‘Are you the lady piano teacher?’
Liz winced and she might have hung up on her caller if he hadn’t sounded so young and somehow . . . earnest.
‘Are you looking for a piano teacher?’ she asked carefully.
‘Yes.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘I used to learn the piano in Sydney.’
Liz frowned and despite her wariness, she was intrigued. ‘In Sydney? So where are you now?’
‘Lansdowne Station near Dirranbilla. I used to live in Sydney with my parents, but I live with my grandfather now. There . . . there was an accident.’
This last sentence was said so softly Liz only just caught it.
An accident. She felt a little lost for words. A week ago she’d given Declan Browne his first piano lesson and the child was due for another one this afternoon. She had thought it was harmless enough to take Declan on, but already here was another call. She’d come to Mullinjim, temporarily, to support Bella and to run the homestead, not to start a music school.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked the boy.
‘Alex. Alex Costello.’
It wasn’t a name she recognised. ‘And how old are you, Alex?’
‘Eleven.’
Eleven – six years older than Declan – and old enough to know if he liked music. Still, Liz wasn’t overjoyed. ‘Have you been learning piano for some time?’
‘I started when I was four.’ After a beat, ‘And it’s nearly a year since my last lesson. I . . . I really miss it.’
There was no mistaking the sincerity in the boy’s voice and Liz could feel herself weakening. This situation sounded so very sad, as if the boy had lost his parents in a tragic accident and lost his chance to play the piano at the same time.
But if this were so, why wasn’t the grandfather making this call?
She had to be cautious. ‘Does your grandfather know you’ve telephoned me?’
This query was met with silence.
‘Alex?’
‘No, I didn’t tell Grandpa,’ the boy admitted with evident reluctance. ‘But I don’t think he’ll mind.’
Liz wasn’t so sure about that. ‘What’s your grandfather’s name?’
‘Jack Roper.’
Again, it wasn’t a name Liz knew. No doubt Grandfather Roper had moved into the district during the thirty years since she’d left.
‘Is your grandmother living with you as well?’
‘No.’
Okay. Liz felt a brief stab of sympathy for the grandfather. Most cattlemen were hardworking, practical, outdoor types and there was a good chance this man had found himself trapped. Caught in a tricky situation – unexpectedly caring for an orphaned grandson who preferred tinkering on the piano to helping in the stockyards.
It was a pity she’d already taken on Declan Browne, who had the musical potential of a mosquito, but she had to remember that she’d come home to help her family, not the whole community.
‘I’d like to help you, Alex, but I’m not sure how long I’ll––’
A heavy sigh shuddered down the line and Liz couldn’t help remembering the many happy hours she’d spent right here at the homestead having lessons with her mother. Away from the coast, piano teachers were as scarce as emus’ teeth.
‘I think I should speak to your grandfather before we decide anything,’ she said quickly. ‘Can he ring me?’
‘I’ll ask,’ Alex said but he didn’t sound hopeful.
Bella felt a little guilty as she headed for the computer. When she’d promised Anton that she would stay in contact, she’d anticipated writing daily emails and making lots of phone calls. She hadn’t expected to find it a chore.
Now she tried her best to make up for her slackness.
To: skisauver@wrp.net.fr
From: dinGabell@flowermail.com
Dear Anton,
How are you and the gang at Alpazur? I miss you all so much, especially you, Anton.
There’s still no sign of rain here and I’d kill for one day in your beautiful snow, but at least I’ve finally got those firebreaks cleared, so it’s back to worrying about the cattle.
One good bit of news – Dad’s out of hospital, but he’s in a motel in Townsville and they won’t let him come home for a while yet. I rang him last night and we had a good long chat, but then Mum came on saying I was tiring him. So I guess he has a way to go.
Mum’s become really anxious, which must be pretty grim for Dad, but I guess I can’t blame her. She’s found a unit that’s close to the Townsville hospital. She’s scared he’ll relapse at any minute. I’m hoping that another couple of weeks of recovery will make a big difference.
I’m sorry I don’t have much other news. I don’t think you’d want to hear about cattle supplements or the state of our water lines.
Please say hi to Jean and Hayley and Rambo and the others. I can’t believe I won’t be with you all for Christmas.
