The Cinema of Lost Dreams

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The Cinema of Lost Dreams Page 9

by Alli Sinclair


  “Thank you,” she said.

  “No problem.” Luke studied her intently. “Who are you harassing today?”

  “I’ll have you know, harassing is not in my job description.” Finding an indignant tone was not difficult.

  Luke raised an eyebrow.

  “What?” Man, she really sounded defensive.

  “I hear you met with my great-aunt.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “She likes you.”

  “And I like her.”

  Luke rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “She better be right about trusting you.”

  “I cross my heart a thousand times that I will keep my word and make sure it is a positive experience for your great-aunt.”

  “She’s not as strong as she seems. This cinema means the world to her. It’s been in our family for generations.”

  “What’s the family history with the cinema?”

  “It’s questions like this that will get her offside,” said Luke. “Just do what you’ve both agreed on, and don’t go asking personal questions. If you do, you’ll lose her trust and your filming won’t happen.”

  “All right.” She liked that Luke had offered some advice. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. And maybe, as she and Hattie got to know each other, information about the cinema’s history would trickle out in conversation. Or not. Either way, Claire had just managed to do the next-to-impossible and source a site at the last minute. This was a defining moment in her career, and she should give herself a moment to celebrate. A wide grin broke free on her lips.

  “You’ve got a nice smile.” Luke’s cheeks flushed red and heat rushed across Claire’s face.

  “I have?”

  “For someone who can be so insistent, you don’t have a lot of confidence in yourself, do you?”

  Had he and Hattie been talking about her?

  “I have confidence. I couldn’t do this job without it.” People who lacked confidence didn’t have huge goals. And she had plenty. So why was she giving the impression that she didn’t believe in herself?

  “Maybe.” He twirled his keys with his index finger. “That was an impressive letter.”

  “You read it?”

  “Of course. My great-aunt called soon after she discovered it. It was eloquent. Inspiring. Sincere.”

  “I’m glad you thought so.” She liked the turn this conversation had taken.

  “It resonated with me on many levels.”

  “Like?”

  Luke looked away. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like not to feel supported when pursuing something your heart longs for.”

  Visions of Luke’s magnificent metal sculptures appeared in her mind. Could they be what he was talking about? No, impossible. After all, his art was in the shop, and seemed to be popular. Maybe there was something else…

  “Right, well, I’m glad I ran into you. I guess I’ll see you around,” he said.

  “I guess you will.” She waved goodbye, and Luke crossed the road and entered the café. She watched him through the window, his tall, lean body lounging on the chair as he chatted with his great-aunt. The connection between them seemed unbreakable. Certainly, Luke’s allusion to unsupported dreams couldn’t have included Hattie. Who was it? His father? Mother? Were they still alive? He hadn’t mentioned them…then again, Luke didn’t seem like the type of person who told his life story to someone within the first five minutes of meeting them. She suspected his statement about not asking Hattie personal questions also pertained to him. Disappointment surfaced, because, whether she liked it or not, a sudden desire to know more about Luke Jackson resonated deep within her.

  Oh, no, no, no.

  Nope. She could not go there. But it wouldn’t hurt to fantasize, just a little, right?

  Claire rolled her eyes and scrounged around her bag again for the keys. She checked her pockets but had no luck.

  Peering in through the window of her ute, she spied them sitting oh-so-innocently on the driver’s seat.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Sticking her hand in her bag once more, Claire fumbled around until she found the plastic strapping she kept for such occasions—which happened way more often than they should have. A mind that constantly buzzed with ideas interfered with everyday things, like remembering not to lock her keys in the ute.

  Setting her bag down, Claire inserted the strapping at the right angle and slid it along slowly, waiting for it to gently touch the mechanism that would pop the lock. A faint click sounded and Claire quickly opened the door, clutched the keys and waved them in the air.

  “Yes! Ha!” She did a spin of victory but stopped the second she caught sight of Luke and Hattie standing a couple of feet away. Claire dropped her hands by her side. “Oh, hi.”

  “Are you a criminal in your spare time?” asked Luke, his lips twitching.

  “No…uh…breaking into your own vehicle isn’t a crime, last time I checked.” Seriously, what crap timing.

  “Don’t listen to him.” Hattie gave Luke a nudge. “It’s good to see you’re more than capable of figuring out your own problems. A woman should be able to rely on herself. Why don’t you come to my place now and you can get started?”

  “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

  “Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment?” Luke asked his aunt.

  “Oh, yes.” Hattie tapped her head. “Sometimes my age catches up with me, but not often.” She turned to Luke. “Why don’t you open up, then Claire can start doing what she needs to do? I’ll meet you there later.”

  “I can pick you up from the doctor’s.”

  “No, no, the walk will do me good. It will give me a chance to clear my head.”

  Luke shrugged and gave Claire a look that seemed to say there’s no point in arguing.

  Hattie waved goodbye and walked a few doors down to enter a gray building with a faded pharmacy sign with the “ac” missing.

