by Heidi Rice
Which was a massive whopper.
Traffic was always horrendous in London and Canary Wharf was the other side of the city, but even with a broomstick handy Luke Devlin would be unlikely to make his meeting in time now, anyway; plus, some things were more important than his punctuality – keeping Matty’s dream alive being right at the top of that very long list.
He swore under his breath, not impressed with the delay, and rude enough not to bother hiding it, but then shouted to the driver.
‘I’m out.’ He slammed the door.
The cab sped off, leaving them standing on the pavement alone together – give or take the usual flow of commuter traffic.
‘You’ve got five minutes,’ he said, glancing at his iWatch as she imagined him starting a mental countdown. ‘What is it you wanted to discuss?’
What had she wanted to discuss? Crap! She had absolutely nothing.
She’d had some vague notion he might agree to go for a coffee, so she could come up with a plan, but she didn’t even bother suggesting it, because she sensed that would just piss him off more.
Thoughts of broomsticks and ruby slippers and Miss Gulch on her bike and Matty and The Royale swirled around in her head, making her feel as frantic and confused as Dorothy inside the tornado – until the elements spun into a semblance of an idea, which ejected from her mouth.
‘You’re going to be back in town next Friday, right?’ she said.
‘That’s the plan,’ he replied.
‘That’s fabulous and so fortuitous. Because that just happens to be the evening we’re kicking off Matty’s Classics season.’ Or rather, it is now. ‘And I wanted to invite you to the opening event. We’re doing a themed evening around The Wizard of Oz.’ Watching the musical masterpiece together had always been one of her and Matty’s favourite traditions. ‘There’s going to be fancy dress and themed cocktails and we’re sourcing a singalong version of the film,’ she continued, embellishing the lie, aware that her five minutes were ticking down. Except it wasn’t a lie. Because really what better way to commemorate Matty than to show some of his favourite films at The Royale? The more she thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. ‘You must … you absolutely must come along as our guest of honour. Not only will you be able to see what we do, you can get to know a bit more about your uncle. Everyone at The Royale adored Matty, he was the centre of our universe.’ She swallowed around the asteroid. ‘And The Wizard of Oz was one of the films he loved best.’
Devlin hadn’t said anything, and what she could see of his face wasn’t even radiating emotion, let alone enthusiasm, so she went for broke.
‘If you need, I could source you a costume, so you can get into the spirit of the thing.’
It was the wrong thing to say, she realised, when a muscle in his jaw tightened and twitched.
‘Something low-key and totally cool …’ She backtracked furiously, racking her brains to think of one single character in The Wizard of Oz who didn’t dazzle and sparkle. ‘Maybe you could come as Uncle Henry?’ Perhaps Luke Devlin was more of a sepia personality than a Technicolor one. ‘Or … one of the farm hands in Kansas before they turn into the Lion, the Tinman and the Scarecrow?’ That rigid jaw did not look like a yes, but perhaps it was a maybe? If she could get the right costume.
‘I don’t do dress-up,’ he said.
So not a maybe. Definitely a no.
‘That’s absolutely fine,’ she said. ‘Not everyone wears a costume.’ Another whopper – The Royale’s singalong evenings were legendary, and the one she had just invented would be even more so, because every single person there would be celebrating Matty’s life and legacy with the same passion Matty had showed every one of them during his thirty-one-year career as their favourite cinema proprietor. Matty hadn’t just built a local art-house cinema with The Royale, he’d built a community of like-minded people who needed the glittering fantasy world he had created to escape their humdrum lives just like Dorothy when she landed in Oz.
‘I’m sure they’ll be other people there who aren’t in costume.’ Perhaps she could bribe Errol their projectionist to come in civvies so Devlin wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. It was probably better for health-and-safety anyway to have Errol not wearing tons of flammable fabric near their ancient 35mm projector – and Errol had once pointed out the distinct lack of black people in Oz, so there was that.
‘You could just watch the movie with us,’ she finished, struggling not to deflate completely.
‘I saw the movie as a kid,’ he said. ‘The flying monkeys freaked me out.’
