The Cinema at Starlight Creek

by Alli Sinclair

  Like Robert Dennis.

  Pushing him out of her mind, she waited for Luke a little longer then gave up and left the cinema, a tinge of disappointment surrounding her. Claire headed towards the pub where most of the cast and crew had gone for the night to let off some steam. Through the open windows she could see Tony laughing with Camille and James, while Phil chatted intensely with a group from production. The pub staff were frantically busy behind the bar. Filming in small towns always brought money to the economy and the townsfolk usually embraced this opportunity. Which is why it had been a blow for Ashton when Robert Dennis had cancelled his contract. She wondered if the townsfolk would forgive him.

  Determined to get him out of her head, Claire opted to stretch her legs and investigate the outer reaches of Starlight Creek. Before she got to the edge of town, however, she passed the newsagency. Colin, the owner, was locking up his shop.

  ‘Good evening,’ Claire said cheerily.

  He scowled and muttered as he shoved his keys in his trouser pocket.

  ‘Pardon?’ asked Claire.

  The woman from the gift shop walked around the corner, her black curly hair perfectly in place. She clutched a large package against her chest and a bright smile. ‘Good evening, Claire! How is everything going with the filming? It’s so lovely to have you all in Starlight Creek.’

  Colin stared at her. ‘What are you talking about, Marcela? This town has fallen into disarray since this mob got here.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ said Marcela. ‘This town has been falling apart for years. I don’t blame the kids leaving and going to the city to study and work. Nothing ever happens here.’

  ‘That’s because the kids have no respect for their parents and don’t want to get their hands dirty and do some hard yakka on the land. A bunch of ungrateful and entitled swines moving away and working in air-conditioned offices pushing paper around a desk.’

  ‘Well, who’d want to stay in a town where grumpy old men can’t be respectful to newcomers?’

  ‘It’s the newcomers like these film people that are planting ideas into the kids’ heads with promises of an easy life in the big smoke. What will happen to this town if the next generation moves away? We’ll be a ghost town, that’s what. Forgotten. We might as well give up now.’

  ‘You just said the young people of this town have no respect and don’t want to get their hands dirty.’ Marcela rolled her eyes. ‘Get a grip, Colin. The problems in Starlight Creek started long ago. Maybe if the townsfolk worked together, rather than spending all their energy arguing about who is right and wrong over trivial matters, we might bring some happiness back to this place. Lord knows it’s been wallowing in the past way too long. We need to make the town attractive—not just physically—to entice our young people back. Then we might have a future.’

  Claire had no idea whether she should interrupt or let the scene play out. Either way, this conversation unnerved her. It seemed Scarlet was right—Starlight Creek was a town divided.

  Colin pointed a finger at her. ‘The sooner you lot leave the better. Don’t think we didn’t hear what happened in Ashton.’

  ‘Oh.’ She needed to think—and quickly. ‘I assure you that was most unusual and I am doing everything in my power to ensure everything runs smoothly in Starlight Creek.’

  ‘It better because the last thing this town needs is more trouble.’ He stormed off, small clouds of dust swirling behind him.

  Claire watched Colin disappear down a side street. This unprovoked confrontation had knocked the wind out of her.

  Marcela’s hand rested on Claire’s arm. ‘Don’t worry about him. He’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Mars.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘This town has been through so much. Farming is going through a really tough time at the moment. They’re earning a lot less yet doing the same amount of work. A lot of young people don’t want to continue the family tradition because they want to strike out on their own which usually means moving away. Though it’s not just that. There’s townsfolk who prefer to live in the past. They think new technology or farming techniques aren’t for them.’ Marcela adjusted the package she was holding. ‘There’s been a push for green cane harvesting instead of traditional burning. Green cane harvesting helps with soil erosion because the leaves and tops of the cane are left on the ground, which increases soil moisture and means we don’t have to use so many nasty herbicides. It also reduces pollution. But there are stick-in-the-muds who get defensive and protest about change before they know the full story and make an informed decision.’

  ‘I know a lot of people like that.’

  ‘There are way too many people who think like this. The thing is, though, I can’t remember the last time where the townsfolk got together. Hall dances died off years ago, that lovely sense of community has disappeared, and I have no idea how to get it back. Starlight Creek has bounced back so many times: from the losses during war, refusing to accept immigrants post-war … so many things, but whatever it was that pulled Starlight Creek through the hard times has vanished. And it breaks my heart.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Claire.

  ‘Now, now. Don’t you start feeling bad for us. Having your production here is a godsend. It’s nice to have some fresh faces around and,’ she winked, ‘my gift shop is booming.’

  ‘I’m so glad.’ Claire smiled. ‘You have some beautiful items in there.’

  ‘Your lot have just about cleared me out. I’ve sold every one of my metal sculptures.’

  ‘Can’t you order more from Luke? He must be pleased with the result.’

  ‘He’s not making any more.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Family commitments, I believe.’ She looked at the ground and shook her head. ‘Such a shame. Such a wasted talent. Well,’ Marcela looked up, her demeanour changing, ‘best be off and see what prints I’ve been sent. I do framing on the side, you know.’

