherine put her hands in the air as if surrendering. ‘All I can say is, “Don’t shoot the piano player, she’s doing her best.”’
Annie wondered where they’d been practising. At the school? Surely not.
Mark put his hand on Catherine’s shoulder. ‘You’re better than you think.’
Catherine inclined her head towards his hand, making Annie frown. It was the move of a woman in love, whether Catherine admitted it or not.
‘Happy birthday, Dave.’ Mark nodded to Catherine and softly counted them in, ‘One, two, three, Hey Jude …’
Catherine began to play the chords as Mark strummed and sang in a voice so lovely Annie shook her head in disbelief. She couldn’t help but join in and wasn’t the only one. The whole family clapped, swayed and sang while Mark did a perfect rendition of Paul McCartney’s scream-singing over the top. The old piano wasn’t exactly in tune but it didn’t matter. Catherine thumped out the chords with growing confidence and Mark threw his head back and put everything into the song. Angela slid from her lap, toddled up to the piano and swayed to the rhythm. When the song finally ended, the family burst into applause and laughter.
‘Wow,’ Dave said, a wide grin creasing his eyes. ‘Bloody bonza.’
Mark gave a little bow and then turned to Catherine, applauding. ‘Catherine deserves all the praise. That’s a piano song and there’s no way it would work without her.’
‘But your voice, mate,’ Dave said. ‘Why didn’t you ever sing in your band?’
Mark shrugged. ‘Just one of those things, I guess.’
‘I know they’re doing really well overseas,’ Dave continued. ‘But I reckon they’d be doing even better if you were still with them.’
Annie tried to catch Dave’s eye. They both knew Mark had his reasons for quitting the band, but with The Scene so famous now, he must regret it.
‘More, more,’ Michael shouted, and the rest of the boys joined in.
Catherine shushed them all, like the school teacher she was. ‘We do have another song. Dave, I hear you can’t decide whether you’re a Beatles or a Stones man.’ She looked up at Mark with a shy grin. ‘Maybe we can help you choose.’ She settled herself at the keyboard and nodded to Mark.
As soon as Annie heard the first notes she knew what they were going to play. It might have been a hit around the world a few years ago, but she didn’t think it was appropriate. A song about not getting any satisfaction – could the implications be any more obvious? Her older boys ran into the kitchen and returned with saucepans and wooden spoons, banging along with gusto. The cacophony threatened to drown out Mark and Catherine, which might’ve been a blessing, under the circumstances.
When the song finished to enthusiastic applause, Mark turned to Dave. ‘Well, Dave, does that help you make up your mind? Beatles or Stones?’
Dave shook his head. ‘I don’t know, mate. What I do know is you’re bloody good.’
‘Language, Dave,’ Annie said.
‘What, darl? You didn’t mind when I said the Beatles song was bloody bonza.’
The boys tittered among themselves like sparrows.
Annie raised an eyebrow at him. ‘I guess it’s obvious who gets my vote.’
‘I think you’re right. I’d love to hear “Hey Jude” again. It’s a cracker of a song.’
A single note from the piano rang out in a slightly out-of-tune way. Then another. Angela had edged closer to the piano and was steadying herself with one hand while reaching up with the other to hit the notes.
Catherine laughed. ‘You might have a little musician in the family.’
Mark shot a glance at Annie, but she avoided his eyes.
Catherine bent down to Angela. ‘Would you like to play along with me?’
Angela nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Well, you put your fingers up here.’ She guided her small fingers to the top of the keyboard. ‘And when I start playing, you hit this note as many times as you like.’
Mark and Catherine began to play ‘Hey Jude’ again, and the energy in the room lifted. Angela’s one note was completely out of place but it didn’t matter. Even Michael and Eric’s percussion was bearable. Before the song reached its crescendo there was a banging on the front door. Dave turned to Annie. She shrugged and got up.
The cold air slipped around her as she opened the door. The night was still and clear, with the moon fat and low in the sky. Everything looked silver, including the two policemen on her front verandah. She’d sometimes wondered whether they’d show up. The thought always turned her stomach to water. These two weren’t local. An unwelcome thought popped into her head – out of towners to do the dirty work.
‘Mrs Pearson?’ the taller one asked.
‘Yes?’ It came out as a question. Their presence made her unsure of everything. She shifted her gaze out towards the valley where the moonlight shimmered.
‘We’re looking for Mark Davis. We believe we might find him here. Is he in?’
‘What’s this about?’
‘We need to speak to him regarding a matter of importance.’
‘Ah.’ She paused. ‘I’ll get him.’
Annie walked inside, but stood by the lounge room door for a moment watching Mark and Catherine play, with Angela hitting her one note, and her boys singing along with enthusiasm. Only Dave, with his gold paper crown slightly askew on his head, turned to her, a question in his eyes. She took in the scene with a chilling knowledge. It was all about to change.