"I was born on December the thirteenth," Rosie said, a glazed look in her eyes as she spoke, staring at the grey sky outside, thinking about how best to explain the beginning of her life. There were very few people who knew the truth about her birth, and the circumstances surrounding the early years of her life, and it was most definitely not public knowledge, which left her feeling a little uneasy as she spoke about it.
"In nineteen eighty-nine, right? Your album ..."
A quick smile flitted across Rosie's face as she focused on Nayeon for a moment, "yeah, exactly."
Softly sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment, before drawing in a deep breath and opening them again to face the view outside her windows. It had been a long time since she'd spoken about her childhood, although much of it was documented in her earlier albums, before she'd been dealt harsh life lessons and learnt a little bit about love. She'd changed a lot since then, and in a way, it was because of the childhood that she'd had that had led her through the series of events leading to the big changes in her life. If it hadn't been for the way her childhood had played out, she would never have become famous. Sure, she would've written - songs, poems, stories - but she wasn't so sure she would've become famous. That alone stood on the shoulders of the fact that she'd been raised by the Park's.
She hadn't been born into the family, although she was her father's daughter. For the first four years of her life, she'd spent it with her mother - the one that had given birth to her. Mason and Clare had known about her existence, of course, and paid off her mother to keep her quiet when she'd shown up with a baby, but four years later, she'd died. They'd been visiting relatives in Gold Coast when her mother had drowned, and her father had come for her, taking her back to Melbourne with him. Clare had accepted the arrangement, and that had been it. As far as everyone they knew was concerned, the Park's had adopted her, and no one knew of her father's affair with another woman. To the rest of the world, she had been born to both of her parents, a decision that had been made at the start of her career to protect her image.
It was a well-kept secret, one that had never been questioned. Out of both parents, most people would agree that she took after Clare. It had become such a hushed-up fact, that it had never been spoken about outside of their family, and Rosie felt almost guilty as she revealed the fact to Nayeon, as if she was snubbing Clare as her real mother. Aside from a few snatches of memories, she couldn't remember the woman who had given birth to her at all. All she had were vague recollections of water splashing as she watched her drown, the smell of her perfume, and a fuzzy image of a woman giving her a teddy bear.
For all intents and purposes, Clare had been her mother, and it had never made a difference to Rosie. Growing up, she'd wanted to be just like Clare. Over the years, her mother had been her greatest comfort, although there were times when they disagreed on things, argued and fell out. But her mum was her mum, and she always had Rosie's best interests at heart. Even before all the fame, the invasion of privacy, the rumours spreading lies about her, smearing her name and painting her as the villain. Clare had always been there, kissing her bruises better when she was younger, holding her close when she came home from boarding school, crying her eyes out because of her friends who were mean to her, encouraging her when she'd play the guitar for so long that her fingertips were bloody and calloused from practising. Clare was an ever-present supportive figure in the shadows of Rosie's story, and her heart was full of love for her. The unwavering love her mum had for her had been one of the only things that had gotten Rosie through some of the worst parts of her life. Clare had always been there to pick her up and set her back on the right path with a stern word and an encouraging push.
She turned to glance over at her mother, taking in the impassive expression on Clare's face as she watched on, listening to Rosie talk. Blinking slightly as she realised her daughter was looking at her, Clare's lips curled up into a slight smile, and she nodded encouragingly. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rosie turned back to Nayeon, a tentative look on her face as she ran her palms over the thighs of her jeans. It was more nerve-wracking to talk about her personal life than she'd originally thought, and she was beginning to wonder if perhaps she'd made a big mistake, thinking that she could come clean about everything. It was too late now though, in Rosie's mind. There was no point cancelling the interview when it had already begun, so she steeled herself for the next question.
"You were raised in Melbourne, weren't you?"
Nodding, Rosie let out a pent up breath. That was an easy question to answer, in some regards, and she cleared her throat, leaning across to the coffee table to pick up the cup of water that had been placed there for her, holding it tightly in her hands so that she'd stop fiddling.
