Della Meets an Incredible Fella

Zane smiled and said occasionally after a book release, with the tension between them gone, they would be on the phone for quite sometimes and occasionally her mom talked about her life and the ranch..."But never about you. I wasn't aware you existed."

"But she spoke intimately about herself and the ranch and my dad?"

"Yes."

"Jesus!"

"Why that exclamation?"

"My mom never talks about herself or tells people about her private live. She's driven magazine journalist's nuts when attempting to probe McNeil Jones the woman."

Zane laughed and said sarcastically, "Do you think she was in love with me?"

"To some extent, yes."

"Jesus!"

They went to bed very emotional and consummated their union in the apartment, despite Della feeling so tired.

When Della was sitting at the breakfast bar next morning eating a small plate of cereal doused with a quarter of a cup of fat-reduced milk, she jumped when Zane put a laptop on the bench in front of her.

"What's this?"

"My spare computer. You have a lively mind and at twenty-six have already amassed experience. You plug this into the telephone jack over there and you'll have broadband connection to the Internet for research and information."

"And then what?"

"You begin your first novel."

"That's ridiculous... I haven't a clue."

"Your mom said she had the desire but proved to herself she couldn't write. You have genes from both parents; perhaps you can successfully turn out a novel."

"I very much doubt that."

"Will you try?"

"Okay."

"Then I'll stay with you this morning and talk to you about the elements of a novel, with emphasis on plot and character development, and how you must love your prime characters although they can be hateful at times. Something tells me a novel will flow from you once you have grasped basic principles. It's only a hunch so don't be disappointed if it turns out I'm wrong."

"Um Zane?"

"Yes darling?"

"I feel good about this. I've always resisted the urge to write since leaving college and music school."

Curbing excitement at that response, Zane said: "We'll let you loose after lunch."

But after lunch the student resisted the instructions of the master. Instead of writing she looked through the bookcase in his study and took about a book giving an overview about writing fiction. When Zane returned from visiting his accountant he interrupted Della's reading to greet and kiss her and smiled and said, "Just do it your way; that's fine."

At mid-afternoon Jean McDonald called Della to say she was sorry but the teaching position had been filled. Zane called out that they wished to take Jean out to dinner that evening to thank her for her kindness. She accepted. Zane gave Della $200 to buy Jean a present, saying it would have cost them much more than that for commercial airfares but Jean had refused to accept any contribution towards her aircraft running costs.

"What should I get her?"

"Underwear."

"What?"

"Exquisite French underwear for the older woman."

Della just had to grin and say, "Little wonder women like you as a writer with your mind. I was thinking in terms of expensive trinkets."

"Your mind will grow in creativeness as you struggle to write compellingly."

After checking a website dictionary for nuances in the meaning of 'compellingly' and accepting a literary meaning as 'arousing strong interest', Della realized the guru had let a lesson just drift on to her. Of course she desired to have rapport with readers in anything she wrote whether she would prove to be successful or just another addition to the heap of failures. Even to be a failure you had to write something. She wondered if she had inherited something from her mother that would benefit her, er something called literary DNA? Zane apparently thought she could have the pedigree. This was how people were 'discovered', pulled from the ranks and encouraged to perform.

Della sighed and taped a little note to the inside of her laptop case: "Write compellingly."

The next morning after dining out with pilot Jean McDonald who pulled out of the box the most exquisite nightdress Zane said he'd ever seen and whispered to Della she must have doubled if not trebled the money he'd given her, Della received a call that would decide her future.

"Hi I'm Diane Prebble, head of music at Melrose College, a private secondary school for boys but the top two senior forms accept high-performing female students. A colleague of mine at another college referred me to Mrs Jean McDonald who has just given me your phone number. We are in desperate need for a voice tutor. Are you able to meet a recruitment panel here?"

"When?"

"This afternoon would be brilliant."

"Fine."

"It would be a two-term appointment but if you are offered and accept a permanent position for next year the college would support your application for permanent residency. We are a top school with people in high places appropriately former pupils of our school. So influential references would be no problem from such people who attend our end-of year concert."

Della was delighted and updated her CV before heading off for her appointment.

