“No! Not at all!” Yvonne looked at George with wide eyes.
Meryl took the rest of the orders and waltzed back to Roy, who buzzed around the kitchen like a bee in a bottle.
“There have been lots of changes with you, eh?” George cocked an eyebrow.
Lena threw her hands in the air. “It was never going to work with me and Pierre, all right? We’re very different people and we only stayed together because—” She shut her mouth, wishing she hadn’t opened it.
“Because?” asked Yvonne.
“Because it suited us for various reasons.”
“I knew it!” George slapped his knee. “It was a sham! People have been betting on this forever.”
“What? No, not a sham,” she said with haste. As much as she wanted to tell them the truth, she couldn’t betray Stuart Cooper and Fortitude Studios. Too much of her career rode on this. She didn’t fear Pierre opening his mouth; the last thing he needed was more scandal—he’d caused a big enough one defecting to another studio. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, she actually missed having him around. Lena sniffed.
“I’m sorry.” Yvonne’s eyes were earnest.
“Yeah, sorry,” said George. “What are you going to do now?”
“There’re a few things happening, but I can’t talk about them just yet.”
“You mean the movie you’re doing with Reeves Garrity?” asked Yvonne.
“How did you…never mind. That studio leaks secrets like a sieve.” Which is why she’d been surprised she and Pierre had managed to keep their fake relationship under wraps—minus her way-too-suspicious best friends.
Meryl arrived with the order and Yvonne and Lena tucked into their meals. George pushed a fry around his plate, making a trail with ketchup.
Lena put her burger down. “Are you all right?”
George looked up and forced a smile. “Yes, yes, fine. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Your next big movie!” Yvonne took a long sip from her water.
“Yeah, that’s it.” George’s tone didn’t hold much enthusiasm.
“If you’d like to talk about it, we’re here,” Lena said quietly.
“Talking is not going to fix it!” he yelled.
Lena studied her friend’s face. The window to George’s soul was small, and only occasionally did he allow anyone to peer inside. Today was not one of those days.
George shoved a fry in his mouth and Yvonne concentrated on heartily eating her soup. Lena looked from one friend to the other. A lump formed in her throat. These two people had supported her from the moment she’d met them. They’d always been there to celebrate her triumphs and catch her when she fell. She’d learned about their dreams, their lives past and present, yet the whole time she’d only given them enough snippets of her own life to make them think they truly knew her.
Guilt swirled in her belly.
What would they say if they knew the truth? That she’d cultivated a persona before she’d even arrived in Hollywood? That the small-town American girl wasn’t everything she purported to be? That there was a moment in her history that was darker than the desert night?
The only person who knew some of the truth was Dotty, but Lena hadn’t spotted her since her unexpected appearance in the crowd all that time ago. For weeks after, Lena had prepared for a surprise visit, but Dotty had never materialized. Maybe her paranoia was unjustified. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d misread her old friend.
She closed her eyes. No one could ever know the full story of Lena Lee.
Chapter Twenty-six
1994 – Starlight Creek, Queensland
Instead of the happy atmosphere that usually abounded at the end of a production, the cast and crew stood in the town hall, their faces solemn, their mouths closed, as the police updated them. The fire in the cinema had been contained quickly, but the smoke damage was an issue. Everything stunk. The biggest problem, however, was the damage to Claire’s relationship with Hattie. Although the fire hadn’t been Claire’s fault, she had promised Hattie she would guard the cinema with her life.
As James and Claire had been the last to leave, they were questioned, and it was long and arduous. They’d been interviewed separately, and when James had turned up he looked the worse for wear, with red eyes, disheveled hair and shirt half-tucked.
Claire now sat in the shade on the back steps of the town hall, her head still spinning.
“Your career’s shot now,” said Tony, looking down on her.
“Are you serious?” Claire stood so she was eye to eye with him. Her mouth fell open. “Was it you? Did you sabotage me?”
Tony laughed. “I don’t need to sabotage you—you’ve done a good enough job yourself. I doubt you’ll ever work in this industry again, so you can kiss being the boss of me goodbye.”
“Tony, if you—” Claire stopped herself. She clenched her fists. As much as she wanted to rant and scream, she didn’t need Nigel and team to witness her losing her cool. “Forget it.”
“What?”
“You can’t bait me. Go on.” She flicked her hand in the direction of the street. “Go to the pub and start some rumors. They’re not going to affect me in any way. Nigel knows the real me, and he knows this was not my fault.”
“That’s what you think.” Tony marched off, leaving Claire bewildered. What more could be piled on this already cruddy day?
Claire sunk back onto the step. A few seconds later, James plonked beside her so hard the wood rattled underneath her. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”
“About being so drunk? The fire? What?” she snapped, still rattled from her run-in with Tony. She couldn’t bear to think about the impending conversation with Hattie. After Luke had arrived in a cloud of dust, he’d donned firefighting gear and disappeared into the cinema. She’d been surprised by his familiarity with the equipment, and later found out he was a volunteer. That was the last time she’d seen him.
