Chapter 1: In The Beginning

There is a popular misconception among some men that if a woman says “No”, she really means “Yes”. My experience was quite the opposite; Millie Dixon said “Yes”, but I came to realise that at the time, she was starting to have reservations which eventually led to “No”. This caused us both great pain and sadness, even though in the end it came to a very positive conclusion.

My name is Max Clements and Millie and I had been friends since before I could even remember. She was the prototypical “girl next door”; we were the same age, went to the same school and throughout or childhood, we did almost everything together. Millie was blessed with a mop of curly black hair and piercing blue eyes; she was a tomboy, outgoing, happy, noisy and a great deal of fun to be with.

We played together, got into trouble together and supported each other through all the trials and tribulations of childhood. I was so jealous when she broke her arm and had a cast for everyone to sign, but I was the first to do so. Millie told me that she was jealous that I got to go interstate for my grandmother’s funeral. She had never seen a dead body and wanted all the details, even though I did embellish them somewhat.

I suffered periodic teasing at school for having a “girl friend” but Millie was very assertive about our relationship. On one occasions this led to me being “called out” by the school bully for using a girl to defend me. Fortunately for me, he was a coward as well as a bully, and when I fronted him forcefully, he backed down and left me alone thereafter.

We ran wild in the local “park”, more a piece of waste land, ideal for hide and seek and similar games, although Millie’s laughter inevitably gave her away. We regularly got into trouble playing ball games in the street and what is known in England as “scrumping”—stealing fruit from neighbours’ trees. We became well known to the neighbours, some of whom were broad-minded and charitable about it and some reported to our parents and we were rewarded with tolerable punishments.

Millie’s parents, Mike and Barbara Dixon were almost like extra parents to me. My mother had died while I was still only an infant, and Dad had struggled to bring me up by himself. Barbara had realised this, and she became a sort of surrogate mother, a role that she seemed to enjoy and about which both my father and Mike were very supportive.

My father was an electronic engineer, technically brilliant and with a mind like a steel trap. He was highly respected in his field, but when it came to personal relationships, he seemed quite lost. I asked him once why he had never remarried after mum’s death, and he told me that he could never find anyone to match mum. That may have been true, but I grew to suspect that he either hadn’t tried very hard, or he simply didn’t know how to relate to a suitable partner.

Millie and I went to the same secondary school (anything else would have been unthinkable) and she developed a talent for music. I became more interested in people, and my academic scores were good. I never took much interest in sport although I kept fit through orienteering, which helped me to develop considerable stamina. I was regarded as something of a geek, although that never bothered me; I only had a few close friends, but my relationship with Millie meant that wasn’t a problem.

Millie was my first “girlfriend”, my first date and I stole my first real kiss from her, in the back row of the movies (of course). As the teenage years passed, she developed into a lovely young woman, quite tall, slim and well proportioned. Her bubbly personality never changed, and she was very popular among the boys and, perhaps surprisingly, with the girls as well. In spite of our somewhat different paths through school, we stayed close and remained each other’s confidante, sharing our successes and encouraging each other through the lows. She was my partner for the graduation formal, and looked absolutely stunning in a cobalt blue dress that matched her eyes, cut just low enough to hint at a cleavage and just high enough to display the smooth curves of her lovely legs.

At about this time, a hard rock group formed in our neighbourhood. Calling themselves Kraton, they were at first heavily influenced by AC/DC but over time started to develop their own sound. There were five high school kids, Bill Joseph, who adopted the stage name Billy-Joe, vocals and lead guitar, Denny Wolfe on drums, with the name “The Wolf” emblazoned across his drum kit. He developed a very lifelike howl that he would let go unexpectedly in live performances. “The Wolf” was heavily influenced by Keith Moon of “The Who” but wasn’t as destructive. Rhythm and bass guitarists were mates of Billy-Joe and had little influence on the band. Dick Cavanagh on keyboards always seemed to be in a world of his own, caring for nothing but his keyboard music.

