Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Read online

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  Next day the wind had changed and we had one of those hot, humid days when things keep going wrong and passengers complain about every little thing. By mid afternoon I was feeling a bit grumpy and sweaty, and ready for a beer, so when I saw Charlie Ball on the wharf I groaned, I just knew he was going to be yet another problem. Charlie is a veteran musician, mostly unemployed, who lives in a shack on Mulloway Island. He was standing beside an old upright piano, dark walnut in colour. It was so old it had brass candlestick holders on the front. “Hullo Charlie,” I said, “what’ve you got there?” “It’s a very valuable piano that’s come my way Ted, and I was wondering if you could take it out to the Island for me. I want to keep it at my place so I can practice on it.” “I can’t, it’s too big for Annabelle. You’ll have to get a barge.” “Ah, alas, Ted, they cost too much money, and I can’t afford one. It’s only an upright, not very big. I’m sure you can manage it.” Tim butted in. “Go on, Dad, we can unscrew a bit of the handrail and roll the piano across onto the deck.” I lifted one end of the piano to feel the weight of it and it didn’t seem too heavy. “Oh.... alright.” Tim fetched Jack, and they unscrewed the handrail, then the three of us rolled the piano across the wharf. Charlie was a bit the worse for a hangover so he wasn’t much help. We cinched Annabelle tight up against the wharf, then eased the piano across onto the deck without doing anybody’s back any damage. “There you are” said Charlie with great delight, “as easy as slipping a sausage into its skin.” “We depart in half an hour” I said. “Excellent, dear chap, just time for me to wet my whistle at the Hawkesbury Arms.” He strolled off towards the pub with a little skip in his step.

  Half an hour later he still hadn’t reappeared, and the other passengers were already aboard. “Jack, go and get Charlie out of the pub, and don’t stop to have one yourself. Tim, chock that piano and lash it down in case the river gets rough. I don’t want it rolling all over the deck.” Already I was starting to regret my decision to take it. Jack came back from the pub, not just with Charlie but with two other blokes as well, both carrying musical instrument cases. “Ted old fellow, I’d like you to meet two of my professional colleagues, Bill Brown who plays clarinet and Puffer Grimshaw who is a veritable virtuoso on the sackbut, also known as the trombone. I happened to stumble across them at the pub, and they are coming to stay at my place for a few days." "I’ll bet your neighbours are going to enjoy that,” I said. Bill and Puffer looked like a comedy duo. Bill was short, somewhat rotund, and wearing a very ancient suit and a pink bow tie. Puffer was tall, thin, and sad-looking, wearing old pants, a striped tee shirt and a bowler hat. Tim was looking in awe at these real musicians, and Jack was looking at them with an amused smile. I was looking at them and thinking that they probably didn’t have ten dollars between them.

  “Cast off Jack.” I backed Annabelle out from the wharf, and we headed off down the harbour. Charlie opened the lid of the piano keyboard and ran his fingers along the cracked yellow keys. What came out sounded tinny to me, but then I’m no musician. “Hasn’t it got the most excellent tone?” asked Charlie, of no one in particular. He started to play a piece of ragtime, and quick as a flash Bill pulled out his clarinet and licked the reed. Puffer pulled out a battered old trombone, spat on the slide to lubricate it, and blew into the mouthpiece to warm it up They all started to play, and they really didn’t sound too bad. They’d obviously been playing together for a long time. I leaned out the wheelhouse door. “You blokes aren’t bad!” Charlie beamed at me. “It’s because we got properly lubricated at the pub, my dear Ted. Musicians like us are always in top form after we’ve had a few sips of the old hops and malt. This is quite exciting; I’ve never played while sailing across the briny before. It makes me dream of getting a booking on a cruise ship, food and accommodation provided, and perhaps a few unattached ladies on the side.” For the rest of the trip to the Island we were serenaded with a selection of jazz and popular songs. Luckily there was no swell, so Annabelle didn’t roll at all, and it was certainly different from our usual trips. The other passengers seemed to enjoy it too, and after we tied up at the jetty Charlie stood at the gangplank holding out Puffer’s bowler hat, and he collected enough to pay their fares.