“I’m sorry.” James rubbed his head, as if trying to dispel a headache. “I have no idea what happened. I wish I could remember…”
“It wouldn’t change anything,” she said, not quite sure how she felt about James right now. The poor guy had had it rough, and she was sure that whatever had caused the fire was an accident, but now she had to face the wrath of Hattie and Luke. She was the one who’d made the deal with them, not James. And it had been her responsibility to keep James in line, not give him enough rope to go and get drunk. Whatever the fallout, she had to face it head on, even though she dreaded the final outcome.
“We’ll figure it out.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Will you be okay?”
He nodded. “I’m really sorry.”
Claire stood and took a deep breath. “There’s something I have to do.”
* * * *
Claire had her feet firmly planted at the base of the stairs leading up to Luke’s house. She’d been standing there a good five minutes, her legs like concrete.
“This is not going to fix things,” she mumbled and clenched her fists, taking the steps slowly. When she reached the front door, she knocked.
No answer.
She knocked a little harder, then waited. Heavy footfalls echoed down the hallway. A second later, the door swung open and Don stood in front of her, his eyes red.
Claire opened her mouth. “I’m—”
“Forget it,” he said, his tone cold. “You’re too late.”
“Too late? For what?”
“She’s gone,” he spat out.
“Pardon?”
“She’s gone to hospital.” Don spoke to her like English was her second language.
“Hospital? What’s wrong with Hattie?”
Don sighed, his contempt obvious. “As soon as she heard about what happened she took a turn.”
“Oh no.” Claire wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.
> “Luke’s gone with her while I hold the fort here.”
“I’m so sorry.” She seemed to be saying this a lot lately. Claire hitched her handbag back on her shoulder. “Which hospital?”
“Don’t bother,” said Don. “You’ve done enough damage.”
“But the police say it was an accident. They’re running tests now, but they’re pretty sure it was an electrical fault. They also said—”
Don held up his hand. “We don’t need to hear it. You promised Hattie you’d look after the place, and this is how her trust is repaid. Robert said you were trouble.”
“Robert Dennis?” She nearly choked on the words.
“Yes.”
“You know him?”
“He made himself known after your production moved in. Hattie and Luke convinced me to trust you. We should have known better.” He looked at her car. “It’s time you left.”
Arguing would be futile, so she walked back to the ute, her chest hurting. How sick was Hattie?
She got in on the driver’s side, her mind numb. Don was right. Claire had believed she was in control, that everything would be absolutely fine under her watch. She’d been an idiot to think just because she wanted something it would work out perfectly. It didn’t matter that the fire wasn’t her fault; she’d made a promise, and now it was broken, and Hattie had suffered because of it.
Claire got out the map and studied it, trying to figure out the closest hospital.
Oh, great. Ashton.
She threw the car into gear, drove down the gravel drive and turned right. “Last Goodbye” by Jeff Buckley came on the radio, and Claire punched the button to turn it off.
The road to Ashton felt longer than it actually was, as thoughts about Hattie’s health flew through Claire’s mind—and heart. She didn’t doubt for a second that Luke would turn her away, but she had to try. She’d never forgive herself otherwise. Though what would she say if she did get to see Hattie? “Sorry” just wouldn’t cut it.
Claire pulled to the side of the road. This was ridiculous. Showing up at the hospital could make things a million times worse than they already were. Perhaps she could write another letter? It had worked once. But would her new letter be passed on? Could it make things worse?
She thumped the steering wheel so hard a sharp pain reverberated up her hand and arm.
What to do?
Her phone rang, and she reached into her bag. “Hello?”
“You need to get back here. Now!” Nigel barked.
“On my way.” Claire threw the phone on the passenger seat and hightailed it to Starlight Creek.
* * * *
Claire pulled up at the town hall in a state of anxiety. Phil ran toward her, opened the door and gave her a massive bear hug.
“What’s going on?” She wrestled out of his grip.
“They’re not so sure it was an electrical fault now.”
“What?”
He ushered her up the stairs and to the doors of the hall. “They think there was foul play.”
“No way.” As if things couldn’t get worse.
“James’s drunkenness may have contributed, because he could have set something off. The police and firemen don’t think it’s as simple as it looks.”
“Robert Dennis.” She gritted her teeth.
“Who?”
“Robert Dennis and Brody Hall from Ashton. The disgruntled cinema owner and Annalise’s ex, current, whatever, boyfriend.”
“That’s too obvious,” said Phil.
“You’d think so, right? Especially after Robert threatened me and said he’d make sure this production fails.”
“Did you tell anyone before this?” he asked.
“Only James.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh man. I thought I’d dealt with it.”
“Apparently not.”
Surely it couldn’t have been Tony. He didn’t hate her that much. Or did he? Claire inhaled slowly and let it out. “I better go see Nigel.”
“Good luck.” Phil squeezed her hand.
