by Jennie Jones
16
Superstitions
The read-through was going better than Edie had expected. She’d seated her cast around the kitchen table in Jindalee House, which was now covered with scripts, pencils, erasers and empty mugs and biscuit crumbs. Ted had been unexpectedly nervous to begin with—he’d certainly need guidance on his timing and phrasing—but it was likely his nerves had come to the fore because of Magdalena. She’d insisted on sitting next to him, pulling her chair closer to his and handing him anything he needed, from another biscuit to the pencil sharpener.
Magdalena was over-the-top while reading her part but Edie didn’t pull her back. It was heartwarming to see her being so dramatic because it meant she’d bring this enthusiasm to the role. The penniless opera singer needed to be larger-than-life in her grief as the producer had been threatening to throw her out onto the street because she couldn’t afford to pay him rent. Edie decided not to interfere in Magdalena’s performance unless necessary.
Simon was a gem! What a lucky find. Even Ryan had taken special care to make Simon feel welcome, chatting to him for longer than necessary, and discovering where he’d come from, when he’d trained as a farrier, how much experience he had. Edie had been amazed to see Ryan so engaged, an easy smile on his face as he nodded and asked another question.
‘Gosh,’ Simon said during a break in reading while Ted found his page after dropping his script. ‘This producer is a villain and a half, isn’t he?’
Ryan looked up and Edie sensed him tensing at her side. ‘Isn’t he?’ he said to Simon with a smile in his voice, so maybe Edie had misread the tension.
‘No wonder someone’—Simon winked at those around the table—‘killed the bugger off.’
‘Shall we continue?’ Edie said after taking Ted’s script off him and finding his place—the second entrance of the pugnacious detective.
The reading continued with Edie making notes now and then, whenever something occurred to her about the acting, the tone of a scene or when a new thought came to her about stage directions and lighting.
She’d seated Ryan next to her and whispered instructions to him during the read-through about what was expected of him when it came to rehearsals. He marked his script with all the stage blocking and directions from Edie, plus the many cues for sound and lighting. She had the last stage manager’s script with all that jotted down, but Ryan said he’d prefer to make notes himself.
He was reading the part of the leading man too. At first he said the lines without much inflection, but as soon as Simon came in with his robust depiction of the simpleton groom, something must have flared in Ryan. He upped the ante and began to give the part some oomph, as though there was an unseen challenge going on between him and Simon.
An hour later, everyone was putting on their coats and talking over each other about how exciting it was, and taking bets on who was going to be first off the book. Edie had explained a few theatrical terms after advising that although they should start learning their lines at the earliest opportunity and get ‘off the book’, they’d need to hold their scripts in their hands for the first few rehearsals and stay on the book, so that they could jot down their moves.
She’d been very surprised when Simon started whistling. Every actor—even amateurs—knew not to do that. Why hadn’t Simon? Maybe he’d just forgotten.
‘Simon!’ she’d barked, a little more strongly than she’d meant to. Even though they were in the kitchen, she’d felt she ought to remind him. ‘If you whistle backstage, I’ll kill you,’ she pronounced.
Simon had looked askance, as had Ted and Magdalena.
‘It’s bad luck,’ she told them. ‘Whistling codes were used to indicate scene changes, so the big strong guys in the fly tower—they used to be sailors so knew a thing or two about rigging—knew when to drop the next two-tonne flat into place. Imagine being beneath it!’
‘Sorry—forgot,’ Simon said with an abashed smile.
‘What happens if I whistle in the dressing room?’ Ted asked. ‘I do that when I’m getting dressed in the morning.’
Edie was happy to talk about the many superstitions she adhered to. ‘You’ll be sent out. You’ll have to spin around three times, spit, swear, then knock on the door to be let back in.’
‘It’s powerful stuff this acting business, isn’t it?’ Ted said, perspiration appearing on his brow.
‘You better believe it,’ Edie said, with a twinkling smile.
