Zo

by Leanne Owens

  ‘You’ve been kept safe all these years, but now it’s your time to fly,’ Ally spoke softly. ‘The sky is yours, and you don’t need me to keep you safe anymore. This is me releasing you. You are going to fly into the sky and find the place where you belong.’

  ‘I won’t know what to do without you,’ Sandra said weakly, feeling the great unknown looming ahead of her.

  ‘You’ll just do what that magpie did – you’ll fly to where you belong. And you’ll hear my voice inside your head reminding you of what’s important. I’ll always be inside here,’ she gently tapped Sandra’s temple, ‘telling you that you are beautiful and amazing, and that you can be any character you want to be, telling you to become the role and be that person. And I’ll be there reminding you to always protect that inner Sandra, the one we’ve always known. Don’t let the vultures and scavengers see your soul because they will tear it apart. Build the wall that I told you about, the one that will have all your famous roles and images on it. Build the wall of fame that is going to surround you, and then live behind it in a safe place where only your closest friends can visit. Let everyone else see the wall, only the wall, and then they can never harm you because that isn’t really you - you’re living somewhere behind it. Remember that.’

  Sandra nodded. Ally had gone over this many times. She needed to protect herself from the destructive forces drawn to fame. She needed to wear a mask in public that never revealed the person or emotions beneath. There would be three Sandra’s: the characters she played; the serene, composed mask the public would see when she wasn’t acting on set; and the real Sandra, hidden safely away, protected from harm.

  ‘You are going to be one of the most recognised faces in the world. You will become one of the great actresses of all time. I know this. In every fibre of my being, I know this. And you don’t need me there because this is your life, not mine. You just need to stop letting everyone see every emotion in those beautiful eyes, and you’ll be safe. Put the mask on now, and go out tonight and blow them away with your acting and your beauty. Don’t let them see my little Sandra Martin from Highton. Only let them see Sandy L. Martin, actress.’

  It took some minutes for Sandra to compose herself as she took in the quick summary of all the advice Ally had given her during her first year in Hollywood. A calm gaze hid the pain and fear in her eyes, and a serene expression smoothed the pinch of worry on her brow. She raised her chin, forced her shoulders back, and grew another inch taller before joining the actor who was eager to get to the red carpet to enjoy his usual adulation. The friends hugged, and Sandra left. She didn’t see the tears Ally cried after she was alone.

  The night was everything Ally predicted. As they entered the theatre, the fans clamoured for the male star, but, as the credits rolled at the end and the lights came up, it was Sandy they looked to with respect in their eyes. Her acting was extraordinary. It wasn’t as though she was acting - she really was the woman on the screen who dealt with tragedy in the twenty-third century, and fought her way to survival in an apocalyptic age. Critics raved about the movie, and everyone fell in love with the Australian sensation.

  The movie was a box office success, and more movies followed. Sandy became the star that Ally had dreamed. Ally had given her a life beyond her own imaginings, and had transformed the chubby, quick-to-tears child into someone recognised and admired around the world. Now, more than forty years later, it was time to give back.

  Sandy L. Martin, Oscar winning actress, walked to the set and found both the producer and director there, arguing over schedules. She informed them both that she was leaving.

  ‘I know I’m under contract,’ she said calmly, raising a hand to halt the producer’s diatribe of threats and insults, the command in her eyes quietening him more than her words, ‘so you can sue for all costs, and I expect you will. I believe my main house in California will cover those costs, and I am happy to relinquish that once our lawyers fight it out. You could, of course, film every scene in which I am not involved, and wait two or three weeks until I return, as I expect I will be back by then. Frankly, I don’t care which you choose - I am leaving.’

  She turned and walked back up the path from the stables to her trailer. The producer threw his paperwork on the ground and left an assistant scrabbling in the grass to pick it up. He ran after his star, swearing loudly and demanding she continue with the film, ordering her to tell him why she was leaving, and threatening to take more than her house if she left him stranded in the middle of filming.