Lots of love,
Miss you heaps,
Bella xxxxxxxxx
She hit send, closed the screen and went down the hallway to the kitchen, but she didn’t go in when she heard her aunt’s voice. Liz was talking on the phone.
‘Yes, Michael, I’m quite certain,’ her aunt said and there was no mistaking the tension and finality in her voice.
Bella was about to retreat when she heard Liz say goodbye and hang up. She waited a moment or two and then ventured into the kitchen.
Liz was standing at the sink with her back to Bella as she stared out into the night-dark landscape.
‘Hi,’ Bella said softly.
Liz turned and smiled. ‘Hi, Bella. Do you fancy a hot chocolate before bed?’
‘I’d love one.’
Bella went to the pantry cupboard and found the tin of powdered chocolate while Liz set a pan of milk on the stove.
‘Did you email Anton?’ Liz asked.
‘Yep, but it’s hard to make what I’m doing here sound exciting or even vaguely interesting.’
Liz gave her a thoughtful smile.
‘Were you ringing London?’ Bella asked.
‘Yes.’ Liz stood staring at the pan of heating milk. ‘I’ve just broken up with someone.’
‘Oh.’ Bella was only dimly aware of her aunt’s private life. She’d sensed there’d been several men who’d been lovers, but she’d never heard any talk of long-term commitment. ‘Was . . . was it difficult to break up?’
‘Not really. He didn’t like it, but I know it was the right thing.’ Liz lifted the saucepan, just as the milk came to a rolling boil. ‘Distance certainly didn’t make my heart grow fonder. That’s a pretty good test, isn’t it?’
‘I guess it must be,’ said Bella, feeling guilty.
‘Mrs Fairburn?’ It was two days later when Liz received another phone call.
‘This is Liz Fairburn speaking.’
‘The piano teacher?’
Liz hesitated. ‘Who is this?’
‘Jack Roper.’
Liz swallowed her surprise. She hadn’t really expected the boy’s grandfather to call. His voice was deep, brusque and businesslike.
‘How can I help you, Mr Roper?’
‘I believe you’ve offered my grandson piano lessons.’
Somehow Liz bit back the temptation to laugh, but her blood was up. ‘Is that what Alex told you?’ Cheeky monkey. She’d made no such offer.
‘It would involve a lot of my time, bringing him over to you for the lessons. I’m a busy man, Mrs Fairburn.’
‘Ms Fairburn,’ Liz corrected. ‘And as it happens, I’m quite busy, too, Mr Roper.’
A small silence ticked by.
‘What are your qualifications?’ he asked tersely. ‘Are you a trained teacher?’
‘I don’t have an education degree.’
There was a satisfied grunt. ‘Just as I thought. I’ve already told Alex––’
Liz understood that discretion was the better part of valour, but she couldn’t help setting this annoying cattleman straight. ‘However, I have studied piano at the London School of Music, the International Academy in Vienna and the Juilliard School in New York.’
Her caller cleared his throat.
‘Mr Roper.’ Liz spoke with exaggerated patience. ‘Alex approached me for lessons and he seemed very keen. However––’
‘The boy’s keen. There’s no denying that.’
‘Yes, but I’m sorry. I don’t think––’
‘You’re about an hour and a half from here. I could bring him to you on Saturday mornings. What do you charge?’
Liz was poised to protest. She really didn’t want another pupil and she certainly didn’t want to be bulldozed. The very last thing she needed was some pompous old fart hovering impatiently around the homestead while she tried to teach his unfortunate grandson.
But she couldn’t help remembering the boy’s phone call. There’d been something about Alex. He’d been so intense.
Ambitious?
Possibly.
Remembering the repercussions of her own fierce ambition, Liz felt guilt creeping like spiders into her heart. She shivered and quickly slammed a trapdoor on her memories.
‘Perhaps I could give Alex a trial lesson. I could make an assessment and then we––’
‘This Saturday?’
‘I . . . I guess.’ Curiosity got the better of Liz. ‘Yes, I could manage Saturday. Do you have any idea about Alex’s level? Has he sat for exams?’
‘Can’t help you with that. But I’d say he’s probably quite good for his age.’
As Liz hung up, she wasn’t sure if she’d appeased the gods or just invited trouble into her life.