‘You didn’t like it?’ she asked, unable to keep her own jaw from heading South. Had she ever met anyone who didn’t love The Wizard of Oz – apart from Errol, and at least he had a good reason? And how could Matty’s own flesh and blood not adore it?
‘If you’re busy that day, we can reschedule …’ he began, and glanced at his iWatch again, losing interest. ‘Or I can email once I’ve checked out the financials,’ he added, pulling out his phone.
‘No, really, it’ll be fine,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m sure I can make some time to speak to you that evening. I’ve seen the movie a thousand times already.’ She totally couldn’t make time. She needed to be in the auditorium on Friday night for the gala singalong screening of The Wizard of Oz that she’d just invented. She wanted to see the movie she and Matty had loved again, to sing her heart out to all the amazing tunes – well, all except King of the Forest, the song no one ever remembered the words to because it was the only dud. This gala screening, and Matty’s Classics season in general, was going to prove to everyone who loved The Royale that even if Matty was dead, his spirit lived on.
But that would all be academic, if she couldn’t get her new co-owner on board.
And really, what better way was there to do that, than to get Luke Devlin to sit through The Wizard of Oz. To give the movie that had freaked him out as kid another chance. And thus persuade him to give The Royale a fighting chance, too.
It was clear she had her work cut out getting this man to buy into The Royale’s mission, but surely this was a good strategy to start with? How could anyone sit through the most hopeful movie ever made, and still worry about The Royale’s bottom line?
‘It would mean so much to me if you would come,’ she said, desperation starting to war with her determination. ‘Please, Mr Devlin, if you won’t do it for me, would you do it for Matty?’
It was a cheesy line. But then Matty had been the king of cheesy lines. And sometimes cheesy worked, if it was delivered with one hundred percent conviction. Right now, Ruby was sure her life depended on Devlin agreeing to come to the screening, so she could show him The Royale in all its glory, so her conviction was one thing she was not faking.
He let out a soft sigh and shoved his phone into his pocket. ‘Okay, sure, email my assistant the details and I’ll be there.’ He tugged out his wallet and handed her the same card he’d handed Ryker.
‘Thank you, Mr Devlin.’ She took the card, running her thumb over the embossed lettering, so relieved even her catastrophic headache dimmed a little.
He stuffed two fingers in his mouth and whistled. She jumped, but two seconds later a black cab pulled up to the kerb – just like in the movies.
People actually did that?
He opened the door, as if he had expected nothing less, then glanced over his shoulder. ‘But no publicity, of any kind, I don’t want anyone to know I’m coming. And no costume, you got that?’
‘Absolutely.’ She saluted him with his card, ready to sell him her first-born if he asked.
He jumped into the cab without another word. The vehicle sped off, belching out a burst of exhaust fumes.
Ruby watched the cab disappear into the rush-hour traffic, reminded of the Wicked Witch of the West cackling maniacally while writing “Surrender Dorothy” in mile-high letters over the Emerald City with her broomstick.
She tucked Devlin’s card into her backpack.
&nb
sp; You’re not surrendering anything, Dorothy. Not without a fight.
Chapter 2
‘I cannot believe Rafael Falcone’s son is coming tonight. Or that he owns half of The Royale. That’s so extra,’ Jacie Ryan, Ruby’s assistant manager, announced while shovelling green popcorn into a green-striped paper sack.
‘Believe it,’ Ruby murmured. Jacie’s stream of consciousness about Devlin’s visit was starting to fray her nerves. ‘But keep your voice down, no one is supposed to know.’ She wasn’t entirely convinced their secret guest of honour was actually going to show. He’d been due here about twenty minutes ago according to the email she’d had from his PA confirming his attendance.
The foyer was packed with people, all dressed to the nines in their best Oz paraphernalia – from Munchkins to Tinmen to Brynn, the owner of Brynn’s Babes, the bar round the corner, who had gone all out and looked magnificent as Glinda the Good Witch of the North, complete with pink-sequined frock and a crystal crown. The Merry Merry Land of Oz rang out on The Royale’s tinny sound system on a loop, and people spilled out of the auditorium where Brynn’s master of mixology, Cameron, and Gerry, The Royale’s barman, were busy serving Rainbow-coladas, Emerald-aritas and Munchkin Mojitos.