  Sandy turned to face him, her expression still a tranquil façade that hid all her emotions. ‘I don’t care if I lose it all, so don’t think for a moment that such a threat will concern me. You have no idea who I really am. Do you know why that is? Because I am an actress and you,’ she paused to give him a withering look, ‘have become an accountant who deals in budgets and deadlines. You should realise that for me to walk out on a film, it is important, and that is all I’m saying about it. Either wait until I return, or try and get everything I have. I really don’t care.’

  She entered her trailer, ignoring the open-mouthed gazes from everyone around her as the producer ranted and raved outside. With a placid calm that belied the strong emotions within, she asked her assistant to remove her costume.

  ‘And, if you are able, can you drive me to the airport as soon as I’m in street clothes?’

  Seeing the look of worry on the other woman’s face, she smiled kindly and let her guard down for a moment, ‘I haven’t gone mad or lost the plot, there is just a very good friend who needs me.’

  ‘And she’s more important than this movie?’

  ‘This friend is worth more than movies and contracts and money. She once told me that you can be a millionaire and still have nothing if you are lonely, or you can have one great friend and be wealthy beyond the dreams of the lonely.’

  ‘Sounds like someone special.’

  ‘She is. I would give everything I own if she asked for it, but she never asked for anything that we could give,’ her voice faltered and for a moment her eyes brimmed with pain. ‘She once asked for us to accept her beliefs, and we failed her. We didn’t give her that. She never asked for anything again.’

  Several hours later, Sandy was on a flight to Australia, wondering if she had taken the right course of action. As she sat ruminating over her decision to walk out on the film, the Flight Supervisor leaned over her and smiled warmly, her face vaguely familiar.

  ‘Hi, Sandra,’ the soft Australian voice plunged her straight back through time to high school, ‘you probably won’t remember me, but you were in my mother’s class at Belmont High.’

  ‘Mandy!’ Sandy exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she put a name to the face. ‘Of course, I remember you – you are the absolute image of your mother, and I swear that’s her voice coming out of your mouth. How is Wendy?’

  ‘Mum is wonderful. She has all your movies, and I’m sure she’s your greatest fan. Thank you so much for always sending her something from the set of each of your movies. She has them all on display in the lounge.’

  ‘I’m so glad she likes them. You know, she was always lovely to me at school, and helped me no end with my French.’

  ‘Ah,’ Mandy nodded knowingly. ‘French and Mrs Mac, who taught you all to roll your ‘r’s so beautifully, until you spoke French fluently, with your Australian accents and her Scottish brogue, and no one else in the entire world could understand you. Mum told me of that quite often.’

  ‘Le leeevrrrrraaa,’ Sandy smiled, pronouncing ‘le livre’ with the strongly rolled ‘r’ of their high school French class.

  ‘La fenêtrrrrrrra,’ Mandy fired back with a soft laugh, repeating one of the oddly-pronounced words her mother had taught her. ‘But I’ve heard you speak French in one of your films, so I know you did learn how to speak it properly.’

  ‘As much as I loved Mrs Mac, I didn’t think people would pay to see a French spy speak like an Aussie trying to do a Shrek version of F
rench.’

  They both laughed, thoughts of French classes from long ago making them members of a small club.

  ‘No, I guess not. It was a fun class though, according to Mum. They are some of her favourite stories. Are you going home to Geelong?’

  Sandy shook her head, ‘No, not this trip. I’m heading to Queensland to catch up with my friends Peter, Ally, Lynette, and Andrew – perhaps your mum mentioned them.’

  ‘Yes, she has,’ Mandy clasped her hands together and smiled warmly. ‘Of course, everyone knows about Peter’s wellness centre, and you’d have to be living in a vacuum to not know about Lynette and Andrew, but I gather few people realise the four of you are friends. Mum hasn’t said much about your friend Ally, though. What is she doing these days?’

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ Sandy evaded the truth.

  ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure she’s brilliant at it,’ Mandy said. ‘I’ll tell Mum I’ve spoken to you, and please pass on her well wishes to the others when you catch up. I’ve met with my group of school friends a couple of times in these last few years and it is like stepping back in time. We’re all so much older, but we’re still the same, and it’s so comfortable to be around them. I know you’ll love catching up with them. Now, I’m sure you want some peace and quiet, but I’m here if you want anything at all, from champagne and slippers, to a chat about your school days.’

