Page 81 of Birds of a Feather

‘Oh, Bethie,’ Mum said sadly, ‘of course there was room for you.’

I searched my mind for examples of when I had been objectively left out. But I could only come up with times that I had said no to joining them. With the exception of family lunches and dinners when I would bring Gran, she had a point. I had rejected their offers to travel to music festivals, refused their invitations to art exhibitions and made up excuses for why I couldn’t attend gigs. I had even deliberately made travel plans over Christmas for several consecutive years, so I could avoid spending the holidays and my birthday with them.

‘Maybe I should have insisted that we should do more of the things you like doing. I’m sorry I didn’t,’ she continued. A few times Mum had suggested she come along on a field trip but I’d made excuses for why she shouldn’t. I assumed she wouldn’t enjoy it, and I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if she’d rejected something that was so important to me.

A wave of sadness crashed over me.

‘Sorry, Mum,’ I said, tears tumbling down my cheeks.

‘Don’t be sorry, my love.’ She placed her hands on the sides of my face. Her hands were cold, but the gesture was immensely comforting. ‘I just want you to know that you’re never on the outer. We love you. We love you for all the things that make you unique.

‘And besides, you did have Gran,’ she continued. ‘The bond the two of you shared was so special. Would you believe sometimes I even felt a little on the outer? You had a connection with her that I never had. And she had one with you that I didn’t have either.’

It had never occurred to me that Mum or Jarrah would have felt excluded from the relationship between Gran and me.

‘I never realised …’ I started before words failed me.

‘Of course you didn’t,’ Mum cooed. ‘And nor should you have. You two were close from the moment you laid eyes on each other. It wasn’t like one day you just conspired a partnership to the exclusion of all others; it was something that happened naturally. And even though I wasn’t part of your little duo, seeing you together was one of the great joys of my life. I was so comforted to know that you always had someone to turn to when you needed to.’ She paused and squeezed my arms again. ‘Even if you didn’t want to come to me.’

My chest physically ached with the fresh realisation that Gran would no longer be in my life. ‘What will I do without her?’ I sobbed.

Mum pulled me into a hug and I sank willingly into her chest.

‘Well,’ she whispered into my hair. ‘Maybe you can let me in from time to time. I might not be Gran, but perhaps you can think of me as her apprentice.’

Chapter 36

Beth

When Dad announced that they should rehearse the song that he, Mum, Jarrah and Elijah would be playing at Gran’s funeral I instinctively reached for my bag to leave. However, in light of the conversation I’d had with Mum earlier, I knew that doing so would be repeating the pattern of my self-imposed exile.

They had selected ‘All I Have To Do Is Dream’ by The Everly Brothers – one of Gran’s favourites. Mum said Gran played it on the record player so often that she didn’t know if there was ever a time that she didn’t know the words.

Mum and Jarrah alternated verses, while Dad and Elijah sang back-up harmony and played the bass and acoustic guitar respectively.

As the last of the notes were absorbed by the universe, I became aware of Gerry’s quiet sobs. She was clutching a tissue to her face.

‘Sorry,’ she said through a wet sniff. ‘That was so lovely. Would you believe that song came out the year I left Australia? Elise bought a copy of the album and played it nonstop in the college common room.’

Mum walked to Gerry, sat down next to her and placed her arm around her shoulders.

‘We don’t have to play it if it’s too painful,’ she said earnestly.

‘Oh, you must,’ Gerry said, wiping self-consciously at her tear-filled eyes. ‘It’s absolutely perfect. She would love it.’

Mum, Dad, Jarrah and Elijah played the song through again. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw them perform together; usually by the time the guitars were brought out for a family singalong, I was long gone. They were undeniably good, and their rendition of the song was beautiful.

Mum and Jarrah both had the perfect quality to their voice that would have done The Everly Brothers, and Gran, proud. Their voices were so complementary and they blended so seamlessly that it was like listening to the same person singing in a slightly different hue. And Dad and Elijah played with such effortlessness.

But what set this performance apart from all the others I had endured over the years was that it seemed respectfully understated. There was no twirling or dancing, tricky guitar riffs or vocal acrobatics. It was just four gifted musicians singing a song for someone they loved.

‘Sure you don’t want to join in, Bethie?’ Dad asked when they’d finished the song for a second time. ‘You could help Elijah and me on back-up vocals, or I’m sure I’ve got a tambourine somewhere.’

‘Ha’ I scoffed. ‘Baby steps, Dad.’

Gerry and I gathered our things and said farewell to my family.

As I walked down the corridor, Jarrah appeared at my side.

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