Denny and Dick were good friends of mine and of Millie, and it was probably their presence in the group that led to her wholehearted involvement. Denny was seen as a “wild man” with a mop of ginger hair that stood out in all directions, and an unpredictability that could put people off. He was also a devoted practical joker, and Millie and I were often the objects of his offbeat humour. We knew, though, that underneath he was a caring and lovable guy who would go out of his way to help his friends.

Dick was quite different; maybe that’s why he and Denny became so close. He was cool, laid back and didn’t let anything, even Denny’s weird sense of humour, faze him. He was almost a child prodigy on keyboards, and he was totally devoted to the music he could make. I once heard him play Chopin etudes on a concert grand piano with a delicacy and sensitivity that would put many professional concert pianists to shame. All the same, he much preferred his electronic keyboards, in all their variations.

Millie and I were enthusiastic supporters of Kraton from its first formation. It played small, insignificant venues, at first for the pleasure of playing, without any payment, and was kept going by donations from people like Millie and me, when we could rake up a few spare dollars from part time work. With her musical talent and increasing experience, Millie was much more involved with the band than I was, and became a sort of “roadie” and general dogsbody for them.

In the early stages, that didn’t seem to get in the way of Millie’s and my relationship which deepened even though our paths were starting to diverge. I went to the local university to study psychology, and Millie studied musical theory and practice at the local technical college. We still lived next door to each other, and were in and out of each other’s house for coffee, chats and, by this stage some pretty heavy petting, although nothing that could be reasonably considered as overt sexual activity.

In the meantime, Kraton was going from strength to strength, although after a couple of years “The Wolf” was dropped from the line-up to be replaced by something of a nonentity. I came to suspect that this was largely Billy-Joe’s doing as he felt that Denny was becoming too popular. I had a lot of time for Denny; he was cheerful and funny but also highly intelligent as well as being a great musician. Too good for Billy Joe, maybe.

One day I was talking to Denny about his leaving the band, and what he told me shocked and amazed me. “Max,” he said, “there are things about this change that you don’t know, Dick does, but I need to tell someone else, and I must swear you to secrecy.”

“Sure,” I agreed, not knowing then the full implications of what he was about to reveal.

“First, I have to tell you that I am dying; I’ve got a brain tumour that the docs say is inoperable, and I may have another six months.”

My shock registered clearly on my face and I stammered out some conventional sympathy.

“Max, would you be a real mate and not tell anyone else. Billy-Joe knows; this is the real reason I left Kraton, not because of professional differences, although I gotta tell you that they were starting to show. I guess you won’t be able to keep it from Millie either, but she and Dick are among the few that I do trust. She won’t inundate me with false sympathy,” he grinned.

“Second, Max, still on the subject of Millie, if you’ve got even just a tiny glimmer of sense in that hi flown intellectual head of yours, don’t waste any time and ask her to marry you. I know she loves you and you’ve told me often enough how much she means to you. Do the deed, man and get hitched. You two belong together.”

Later that evening, Millie bounced into my place, her usual enthusiastic self and gave me a big fat kiss. “So what’s happening, my man?” she asked, adopting some of the muso slang that she’d been picking up around the traps.

"Sit down, Millie, I’ve got some bad news for you,” and I told her about Denny. She looked horrified and burst into tears. “Oh, poor guy, how’s he taking it? I need to see him as soon as I can.”

“Well, you know Denny—as well as can be expected, I guess.”

A couple of days later, Millie appeared again and told me that she’d been to see Denny and that she was impressed by how resilient he seemed to be and that he was coming to terms with his imminent death. Then, “Max”, she said, “Denny asked me a peculiar question. He wanted to know if you had asked me anything in particular recently, and when I enquired what that might be he told me I’d have to speak to you.”

I smiled and blushed a little, which surprised Millie, but before she could comment, I dropped to one knee and asked, “Millie Dixon, would you marry me? Please?”

I imagined that this was the last thing she had expected, but she replied, “Yes, yes I will, yes, of course I will.” Throwing her arms around me, she gave me a big kiss and hurried off to tell her parents.

