Miracle Man

by Hildy Fox

"This is Dave 'The Rave' Conigrave with you on Valley FM, and after this musical interlude, we'll be talking to Lahra Brook, who's leading a fight to save the Miracle Cinema from extinction, and inviting your comments. Don't go away."

  Lahra watched Dave's skinny, practiced fingers press a couple of buttons, then music began playing in the background. He swirled on his seat and faced her and Wally.

  "Does this mean I'm on in a minute?" Lahra asked nervously.

  Dave's pointy face smiled at her from between his long, tangled hair. "About three minutes, actually. But don't worry, you'll be fine. It's just like a one on one conversation, except twenty thousand people are eavesdropping."

  The strange looking disc jockey's unaffected manner eased Lahra's nerves a little, as did the assuring pat on the back from Wally. She was used to talking to groups of forty or fifty students, but radio was something else again. When Wally told her that he was friends with the program manager at Valley FM and that he owed Wally a favour, it had seemed like a great idea. But now she wasn't so sure.

  "Wally, why don't you do it?" she urged. "You've got a strong voice-"

  "Lahra, all the strong voices in the world couldn't drown out your passion when you get going. Just be yourself, and the message will get through loud and clear."

  "He's right," Dave agreed. "When you came in here and started telling me all about what was going on, I was sold! When my listeners hear you speak, they'll be sold too. Believe me, I'm a radio man and I know what I'm talking about."

  Lahra saw that resistance was futile. "What do I have to do?"

  "Just relax. It's fun!"

  Looking at Dave in his ripped jeans and baggy shirt, Lahra supposed he was never anything but relaxed. She picked up her headphones and slipped them on, accepting a comforting smile from Wally.

  "Okay, get ready," Dave said suddenly, taking his position at the microphone. "We're almost on." Lahra listened as the music came to an end, then watched Dave pressed his buttons again.

  "Dave 'The Rave' Conigrave with you on Valley FM, and I'm here with Lahra Brook, the head of a movement to stop the impending destruction of the Miracle Cinema in Main Street, Riverbank." He winked at her. "Hello, Lahra."

  "Um, hello Dave."

  "Now Lahra, you did a lot of your growing up in Riverbank, and your parents were lecturers here at Charlton University for a long time. Today you yourself lecture at the Sydney campus of Charlton, in film history and appreciation. So what's your association with the Miracle Cinema?"

  "Well, in one way or another, I've been a part of the Miracle—or it's been a part of me—since I was about seven years old. From the first time my parents took me there I fell in love with the place, and with cinema in general. I guess you'd say I have the Miracle to thank for putting me on the path to where I am today."

  "Then in this morning's Riverbank Gazette, we read this headline: 'Help Keep the Miracle Performing.' Along with an eye-opening account of plans to knock down the cinema and replace it with a high-tech amusement centre." Dave paused for effect, shaking his head. "Now tell me, Lahra, what's the guts of the story and how did you come to be involved?"

  Lahra related the story as clearly as succinctly as she could. The more she spoke, the more she felt the warm tingle of confidence spread through her mind and body. She told of the development plans, of Wally’s retrenchment, of how she learned of what they hoped to build in the Miracle’s place. Her throat tightened a little as she recounted Marcus’s words, without naming him directly, but she swallowed heavily and got through it.

  "Why did this Stone Rowbottom person tell you all this?" Dave asked.

  Because he trusted me, Lahra thought in anguish. And now here she was on live talkback, proving him wrong again. "We're neighbours. It just came up in the conversation."

  "Bad move on his part," Dave assessed dramatically. "Seems like he told the one person in Riverbank who had the passion in her to do something about saving what really is one of the treasures of this town. Now in a moment we'll take some of your calls, but first, tell me, Lahra. With demolition due to start in a matter of days, what do you hope to achieve in such a short time?"

