House of Sticks Page 10

  It was almost a relief to have something heavy to push. Without the amp she imagined she’d feel light, weird, unburdened. Like she’d forgotten something. Don’t think about it, said a voice in her head, but it was too late, the telltale shooting sensation went through her nipples and she felt in the cold air the milk soaking through her bra and top. She stopped and looked down. Two dark circular wet patches. She’d forgotten breast pads. She did her jacket up and kept pushing.

  A man came to the door of the office.

  ‘I’m here for Mickey?’ She felt her face flush in the heated building, sweat break out under her arms.

  ‘Studio Two,’ said the man, pointing down the hall.

  ‘Thanks.’ Bonnie set off, trundling her load. Her heart was thumping. This was ridiculous. How many times had she done this before? She passed all the posters of various glammed-up singers posturing with microphones or guitars and the framed platinum and gold records with scribbled autographs, the shelves of gleaming trophies. Everything looked so hard and shiny. Her feet and the wheels of her amp made no noise on the plush carpet.

  The door was ajar. She pushed it open. The bright control room, the engineer’s back, the spread of the desk with its rows and rows of faders and knobs and buttons. The expensive leather couch.

  ‘Hi!’ Mickey jumped up and hugged her.

  ‘Hi.’ She accepted the hug awkwardly, trying to wipe the sweat from her upper lip.

  ‘How you doing?’ Mickey let go of her and stood back.

  ‘Good, thanks. Yeah, good.’

  ‘Well.’ Mickey plopped back onto the couch. ‘Let’s get down to business.’

  Bonnie sat in the half-dark. The room was small. Her amp took up most of the space. There was one overhead light that shone in a pool on the microphone and her feet on the rung of the chair. She shrugged off her jacket at last and threw it into the corner. Settled the guitar in her lap.

  ‘And loud again, please,’ came the engineer’s voice through the headphones. She reached down with her foot, clicked on the overdrive pedal and hit a few chords. She looked through the window at the engineer bent over the desk. Behind him she could see the top of Mickey’s head, the back of the low-slung couch. ‘And now just some picking,’ came the voice.

  She moved her fingers over the strings, flicked the plectrum up and down. She fumbled some notes. She hated hearing just the guitar with no other instruments — imagining it blaring out into the control room, loud and bare through the big speakers.

  ‘Okay,’ said the engineer. ‘I think we’re ready. You’ve got a volume control there but if you want to change the mix you’ll need to tell me, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ She heard her own voice, choking, too clear, coming back through the headphones.

  ‘So let me know if you want to stop and change anything, but I might as well roll from the beginning, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  There was a moment of silence, and she heard her own indrawn breath, through her nose, a slight whistle. Come on. Another breath, another whistle, and then there it was. Just the tiniest whisper of white noise at first — amp hiss, cables, connections, microphones, the sound of everything ready to make sound — and then a stray voice, Mickey’s, faint, spill from a guitar amp maybe — ‘We rolling?’ — and a count-in, and Mickey’s rhythm guitar strumming, rolling through the chords, warm and open and regular. It was a bit slower than the demo version. Bonnie listened for a few seconds, nodding to get the feel of it. Then she hit a couple of notes to test the two guitars together, picked a little chain of melody that snaked itself across the spaces between three of Mickey’s strums. She fiddled with the volume knob on the console next to her chair, pulled one side of the headphones half off so she could have some of the real sound of her amp in the room. The drums kicked in, and the bass, and Bonnie looked down at the worn neck of her guitar, the shine on the frets from where her fingers had touched so many times, and she dropped her shoulders and slid into the song and away.

  She did two takes of the first song: one with more picking during the verses and one with less. She didn’t make any mistakes. Then they moved on to the second song. She swooped through it, note perfect. The third song she had an idea to use a different sound: ultra-distorted with lots of reverb, but not too loud, so it washed through the other instruments at times and at others hovered in the background. She tried to explain it through the mic, hesitatingly, cringing again at her amplified voice. ‘What do you reckon?’ she said, squinting up at the window.