  ‘You know,’ Sandy sighed, feeling more at ease with Mandy than with any of the people she had left behind on the film set, ‘I think I’ll take you up on that talk – when you have the time, of course.’

  Mandy nodded, ‘Just catch my eye and I’ll be here. There’s nothing like being with people who know you outside of your fame, is there? No need to wear all the masks you need when dealing with strangers. You can just be yourself.’

  Having Mandy fussing over her like her mother used to in French lessons so long ago, allowed a warm feeling of safety to tuck itself around her. As they talked, a comforting mix of emotions of love, coming home, and feeling safe to drop the mask of the actress, filled her heart. Here was someone who knew her and liked her as a family friend, not as a movie star. Someone from her hometown and school who didn’t want anything from her apart from wanting her to be comfortable and happy. Her presence was reassuring and made Sandy feel as though the wheels of fate were turning and locking something into place. The universe was letting her know that what she was doing was right. It was time to go back to where they all began.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Lamore Crew Gathers

  Andrew Lee

  Washington D.C. May 2019

  Andrew tossed the four hundred and thirty-five-page report onto his coffee table and grinned at the younger man reclining on the white leather sofa, ‘Done! That’s eight months of my life I’m not getting back.’

  ‘Go on, you loved every minute of it,’ said Marcus, his New York tones at odds with the Australian accent which coloured Andrew’s words. Loosening his tie with one hand, he motioned for Andrew to sit next to him with his other. ‘Now you have four weeks to yourself. Skiing, sailing, rock climbing…whatever you want.’

  Taking a few seconds before answering, Andrew gazed out the windows at the Washington skyline, his perfect features catching light like a face sculpted from rock. Four weeks, he mused. He hadn’t had a break that long in years. ‘I was thinking of some rafting, maybe down the Colorado. What do you say?’

  ‘I think I can hear the banjos playing.’

  Andrew laughed and took Marcus’ hand in his and raised it to his lips, ‘Good. You can start organising our gear. I picked up a couple of cancelled spots an hour ago and we’ll be on the water in two days’ time.’

  ‘Are you sure there are no follow-up meetings about the report?’ Marcus stretched one hand out to tap the cover of the bound document.

  Andrew shook his head, ‘The Director has it now, and it won’t be scheduled for discussion for at least ten weeks because they’ll have to go over it like sniffer dogs looking for anything that shouldn’t be there.’

  The report, ‘Sustainable Futures in Developing Countries: Educating Girls and Women, and Financing Women’s Business’ had been presented to the Director of Development Research Group, the sector of the World Bank in Washington where Andrew was a Research Manager. It was temporarily out of Andrew’s hands as the Director examined it, discussed it, and weighed its merits before they presented to the Board to see if it warranted funding. He believed, to the very core of his being, that empowering women and correcting the imbalance between male and female power in the developing countries he had researched, would give those countries the impetus to propel them forward into economic growth, and out of poverty.

  Women were the key, he knew that. Men wanted to fight, to dominate, and control. Women wanted to nurture, to cooperate, and empower. Not everyone belonged in those stereotypes, he acknowledged as he felt the comforting strength of Marcus next to him, it was just the tendency for the different sexes to behave that way. In the countries he examined, progress almost always coincided with an improvement in female education, and increased roles for women in business and politics.

  ‘You’re a perfectionist – they won’t find errors,’ said Marcus, giving his partner an admiring look. ‘You’ll change the world for the better with your work.’

  ‘I can only hope,’ Andrew gave a soft sigh, ‘it needs changing. Some of the places I’ve visited over the past five years are tragic.’

  ‘Shush,’ Marcus hushed him, ‘you’ll give yourself nightmares again. Just focus on the fact that seeing the heartbreaking side of humanity led you to writing this report, and it will change lives. This will make a difference.’

  ‘Thanks for your faith in me.’