  “Shall we go?” Luke started walking slowly, letting her catch up.

  Walking afforded Claire the opportunity to take in the small details she’d missed while driving. For years Claire had trained herself to notice every element of landscapes and buildings, committing them to memory because she never knew when she’d need to call on them for a production. Whether it was the way the afternoon sun shone on a bougainvillea, the curve of a road through a valley or the intricate filigree on the banister of a staircase, she always looked for the beauty in things. Even run-down towns like Starlight Creek, which hadn’t had a lick of paint since 1957, had their own charming stories to tell.

  As Claire and Luke got closer to the cinema, a tingle of excitement started in her fingertips and ran up her arms. She loved nothing more than exploring a new site, mapping it out, using the logical side of her mind to maximize the space and minimize the shoot time, while also using her creative side to envision how everything would look on-screen. On-location sets were characters in their own right, and they could make or break a movie—the perfect setting could enhance a mood and give actors a better connection with the story.

  Luke and Claire walked in silence. They arrived at the cinema, and she stopped and looked—really looked—at the faded exterior and peeling paint.

  Luke opened the door, stepped into the dark foyer, flicked on the lights and motioned for her to enter. She hesitated, her head clouded in doubt, wondering if she’d dreamed the interior was better than it actually was.

  Stepping across the threshold, she prayed she hadn’t gotten it wrong.

  Chapter Ten

  1994 – Starlight Creek, Queensland

  A wave of awe crashed over Claire as she took in the expanse of the foyer. The black and white tiles were just as pristine as she remembered, the wooden kiosk just as shiny, and the ornate chandelier hanging from the pressed metal ceiling still held every crystal.


  “Wow.” She breathed out slowly.

  “Wow? But you’ve seen this before.”

  “I know. It’s just…just…I have no words, really.” She slowly walked in a circle, taking it all in.

  A wry smile raced across Luke’s lips. “I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ve grown up in this cinema, and sometimes I still find myself in awe. Check this out.” Luke went behind the counter to the kiosk. He pressed a panel, and out popped a secret drawer. “They used this to store receipts until the end of the night.”

  “That is so cool!” Claire was as excited as a schoolgirl. “I’ll have to tell Nigel about this.”

  Luke stood straight. “Nigel?”

  “The director. He loves this sort of stuff. I bet we could use it in the miniseries.”

  Luke’s body stiffened.

  “You’re really not on board with this, are you?” She knew she should shut up.

  “I like the idea of our cinema being in a miniseries, but it’s the behind-the-scenes stuff that worries me.”

  “Why?”

  “My great-aunt.” He brushed a speck of dust off the dark wood counter.

  “When I give my word, I mean it. I will not let your great-aunt down.”

  “I believe you,” he finally said, his voice sincere.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Excellent.”

  “Don’t you need to take photos or something?” He was back to business, so she got her camera out of her bag, attached the flash and asked, “Do you mind if I walk around? I’ll also need to take measurements.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She worked in the foyer, focusing her camera lens, getting the right light, sketching and jotting down measurements. Claire pulled out the shooting script, which she’d already made notes on.

  “What’s that for?” asked Luke.

  “I’m just double-checking I’ve covered all the potential angles for scenes inside the cinema.”

  “Doesn’t the director do that?”

  “Yes, but part of my job is to relieve the director’s logistical burdens. It’s important for me to see things with a director’s eye and the mind of a logistics operator. I have to think about where the crew and actors will stand—we normally mark the actors’ positions with tape, but it won’t mark your floor. Each actor has a specific color they stand on. I also look into the accessibility of power and water, where catering will set up and the health and safety of everyone—and everything—involved. I also have to time how long it takes to get the crew from one place to another, as well as put signs up on the roads and give the crew detailed maps so they arrive quickly and without confusion. Basically, when looking at a place to shoot, I have to consider every single angle of production.”

  “Interesting,” said Luke.

  “I’m glad you think so,” said Claire, encouraged by Luke’s curiosity. “My job means I live in the past, present and future.”

  “How?”

  “Past because I oversee packing up a set and the logistics of getting everything from point A to point B. Present because I need to know what’s happening while we’re shooting, and because I’m a liaison between departments and property owners. And future because I’m looking at the next lot of locations and starting property negotiations while putting together information for the production team.”

  “When do you sleep?”

  She let out a laugh. “Never!”

  “Why the photos?”

  “It’s a storyboard for the production team, because they can’t always see a property before they arrive. Normally I’d do this before I start negotiations with the property owner, but we’re on a bit of a time limit.”

  “Hmm.”

  Claire continued photographing while Luke watched in silence. She couldn’t tell if he was still interested or if he was having second thoughts. When she was done with the photography, she got out a tape measure, notepad and pen.

  “Do you want me to hold the end of the tape measure?” he asked.

  “That would be great, thanks.” Luke’s offer eased Claire’s concerns.