Ruby had gathered her six-person staff and as many helpers as she could muster eight days ago to put together tonight’s event in record time. To do it, she’d called in every favour she had ever been owed and several she hadn’t, basically bribing, begging and borrowing her way across West London with the ferocity of a Kansas tornado.
To be fair, The Royale looked awesome, as a result. The peeling paint and crumbling cornices were disguised with enough glitter and fairy lights to make the place visible from space and Jacie had even managed to source a gold runner at a knock-down price in Shepherd’s Bush Market to double as the Yellow Brick Road and cover the worst of the wear on the threadbare carpeting.
Emerald City, eat your heart out.
He has to show. Please let him show.
The whole Royale community had put so much work into making tonight’s event a success – everyone from the drag queens at Brynn’s Babes, who had made some spectacular costumes, to Agatha, a local primary-school teacher who had gotten her pupils to make papier-mâché flowers and vines and corncobs to decorate the lobby, to Errol, their projectionist and Jacie’s granddad, who’d roped in the ladies from his local church with their famous Goat Curry and Plantains and Rice and Peas recipe to serve after the show at five pounds a pop and raise funds for the church’s homeless shelter.
Tonight was going to be epic, but it would all be for nothing if Devlin didn’t put in an appearance as promised.
‘Good luck keeping it a secret once he shows,’ Jacie said. ‘Remember how he got mobbed at the cremation? His resemblance to his old man is freaky.’
‘I know,’ she said, even though she had barely registered Luke’s appearance at Matty’s funeral because she’d been way too busy being poleaxed by grief.
The sharp edges of that awful day and the week before it had blurred in the last eight days, the unbearable pain of losing Matty shoved to the edges of her consciousness while she got stuck into Operation Get Luke Devlin Invested In The Royale with a Wizard of Oz Extravaganza. But now that all the work was done and the only thing left to do was enjoy the event, and wait for her co-owner to appear, Ruby had begun to second-guess her whole strategy.
‘Perhaps I should have warned people?’ she murmured.
Devlin had stipulated that no one was to know he was coming. The man obviously had an issue with being recognised, she realised, recalling that clashing baseball cap. But perhaps it would have been wiser to prepare everyone for the arrival of Rafael Falcone’s doppelgänger rather than respect Devlin’s wishes.
Devlin’s father was a movie super star whose films had set a billion hearts fluttering in the seventies and eighties and could still do so today whenever they ran a season at The Royale. His brooding image graced T-shirts and advertising hoardings and posters in student dorms. The bad boy with the face of a god. A hot god. All lean chiselled lines and moody intensity, with a crystal-blue gaze that had the power to make most women and some men pant by proxy. The actor had become a cultural icon as enduring as Elvis and Marilyn and Jimmy Dean and had only become more iconic since his untimely suicide sixteen years ago.
Rafael Falcone was a legend to most of the people here tonight. And Luke Devlin looked exactly like him. Hadn’t she had breathing difficulties herself when she’d first clocked that remarkable face up close in Ryker’s office?
‘I thought you said he said not to tell anyone?’ Jacie whispered, as she handed over packs of green popcorn to a bunch of Gen Xers kitted out in red wigs and green jackets and leggings.
Were they supposed to be Munchkins, or citizens of Oz, or leprechauns, because it was hard to tell?
‘He was very specific on that score,’ Ruby confirmed once the leprechaun-Munchkins had moved off. ‘If he got mobbed at the funeral, I guess that explains it. But there’s a good chance the same thing might happen tonight and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.’
‘Make who uncomfortable?’ Gerry their barman – who was dressed as a rather chunky Scarecrow – joined them behind the concession stand.
‘Nobody,’ Ruby said, starting to panic in earnest. What if she had made a terrible mistake? Not warning everyone of Devlin’s arrival?
Jacie tapped her nose piercing. ‘It’s top secret, Gez, but I think you’ll be wowed by our guest of honour tonight – when he turns up.’
‘What guest of honour?’ Gerry asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, because he was a much bigger star-stalker than Jacie. ‘I didn’t know we had one. Shouldn’t we have put it on the posters?’