  "I hope to discover that the people of Riverbank really do care about the heritage of this town. The Miracle Cinema is a classic building which only needs a little tender loving care to return it to its glory days. We can still have our amusement centres and the like, but it shouldn't be at the expense of our history. We already have online and physical petitions in circulation, and a public meeting scheduled for tomorrow night at the Riverbank Town Hall at seven o'clock. If we can get enough people to show that they care, that they're not just going to sit back and let things like this happen right under their noses, we have a chance to stop it. Admittedly, a slim chance. But it's one worth fighting for."

  "Well said," Dave smiled at her across the deck. "Okay, let's take some calls. Hello, you must be Glenda."

  "Hello Dave." Lahra heard the woman's voice over her headphones. "I think it's absolutely disgraceful! That's the only word I can think of to describe it. I don't go to the movies all that often, but I don't think that attendance is the issue. As Lahra said, this town's heritage is far more important than some real estate deal. If there's anything I can do to stop this happening I'll be more than happy to play a part."

  "Lahra?" Dave prompted.

  "Thanks for your sentiments, Glenda. If you can just get into town and sign a petition or come along to our meeting tomorrow night, you'll be doing us all a big favour."

  "Well it's a wonderful thing you're doing, Lahra," Glenda stated. "There should be more people like you."

  "Thank you."

  "Thanks Glenda. Next on the line is Jeremy."

  "Hey, Dave." The voice in Lahra's headphones was that of a young man, a little spaced out. She traded smiles with Wally and Dave as she listened. "Man, I'm with Lahra. We're so lucky to have a place like the Miracle Cinema, y'know? I mean, they show some great old movies there, I go there all the time. I can't see movies like that at Riverbank Plaza. And you don't get no atmosphere at the video shop, that's for sure. Me and my friends signed the petition this morning. It's pretty scary to think that if Lahra hadn't found out about it or if she just did nothing about it then blam, no more cinema."

  "Well do us a favour and tell everyone you can to sign those petitions," Lahra urged. "And while you're at it, call any politician you can think of who is affected by this. The Mayor. The local MP."

  "No worries, Lahra. Will do."

  Lahra's uncertainty had vanished. She could see the flashing lights of busy lines on the phone, and to be able to speak to people like this heartened her incredibly.

  "Let's talk to Valerie now. Yes, Valerie, go right ahead."

  "Oh, hello Dave, hello Lahra," came the softly spoken voice. "I just wanted to thank you Lahra for your efforts. My husband and I were friends of your parents. For Riverbank to lose the cinema would be very wrong. Very wrong indeed."

  "Thank you very much," Lahra responded quietly.

  "In fact," continued Valerie, "We shouldn't just save the cinema, we should ensure that it's properly restored and maintained for the future. My son is an excellent carpenter and I'm sure he'd be happy to volunteer some time-"

  "Well, let's just hope there's more like him out there," Dave interrupted with a chuckle. "Thank you, Valerie. Okay, let's take one more caller for now... who have we got? It's Cary. Hello there, you're talking with Dave and Lahra."

  "A pleasure to speak to you both," came the voice down the line. Lahra suddenly went stiff. That confident, persuasive tone was unmistakable. It was Marcus Dean. She was aware of Wally watching her curiously, but she did not move. "If I may, I'd like to have a word with Ms Brook."

  "With so polite a request how could we refuse?" Dave chimed. Then he, too, noticed the look of realisation on Lahra's face. Cary indeed, she thought. The gall.

  "Ms Brook," the voice said, "I can't help but agree with you that heritage is important. Without the past, there
's nothing on which to build the future. But, being a businessman myself, I can't help wondering at the wisdom of keeping this particular building."

  Lahra was beginning to boil inside. She wanted to press a button, any button that would take them off the air, and the fact that she knew she couldn't only increased the pressure inside her. She spied a pad and pen and grabbed them, scrawled the words 'It's Marcus’ and showed Wally.

  "From what I understand, the Miracle Cinema is in a pretty bad state. Who would pay for its restoration? You say it's only a little tender loving care, but it would take millions of dollars that the town doesn't have. If you ask me, it makes good business sense to build anew, and the idea of a high technology entertainment complex, including restaurants, bars and such, as well as cinemas, seems just the thing to revitalise that end of town, particularly because Riverbank has a very young population with a lot of entertainment needs. Now I know you'll come back and say that heritage is more important, but what about the economy, jobs, the future? Surely they're important too."

