by Di Morrissey
‘How about we all go to the movies when Jean-Luc’s here, if there’s something good on at the Sun Pictures?’ suggested Jacqui.
‘Sounds good, love. See ya.’
Deep in thought, Jacqui pedalled back to the bookshop. It was twilight so she decided she’d stay late in the shop to catch up on some work.
An hour or so later, she shut down her computer and slid the shop door closed and locked it. As she walked down the steps a vehicle pulled up beside her and Damien leaned out the passenger window.
‘Hi, Jacqui! Glad we caught you. We’re going for a quick drink before heading to the airport. Come and see us off?’
Jacqui grinned. ‘I’d love to! How did it all go?’
‘We’ll tell you. Can you follow us out to the airport?’
‘Sure, great. I’ll go home and get my car,’ replied Jacqui, pleased to see Damien and Richie again.
*
The two men were checking in when Jacqui arrived at the airport. They waved enthusiastically to her.
‘I’ll snare a table outside. What do you want to drink?’ asked Jacqui.
‘Just hold the table. I’ll grab the drinks,’ said Damien.
‘Fancy a snack?’ asked Richie.
‘Not really, but don’t let me stop you from getting something,’ said Jacqui as she headed to the outdoor food and beverage area.
A few minutes later, Damien joined her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Richie is returning the hire car. It’s good to see you. Pity this is just a whistlestop. I’ll go and get our drinks. Dry white wine okay?’
Jacqui nodded, watching Damien weave through the other travellers on his way to the bar. She had to admit that at times she did miss the companionship of an attractive man. A lot of unattached men passed through Broome, often to work in remote regions, but she’d never met one who was really her type.
Jacqui was snapped out of her thoughts by Damien arriving back at their table. She blushed, glad he couldn’t hear what she’d been thinking.
‘Here you go.’ Damien put down the glass of wine and two beers he was carrying. ‘I bet Richie will bring some food. That man loves to eat.’ He smiled at her. ‘How are you?’
‘Good. Though you’ve given me an appetite to explore more of the Kimberley. I kind of envy you your job.’
‘Well, it doesn’t get boring. I spend months setting up a shoot, then have the adrenalin rush of careening around the countryside to get the shots I want, hoping all the time that the weather doesn’t cave in and that the right people turn up at the right time and in the right place, and everything goes according to plan. Then I spend months hunched in a small room cutting and putting it all together. Can be a lot of stress.’ He lifted his beer and took a sip. ‘I can envy the calmness of your job, especially as you live in such a unique place.’ He gestured towards the horizon. ‘The best part of Australia in my book.’
Richie appeared with a load of cheese and biscuits, chips, doughnuts and peanuts. ‘I hope I got enough. Where’s the best part of Australia?’ he asked as he ripped open the packet of chips.
‘Up here in the north-west,’ said Damien. ‘And we haven’t even scratched a tenth of it.’
‘You’ll have to come back,’ said Jacqui with a smile.
‘Find me a good story, and it will be my pleasure,’ shot back Damien.
‘You’ve already talked to Lily Barton, Damien. Didn’t she tell you her story?’
‘Not really. We were mainly talking about James Brown’s operation at Cygnet Bay and how she could arrange a visit there for me and Richie.’
‘That is a pity. You should do her story, too. Lily is wonderful. Years ago, after her mother died, she discovered she had a long-lost relative here in Broome. So she came here on a quest and she found out about Olivia Hennessy. Olivia came out here with her English husband, Conrad, more than one hundred years ago. Conrad became the partner of one of the pearling masters, Captain Tyndall. Tyndall was one of the most colourful people in Broome in the wild and dangerous days. When Conrad died tragically, Olivia and Tyndall not only ran the pearling business together, they could finally give in to their love for each other. But then Tyndall’s wife, who had disappeared in London, suddenly returned, hungry for his fortune! Lily says if Olivia and Tyndall’s story was ever turned into a movie, you’d have to cast someone like Clark Gable or Errol Flynn as the leading man.’
‘Or Colin Farrell today?’ suggested Damien.
