The Cinema of Lost Dreams

by Alli Sinclair

“I detest them.” Stuart pushed away from the desk and paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “You really think this will work?”

  “Absolutely!” Nerida’s enthusiasm bolstered Lena’s spirit.

  Stuart reached for another cigarette, lit it, and offered one to Lena. She shook her head. Nerida grabbed one and lit it quickly. She inhaled deeply, and a smoky cloud wafted above her perfect coiffure.

  Stuart rubbed his chin vigorously. “Fine. But”—he held up a finger—“this is not going to turn into some farce where women get all up in arms and block the studio driveway, demanding things.”

  “I promise you, it won’t.” If Pierre was going to do her dirty, she had every right to a win, no matter how small. “This will be done with dignity.”

  “Her fans will lap it up.” Nerida leaned forward, her excitement palpable. “This could really turn things around—take the focus off both Jeanne and Pierre and turn the light onto Lena and Reeves.”

  “Oh no!” Lena said a little too loudly. “We are not becoming a fake couple.”

  “No, no, not what I meant at all,” said Nerida. “Far from it. In fact, if you and Reeves became romantically entangled, it will look like you’ve had an affair behind Pierre’s back and he left because of it. It would also be detrimental to Reeves if he were to start a romance while Jeanne was in rehab.”

  “So we’re just two professionals doing our best for the studio,” she said.

  “Correct,” said Nerida. She turned to Stuart. “Does that work for you?”

  Stuart grunted, then followed it with a nod.

  “Great!” Nerida stood.

  Stuart’s gaze traveled from Lena to Nerida. “Go on, get started. You’ve both got a lot of work ahead of you.”

  Lena followed Nerida out of the room and into her office.

  “What happened back there?” Lena asked.

  “A major change for the studio.” She trawled through a pile of magazines and scripts.

  “I’m worried this will push Jeanne over the edge.” Lena sat on the chair and rubbed her temples.

  “The best thing we can do right now is get on with making movies. Stuart will make sure Jeanne gets the help she needs. There’s nothing you or I can do right now that will help her.”

  The throbbing in her temples grew worse. “I just can’t believe…I have no words.”

  “Well, you’re going to need to study these words in a hurry.” Nerida handed over a script.

  Lena stared at the script titled Monterey Nights. “How can Stuart put so much faith in me and Reeves when he’s never seen us act together?”

  “Stuart Cooper did not become head of the studio because he takes risks that won’t pay off. Everything he does is for a reason, and he’s always right.”

  “He can’t always be right. He didn’t see Pierre with his foot out the door.”

  “Fine, Stuart is right most of the time. We need the focus off Jeanne and Pierre now. Everything will work out, don’t worry.”

  “The worry train has already left the station— it’s just arrived in Panic City.” She tried to keep the tone light, because if she let the seriousness of the situation—situations—affect her, she’d be paralyzed with fear.

  “Just go home and start learning your lines. It’s the best script I’ve seen in a long time. You will love it. Between you and me, I’ve always thought this role was better suited to you than Jeanne.”

  “So why didn’t I get it?”

  “Because Reeves Garrity is one hundred percent perfect in the role, and he is—was Jeanne’s leading man. We’d never thought of pairing you and Reeves, but now that we are, I have absolutely no doubt this will work.”

  Lena stared at the script lying innocently on her lap. “Who’s going to inform Mr. Garrity of his new leading lady?”

  Nerida looked expectant. “You?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not my job.”

  “You do know him, though.”

  Lena prayed the heat rushing across her face didn’t show on her skin. “Yes, we’ve met a few times.”

  “No problems?”

  “What?” It came out quickly, and she wondered if she sounded too defensive. “Why would we have problems?”

  “Personality clashes happen.”

  “Definitely no personality clash.” Far from it, in fact.

  “Good, good.”

  “Yes. Good,” Lena said. What else could she say?

  “Look, I’ll talk to Reeves, and tomorrow we’ll meet with Stuart to discuss how we’ll approach it. The studio will need to plan this very carefully.”

  “Indeed.”

  “It will all work out brilliantly, Lena.” Nerida’s tone sounded motherly, and a pang of homesickness struck. It always shocked her when it came out of the blue.

  “I hope so,” Lena said, feeling as fragile as the vase on Nerida’s desk.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  1994 – Starlight Creek, Queensland

  Claire finished checking the foyer of Hattie’s cinema, ecstatic to be at the end of another long day but sad that the shoot was almost finished. Soon she’d be supervising the packing up and ensuring everything made it back to the warehouses. She was going to dearly miss the spectacular sunrises and sunsets, the endless blue sky, the warm air wrapping around her skin and the fields of sugarcane that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was also one certain man she was going to miss most of all.

  Claire ran her finger along the dark wood of the kiosk, wondering what would become of the cinema once the production left Starlight Creek. It would be such a shame for the cinema to close its doors once more, as the atmosphere had changed dramatically since it had been full of cast and crew: now it was full of happiness, electricity, connection and, dare she say, magic.