Mike and Barbara were delighted. Dad was, too, although he was a little cautious, citing a need to complete my degree and ‘what are you going to do about money?’

Millie and I were soon hunting for a ring, and found one that wasn’t going to break the bank, although Dad was very generous and ensured that we could get something that we, particularly Mille, really liked.

This was followed by a big family party to which the band members were invited. Billy-Joe and Dick Cavanagh showed, as did Denny, looking gaunt and haggard, but he stayed well clear of Billy-Joe. Denny told me that his time was now being measured in days; but that he was really pleased to see Millie and me engaged, and also that he wanted to have a private word with me, “Soon.”

I called round to Denny’s place the following day. He looked dreadful and told me that he would be lucky to last the week. I started to sympathise but he cut me short; what he said completely floored me, although, with the benefit of hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have been quite so surprised. “Max, I’ve got something to show you, and I want you to take it. You’ve heard ‘Bombshell’ (Kraton’s first CD), haven’t you? What did you think?”

“Yeah, Denny, I’ve listened to it several times. A couple of cover tracks, the rest music and lyrics by Billy-Joe, although there are four tracks that are really outstanding. The rest sound a bit like fillers. Why do you ask?”

Denny gave me a pale smile and pulled some papers out of an envelope. “Take a close look at these and tell me what you see”

There were four song sheets with musical notation and accompanying lyrics, each formally notarised as to date and place. And these were the four songs that had made “Bombshell” such a hit.

I suddenly realised the significance of these rough drafts. “Oh my god, Denny, this is your stuff, isn’t it? You wrote those four songs and Billy-Joe claimed the credit.”

“Give the man a cigar,” he smiled weakly. “Yeah, it’s all my own work. I showed it to Billy-Joe and he asked to keep them for a couple of days, then gave them back, saying, “Nah, not really Kraton material.” By this time, I’d left the band and Billy-Joe put his name to them and had a big success.”

“Denny, why didn’t you bring this up before?” I asked.

“Well, by the time I realised the fraud that he’d perpetrated, I knew I didn’t have long to go, and I couldn’t be bothered with that sort of fight. But I don’t want the bastard to get away with it, so I’m giving you the evidence to use however you choose, but make sure that he pays for his cheating ways. One last thing—I don’t like what I’m hearing about Billy-Joe and Millie. My mail tells me they’re getting rather too close, if you get my drift.”

“Thank you, Denny, thank you for everything. I love you, man and I’m just devastated that you have to go. I gotta say that I’ve been a bit puzzled by Millie’s behaviour recently, and what you say seems to fit with my concerns, so I’ll need to keep my eyes and ears open. I’ll certainly keep the four songs under lock and key until the appropriate time. You’re a good man, Denny Wolfe; say g’day to God for me.”

That was the last time I saw Denny alive. His funeral was ten days later, attended by a raft of family, friends and admirers. Billy-Joe was conspicuous by his absence.

In the days and weeks following Denny’s funeral, Millie’s behaviour started to change. We were still quite close, but she seemed to be hiding some form of secret that was causing her great excitement. Then the dam broke. One evening, Millie rushed into my house barely able to contain herself. “Max, you’ll never believe what’s happened. Kraton has got a contract to tour in the USA for three months, and Billy Joe wants me to go with them. Of course, I said ‘Yes’. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Millie, I’m happy for you, if that’s what you really want, but I’m going to have to get along without you for three whole months.”

“I know, honey, and I’ll miss you too, but I’ll make it up to you when I get back. We can still talk through our webcams and by Skype, so it won’t seem quite so bad,” she enthused.

“Maybe not so bad for you,” I thought to myself, “but pretty crook for me.”

“Okay, Millie my love, go your hardest and make sure you enjoy yourself. When do you leave?”

“About a month’s time. We’ve got one or two engagements to fulfil here then there’s all the paperwork and regulations. Billy-Joe wants me to look after all that, so I’m going to be pretty busy even before we leave.”

“So I won’t see much of you even before you go?” I tried not to sound too much like a selfish child deprived of his favourite toy, and I don’t think Millie really recognised my hurt.