Jacqui laughed. ‘Yes, indeed. Olivia is the real heroine, though. Hers is an amazing tale of misunderstandings, murders and mayhem. There’s another grand story, about the missing lover of Captain Tyndall, a beautiful Eurasian–Aboriginal girl called Niah and a riji, a carved pearl shell, “The Tears of the Moon”, which held an important secret. But most of all, Lily will tell you about the dramatic relationship between Olivia and Tyndall.’
‘Wow, does sound like it would be a fantastic movie,’ said Richie.
‘It sounds as though I should have done more than just talk to Lily on the phone,’ said Damien ruefully. ‘I hope I get the chance to meet her in person.’
‘Yes. It would be good to talk to some of the old-timers too,’ said Jacqui.
As the passengers were called to board the plane, the boys picked up their gear and started to make their way to the boarding gate. Suddenly Damien turned and gave Jacqui an affectionate hug. ‘If you’re coming through Perth sometime, give me a ring,’ he said, looking intently at her.
‘G’bye, Jacqui, hope to see you again sometime,’ said Richie as he walked towards the gate, giving her a wave.
She watched them head into the queue of passengers, and turned and walked back to the car park.
*
Several days later Jacqui stood in the bedroom her son used, wondering if she should change anything or just keep things as they were. A new bedcover? Some IT gadget? Best let him decide, Jacqui thought. After all, Jean-Luc’s tastes might be quite different these days, now that he would soon be a young man of sixteen. How fast the time has gone, she thought wistfully. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be off to university.
Nîmes, in southern France, was such a long way from Broome, such a long way to travel between his parents. She and Jean-Luc Skyped a lot, and Jacqui did fly to France to see her son when she could afford the fare and the time off from her business, but such trips were annoyingly infrequent. These days, Jean-Luc seemed only to have time to visit his mother once a year, in the French summer holidays. It wasn’t how she had anticipated raising her son but, as she had learned, when life threw one a curve ball, one simply had to adjust. Sitting on her son’s bed, she felt the old feelings rise in her chest, the pangs of regret, of hurt and what might have been . . . C’est la vie. She sighed, stood up and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.
*
A week later, when she was grabbing a quick coffee with Lydia, Jacqui tried not to sound too excited as she told her friend about Damien. ‘He’s called me three or four times. At first it was just to check some facts, but I got the feeling he was keen to catch up when he’s next in Broome, and he said if I was ever in Perth I should look him up. What do you think, Lydia? Should I wait till he comes back up here to see him again, or tell him I’ll be in Perth soon to meet up with Jean-Luc?’
‘Jacqui, for heaven’s sake. He’s a nice guy. You’ve got an overnight stay before Jean-Luc’s plane arrives, don’t you? So why not tell Damien you’re going to be there? At least have a drink or dinner with him. Have a nice evening. I’m sure he fancies you, well, likes you. Otherwise he wouldn’t keep phoning you.’
‘We’ll see.’ Jacqui ended the conversation and changed the subject. But later that evening, as she sat watching the sunset sky from her back verandah, she thought about what Lydia had said. Why not meet Damien in Perth and let him show her what his company was doing? Maybe they could go out fo
r a drink. It would be fun. So, she sent Damien an email explaining that soon she would be in Perth to meet someone, but would have a free day and hoped that he would have time to see her. She knew she would have to tell him about Jean-Luc, but preferred to do it face to face.
Damien phoned her the next day, sounding pleased. ‘I’ll meet you at the airport and take you back to the office to show you around our operation. Then we can do dinner before I drop you back at your hotel. How does that sound?’
‘That’d be great! I’m just staying out at the airport hotel,’ said Jacqui. ‘But really, you don’t have to meet me.’
‘I’ll see you at the airport,’ Damien insisted. ‘It’s not far from the city. More time to chat. Let me know if your flight is delayed.’
As Jacqui hung up the phone, she felt both excited and apprehensive, not just because Damien was meeting her at the airport, but because she was seeing her son again after almost twelve months apart.
As promised, when she arrived at Perth airport Damien ambled towards her at the baggage claim, reaching to take her bag as she was pulling it off the luggage carousel.
‘Hi, let me get that. I’m parked close by. How was the flight?’