  Now however we had the problem of getting the piano off Annabelle. The tide had been falling steadily, and there was a big step up from the deck onto the jetty. Jack and Tim unscrewed the handrail again and we rolled the piano across the deck. Jangling noises came from inside “Steady now” said Charlie “this is a very valuable instrument. We mustn’t drop it.” “Well you’d better help us then, and put your back into it.” I didn’t really think he’d be much help, and the other two looked pretty hung-over as well. “We really need a crane to do this job” I said. “Tell you what” said Tim “I’ll take off as many of these wooden panels as I can. It’ll be lighter to lift” He fetched his toolbox and unscrewed some of the piano case. With a big effort and lots of grunting we managed to heave one end of the piano up onto the jetty, then the other end. “There we are then,” said Jack “I wouldn’t want to do that every day. That’ll be twenty dollars freight please, Charlie." "Ah, my delightful young friend, twenty dollars is indeed a very modest sum but, alas, I shall have to defer payment until I’m a little more financially solvent. Perhaps next week?”

  By now the evening was drawing in fast, and lights were winking on in the town across the water. “Leave it Jack,” I said, “I think this one might have to be a write-off. Let’s head for home." "My dear Ted” said Charlie “how can I get this beautiful instrument round to my place?" "That’s your problem Charlie. We said we’d carry it to the Island and we’ve done that. Goodbye, or arrividerci as the Italians say.” Charlie didn’t seem too worried at being left there with his piano. He found an old crate to use as a piano stool, Puffer pulled off his boots, and the trio started playing again, just for the fun of it.

  I switched on the navigation lights and backed Annabelle out from the jetty. The day had faded to a beautiful evening; the air was cooler, with a whisper of breeze. A full moon hung low in the sky, and splashes of moonlight were dancing on the water. Half way home I stopped Annabelle and we drifted quietly on the tide. We could hear the music faintly across the water, the sound mellowed by the distance. They were playing a haunting old Italian song, and we stood listening, entranced. I could feel the hair standing up on my neck. For me it was moment of pure magic.

  Early next morning we had some boxes of vegetables and fruit for Jim Henty at the store out on the Island. Jim was waiting for us on the jetty with his trolley. The piano was no longer there. “Morning Jim, I see the piano’s gone." "Yeh, and no thanks to you bastards for bringing the bloody thing here and abandoning it. Three o’clock this morning they were still blasting away out here, and my missus said if I didn’t do something about it she’d get an axe and chop the piano to pieces. I came out to tell them to shut up and they said they’d only stop if I took the piano round to Charlie’s place on my truck. I didn’t have much choice, so I took it round there, in my bloody pyjamas and all, and at last we had a bit of peace and quiet. That bloody Charlie had the nerve to complain because I tipped the piano down on it’s back to get it on the truck. He said it would never be the same again.” “Ah well,” I said, “ I can understand that. He told me it was a very valuable and delicate instrument, to be treated with respect.” “Bullshit! It sounds like he found it on a rubbish tip somewhere.” Jim turned and wheeled his groceries off towards the store. Jack called after him “Ah Jim, Jim, you’ve just got no appreciation of fine music.”

  Incidentally, a few weeks later Charlie Ball came on board. “G’day Charlie, I hear you got your piano home ok." "Ted, my wonderful friend, it turned out you did me a very good turn. I’ve formed the Charlie Ball Trio, that’s me and Bill and Puffer, and I’ve moved my piano round to the Bowling Club. We’ve been engaged to play every Friday and Saturday night, a modest income to supplement our unemployment benefits, and
the barman slips us free grog now and then.” With a flourish he pulled out an old wallet and offered me a ten-dollar note. “A little something towards what I owe you my dear chap.”