* * *

Diane Prebble who headed the five-person audition and appointment committee read Della's CV and cried, "Ohmigod Della, training and experience in both classical and musicals. This is unbelievable flexibility. Please warm up with Shaun here playing exercises. Then if you can when can make do with the one test piece to demonstrate your versatility, 'One Fine Day' from Madam Butterfly."

"Yes, that's a favorite of mine Diane. I admire the choice because it's technically demanding."

Everyone on the panel gradually became enchanted as Della progressed into the famous song from Puccini's opera.

"That was absolutely beautiful Della although you make it clear in your CV you prefer singing songs from musicals. Now we'd like to call in Gary to sing the lead song from our annual musical, this year's one called 'High School Melrose Musical' and we'd like you to act as Gary's singing coach after he's finished."

Gary listened attentively as Della said the quality of his voice was good but he was pushing beyond his range but that was not difficult to teach him to curb that."

"Curb that?"

"To get you to throttle back a little."

"Oh, I understand. That's the term mom uses."

He wasn't aware he closed his eyes excessively, losing eye contact with his audience and that some of his movements were jerky.

"Your voice is good Gary, quite impressive really. There is just some tidying up to do around that voice. Are you proposing to be lead singer in a band; in fact are you already in a band?

Gary looked at Mrs Prebble nervously.

"Miss Jones is on to you Gary. Please answer her."

"You know?"

"Yes Gary. Other students talk. Obvious Miss Jones has an instinct about you."

Della told Gary he needed a more exaggerated technique to sing with a band but he could be helped with that.

Gary left thanking her and Della sat for her formal interview.

She arrived home with a bottle of expensive champagne and promised Zane she'd carry on at evenings and weekends preparing to write her first novel. She said the school's legal consultant would be applying to have her visitor's visa changed into a work permit.

"Will you tell your mom that?"

"Yes but it's really not necessary."

"Oh and why's that?"

"Because she told me before we left Chicago she knew you wouldn't let me go, that you were a little uncomfortable about our age differences but you would find me irresistible and would hold on to me once you learned our relationship was more than sex."

"You don't say?"

"I'm only passing on what she said."

"And what do you say?"

"Mom's usually right about these things and you appear to be investing time and patience in me. Christ Zane think: what other reason would I have to be taking up a job and leaving all my family and friends behind in America?"

"Della, I don't know what to say."

"Try the truth. It's always a useful technique and may get your somewhere."

"Don't get mad at me Della but the right words will come to me when I'm ready. In the meantime I'm selling this apartment. Would you prefer a larger apartment or a house?"

"I'd like big house within easy biking distance of the school. My head of department Mrs Prebble cycles to school. I want a music room large enough for a grand piano."

"You play the piano?"

"Yes."

"I see. And who'll pay for a grand piano -- they cost a small fortune."

"My mother. It will be her wedding present. In the meantime I'm on a good salary so will apply for a loan to help finance us into our house. I'd like to pay half."

"You mean you'll live with me unmarried, at least in the meantime?"

"Yes Zane. I'm a naughty girl and wish to continue living in sin with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Zane. What do you think we are doing now? God, your mind has fallen out of gear, hasn't it?"

"I just need some thinking time. Let's grab a ferry to Manly."

"Good. You've been saying for weeks we must do that. It's a hot day and some cold beers will go down well. But listen to this Zane. You're a nice guy but don't propose until you feel ready because if I think you feel pressured my answer will be no."

"My god, you are so much like your mother."

Della frowned. "Is that a compliment Zane?"

"Yes."

She broke into a beautiful smile and kissed him. "Come on, take me to sea."

CHAPTER 5

Zane was aware Della had started writing and received vague replies when he asked, "How's it going?" and "Do you love your hero and heroine?" He'd heard some writers talked ad nauseam about work in progress while others like him were prepared to talk guardedly and others were closet writers like Della. It was fine by him and no he wouldn't sneak a look at her overnight work while she was at her beloved college.

Della's day work had taken her by storm and she'd hired cycles for both of them saying they needed to 'energize together'. Zane especially loved the bit about arriving back home together all sweaty and de-energizing on the lounge floor and judging by her screaming so did Della.