  They worked in the foyer, no words spoken except for the occasional direction or word of thanks. The whole time, though, Claire wanted to ask about the history of the theater, about his family’s connection, where he got the inspiration behind the beautiful metal artwork and why he’d been so standoffish in the beginning.

  Stop it!

  She needed to concentrate. Every measurement had to be exact, because if she was off, it would mean wasting time trying to get gear in, resetting lighting design and camera angles and even figuring out the right number of crew for the space.

  Claire eventually finished in the foyer and packed her gear into her bag. “Could we do the cinema itself now?”

  “Sure.”

  They went into the cinema and, once again, the beauty floored her. She ran her fingers over the small gold rectangles used to secure the blue fabric on the seats. The light reflected off the curved wooden backs and armrests, highlighting the craftsmanship. “This is really something. Such a shame no one gets to see it anymore.” She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “The public should have the chance to see it, and now they will.”

  “On screen. It’s not quite the same, is it?” Backpedaling, she said, “But I’m sure it will show up brilliantly in the miniseries.”

  Claire saw a door at the side of the cinema she’d missed on her first visit. She took a step in its direction.

  “That’s off limits.” Luke paused, as if testing her resolve. She remained silent, despite the urge to let a slew of questions fly. Luke smiled. “Nice to see you can keep your word about not asking questions.”

  “Of course I can!” Indignation set in, but she quickly quashed it. She reached for the camera, then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

  “Claire? What are you doing?”

  “I’m waiting for the cinema to speak to me.”

  “Uh…”

  She opened her eyes. “I’ll admit, it does sound weird, but I am as sane as they come. I tend to do this when I’m in a beautiful place, because I want to get a feel for it.” She shivered. “It’s as if the souls of the people who used to come here are still present.” Claire looked again at the blue velvet seats. “Like all their conversations, their laughter, tears, heartache and celebrations are still with us.”

  Luke stared at her.

  “Don’t mind me.” Heat rushed across her face. “I’m not some weirdo or anything.”

  “Are you sure?” She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

  “Pretty sure. But”—she waggled a finger—“you never know.”

  Luke laughed, and the cinema instantly felt warmer. It was good to have him on her side, as it was one less stressor to deal with. Ugh. James Lloyd was already a massive headache, one she really didn’t want to deal with, but if monitoring the movements of an actor meant she’d stay on Nigel’s good side, she’d have to suck it up. There could be worse things, like Tony Karter muscling in on her job. She couldn’t stomach the idea of going back to being the gopher of the production team. She’d worked too long and too hard to mess this chance up. It was now or never.

  * * * *

  Claire exited the Ashton news agency, the latest copy of Queensland Country Life rolled under her arm. She pulled her baseball cap over her eyes, not keen on being recognized by one of the locals. Then again, Ashton was so small that a stranger stuck out like a ballerina at a Nirvana concert.

  The past forty-eight hours had been mayhem, and had required a lot of to-ing and fro-ing between Starlight Creek and Ashton, catching up with the legal team, long meetings with the crew and, of course, dealing with Tony and his attitude, along with making Nigel happy. All this had to be squeezed in betwee
n shooting the last of the outdoor scenes.

  “Excuse me!”

  Claire whipped around to find Annalise, the cinema owner’s daughter, rushing up the street. She wore tight jeans, Doc Martens and a red-and-black checked flannel shirt. Right now, she looked eighteen, unlike in the outfits and hair and makeup she’d worn previously, which made her look at least six years older.

  “Annalise! I thought you were on a…vacation.”

  “I’m supposed to still be away, but I heard about everyone moving to Starlight Creek and…well…” She reached into her back jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope. “Can you give this to James?”

  Claire looked around, fearing glaring eyes would be watching her every move. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “But I have to get this to him! Please!”

  “Annalise, I can’t.”

  “But you’re seeing him later today, right? When you get to Starlight Creek?”

  “I am.” Claire’s heart went out to the poor girl. When was the last time Claire had been so taken by a man? “Your father would kill me, and so would my boss.”

  “But James and I are supposed to be together!”

  “I understand that’s how you’re feeling right now—”

  “I’m going to feel this way forever!” she yelled, oblivious to the butcher and his customer who had just stuck their heads out the door to see who was causing the commotion. “You have to help me!”

  “Annalise, I want to help, but I can’t. I’d be risking my job and—” This would be very hard to say. “James is a player. Deep down he’s a nice guy, but he’s not exactly been on the straight and narrow these past few months.”

  “He’s told me that.”

  “And it doesn’t worry you?”

  She shook her head, her long, straight hair covering her face. Annalise pushed back her locks. “He said I’m different.”

  Now anger roiled through Claire—not at the starstruck teenager, but at James Lloyd, who should know better. Just wait until she saw him. “I agree. You are different from the women he normally dates, and that’s why I’m concerned. The women he’s usually with are…” How should she put this? “Actresses, models, women who have been around, who have thick skin. They’re used to dating someone like James. You may think I’m sticking my nose in—”

 

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