  Lahra took a deep breath. "Well... Cary... that last point of yours is very true. All those things are very important. What you’re forgetting, though, as I'm sure the developers involved have also conveniently forgotten, is that an entertainment complex can be built anywhere, anytime. But once the Miracle is gone, it's gone forever."

  "But what about the cost?" Marcus asked impatiently. "Who foots the bill? And if nobody does, do we just end up with a derelict building dirtying up the town?"

  Lahra's eyes flashed with annoyance as she replied forcefully. "I understand that being the businessman you are, Cary, you will want to view things from the bottom line. But you can't put a price on passion. You can't do a deal with people's feelings. History shows that if people want something badly enough, they will find a way." She paused, realising that her words were carrying a personal meaning she hadn't expected. "For now, though, it's first things first. I hope you're able to see through your pecuniary perception of the world and get in touch with the things that matter most. Emotion. Feeling. People."

  Dave went to break in, but before he could, Marcus spoke. "One more comment then, if I may. I'm sure that the earnestness of your protest will have made an impression on the developers in question. Perhaps if you set up a meeting, some negotiation could take place. Surely negotiation is something that both businessmen and cinema lovers understand."

  "Perhaps so," Lahra said slowly, trying to guess exactly what Marcus had in mind. She scribbled again on the pad as she spoke. "But I'd have to remain sceptical about these particular developers being able to offer much at all." She held the pad up to Dave. It read 'stop him but don't hang up'.

  "Thanks for the call, Cary. We'll take some more calls, right after we play a little music." Dave pressed buttons, music played, and they were off the air. "I'm guessing this Cary guy is the opposition," he said to Lahra.

  "Can I still speak to him?"

  "Sure, go right ahead." Dave pressed a button and the line opened to Lahra's headphones.

  "Okay, Marcus, what do you want?" she demanded.

  "Just to talk. Let's meet. I have a proposition you may be interested in. Why don't you meet me at my place this afternoon at two?"

  "Sorry. Neutral territory."

  "Fine. You know the picnic area by Seahorse Falls?"

  "Yes." Lahra knew the picturesque clearing with its small waterfall well. It was just a few kilometres down the river from her house. Her family had picnicked there often.

  "Meet me there at two. You may be interested in what I have to say."

  "Okay," Lahra said hesitantly. "Two o'clock."

  "See you then."

  The line went dead, and Lahra was aware of all eyes on her.

  "Want me to come?" Wally asked, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice.

  Lahra envisaged her and Marcus by the waterfall. She couldn't imagine what he was going to say. And she found it even harder to imagine what she might feel if she were to go to him alone. "No," she replied at last. "I'll be fine. But thanks." She gave Wally a smile, but her mind was already stepping into the green surrounds of Seahorse Falls. Her eyes were already looking into the green-gold depths of the man who had become her neighbour, her adversary, and something else—something she didn't dare stop to think about.

  "Well guys, get ready for round two," Dave said suddenly, fingers poised over switches. "We're back on the air in five, four, three, two, one..."

  *

  As Lahra switched off the Jeep’s engine, an eerie feeling crept through her chest and made its way to the extremities of her body. She almost felt like she was in an old 8mm home movie. The type that her parents had toyed with before the days of home video cameras.

  Her most vivid memory of Seahorse Falls was a picnic her family had enjoyed when she was twelve years old. It was Spring then, too, but not an overcast, windy day like today. The memory was so vivid she could feel the sun's warmth on her arms and back as she sat on the river's edge with her father watching the way the water ran over the rocks on the river bed. She had asked her father why the place was named Seahorse Falls, and he had pointed to the rock outcrop on the other side of the small waterfall. His finger had traced in the air the rough outline of a sea horse in the rock formations. Then he had put his arm around her and said "Nature is full of hidden surprises. All you have to do is look for them." And after lunch the four of them had laid back in the grass and made shapes out of the clouds that passed overhead.