They began meeting other cyclists fairly regularly and the waves of familiarity turned into stopping at the same points for cool drinks and then it was coffee and light lunch and that turned into nights out together at cafes and their circle of new friends grew. They returned the hire cycles and purchased mountain bikes and went with a group on the 90km bike ride from Windsor to Windsor circuit via the Hawkesbury River and so began biking adventures, sometimes taking most of the weekend.

Zane continued to attend kickboxing classes at the fitness center but couldn't interest Della in kickboxing, she saying she valued her nails and good skin toning to abuse it in that way. She'd had a couple of spills from her bike but apparently that didn't count. But she joined the fitness center and went through the fitness circuit with Zane and he was very happy about that.

A few weeks later she said in awe, "I'm tackling these hills with greater ease and speed. I must be using the correct gears."

"Or your level of fitness has soared."

"Who me? You have to be joking."

Zane said she might object if he said she was fucking more robustly for longer these days as some women were like that, as if it were sinful to be considered good at recreational fucking. So next time they were at the pool he asked, "How many lengths is your record?"

"Eighteen, why?"

"Let's go, he said, pushing her in and following her.

When they stopped because Zane was feeling bored she asked how many lengths and he told her.

"Ohmigod, I can't believe it. I knew I'd gone over my old mark but forty lengths. Jesus -- my fitness HAS improved. I think you were trying to tell me that. I've noticed I fuck longer as well. Now come on, there's no need to smirk."

"Go weigh yourself."

"No, I keep away from scales. I told the gym assessor not to tell me what I weighed when I joined this center."

"Don't be a girl Della. Just do it and don't bellyache about what you see."

She returned to the refreshment café looking flushed and said proudly, "Once again you knew something that I didn't my incredible fella. I haven't weight this lightly since I was eighteen. I feel pretty and witty and gay and I want sex."

Zane grinned as did several people at nearby tables.

* * *

McNeil called. Zane knew she'd know Della was at work so it must be a business call.

"How's my baby?"

"Blooming. She's become so fit she's practically shedding her skin."

"So she tells me and that you've gotten her writing. What's very verdict?"

"She's not ready to show me anything yet."

"Well sneak a look."

"No."

"Ohmigod, she waxes on about your changing her; she's changing you, reminding you about the meaning of morality and ethics I guess."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Zane knew it was the end of that probe by McNeil. "I finished chapter 18 about an hour ago. That's about half-way I should think."

"Well the proposal really interested me. Sales of your new book are a record for you. We'll have a statement and a big check through to you in about three weeks. Have you changed the working title of this one... you usually do?"

"Yeah it's 'Intolerable Separation'."

"Oh my, I want to begin reading it now."

"I sent the first fifteen chapters to your office an hour ago. I need to review the next three."

"Send them to me here, I'm at the ranch. It's 9:00 on Sunday evening here, after midday Monday for you."

"Yeah, just gone 2:00. I'll send it now. Anything else?"

McNeil said softly, "Della asked me not to mention this but she'd told me you have a photographic collection of me in the room where you write. And she told me why."

"Well she has a fat mouth."

"Oooh."

"Anything else."

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Because there are some things you don't tell people."

"I understand. Are you going to send my daughter back to me?"

"She makes that decision."

"When?"

"When she decides she wants a vacation. She's building a new life here and loves it. If you wish to see here visit us next month with Dan. We should be in our new home by then. You can see where your wedding present will go. She wants a grand piano from you."

McNeil gasped. "When's the wedding?"

"How the hell do I know? I'm too old for her. She says she'd never accept a proposal of marriage from me until she knew I really meant it."

"Della's really like me isn't she?"

"Fucking women," Zane snapped and cut the call. He grinned, knowing the mother would now soften up her daughter. He sent off the email and smiled, picturing Dan reading out the sex passages and the putdowns of women to McNeil before they rolled on to the floor for a lusty bout of sex or wherever they did it.

Two evenings later Della told Zane she'd printed out for him the first five chapters of her draft. "I'm going down to the wine shop to pick up a bottle of something."