  “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered into the semidarkness. Although she was talking to the cinema, they were words she needed to practice for when she next saw Luke. All of this was too difficult. No way could she achieve her career goals while splitting time between who-knows-where and Starlight Creek. Damn it. Luke was right. It was impossible to have everything.

  Sadness trailed her like a lost puppy as she made her way into the theater. Picking up scattered pieces of paper from the seats and floor, she made her way over to the bin at the back corner, near the pile of old movie reels the set designer had styled for the shoot.

  Crash!

  Claire jumped, and the papers dropped out of her hand, slowly floating onto the floor.

  “Who’s there?” she said firmly, adrenaline racing through her veins. She looked around for a weapon but could only find a can of Coke. What was she going to do, caffeinate the intruder to death?

  Rustling came from a dark corner. Her body tensed—fight or flight?

  Fight. This was Hattie’s theater, and she’d made a solemn promise to make sure it was well looked after. If someone with less-than-desirable intentions had snuck in when she wasn’t looking, then…

  Oh no.

  Robert Dennis.

  Brody Hall.

  “Come out now!” she demanded, her hands shaking. “I know you’re in there!”

  A moment later a lanky figure appeared from the shadows, his head hung low.

  “James?” It came out as a choked laugh. “I left you at your house hours ago.”

  Since arriving in Starlight Creek James had been behaving himself, so Claire had only needed to keep one eye on him, not two. Or so she thought…

  He shook his head. In his limp hand was a creased piece of paper.

  “She doesn’t want me.” A cloud of alcohol followed his words. Oh no. What would Nigel say?

  “Who? Annalise?” Claire put her hand under James’s elbow and guided him to a seat. He flopped into a chair. She pointed at the letter. “May I?”

 
He slowly handed it over, and Claire moved the missive around until she caught the dim light above.

  Dear James,

  This is the hardest thing I have had to do. I know we made promises to each other about spending the rest of our lives as one, but it’s not going to happen. Our lives are very different, and even though you promised to take me with you, I can’t ever see me fitting in.

  You told me about the star-studded parties, the glamour, the champagne, and I got swept up in it all, imagining myself at a new event every night with you.

  Then reality hit. I don’t love you. I thought I did and I was willing to give up my family for you. Then Brody came home from his mining work and I realized that the only thing I want to be is with him. Brody and I had broken up before he went to the mines, and I thought it was over but now that he’s back, I can see he’s changed. I was wrong to start anything with you.

  I did love our time together. You are funny and sexy and everything a girl could want. But you’re not Brody.

  I’m sorry, James. I’m truly sorry and I hope you can understand that I never meant to lead you astray.

  I hope one day you will forgive me. I wish you all the best. Thank you for everything.

  Annalise

  XOXOXO

  Claire put the letter down. “Oh, James.”

  He braved a smile, although it fell flat.

  She should ask him how the letter got into his hands, but right now it didn’t matter. “You really liked her, huh?”

  James let out a long breath, and once more the air grew thick with alcohol fumes. “She was unlike anyone I’d ever met. I thought she loved me. I thought…” He punched the back of the chair, and Claire refrained from telling him off. “She lied! What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I make a relationship work? Why doesn’t anyone want to love me?”

  She really felt for him.

  “How about we get you back to your place? Sleep it off? Things will look better tomorrow.”

  “No, they won’t,” he slurred, his eyes half-closed.

  Claire stood and tried to lift him, but he was dead weight. “Come on. Let’s get some water into you.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms and pouted like a three-year-old.

  “Come on, act like the grown man you are.” She hoped tough love would do the trick. “Annalise has gone back to her ex-boyfriend. It happens. And it sucks. But you have so much more to look forward to. You have a career that’s skyrocketing, and a really nice family—”

  “My mum still talks about that time you sent me home with the lemon meringues you made.”

  “It was her birthday. I wanted to do something nice, and you’d told me they were her favorite. Look.” She tried to get back on track. “The point is that there are so many great things going on in your life, why do you want to bog yourself down in a relationship?” She caught her breath. Crap. This is exactly what she’d been contemplating.

  “Because when you love someone they make your life better, not worse. They give it purpose.” For someone who had been drinking heavily, James made a lot of sense.

  “Some things just aren’t meant to be.” Jeez. Now she sounded like Luke. She nudged James’s leg with her foot. “It’s been a long day. We both need a decent sleep.”

  James used the armrests to steady himself as he got up, and Claire wedged her shoulder under his arm so he could rely on her for balance. The night had rolled into morning, and she cursed that she hadn’t made it to Luke’s. She’d make up for it tomorrow. Today. Gah! She really needed sleep.

  Claire locked up as she left the cinema. She struggled down the street under James’s drunken weight until they eventually made it to the small house that had been rented out just for him. He fumbled in his pocket for keys, finally pulling them out, but missing the keyhole every time he took aim.

  “Here, let me.” She propped him up against the wall and unlocked the door. Claire turned to say goodnight, but James had disappeared. Looking down, she spotted him slumped on the veranda. Pushing him gently in the shoulder, she said, “James.”

  “Huh?” He opened his eyes. “Claire? Claire!”