‘Okay, everyone,’ she said, back in the present and clapping her hands over the cheery banter—always good to have a happy cast. ‘Tomorrow’s call is 5.45 pm please. Only Ted is allowed to be late.’
‘I’ll hurry the evening round,’ Ted said, ‘and see if I can get here a bit earlier. I need to practise being dead for Act I.’
‘Don’t worry, Ted. You still need your income. There’ll only be a small amount left to pay your expenses after ticket sales.’ She planned on divvying up the box-office takings and sharing it out. She wouldn’t take a cut herself, and Tony didn’t want anything as he was bringing Jonathon down for the week, so they would have an all-expenses covered rural holiday at Jindalee House.
She’d been so nervous, but after tonight, Edie felt sure it was going to work.
‘I’ll just pop out and make sure Simon’s vehicle starts,’ Ryan said quietly to Edie when everyone had gone outside. ‘Said he was having trouble with it. Then I’ll secure the barn.’
‘Secure it?’ Edie asked.
‘Lock it up. You’ve got a lot of expensive equipment in there now, plus all the props you’re collecting.’
‘Ryan, this is Swallow’s Fall. We haven’t had a theft since 1996.’
He smiled his acknowledgement, then brushed a few strands of hair off her shoulder. ‘Are you happy with the way things are going?’
For a split second she thought he was referring to something between them, until she realised he must mean rehearsals. ‘Excellent. Isn’t Simon amazing? So are you!’ she added quickly.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’m trying my best here.’ Again, he brushed her hair off her shoulder.
‘You’re very good,’ she insisted, thinking perhaps he needed more encouragement than she’d given him. He was brilliant as a stage manager. He’d got to grips with what his role required faster than she’d imagined. How super smart and gorgeous could one man be? ‘Don’t forget you’re a stand-in. You don’t have to be good at acting as well as stage managing.’
His eyes narrowed with a perplexed squint but they were warm and tender too. ‘Edie,’ he said patiently. ‘I’m not talking about the play, and I’m not acting. Stay inside,’ he added without explaining what he meant. ‘I’ll see them off then lock the barn.’
Edie left the back door open and watched him walk towards Simon’s truck.
Gem had said he needed Edie’s presence. That she comforted him. Edie couldn’t envisage Ryan needing her comfort. She didn’t even want to begin imagining a scenario where one day she’d share his thoughts and feelings, and that he’d want her to know his innermost desires.
He had a big worry of his own, and she didn’t want to burden him with all of hers, yet here she was, relying on him because of Marcus. A grown woman who couldn’t handle her own affairs. She really had to buy a car. It would be a start. Perhaps she should buy an apartment too. Renting in the city was such a waste of money. Maybe she ought to go back to Sydney and face Marcus. She could explain—lie, basically—that she hadn’t said a word to Polly and Dick, and that there was no way she’d had him in mind when she’d written about a dead producer. If she begged him to understand, and cried a bit, and threw in the odd simper, perhaps he’d believe her. It would put her skills as an actor to the test but she’d never been afraid of being quizzed or assessed before.
Her mobile buzzed in her pocket, and she was grateful for the distraction.
‘Tony! What’s happening? How’s Sergei?’
‘Purring contentedly. I thought you might like to k
now that yesterday a little bird I know was given a sneak preview of Lola Loverman’s new play—the part that should have been yours. It’s only running for a month and apparently, no-one can imagine it going that long.’
Edie settled herself in the armchair for a gossip. Lola was all right, although she’d never wanted to be Edie’s friend due to the competition factor, so Edie didn’t mind gossiping about her. ‘What did your little birdie say?’
‘Said she gave a brave performance.’
‘Oh God—that bad?’ Brave—always said in a reverent tone—was a description given for a performance that another actor found indescribably embarrassing. But it didn’t make sense because Lola could do the lot. That’s why she was known as a triple threat.
‘Pitiful performance, apparently. She might as well have phoned it in. Once you’re back with us you’ll be needed, darling.’
But when would she be back?