“Thanks.” She refrained from adding, “I’m gonna need it.” Claire went up the stairs and into the hall, which was now empty except for Nigel and the policeman she’d met earlier. They waved her over and she crossed the floorboards, feeling guilty—of what, she wasn’t sure.
“Take a seat, Miss Montgomery,” said the policeman.
She did so, hoping this might stop her shaking legs. “How can I help?”
“We’ve received information about some trouble with you at the center.”
“Me?” She looked at Nigel whose expression was neutral. “If you’re talking about Robert Dennis, then I can assure you everything has been aboveboard.”
“What about the altercation in the street with Brody Hall? There are allegations you threatened him.”
“Pardon?” she squeaked, then quickly cleared her throat. “Brody threatened me. He wanted to see James, and I suggested it wasn’t a good idea and that he should work things out with Annalise.”
“Colin Dawson from the news agency said it was a heated argument.”
“If he thinks that’s heated, he’s never been to one of my family’s Christmases,” she muttered. “Look, I get that from an outsider’s point of view it might have looked like a huge argument, but it wasn’t. I was just trying to reason with him, because he wanted to blame everyone except himself for his failed relationship.”
“Would he be angry enough to cause a fire in the cinema?” asked the policeman.
“I’ve no idea,” she said. “He was furious, no doubt about it, but enough to cause damage and ruin the production? I really don’t know. Besides, how would he get in? There wasn’t any evidence of a break-in, was there? There was only one other person in the cinema that night…James. He was really drunk, and absolutely not capable of setting fire to anything,” she added quickly. “He could barely string a sentence together.”
“Colin saw you leave his house in the early hours,” said Nigel.
“I took him home after I found him in the cinema.” Claire leaned forward. “We’ve been over this already.”
“We just want to be sure we’ve noted everything correctly,” said the policeman.
She doubted that was the case. It felt more like they were trying to trip her up on a lie. The room suddenly felt smaller. “Do you have everything now?”
“Yes,” said the policeman, exchanging a look with Nigel. “We’ll be in touch.”
Claire stood, her legs feeling like jelly. She hated having to prove her innocence. All these allegations did not bode well. Not just for her current situation, but for future employment. Any blemish on her record, any gossip in the industry, even unfounded, would destroy her career and any hope of realizing her dreams. Although all that paled with her concern for Hattie.
Chapter Twenty-seven
1952 – Hollywood
Lena steered the Buick toward the studio gate, and she had to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into a large black Ford. Two men in ill-fitting suits leaned against the vehicle as they spoke with Barney, the security guard. A moment later, all eyes focused on her.
The taller of the two strode over and indicated she should roll her window down. She did so, but only a few inches.
“Miss Lena Lee?” His muscular build and scowling face were intimidating.
“Yes?”
“We’d like you to come with us.”
“Excuse me?”
He handed her a card:
Ned Ramsay
Representative of the House Un-American Activities Committee
She forced herself to sound calm. “Why do you want to talk with me?”
“We have some questions we’d like you to answer.”
Lena’s clammy hands gripped the steering wheel and she took a moment befor
e replying. “I’m sorry, now is not the right time. I have appointments today that can’t be moved.” Which was true, but she doubted they cared if her costume fitting was delayed. Their take-no-prisoners air did not instill confidence in her ability to fob them off until later.
“Miss Lee, we have already spoken with Mr. Cooper, and he has assured us that a delay of a few hours will not hinder.”
“A few hours?”
He motioned for her to roll down the window all the way. She did so reluctantly.
“Yes. Now, if you can park your car and please come with us to our office—”
“If you want to talk with me, then we’ll find an office in the administration building,” she said.
“Miss Lee—”
“I am sure you can understand that in this industry time is money, and I do not want to waste it traveling to the other side of town.” She managed a haughty tone and prayed it brooked no argument. Lena hated the idea of two men in suits interviewing her in an office in full view of the studio gossips, but she had no intention of leaving Fortitude Studios with two men she didn’t know. “I will also need time to call my lawyer and wait for him to arrive.”
“There will be no need for that.”
“I’ll decide if there’s a need.” Lena waved her hand at Barney to open the gates and let her in. As she drove past he mouthed “sorry,” and she gave him a half smile, hoping he understood she didn’t blame him. Her mind went into overdrive as she wound her way through the lots toward the main administration office. Why would HUAC want to speak with her? Had Pierre said something?
Dotty?
Oh no.
But that whole incident with Dotty’s brother had nothing to do with the film industry. Argh! What did they want?
Lena looked in the rearview mirror. Ned Ramsay and his offsider were following close behind in their black beast of a car. A small laugh escaped her lips. Just like in the movies.
She pulled into the nearest vacant parking spot, and the HUAC vehicle came to a stop just outside the door. Apparently, they wielded enough power to park wherever they wanted.
The men followed her into the foyer and waited with her by the elevator. Her heart smashed against her chest. Waltzing into Stuart’s office probably wasn’t the best plan, but she needed someone looking out for her, especially as she’d heard about HUAC investigations going south very quickly.
The Cinema of Lost Dreams Page 26