‘He’s shy,’ Jacie said.
At the exact same time, Ruby shouted, ‘No, we should not have put it on the posters!’
Gerry and Jacie stared at her, as did a couple of the Generation X leprechaun-Munchkins who were still munching popcorn nearby.
‘He doesn’t like publicity,’ Ruby added, whispering this time. ‘He’s not a proper celebrity.’
He’s just the spitting image of one.
The anxiety began to build in her throat.
Telling Jacie about Devlin’s planned appearance at the event had seemed like a good idea when they were getting ready in the upstairs flat in their Dorothy outfits – Ruby channelling Judy and Jacie channelling Diana Ross from The Wiz because they were also screening the Motown classic in deference to Matty’s opinion that it was one of the most underrated musicals of the Seventies.
After keeping the news of Devlin’s visit secret for over a week, Ruby had been about to burst. But should she have told Jace about Devlin’s new status as their co-owner? Had she raised Jacie’s expectations to impossible proportions? Not to mention her own.
Then again, she hadn’t told Jacie the whole truth – that Devlin now controlled the future of The Royale, and this extravaganza was actually one giant schmooze initiative that might backfire spectacularly.
‘Who is this guy?’ Gerry said. ‘The actual Wizard, because you’re blushing, Rubes. I can see it through your make-up.’
‘He’s only Ruby’s biggest crush ever.’ Jacie laughed. ‘Sort of.’
Not anymore, Ruby wanted to say … right after she’d strangled her assistant manager. It was true that she’d once idolised Falcone. But Luke Devlin was not his father and being reminded of all the fantasies she’d once spun about Falcone were not going to help with her panic attack.
‘O. M. G. I am super excited now. Is he a Jake Gyllenhaal lookalike?’ Gerry asked, as if they were having a Guess Who game.
‘Wrong crush,’ Jacie said. ‘And better than a lookalike, practically the real deal.’
Before Gerry could ask any more probing questions, the ‘Take Your Seats’ bell sounded from the auditorium.
‘Oops, I forgot,’ Gerry said. ‘Errol said he’s all cued up, so we can start the screening.’
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Follow the Yellow Brick Road chimed in over the sound system and some of the customers started singing along in the corner, while others clapped and whistled. The music stopped as planned and Brynn – aka Glinda – stepped on to the green podium they’d set up near the entrance to the auditorium.
‘Hello, fellow Citizens of Oz,’ Glinda announced in all of her glory. ‘Before we start the screening, I wanted to call up our darling Dorothy – the Judy Garland variety …’ Glinda winked at Jacie, who toasted her with a sack of popcorn. ‘To say a few words,’ Glinda continued, ‘about the launch of Matty’s Classics season, and our Wonderful Wizard Matty who went to the Great Emerald City in the Sky last month.’
A hush descended over the crowd, then everyone started applauding.
Ruby grabbed the toy Toto she’d left under the counter, tucked it under her arm for emotional support and made her way through the crowd.
Devlin hadn’t turned up. She tried not to feel devastated. It might even be for the best. Even so, dejection slowed her steps as she crossed the Yellow Brick floor runner and the crowd parted, the moisture in their eyes and the shaky smiles making her heart bobble.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll find another way to schmooze Devlin. This night is about Matty.
Stepping on to the podium, she waved Toto to silence the applause.
‘Hi, everyone. I didn’t want to say much, just that you’re all so, so welcome. Thanks to everyone in our movie-mad community who helped make tonight happen. I can’t actually believe Matty isn’t here with us.’ She gulped to soothe the raw spot which had settled on her tonsils again for the first time in a week. ‘But I know he’s here in spirit – probably dressed as a Horse of a Different Colour to finally finish off all the leftover paint from last year’s Royale Pride float.’ Everyone laughed. ‘Don’t forget, this is just the first film in the Matty’s Classics season. We’ll be organising more gala evenings over the coming months and celebrating Matty’s life by screening some of his favourite movies.’ Her breath got trapped as the enormity of the task facing her – which she had happily buried in manic preparations for a week – began to scrape at the raw spot.