She glanced around the kitchen and felt the warmth envelope her. Not from the fire, which was dying down now—it was still chilly outside, spring or not—but from the atmosphere.
She’d thought all the cosy things she’d added, like the rag rug and the lamps, and the second-hand armchair and sofa, were simply in order to make herself feel more at home while she adjusted to living in this house. She certainly hadn’t put any effort into making her rental apartment a home.
What did that mean? That she was happy to stay here in Swallow’s Fall and give up her career? Whether she had an acting career or not, she had to do something for the rest of her life.
‘Edie, darling.’
Tony’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘Now don’t get in a strop,’ he warned, ‘but your reputation is being monitored and spoken of all over Sydney and Melbourne.’
Edie drummed her fingernails on the armchair in an attempt to control her frustration. ‘Why do you always give me the bad news last? What’s being said about me now?’
‘More or less the same. The man-hunter issue, you’re a prima donna and—what was the other thing? Oh yes—a pain in the arse to work with.’
It was far from the truth. She was always on time, and never behaved in anything but a professional and friendly manner with everybody—onstage, backstage and front of house. One of the things she loved about the theatre were all the people in her biz. Wild, gregarious, shy, and downright horrible some of them, but they were people, and people were Edie’s business. How else could she portray her characters without knowing people?
‘If it’s the same rumours he’s spreading, what’s the problem?’ she asked.
‘They’ve spread as far as Adelaide and Perth.’
‘Perth?’ She bolted upright. ‘How did they get that far?’ Perth was thousands of kilometres away. It might as well be California.
‘Well, this is the bit I’m not sure of,’ Tony said. ‘Somebody’s been questioning some of our friends. It has to be Marcus’s people. It’s not as if you’re being hounded for a part, is it?’
‘Thanks for the reminder.’
‘Edie,’ Tony said. ‘There’s something else. Now hang on to your hat—’
‘Tony!’ she pleaded. ‘Get to the point.’
‘Don’t start screaming, but I believe Marcus might know where you’re hiding.’
Her heart almost bounced out of her chest as she shot forwards in the armchair.
‘Your silence is frightening,’ Tony said. ‘I knew you’d overreact. Where’s that Special Forces hunk of yours? You might want to tell him, so he can do his protection thing.’
‘How the hell did Marcus find out where I was?’
‘I think our dear friend Riff Raff might have told him.’
‘I’ll kill him!’
‘Ryan!’
Ryan halted in the backstage area where his barn-bedroom had once been.
Edie came stomping around the partition, her face flushed in some sort of panic.
‘Marcus—he might know where I am.’
He dropped a pile of set decoration magazines he was holding and stepped forwards. ‘Do you know how?’ He said it quietly. He didn’t want her even more flustered than she was now.
‘We think Damien told him—Riff Raff.’
‘Does Damien have anything against you?’
‘Of course not. I’m his best woman friend.’ She touched her bracelet, her fingers working it. ‘I don’t understand why he’d do this. He’s gentle and sweet. His idea of going wild is a night in watching West Side Story with a bag of buttered popcorn. Plus Marcus is spreading terrible rumours about me. How far do you think he’ll go?’
Ryan put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to slow her down and steady her. ‘Nobody can hurt you, Edie.’ Not while he was around, and he intended to stick like glue from now on. He’d hoped to have this conversation later tonight, but since she’d opened an avenue … ‘This thing we’ve got going on,’ he said, ‘the pretence for Gary. We ought to make it seem real now.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want you out of my sight. So we should make it known we’re together.’
‘But we’re not.’ She fiddled with her bracelet again, an askance look on her face.
‘Would it be so bad?’
‘Nobody would believe it.’
He accepted the possibility of this, but didn’t care for the fact that Edie couldn’t believe it either. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘I’m complicated, Ryan. And I’m not sure about anything at the moment. Everybody knows you just make up your mind to do something, and do it. You’re organised and I’m a wreck.’
He decided not to answer that one.