  Mickey’s face popped up behind the engineer’s shoulder. ‘Do it,’ she said, and waved. ‘Sounding like a million bucks in here.’ Making a big thumbs-up.

  Bonnie smiled and reached to her amp. ‘I’ll just get this sound.’

  ‘She’s good,’ she heard the engineer say to Mickey, before he took his finger off the talk button.

  They did the third song and stopped for lunch. Someone had ordered sandwiches. They sat at a big table in the room adjoining the kitchen. There was a feeling of space after the boxy studio rooms. A long window opened onto a courtyard full of clumps of plants with big, fleshy leaves that swayed in the wind.

  Bonnie felt like she was floating, disconnected. Like this was a dream, another world, her sitting in this uncluttered room, eating food prepared by someone else. The gently hissing coffee machine. The rows of cups somebody was paid to wash up.

  ‘It’s sounding so good,’ said Mickey. She squeezed Bonnie’s arm. ‘I’m so glad you could do it.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s great,’ said the engineer. ‘The sound you got for that last track was amazing.’

  She smiled back at both of them. She couldn’t remember his name, but it didn’t matter. There was a pleasant tiredness in her body, and she was incredibly hungry. She took a bite of sandwich.

  ‘So,’ said Mickey, leaning on her elbows and pushing her row of clunky bangles up and down one forearm. ‘Want to play some shows? I’ve got an east-coast tour coming up in a couple of weeks. Haven’t decided yet about a lead guitarist.’

  Bonnie looked out at the slow bending and dipping of the plants. Inside her head she put herself on those planes and in those hotels and vans and backstage rooms. And on those stages, under the hot lights. Feeling the bass and the kick drum beneath her, cymbals cutting through bright and high, the crack of the snare. Her amp at her back, Mickey’s over on the other side of the drum kit, the swell of the two guitars like a tide they all rode on. Keyboards rippling.

  ‘Bon?’ Mickey was watching her. ‘Or is it too soon?’

  She kept her eyes on the window. Right then she wanted to do it so badly it was like an urge, like wanting to have sex when she was ovulating, or needing to push the baby out in labour. She bit her lip. Wrenched her eyes away from the plants and glanced at her chest. The milk had dried, leaving two very faint marks. She folded her arms. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘It is too soon. God, I really want to. But. I just can’t — Jess is still so little. I mean, I have to feed her all the time. And Pete’s got lots of work on.’ She met Mickey’s eyes. ‘But it’s not just that. Even if I could go I don’t think I — I’m just not ready to leave Jess.’

  Mickey smiled. She picked up her pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. ‘That’s fine. Just let me know when you are ready.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Mickey went to the courtyard door. She stopped, flicking her lighter. ‘You know,’ she said. ‘You could just do a couple of shows. You could bring Jess — couldn’t you get a babysitter? At the hotel?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She pressed her arms close to her breasts. The mention of Jess had set them off again.

  ‘Think about it.’ Mickey winked, stuck the cigarette between her lips and slipped out into the wind.

  She opened the front door. ‘Mummy!’ she heard the twins call, and then their thudding footsteps. She set down her guitar an
d bags and knelt, put her arms out.

  ‘Hi, you guys.’ She kissed their faces, their hair, breathed their wild, sweet smell. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Good.’ Edie started playing with the latches on the guitar case. ‘Dad took us to the park. And he gave us chocolates.’

  ‘Did he?’ Bonnie could hear Jess in the kitchen, whingeing. She had to get to her. ‘Come on,’ she said, taking the twins’ hands. ‘Let’s go and see what Dad and Jess are doing.’

  Pete was washing vegetables at the sink. Jess was in her baby chair, kicking and grizzling. Bonnie picked her up. ‘You’re hungry,’ she said, and sat down. ‘And I really need to feed you.’ She pulled up her top, unclipped her bra and latched Jess on to one of her hard, over-full breasts. ‘That’s better.’ Bonnie leaned back. She watched Edie and Louie, who were putting stickers onto the blank pages of a scrapbook and drawing around them with crayons.