‘Fine, thanks. It’s good to see you,’ said Jacqui with a smile.
‘You too,’ replied Damien, returning her grin. ‘We’ll head back to HQ first. Richie and Rita are there with nibbles and a cold drink. You haven’t met Rita – she’s our executive assistant, which is a fancy way of saying she keeps us all in check! They’re looking forward to seeing you,’ said Damien cheerfully. ‘We’ll go out for dinner later. There’s a great Thai place nearby.’
‘How did the shots you took turn out?’ Jacqui asked as they walked out of the airport.
Damien gave her a big smile. ‘Bloody magnificent! Even if I do say so myself. The scenery is stunning. I’ve put your talk onto a DVD in case you’d like it.’
‘That’s thoughtful of you, thanks. However, I don’t think I’m going to make a career out of public speaking.’
‘Don’t underestimate yourself,’ Damien protested. ‘You come across as very natural and friendly. Maybe you shouldn’t bury yourself away in a bookshop.’
‘I don’t consider myself buried away,’ retorted Jacqui. ‘The bookshop is my business and I enjoy it. Besides, Broome is a fantastic place, a great little community.’
‘Sorry, Jacqui, I didn’t mean that quite the way it came out. I admire what you do, and you seem to be liked and respected in town. I get that,’ he said apologetically. ‘And if you’re happy, then that’s the main thing, isn’t it?’ He unlocked the car door.
‘That’s okay. My parents sometimes say the same thing.’ She smiled as she got into the front seat. ‘They’re not entirely sure why I wanted to settle in Broome, either.’
‘Mine keep asking me when I’m going to settle down at all.’ Damien chuckled. ‘I’m always on the move. The idea of buying a house, well, I don’t see the point if I’m not staying in one place.’
As they drove towards the city, they talked about Cygnet Bay, and Damien’s plans to revisit the Browns’ pearl farm to do further filming.
‘Do you know what else interests me in the Kimberley? The rock art. It’s incredible,’ said Damien. ‘I’m trying to line something up with that as well.’ As he said this, he jerked to a halt as a set of traffic lights turned red.
Jacqui nodded and then looked at the line of traffic ahead of them. ‘We don’t do traffic jams in Broome. Don’t even have a set of traffic lights! I find all these cars stressful and irritating now.’
They pulled up outside a terrace house and when Jacqui got to the front door, Richie opened it and greeted her with a hug. ‘Welcome to the big smoke!’ he said.
‘Indeed. This is a cute place,’ she said, stepping inside. The hallway was lined with film posters and black-and-white photographs of early Hollywood movie stars. A hallstand smothered in coats stood beside the entrance, and further along the hallway, pot plants cascaded from an antique ceramic pot. A long Persian runner, faded in patches, stretched along the mellow wooden floorboards.
Richie led the way into a cluttered sitting room filled with easy chairs, a faux Tiffany lamp, and two desks. A filing cabinet was sandwiched between some bookshelves, and a large flat-screen TV was hung on the wall, facing a deep sofa with big plump cushions.
‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ asked Richie.
‘Well, sure, if you guys are having one too. Is this the office? It’s very homely,’ said Jacqui, looking around.
‘No, the office is upstairs. The kitchen, dining room and this sitting room are downstairs, and there’re two bedrooms upstairs. Entertaining, meetings and socialising happens up on the terrace. Rita has set up a screening for you so you can see what we’ve done so far,’ said Damien. ‘I’ve got to make a quick phone call, but Richie will show you upstairs.’
The office was cluttered with three small desks while a long table against one wall was covered in computers and what looked to Jacqui like editing equipment. Light flowed in through French doors, which opened onto the terrace. A woman who Jacqui assumed must be Rita was sitting at one of the desks.
The woman rose from her desk, smiling, and held out her hand. ‘Great to meet you, Jacqui. I’m Rita. Damien and Richie have both spoken highly of you. I can’t wait to go to Broome after seeing what they’ve shot up there.’
‘Yes, you must visit,’ said Jacqui, smiling as she shook Rita’s hand. Rita was in her twenties, she guessed. Her hair was cut sharp and short, her make-up dark and dramatic, her fingernails an electric blue.