Zane's high expectations took a dive. He was so disappointed and was wondering how he'd convey his opinion to Della when his mind rolled back all those years again when he was in this exact position and McNeil came into room and sat down and said, "Well Mr Maddox. This novel of yours is such a fucking mess. Where should we begin" and he'd said at the beginning and she'd smiled and said what a novel idea and he'd gritted and said, "Please don't patronize me. Give it to me straight otherwise I'm out of here." For four hours McNeil had cut to pieces his writing and his literary concepts.

White-faced Della thumped the wine bottle and two glasses on to the table, poured the wine and sat down. Zane was seated stiffly, the eighty-seven pages in front of him.

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

"Well?"

"I'm going to do what your mother did to me twelve years ago. I'm going to be very critical of your writing, which is not being critical of you and..."

"Don't be patronizing and don't pull punches otherwise I'm off to bed."

Zane took a deep breath. "As a critic I have to say this is a heap of crap."

"Oh god, my mother said that about your whole novel, not just a few chapters?"

"Yes."

"You must have hated her until you came to know better."

"Yes. Now will you shut up?"

"Sorry."

"Now these are my words Della. It's a different time, a different place. You have a great sense of drama about you. I know you do. But virtually nowhere is it evident in these pages. Your words lack real life and your characters are cardboard characters and their dialogue is all prissy. In real life people emote words like shit, fuck and oh god and expressions like 'up yours'. There's none of that here. Now take your heroine Jane-May. I dislike her name and I dislike her being drawn like a porcelain doll and why does she have to be a virgin -- presumably so late in the novel you can describe how she loses her virginity. Your setting is today in New York City but the sense I get is the setting is Victoria England -- no, more like Edwardian. All the people Jane-May meets are pleasant and dressed beautiful. You told me you'd been to New York three times, so I ask where all the people you saw who dressed smartly?"

Della said expressionless, arms around herself as if attempting to curl into a ball.

Zane spent the next hour telling Della to change Jane-May's name and change her vocation from hotel general manager to a music teacher, that the best way to write a first novel was for it to be semi-autobiographical, to write what she knew about and then to advance from there. Fiction needed to be based on fact to make it believable, and making it believable even included science fiction based in the year 2050. Unless the author injected credibility his or her readers would toss the partly read novel aside.

Zane ignored Della's tears. Finally he said, "Start again Della and write your mom a novel that will bring tears to her eyes and make her admire your skill of story-telling. Well that's me finished. Rip into me."

Tears flowing Della looked steadily at Zane and said, "I quote from an interview I witnessed in Chicago: 'She kissed me, patted my ass and said...Now go back home young man and write me a real novel'. Is my mother brilliant Zane?"

"I think she is. She's been the driving force behind educating the tentative contract authors of Innes-Rands the value of self-belief and coaching them to advance in their craft. Deliver her a half-decent novel Della and she'll take you under her wing."

"Right my darling. I'll try again, going back to page one."

"Good girl. Live the novel Della."

A couple of hours later Della restarted her first novel with the more dynamic title, 'Casey Durant, Darling of Broadway.

On the second page she wrote: DEDICATED to McNeil Alice Jones of Chicago who relentlessly pushed numerous aspiring authors on track to achieve their dreams.

She then began:

A deepening mist shrouded West Dublin as Sister Iona Kelly wearily auditioned the final young girl at the Catholic school that day, unable to remember whether Casey O'Reilly was the 30th or 31st she'd asked to sing the first two verses of 'Maggie'.

"Casey, Sister Moira will play the opening bars. There will be a slight pause and then you begin on the first note. Ready?"

"Yes Sister."

Sister Iona began gathering her papers in the dingy room beside the church and then dropped them, standing transfixed as Casey began. With the undernourished 14-year old with straggling black hair working into the song she hurried off and shouted, "Father Murphy, Father Murphy, come quickly!" A door opened on the far side of the church and the white-hair elderly priest asked in a singsong voice, "Now what's upsetting you Sister?"

"Listen to the voice, I've auditioned for thirty-eight years always thinking this moment would come and it finally has arrived. Father Murphy, listen to the voice of a young angel. She's Widow O'Reilly's seventh and last child Casey."