"I was, yes. Until I was fourteen. I don't have the accent much anymore," she said with a wry smile, rolling her eyes slightly, "too much time spent in Miami, I suppose."
"But Melbourne is home?"
Letting out a soft sigh, a wistful look dawning on her face, Rosie nodded, thinking about the place she'd grown up. Looking back, she realised how much she'd taken for granted, never truly appreciating the freedom that her childhood had offered her, or the comfort of home, until it was gone. As much as she'd wanted to go to Miami, it had never truly taken the place of the farm she'd grown up on. It had given her everything, in a sense. Miami had been the place that had launched her career, but that career had come with its downfalls. People would always tell her how lucky she was, and Rosie knew that, but it wasn't all good luck.
A part of her sometimes wanted to go back to Melbourne, to hole up in the ivy covered manor house she'd grown up in, and spend the rest of her life tending to rose bushes and reading at her favourite window seat that looked out at the tree in the driveway. A fond smile graced her lips as she thought of that place, thinking about how much she'd love to go there now. It had been nigh on a year since she'd last gone there, and it hadn't been under good circumstances then.
"Yes. Yes, it's home. It's the place I can see myself settling down."
"With a husband? A few kids, perhaps?"
Letting out a snort of laughter, Rosie struggled to bite back a smile. "All in good time. First, I think I should finish telling you everything."
"Right. So ... your childhood?"
-
Her father had been a stockbroker for the Central Bank of Melbourne, while her mother had been a homemaker, who had worked as a mutual fund marketing executive before meeting Mason. During the early years of her life, Rosie grew up on an estate in south Melbourne. A seventeenth century manor house sat on a four hundred acre piece of land, which functioned as a working farm, and it all seemed so picturesque to Rosie now.
They'd owned horses, which she'd ride across the acres of land, and in the summer, the house would turn green with ivy and the gardens bright with colourful flowers. In the summer, they'd go on holiday; skiing in Mt. Buller, staying at a vineyard in South Yarra. There had never been anything she'd wanted for, as a child. Her parents showered her love, and she forgot that she'd ever lived without them, growing used to their comfortable lifestyle in the countryside. Looking back, she knew she'd been lucky.
The first time she recalled showing any interest in music was with her grandmother on her father's side. She'd been an opera singer, for a time, and Rosie used to sit on her lap in front of the upright piano, four years old, and she'd clumsily press down on the keys as the old woman played and softly sang, her voice no longer as rich as it had been in her youth. There were videos of those moments, showing Rosie what she'd been too young to vividly remember. There was the distinct memory of those hands with the veins and papery skin pressing down gently on the keys, the smell of rose water and talcum powder, and the nagging feeling of remembering her sing. She'd died shortly before Rosie's fifth birthday.
It was her grandmother who had introduced her to music, and it had never left Rosie since. Those stolen moments spent at the piano with the old woman had ignited something inside her; a love for music that she just couldn't shake. One of the earliest videos of her singing was at the beach. She'd run up to strangers and sing for them, her hair a fuzzy cloud so blonde that it was nearly white. In that specific home video, she was singing I Just Can't Wait To Be King, from The Lion King, and she recalled it with fondness. At that point in time, it was just a childish love of singing, watching Disney movies and putting on performances for her parents as she grew older. But the thought of her being a singer had never even occurred to them. Even when she was enrolled in piano lessons shortly after her grandmother's death, showing a clear talent for it, it was nothing more than a respectable hobby for someone in a well-to-do family.
By the time she was nine though, she was performing in local theatre productions and local events on the weekend, and was taking singing lessons after school on Wednesday's. Still, it was nothing more than a talent that could be showcased at church on Sunday's, where she was forced to stand amidst the other kids in the choir and sing hymns. But by that age, Rosie knew that she wanted more, that she wanted to be a singer.