  “Yes, I’m Claire. We need to get you inside.” With the way Colin and the other townsfolk had been acting, the last thing she needed was for someone to see James drunk in public. She doubted anyone would be roaming the streets at this hour, but she wasn’t going to risk it.

  James somehow managed to get to a standing position again and she guided him down the long hall to where she guessed was the bedroom. She was relieved when she found it, as James’s weight was taking a toll. He stumbled forward, taking her with him, and they landed on the bed.

  Laughing, Claire untangled herself from his legs and arms. “Okay, Mr. Lloyd, time for night-night.”

  By the time she’d reached the doorway, James’s snores filled the room.

  She left the house, closing the door quietly behind her. Claire stepped onto the street and looked up to find Colin standing on his front porch on the opposite side of the road.

  “Morning!” She waved cheerily, then wondered what she was doing. Everyone knew James Lloyd stayed in that house, and it wouldn’t take long before Starlight Creek residents thought she and he were playing musical beds.

  Crap.

  She needed to see Luke before word got back to him. It wasn’t that he’d believe such gossip, though better to be forewarned and axe those rumors.

  Weariness wove with sadness as she traipsed back to the cinema. From across the road she stopped and admired the way the half-moon shone on the worn facade. When she’d first seen the cinema, she’d been taken aback by the state of disrepair. Peeling, fading paint, movie posters from decades ago, an air of melancholy surrounding the place. With Claire’s knowledge of Amelia Elliott’s incredible journey, from fighting to study architecture to becoming a legend in her own right, it had been depressing to arrive at Starlight Creek and see one of her creations in such terrible condition. It felt like a disservice to Amelia and her legacy. Though now, knowing Hattie and how much she had struggled to keep the place maintained, she now saw the theater as an unfortunate victim of progress.

  Claire crossed the road and double-checked the door, even though she remembered locking it. Happy everything was secure, she turned to walk back to her room at the pub. She stopped. Her nose twitched.

  Was that…smoke?

  Holy shit.

  She put her hand back on the handle, but it was stone cold. Maybe it was a house nearby, or the sugarcane mill?

  Claire fumbled for the keys in her bag. She found them and tried to shove them in the keyhole, but her shaking hands made it difficult.

  Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

  The door finally clicked open and Claire ran into the foyer, turned on the lights and looked around. No smoke. No fire. Perhaps she had a massive dose of paranoia. Besides, if there was a fire the lights wouldn’t work. Would they?

  She cautiously walked into the cinema and reached for the main light. Claire breathed a sigh of relief when it worked.

  It flickered.

  Then went dead.

  The distinct stench of smoke filled the room. In the corner where she’d found James, red and orange flames licked the walls. Racing to the electrical fire extinguisher, she released the valve and aimed. It was a perfect bullseye, and she kept it steady.

  It was too little, too late.

  The hungry flames climbed the wall and Claire ran out of the cinema, through the foyer and onto the street. She bashed on the door of the nearest house.

  “Fire!” Claire screamed.

  A few seconds later the woman she’d seen with the young baby appeared at the door. She rubbed her eyes. “What?”

  “Fire in the cinema!”

  The woman’s eyes widened, and she ran back inside and was straight on the phone. Minutes later, the Rural Fire Service
truck arrived and a handful of men jumped out and set to work.

  Claire stood a small distance away. Nausea swelled in her belly.

  Claire remembered the mobile she’d been lugging around. With shaking hands, she reached into her bag.

  Pushing the buttons of the phone number she’d memorized, Claire waited for an answer.

  “Hello?” came a sleepy voice at the end of the line.

  “Luke. You need to come to the cinema. Quickly.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  1952 – Hollywood

  The next day Lena sat in Stuart’s office, her lips dry, a lump in her throat. Nerida sat between her and Reeves, who had smiled as he entered the room, but they had yet to exchange words. She’d considered talking to him the night before, but she’d barely been able to comprehend the changes herself. All she needed was time but, given the tight schedule that had now landed in her lap, time was a luxury.

  Lena stifled a yawn, wishing she’d had more than two hours of sleep.

  “And that’s it,” said Stuart, wrapping up the meeting. “As far as you two are concerned, you’ve both put aside your personal heartache over Jeanne and Pierre and have now stepped up to the plate because you don’t want to disappoint your fans.”

  “They’ll buy that?” asked Reeves. “Are you sure no one will figure out where Jeanne is?”

  “I’m not paying through the nose for someone to blab that she’s in rehab. As far as everyone outside this room knows, she’s had a minor health setback, but will recover and be shooting her next movie in no time.” He looked at Lena. “I take it you’ve read the script.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Although I wondered…”

  “What?” Stuart didn’t bother hiding his annoyance.

  “In the past I’ve had a similar role, and it was blocked by the Hays Code.”

  Stuart lit a cigarette and offered one to Nerida. “It’s already been vetted. We know it will pass.”

  “It will?” she asked, surprised.

  “All you need to concern yourself with is learning your lines. We’ll look after everything else.”

  She chanced a glance at Reeves, who focused outside the window behind their boss. “Actually, there’s one more thing,” said Lena.