  ‘Everyone who knows you has faith in you.’

  ‘Now you’re laying it on a bit too thick,’ Andrew flashed his perfect teeth in a smile and arched a brow at Marcus. ‘I think a few of my team members were suffering a loss of confidence this past week. There was a bit of debate as to whether we’d get this printed in time.’

  ‘More fool them, then,’ Marcus rolled his blue eyes and pushed the flop of blonde hair from his forehead. ‘Oh, before I forget, your school friend Peter rang about an hour ago, and should be ringing back in ten or fifteen.’

  Andrew’s face lit up. Catching up with his school friends was one of the great pleasures of life. Time had carried him far from those high school days, and he enjoyed feeling all the layers added by the years drop away when he spoke with Peter, Sandy, or Lynette. People now, even Marcus, saw the sum of what he had become while his school friends knew the essence of his being. With most people whom he met through his work at the World Bank and in his private life, he could only reveal the outer layers of his life, but with the Lamore Crew he could expose the core of himself without any concerns about trust. He would trust them with his life, even his banking passwords, he smiled to himself.

  The Lamore Crew had been there as he changed from the boy to the man. Without them, his life would have been very different. He was the ultimate disappointment to his father, and it was only the love of his friends that allowed him to reach manhood. Ally had once told them that, in the future, they would all be living their dreams, and they needed to remember that all they would become, would grow from what they were then. He believed that whole-heartedly, and he knew that he owed all that he had achieved to those friendships in high school that shaped him.

  ‘I haven’t spoken to Peter for months,’ he said as he rose and made his way to the kitchen, ‘Tea?’

  ‘Love some.’

  ‘I keep hoping he’ll say that he found Ally.’

  ‘She’ll be safe somewhere,’ said Marcus as he joined him in the spacious kitchen and began putting out Heirloom pattern Royal Albert cups and saucers while Andrew watched the kettle. ‘I always imagine that she’ll be doing something like helping children in a struggling country somewhere, and you’ll find her on one of your trips. I so want to meet
her.’

  Andrew rinsed the teapot with boiling water before adding several teaspoons of his favourite blend of tea. He smiled at Marcus’s words and imagined Ally helping children as she had helped him. ‘She was motherly when she was eleven, so I hope she found someone to love and has children of her own.’

  ‘Didn’t you say that…?’ Marcus left the question hanging, a concerned look on his face. After three years of marriage, they often knew what the other was thinking, or was about to say.

  ‘Yes, she said that she couldn’t have children, but we were twenty at the time, so who knows what has changed since then?’

  ‘Then maybe she married and settled down to raise a family,’ Marcus gave his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘I know you worry about her, but to have loved you all as she did, and then remove herself from your lives, well, she must have had a reason.’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘No, I mean something more than her mental issues of believing she was in love with someone who wasn’t alive,’ said Marcus, swirling some boiling water around in the cups to heat them before Andrew added the tea. ‘She must have felt that she would hold you back, or let you down, or maybe she just found a new circle of friends and left you alone because it was best for everyone.’

  ‘No, it was because of him,’ said Andrew, a sense of pain and guilt causing him to narrow his eyes at the memories and feel tightness as he breathed. ‘Or, rather, because of how we viewed him. We thought her preoccupation with him was an illness, and we wanted to fix her. We should have just accepted her, fantasy lover and all, as she had accepted us.’

  ‘But she didn’t accept you, not really,’ Marcus pointed out. ‘She changed all of you, and you only wanted to change what was not right about her.’

  ‘She changed our lives,’ agreed Andrew, carrying his cup and saucer to the leather lounge, and folded himself into its softness, ‘but she didn’t change us. She recognised the potential that we couldn’t see, and she fed it and nurtured it, she made it grow, but we wanted to change her. She told us about loving this man since she was young, her imaginary friend, if you will, and that was her - that was who she was. All things considered, I couldn’t imagine her falling in love with any one less perfect than a man who was the illusion of perfection because he didn’t exist. But we couldn’t accept that twist to her character as she accepted everything about us. We tried to change her, and we let her down. We scared her…’