  The memory coaxed a smile onto Lahra's face. She got out of the warmth of the car, walked into the clearing and past two picnic tables to the Ulonga-Bora River. A cold snap of wind hit her as she reached the bank—the spot where she and her father had sat all those years ago. Past the raging waterfall she could make out the sea horse shape in the rocks. She looked down into the water but no rocks were distinguishable on the river bed. The water was too deep and running too strong. Even if the dark clouds hadn't reflected black in the cold water, she still wouldn't be able to see the bottom.

  The crunching of tyres on gravel came to her ears, and she turned to see the black BMW pull up beside the white Jeep. The top was closed, and the tinted windows made the car look like an inhospitable cocoon. Immediately, her heart began to race, and she folded her arms tightly around herself and waited.

  Marcus emerged. He wore the same faded jeans that he had been wearing that morning, hiking boots and a thick canvas jacket with leather collar. He looked good. Which only served to make Lahra's job all the more difficult.

  As he approached her, with something like a welcoming smile on his face, she became uncomfortably aware of the raging water at her back. She wanted to move away from it, but it was too late. Marcus was virtually upon her. She was trapped.

  "Well, if it isn't Cary," Lahra taunted, hoping that a brave front would disguise her nervousness.

  He smiled and popped his eyebrows up and down. "I don't often work under a pseudonym, but after my activities had been besmirched all over the local press and radio I figured I'd get a fairer hearing if I didn't use my real name."

  "Perhaps next time you should pick something more suitable to your character. Moriarty, perhaps. Or Darth Vader."

  "Darth Vader became a good guy in the end. So you just never know, do you? Besides, if you were so determined to fight me why didn't you just expose me on the air? I half expected you to."

  "You have a right to tell your side of the story, Marcus. Which is why we're having the meeting tomorrow night. I expect you'll be there, seven o'clock. Though I'm sure we'll do fine without you."

  "With luck things won't have to go that far, Lahra. Perhaps there's a way we can put an end to all this."

  The softness and genuine tone in his voice touched Lahra unexpectedly. His eyes were dark, almost sad, as he looked at her, and she could feel herself weakening by the second. "So what is it? Why did you ask me here on a freezing day like this?"

  "Before I get on to that, I just need to say something
. You probably don't think very much of me Lahra. But I keep thinking of the other night and of how you made me feel. And I don't mean when you kicked me out." His massaging tone was breaking its way through every barrier she set up inside her. She became aware of her hands clenched tightly under her arms, and made an effort to relax them. "This may be the wrong time to say anything like this, but when we kissed it was almost as if I was transported. For those brief instants I forgot who I was. It was like I became a part of you, of who you are. I've never felt that way before, Lahra. Which only made what followed even more of a shock."

  Lahra felt dizzy. Why was Marcus saying these things to her? These revealing, beautiful things that forced her to confront all the feelings she was trying to quell. She wanted to find a place to look that wasn't his eyes, but there was nowhere. The rushing sound of the water behind her mixed with the thumping of her pulse in her ears until they became the same thing. At last, her throat unclenched enough for her to respond. "There were a few shocks that evening."

  "What I'm driving at," Marcus continued, "is that at first I thought you were driven by some personal grudge to do with Walter losing his job. I could understand your anger, but I knew that it would pass with time if that's all it was.

  "But now I know it's much more than that. I admit that when I first saw the newspaper I was ropable. I thought you were making a personal attack on me. As if you were betraying me by publishing the things I'd told you. You must know that I have a lot to lose if this project isn't a success.

  "But since then I've been trying to put myself in your shoes. Remembering the things you told me the other night. Thinking about the passion in your voice whenever you talk about the Miracle.

  "And I realised that it was that same passion that had affected me when we kissed. The very thing that had drawn me to you was now getting between me and my goal. As much as I hate things getting in my way, I have to respect your determination."