The September after she turned eleven, Rosie was sent away to a boarding school run by Catholic nuns. As much as she hated it, it gave her a stubborn determination to become a famous singer and leave school. It was a childish thought, but she had her heart set on it, thinking that she'd leave math class behind and go on tour instead. She was given detention on more than one occasion for singing inappropriate songs when she performed for some of the other girls at the school, envisioning herself on stage. Away at boarding school, her music was the only thing that made her feel less homesick. Eleven was a young age to be away from her parents, especially her mum, and she turned to her music when she didn't have anyone there for her. It was the one thing she had, and she wanted to be that one thing for someone else one day.
Over the Easter holidays the following year, shortly after she turned twelve, she pestered her mother into taking her to Sydney, so that she could busk on Darling Harbour. She had it in her head that she had to go there, see all the places where Australian singers had performed, go to the small museums, and pursue her own career in music. Clare finally caved, and they went for the weekend. She was only eleven, wild blonde curls, small for her age, but filled with so much confidence as she sang on street corners and ran into record labels, handing out demo CD's of her performing Olivia Newton-John and Delta Goodrem Karaoke covers. They never called her back, but she never took it as a failure, only a reason to look for something to make her stand out. Everyone was doing pop music at that time; Australia thrived off of it, with tourists pouring in to hear some real, live music, so Rosie needed to think of a way to be different.
A strange stroke of luck occurred over the summer holidays that year. Experiencing some troubles with their computer, her father had called a computer repair technician to come to the house, and he turned out to be a local musician. Rosie had asked for a guitar the previous Christmas, intent on teaching herself how to play. In the time it took him to repair their computer, the repairman had taught her a few basic chords, and left her with the means to write her own songs. The first one she wrote was called Lucky You . It never made it onto her first album, but she was proud of herself. She'd written a song, all by herself, and it was just the first of many.
Seeing potential in her songwriting, her parents started to take it more seriously, her dream to be a singer. Before she knew it, Rosie was attending meetings with a few small record labels in Sydney, set up by a music manager that her father had found. After performing some of her original songs at a showcase for a record label called Rubywork Records, Rosie was given an artist development deal.
It was the single most happiest day of her life in that moment, given just the faintest flicker of hope, and she'd been ecstatic about it. For a while. She'd thought that she was about to get her big break and follow in the footsteps of the Australian singing legends she'd worshipped growing up. She'd been wrong, but in the best possible way, because while she never go that break with Rubywork Records, she found it elsewhere, and she wasn't quite so sure she would've risen quite so high if she'd stayed. Even after all these years, she'd never had a reason to ever regret rejecting their offer.
-
"But you didn't stay with them though, did you?" Nayeon asked.
Bringing herself back to the present, Rosie gave her a faint smile, shaking her head. "No. I was fourteen when I chose to leave. My parents weren't so sure that I should, but I just- I knew I was running out of time. Those years of my life ... so much happened. I was young, I was still in school, and there was that feeling that if I didn't bring out an album then, I'd miss out on sharing those experiences with people. You know, the first love, first heartbreak, first dates and kisses. All of my friends were going through these things at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. I wanted to capture all of that on a record, but they wanted to essentially put me on a shelf until I was eighteen. They wanted me to work on my vocals, have people write songs for me, and then when I was older, they'd reevaluate."
"That took a lot of guts, to walk away from a contract with an established record deal."
Nodding, Rosie grimaced slightly, "I think for me ... songwriting has always been the crux of what I do. Singing about mine, and other people's, experiences. Without that ... I don't think I'd be a singer. I've always been a writer first, so for me, it wasn't a hard decision to make, and I've always been glad that my parents supported all of my decisions."
"So you walked?"
"I walked," Rosie said with amusement, "and then I asked my parents to move to London. It sounds crazy, thinking about it now, that they were so supportive of me that they just up and moved to help me start my career. I was too young to truly understand it then, but I just- yeah, I asked to move to London to sign a record deal, and they said okay. So we packed up all of our things, my father got a new job as a broker, I was pulled out of boarding school, and we moved to London. Just like that. And it was there that I met Park Chanyeol."