  ‘No, I didn’t know, and I’ll be sure to pay a visit to your shop before I go.’

  ‘Thank you, your support is much appreciated. And,’ she gave a knowing look, ‘it is returned tenfold as far as I am concerned. The naysayers of this town need to move with the times and realise that change can be good.’

  Marcela waved goodbye and Claire continued on her way, crossing the train line that took the heavily laden trains to the sugar mill. The mill spewed out smoke, leaving a distinct stench in the air. Not pleasant, that’s for sure. She doubted she’d have time to get used to it. Her time in Starlight Creek was nearly up, although a large part of her wished it wasn’t.

  Claire left the town behind, enjoying walking along the deserted road, sugarcane fields either side. She tried to quash her city-girl fears and not worry about rodents or reptiles attacking her. Her thoughts were irrational, but she’d been brought up in inner-city suburbia, not in the rural beauty of north Queensland.

  The smell of the sugar mill now far behind, Claire revelled in the fresh air and the symphony of cicadas accompanying her as she left Starlight Creek. Off in the distance the river sparkled under the moon, and Claire slowed her pace, hoping her mind would do the same.

  She loved this job and the opportunities she’d been given, but it wasn’t enough. Her goals were lofty, but they weren’t impossible. It was just a matter of figuring out how to get where she wanted to go—something easier said than done.

  Claire kicked a stone and it skittered across the bitumen and into a fence post. She looked up.

  At the top of the long driveway was a house with a red door. Beside that house was a yellow car in front of a shed she knew all too well. What had her subconscious done?

  Lights were on in the front of the house and she could see a bright white glow streaming from under the shed door.

  This was a bad idea. If Luke had wanted to see her tonight, he would have turned up with one of Hattie’s meals. She wouldn’t even have cared if he turned up with a Vegemite sandwich. Delicious as Hattie’s food was, it wasn’t
as delectable as Luke’s company. For whatever reason, though, Luke had chosen not to see her.

  Rolling her shoulders back, Claire marched up the driveway and knocked on the shed door.

  ‘I’ll be inside in a tick,’ came a muffled voice over metal banging against metal.

  ‘It’s not Hattie,’ she said.

  The banging stopped.

  ‘It’s me, Claire.’

  ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘I just wanted to say hi.’ Oh no. Did she sound desperate? ‘Listen, I can come back another time.’

  ‘No.’ The shed door slid open. The bright light silhouetted Luke’s body, the curve of his muscles showing through his light blue shirt. ‘It’s all right, you’re here now.’

  Surprised by the invitation, she followed Luke into his sanctuary. Last time she was here, he’d been quick to cover up his art and shut the door, yet now he was leading her between rows of half-finished work, sketches and coloured stones and tiles scattered across work benches. Tempted to touch the shiny metal pieces, Clare shoved her hands in her pockets.

  ‘How are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m good, thank you.’ Luke picked up a piece of cloth and started polishing a beautiful piece with birds and butterflies. Inlaid in the butterfly wings were turquoise and lilac stones.

  ‘That is absolutely stunning.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He continued polishing.

  ‘Luke.’

  Polish. Polish.

  ‘Luke!’

  He looked up. ‘Why are you yelling?’

  ‘I was trying to get your attention.’

  He put the cloth down and rested his arms on the bench. He focussed on her so intensely she grew self-conscious. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For?’

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t put my work down when you came in. This place is a little like white line fever.’

  ‘How so?’

  He nodded towards the door. ‘Whenever I step across the threshold, I’m in my own world and it’s all about design and art.’

  ‘It’s your happy place.’

  He nodded.

  ‘And you let me in? Last time I was here you practically shoved me out the door.’

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘you had good reason. But why am I allowed in now?’

  ‘You don’t think you should?’

  ‘Yes. No. I mean, yes, I should be here.’ She really needed to work on her communication skills.

  ‘The first time we met, I thought you were pushy.’

  ‘Yeah, I was,’ she admitted.

  ‘Regardless, the person I know now is very different.’

  ‘I’m the same person as before, your perception of me has changed, that’s all.’

  Luke stared at his hands lying flat on the bench. ‘I would like to get to know you better.’

  ‘And I’d like to do the same,’ said Claire.

  ‘One thing, though.’

  Slowly, she said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘James Lloyd.’

  ‘What about him? Oh. Oh!’ She laughed. ‘I was counselling him this morning.’ She tilted her head to the side. ‘Are you jealous?’

  ‘No.’ His voice was low.

  ‘You don’t need to be, he’s just—’

  ‘I don’t entertain jealousy, it’s a wasted emotion.’

  ‘Okay.’ Wow. She hadn’t expected his reaction to be so … strong. ‘Well, even if you did entertain such a “wasted emotion” there’s no reason to be jealous. We’re talking about James Lloyd here, the biggest …’ She let the words fall away, remembering her conversation with James and his anxiety about labels being stuck on him. Casanova just didn’t sit right.

  ‘Biggest?’

  ‘Biggest-hearted actor I know.’ Which wasn’t entirely a lie after seeing this new side of James.

  ‘I never would have guessed,’ he said. ‘So, there’s no …?’