‘They’d never believe us,’ she insisted. ‘We’re not suited.’
‘On the contrary. We just approach things differently. You’re pretty easy to figure out—mostly. Just not in the way I’m used to.’
‘You’re used to regulation and order. Your commanding officer gives you a map, tells you where to go and which missionary you’re going to be saving. He shows you where you’ll get picked up by a helicopter or something, and reminds you to not get shot while you’re out there.’
His face cracked in a reluctant smile. ‘I’m the one who often gave the orders, Edie, and I don’t know where you got the missionary idea from, but yeah—you’re pretty much right. Now let’s get back to the issue at hand. I’m going to be by your side from now on. Day and night.’
‘Night?’ She chewed her bottom lip. ‘What do you think Marcus is going to do?’
‘I’ve got a mate in Sydney who’s doing a bit of snooping for me.’
‘Who?’
‘Killer Vince.’ He shut his mouth when she baulked. ‘It’s just a nickname. He’s a private investigator now.’
‘His army nickname?’
‘He always wanted to be a killer with the ladies and never quite made it, but in Afghanistan he turned his charms on the kids and made them laugh. Most of them needed something fun in their lives. We all had nicknames,’ he added. ‘They follow you around for life.’
‘Like what?’
He leaned against the props table and folded his arms, happy to take her off the subject of Buchanan. He wanted her calm, and this might amuse her. ‘We had Fresh-Face Tom because he looked like a baby—but there was nobody out there who could handle an F2 Mortar like Fresh-Face. Colin Minogue was known as Kylie. Then there was Foggy Thompson—he couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, although that was in training, way back. I think Foggy runs a bottle shop in Melbourne now.’ Suddenly, his head was filled with a hundred different guys.
‘What was your nickname?’
‘Grit.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘Ryan “Grit” Munroe?’
‘In basic training, just after I joined the army, Foggy Thompson got confused—dangerous, when using live ammo—and started shooting in the wrong direction. My direction. I couldn’t let myself be detected by the pretend enemy. Basically I was stuck in position, dodging his aim as best I could.’
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br /> ‘You might have been killed!’
‘A poor old emu copped one bullet. Damn thing came from nowhere. I reckon that’s what got Foggy so confused, and thanks to his confusion and my ability to stay put and dodge a bullet, I was known as Grit from then on.’
‘You were brave.’
‘Just backbone, really. Truth is, I wasn’t going to move and make myself a bigger target for the idiot with a paper bag on his head and live ammo in his weapon.’
Edie inhaled deeply. ‘Now you’re paying Killer Vince to snoop on Marcus.’
‘He’s doing me a favour. When he needs one, I’ll do the same.’
‘It’s not fair, Ryan. You shouldn’t have to get involved.’
‘You think I’d leave you to cope with this on your own?’
‘Does my father know?’
He shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Please don’t tell him. I don’t want Mum and Dad worried. Or Viv.’
‘We’ll see.’ He lifted himself from the props table, put his hand on her shoulder again, and squeezed. ‘But I’m here. Nick knows the score too, so if he asks you to do something it’s because he’s protecting you. Do you understand?’ he asked, gently manoeuvring her to his way of thinking. ‘It’s not a male dominating thing, it’s us looking after you.’
‘It’s very kind of you, but I didn’t want others involved. I’m a pain in the neck—’
‘Stop.’ He refrained from reminding her that friends did things for each other, because what he wanted her to understand was that a man in love not only wanted but needed to protect and care for the woman in his life. Except Edie wasn’t quite the woman in his life yet. She didn’t seem to get it, and as far as Ryan was concerned, he was being more than obvious. ‘Wait here,’ he told her. ‘I’ll switch the lights off and lock the front doors, then we’ll go out the side door.’ He walked around the partition, making a mental note to set up a motion-sensor alarm outside the barn and the house. He might also contact another ex-army mate, Cameron ‘Crusher’ Sinclair. Cam would be good to have around at the moment.