‘We have the vision all set up to roll when you guys are ready,’ said Rita, pointing to the TV monitor on the desk of equipment.
‘When Damo comes up, we’ll have a look. In the meantime, I’ll just show Jacqui the terrace,’ said Richie.
‘How great is this!’ exclaimed Jacqui as she stepped out onto the covered terrace with its palms in pots, an outdoor cane furniture setting, a large barbeque and a long table with bench seating.
‘And look at the view over the city,’ said Richie proudly. ‘We’ve had a few functions and parties up here. Rita’s most important job is to keep all these plants alive.’
‘Does Rita live here too?’ asked Jacqui.
‘She can sleep over if we’re on a deadline, but she has her own little joint in Freo.’
‘Fremantle is pretty trendy these days, isn’t it? But Perth really is a lovely city,’ said Jacqui, looking at the stunning view of the cityscape.
‘It is,’ agreed Richie. ‘C’mon, let’s show you our rough edit.’
Damien re-joined them and the four of them perched around the office on desks and chairs as the breathtaking aerial shots of the Horizontal Falls burst onto the screen to the strains of the theme music from the movie Out of Africa.
‘Wow! That’s so dramatic, it makes me almost teary,’ exclaimed Jacqui. ‘Oh, there’s the Kimberley Sun.’
‘I just love the John Barry music. The tourist people might not want it, but I think it makes an impact,’ said Damien. ‘We’ll add the narration later.’
No one spoke as the stunning scenes of the Kimberley appeared on the screen. Then there was a short segment with Jacqui talking about the old days of Broome and its pearling history, overlaid with black-and-white footage of Japanese hard-hat divers being pulled from the sea on board a lugger stacked with pearl shell. Finally, the segment ended on a deserted stretch of Broome coastline at sunset with a campfire and the silhouettes of an Aboriginal family fishing while the children danced to the music of the Pigram Brothers singing ‘Nowhere Else But Here’.
‘Oh, that’s just lovely!’ exclaimed Jacqui. ‘You’ve even made me look good. Have you shown this to your client yet? I’m sure they’ll love it!’
‘Well, let’s hope so,’ said Damien modestly. ‘There’s a lot more
I want to film up north.’
‘Yes, it’s so interesting,’ said Rita. ‘I went over to the Maritime Museum to see that Southern Cross Pearl you mentioned. It’s amazing.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ Jacqui replied.
‘C’mon, let’s go downstairs and have a drink and some cheese and olives,’ suggested Damien. ‘I have a few more ideas I’d like to run past you, Jacqui, seeing as you know Broome better than we do.’
‘You’ve already made up a list of places and people, Damien,’ said Jacqui, ‘and many of them are new to me!’
Making documentary films was not an area Jacqui knew much about, but she found the rapid exchange of ideas between the three filmmakers exhilarating. As they talked she found she could visualise their suggestions. Jacqui had not felt so stimulated for years. Suddenly she threw an idea of her own into the conversation.
‘Maybe you need a theme to link all this together,’ she said. ‘Who do you think this film should be aimed at? Travellers, adventurers, backpackers and grey nomads? Or armchair viewers who can’t travel but like to learn about the art, indigenous culture, geography, history, politics and science of places?’
‘Good point,’ said Damien. ‘A theme.’
‘Something that keeps it contemporary,’ added Richie.
‘Yeah. What’s going to make someone like me want to go there, or keep my interest if I can’t?’ asked Rita.
‘Magic pristine waterholes, chilli mud crabs by the campfire at the beach, and dancing to the local music at the Roey Hotel,’ Jacqui said with a laugh.
‘Take me there!’ Rita waved her arms above her head.
‘How come you’ve lived here all your life and never gone up there?’ Damien asked his assistant.
‘I was waiting to be convinced,’ said Rita.
Damien glanced at his watch. ‘Hey, maybe we’d better head out to the restaurant for dinner, Jacqui. I’ve booked a table and I don’t want to lose it by turning up late.’
Rita started gathering up the plates and glasses, and Jacqui quickly helped her.
‘This has been such fun, Rita. You must enjoy your work here,’ said Jacqui.