  ‘Hanky-panky with James?’ Her laugh turned into a snort. ‘God no! He’s just a good guy who needs a friend.’

  ‘And that friend is you,’ he said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Cool.’ Luke fiddled with a piece of wire. ‘I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’

  ‘Everyone does, especially about James. It’s only natural that people feel the need to label someone so that person fits neatly into a round hole. But most of us are square pegs and don’t fit neatly anywhere.’

  Luke studied her for a moment. ‘I’m not sure how that analogy works but it does.’

  ‘It was a bit weird, though I’m glad you know what I mean.’ Claire watched him dip a rag in some liquid and start wiping down the butterflies. The metal grew shinier with each stroke. ‘Marcela said you weren’t supplying her with any more sculptures. What are you doing with these ones?’

  Luke put the rag down. ‘You were talking to Marcela about me?’

  ‘Marcela was just saying that she’d sold out of all the metal sculptures and she wasn’t getting any more in because you’re busy with “family commitments”.’

  ‘She’s right.’

  ‘Yet you’re working on something rather breathtaking,’ she ventured.

  ‘I just do these for me now, okay?’ By the tone of his voice, it was far from okay. ‘If I had my way I would spend all my days doing this.’ He rested his hand on a beautiful sculpture of a tropical fish.

  ‘Why don’t you?’

  He picked up the rag and started polishing the fish. ‘Life doesn’t work like that. I have responsibilities and I can’t discard them to follow my dreams.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He stopped working and looked at her. ‘Imagine if everyone did that.’

  ‘The world would be a much happier place.’

  He kept rubbing the same spot. ‘I have a responsibility to my father to help out around here. He’s getting old and needs to know that I can take over when he retires.’

  ‘Is that what you want to do?’

  ‘It’s not a matter of what I want to do, it’s a matter of doing what is right, what is expected.’ Luke didn’t look up from his work. ‘Too many young people are leaving to go to the city. This town will fall in a heap if some of us don’t stay. Plus, I owe it to my dad.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘You don’t agree?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s not exactly black and white, is it?’ she said. ‘I believe in doing things we don’t want to, so we can appreciate it when we get the chance to do the things we love. But there has to be a balance. If we’re miserable all the time, what’s the point?’

  ‘The point is that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’

  ‘That old cracker?’ She laughed. ‘If you could do anything in the world right now, what would you do?’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Yep.’ She rested her hand on the bench.

  ‘Anything at all?’ He gave a lopsided smile.

  ‘Yep.’ Good grief. This shed seemed to have its own little heatwave.

  Luke stepped forward and placed his hand on her lower back.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, ‘Would you like me to tell you what I’d like to do?’

  The shed door slid open and Claire jumped back, like she was a fifteen-year-old caught pashing behind the shelter shed.

  Luke laughed. ‘Hi, Dad. This is Claire Montgomery, from the TV production company.’

  The tall, grey-haired man walked over to Claire and shook hands. His skin was rough but the handshake was gentle.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Claire.’ If Luke’s father had caught them about to get familiar, he certainly didn’t let on.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr Jackson.’

  ‘Please, call me Don.’

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Don,’ she said, a mixture of embarrassment and lust for Luke swirling inside her.

  ‘Are you staying for dinner?’ he asked. ‘Hattie’s made a roast.’

  ‘Oh, no,
I couldn’t stay. I really should be getting back,’ she said.

  ‘Stay,’ said Luke. ‘Please.’

  ‘I hear you have a fan in my aunt,’ said Don. ‘I’m sure she’d love to see you.’

  ‘I’d love to see her as well,’ she said.

  ‘I guess that’s sorted!’

  Don cast a frown at the artwork as he exited.

  What now? The intimate moment had been interrupted and she had no idea how she and Luke could pick it up again, or if that chance had gone forever.

  Luke reached for her hand and winked. ‘I promise to tell you later what I would like to do with you.’

  CHAPTER 18

  1994 – Starlight Creek, Queensland

  Luke led Claire out the door and towards his house, her hand still firmly in his. For someone who never had a problem striking up a conversation with people, words had finally escaped her. What was it about Luke that made her want to be with him every spare second she had?

  It was all so pointless though. She’d be back in Melbourne again soon, looking for more work and jumping on a plane to who-knows-where for the next contract.

  The wire door creaked open and Hattie came out and hurried down the stairs. Her energy defied her years. ‘It’s so lovely to see you, Claire!’

  Luke dropped Claire’s hand and Hattie gave her a firm hug.

  ‘Thank you so much for the meals you’ve been sending me,’ said Claire. ‘It’s so nice to have home-cooked food.’

  ‘It is my pleasure, lovely lass.’ Hattie linked her arm with Claire’s and they climbed the steps. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’

  ‘I most definitely am.’

  They entered the house and walked down the long hallway. On both sides hung framed photos, ranging from black and white to sepia to colour. As a location scout Claire was used to noticing details in a glance, and as they travelled the length of the hall she took in images of multiple generations adorning the pristine white walls. One particular image of a young woman with a 1970s hairstyle, crocheted cardigan and flared pants caught her eye. Her head was tilted back and her mouth open, like the person behind the camera had told the funniest joke on earth.