  ‘How’d you go?’ Pete came over and kissed her, touched her neck with his damp hand.

  ‘So good. I was so nervous, but then it just … came back.’ She stroked Jess’s head. ‘I forgot how much I love it.’

  ‘That’s great.’ Pete returned to the sink. ‘See? I told you.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Bonnie smiled and rolled her eyes at him. ‘You were right.’

  ‘Well, we had a good day,’ said Pete. ‘We went to the park, and we took some snacks, a picnic —’

  ‘And we had chocolates,’ said Edie.

  ‘Chocolates!’ said Louie.

  ‘Yeah.’ Pete made a sheepish face. ‘I gave these guys some chocolate as a special treat because they were so good at the park.’

  ‘Right.’ She shook her head. ‘They’re going to want you to look after them every day.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Edie. ‘Dad can look after us every day, and we can have chocolates every day, and go to the park and then have another chocolate.’

  ‘Chocolates!’ said Louie.

  Bonnie laughed.

  ‘And these guys made a cubby,’ said Pete. ‘In the living room.’

  ‘Yes, yes — come and see our cubby.’ Louie and Edie jumped up and down.

  ‘I’ll come when I’ve finished feeding Jess, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Louie turned to Edie. ‘Let’s go and make sure the cubby hasn’t fallen down,’ he said, and they ran out.

  She looked down at Jess. ‘I missed you, little possum.’

  ‘Sorry about the chocolates,’ said Pete. ‘I just couldn’t resist giving them a treat — they were so good. They walked all the way to the park, and when I said it was time to leave they didn’t even make a fuss.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ She changed Jess to the other side. ‘I guess you just confirmed your status as Mr Nice Guy, and tomorrow they’ll be stuck with me again — the ogre.’

  ‘Oh, come on — they love you.’ Pete piled carrots on the chopping board. ‘All day it was, “This drawing’s for Mum,” and, “Let’s save this and show it to Mum when she gets home.”’

  ‘Well, that’s nice to hear.’

  Pete sighed. ‘I’m absolutely buggered though. I don’t know how you do it.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t know either sometimes. Oh well. I’m the one who wanted to have all these children.’ She glanced at the back door. ‘So did Doug turn up?’

  ‘No,’ said Pete. ‘Not sure what’s happened to him. He hasn’t been around for a while.’

  ‘Yeah. Weird.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘Come on, Mum!’ yelled Louie from the next room.

  ‘Actually,’ said Pete. ‘I think he might be a bit upset that we didn’t invite him to the kids’ birthday party.’

  She looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, what I said. I think he might be offended that we didn’t invite him.’

  ‘But of course we didn’t invite him. It was just friends and family.’

  ‘He’s a friend.’

  ‘The kids’ friends, I meant. We didn’t invite any of our friends — except Greg and Kylie, and I didn’t even know you’d invited them. Other than that it was all kinder people, and Mel and Josh and Freddie, and Mum.’ She sat Jess up on her lap and fixed her own bra and top. ‘And that was it.’

  ‘Yeah, but you know,’ said Pete, ‘he’s been around here a lot, and I think he really enjoys seeing the kids and playing with them, and he’s on his own really —’

  ‘But hang on. How did he find out anyway?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘About the party? How did he even know it was on? Did you tell him?’

  ‘No. I didn’t. He — I think he actually drove past on the day. Saw the balloons.’

  She stood up, sat Jess on her hip. ‘Really? What would he be doing driving past here on a weekend? Where’s he living again? I thought it was over in Flemington or something.’

  ‘Yeah, it is — Flemington.’

  ‘Well, why would he be driving around here?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’ Pete was keeping his back to her, stirring the food on the stove.

  She went closer, stood behind him. She could feel her voice creeping up, getting tense. ‘So he actually said he drove past and saw the balloons?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘He just happened to be driving past?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And you don’t find that weird?’

  Pete turned to face her. ‘You obviously do.’

  ‘Well, it’s not as if we’re on a main road. I mean, this is a tiny street — we don’t get much through traffic. It’s not on the way to anywhere. I find it hard to believe he would have a reason to drive past here other than to — I don’t know — check up on us.’

  Pete sighed. He put the wooden spoon down on the bench.

  She kept looking at him. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to admit it seems a bit weird.’

  ‘Okay.’ He spread his hands. ‘Yes, it does seem weird. Okay? Happy?’

  ‘Mum?’ It was Louie in the doorway.

  ‘Yes, darling?’

  ‘Come on. Come and see our cubby.’

  ‘Okay. Okay. I just need to … Hang on just one sec.’ Bonnie lifted Jess sideways and pulled her pants halfway down. ‘Yuck. How long has this poo been in here?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Pete turned back to the stove. ‘I’ve been busy doing everything else.’

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ said Louie.

  ‘Well, it’s gone all over her singlet.’ She went towards the hallway, holding Jess out in front of her. ‘Hang on, Lou-Lou. I’ll just change this nappy and then I’ll come, okay?’

  ‘Come on, Mum!’ Louie pulled at her skirt. ‘Come and see the cubby!’

  ‘Just wait, please, Louie — I have to change this nappy.’ She tried to push past him.

  ‘No — come now!’

  ‘Louie!’ Bonnie stuck out one knee and tried to dislodge him. ‘Let go. I’ll come in a minute, all right?’

  Louie gave the skirt a last, ferocious tug and shoved himself away, head down, shoulders drooping. ‘You never come.’

  ‘Oh, Lou, I’m sorry, it’s just …’

  But he was gone, stomping away.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered. She got a better grip on the baby, who was starting to complain, and turned back to Pete. ‘Well, I think it’s weird, him driving past here on the weekend. I think it’s weird and creepy.’

  Pete swung around. ‘What do you want me to do? Do you want me to fire him? How about you fire him? Go on. You can ring him up now and fire him, and tell him it’s because he drove past our house and because he might’ve taken some coins and because he might’ve had someone over here for dinner when I gave him the key, and because you don’t like him being around here a
nd because you just don’t like him.’

  Anger shivered through her. ‘I’m not the one who hired him!’ she yelled. ‘I would never have hired him because I think it’s a fucking stupid fucking idea!’ Jess began to wail. Bonnie carried her out into the hallway. But then she stopped and went back. She took a deep breath and held her voice in, kept it calm and even. ‘And actually, Pete, I don’t not like Doug. I think he’s a good guy underneath it all. I think he’s pretty weird but, you know, he’s probably harmless. But I’ve been put in this situation where I can’t just — I don’t know — be kind and generous, and tolerant, and all the things I’d like to be, because he’s — he’s bloody well in my face all the time. And I’m worn out by it. And you — you are the one who’s put me in this situation.’ She felt her voice tremble, but she kept it low. ‘It’s you. You’ve done this.’

  Doug didn’t turn up the next morning. Bonnie, showered and dressed early just in case, kept glancing at the door as she made breakfast for the kids and then sat down to eat her own. She shovelled in mouthfuls of muesli, her eyes on the pane of glass, the bare wind-beaten arms of the apricot tree, the waving tendrils of the wisteria vine, dun-coloured, dead-looking. She kept expecting his face to come bobbing into view.

  The children got down from the table and ran off somewhere.

  Pete came in, hair still wet from the shower, pulling on his jumper. ‘Coffee?’ He stood behind her, massaged her shoulders.

  She leaned back. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘You still pissed off with me?’ He bent to kiss her neck.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. I understand how hard it must be for you. You’re sort of … stuck in the middle.’

  Pete went over to the sink. ‘Hey, I was thinking,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’ll get my first lot of payment from Grant this week.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘So.’ Pete lifted down the coffee canister. ‘Let’s put some of it aside. Like four thousand. And let’s — like at the start of next year maybe, when Jess is old enough to leave with your mum for a while, but before the twins start school — let’s go away for a week. Just the two of us. Thailand or Vietnam, or something.’ He glanced over at her. ‘Give ourselves a bit of a reward for this hard year.’