by Cain Hopwood
As eight rolled past he’d finished his dinner and was hunting around in the bag looking for the last little crispy chips. It wasn’t that he was still hungry, just that he didn’t fancy having to go out in the hammering rain. He cast his eye around the car park and spied Wendy’s ute, so she was already here. He didn’t recall any other cars arriving in the last fifteen minutes, so he guessed the doctor was as well.
There being nothing for it, he grabbed a copy of the Gazette to shield his head, pulled his collar up and made a dash for the studio.
It was a good thing he was wearing boots, because there was a good inch of water in parts of the car park. The rain was solid coastal rain, the kind that soaked you after only a couple of seconds of exposure, so he had to be quick. He took the stairs two at a time and burst through the door, just as the Gazette disintegrated from the pummelling of the relentless downpour.
“Looks like the rain’s let up then lads,” said a soft English accent. Simon looked up and saw Duke, one of the codgers in Fay’s Tuesday night tap class giving him a gap toothed grin. Duke called him self ‘the pretty one’. He figured he had to be the pretty one because, when it came to tap dancing, he freely admitted to having the precision and timing of a couple of sneakers in a tumble dryer.
Simon couldn’t think of a witty rejoinder so he just shook his head like a dog and then hung up his coat. “How’d the tap go lads?”
“Great,” Duke said. “I’d say we’ll have this shuffle ball change thing sorted by next year… on the right leg at least.”
“Awesome. Sound’s like you’ll have Fay’s repertoire exhausted soon and we’ll have to send you blokes to Sydney.”
All three codgers broke into laughter.
“Are you three still here?” Wendy said poking her head through the doorway from the studio. Her head disappeared and a moment later Fay was shushed out into the waiting room. “You too Fay. Michael won’t start until the door is locked, we have to maintain the highest security.”
Simon put on a very serious face. “Am I still OK to sit in?”
“Only if you swear not to reveal any details of the act. Michael is fiercely competitive and doesn’t want to give any advantage to the others.”
Simon leaned in close. “Is it that ground-breaking?” he whispered.
Wendy stole a quick glance over her shoulder then quickly shook her head. “I am not at liberty to say,” she said in an overly loud voice.
“Looks like we’d better hop it lads,” Duke said giving Wendy a big obvious wink.
“Can I grab a lift with you Duke,” Fay said shouldering her bag. “David is rehearsing tonight in Berooma. It’s not a long walk but…”
“Absolutely, only a nutter would walk anywhere in this weather.”
Duke, Fay and the two codgers opened the door, braced themselves for the dash to their cars, and were swallowed by the curtains of water.
Simon closed the door after them. “Looks like it’s just the three of us now, should be safe.”
Wendy stifled a snort. “Come on up then.”
They went through to the studio to find Michael playing with the sound system. It looked like he was already in costume. He was wearing black stovepipe pants that were a little short, and more than a little tight, and gorgeous black and white brogues.
“This is the strangest CD player I’ve ever seen,” he said.
Wendy’s eye’s rolled upwards. “It’s variable speed, and there are controls for looping, but we don’t need any of that. Here, let me,” she said and stalked over to take control. Simon was surprised to see her so assertive.
Wendy shuffled through the large pile of CD’s that Michael had brought and selected one. Soon the catchy beat of classic fifties rock and roll was booming out of the studio’s system.
“Let’s first warm up,” she shouted and grabbed Michael.
Simon took a seat in the alcove and pulled out his notepad. He only had a passing understanding of rock n roll, but he could see that both Wendy and Michael were accomplished dancers. Considering that they were only in the first week of rehearsals, and he had only seen one other couple, it was looking like Wendy and Michael were going to be the ones to beat. Ones to beat, he thought. That’s a good line, and he scribbled that down on his pad.
He looked up to see Michael standing over him. “No notes, who knows who has access to that pad.”
“It’s just general stuff,” Simon said and turned the pad so that Michael could see.
“Ones to beat huh,” Michael said after scanning the page. “I’m OK with that.”
“I’ll let you check it all at the end,” Simon said in an offhand fashion. ”I’m just getting to know the celebrities and the dancers so I can write some human interest pieces for the Gazette.”
Michael folded his arms. “Just human interest?”
“Oh yes, the last thing we’d want is to defuse the tension by divulging any details. Betty wants me doing a few ‘getting to know the celebs’ and ‘who’s your favourite dancer’ type pieces.”
Michael had relaxed a little and was nodding along, so Simon kept going. “It’s all about getting people siding with one couple or another and voting them up.”
Michael took a step forward. “You know how the voting is going to work?”
“I wish I did,” Simon said clenching his hands. Then he lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you one thing though. And it has my journalistic senses tingling.”
“What,” Michael said, wide eyed.
“Betty is confident that they system they’ve come up with is cheat proof.”
“No!”
“Not a word of a lie, I’ve never seen her so smug.”
Simon could just about see the cogs turning in Michael’s head. “I wonder what it is,” he muttered.
“There’s a big unveiling on Saturday, we’ll all know then. But in the meantime, do you mind if I ask a few general background questions? I know you’ve been in Galah since, shoot, before I was born anyway. But there must be a few nuggets in your past.”
“Yeah, sure,” the doctor said, but his eyes were unfocussed.”
“Something of interest maybe. Details that might make people vote for you?”
Michael’s eyes snapped back to look at Simon. Then a calculating smile spread across his face. “What kind of something?”
“I dunno, something that popularises you. Something like…” Simon tapped his chin, thinking. Then he dropped his voice taking on a TV news reader like tone. “Michael Hudson moved to Galahgalone after working extensively in sub Saharan Africa with doctors without borders. When asked why he didn’t stay in his lucrative city practice he said that regional areas were crying out for good doctors. And after seeing what a difference prompt medical care made to peoples lives, he had no choice but to move to the bush.”
“That’s awesome, let’s run with that,” Michael said.
“That was an example, I was just making something up, I can’t print lies.”
“No?”
“Not knowingly, although Betty rides the ragged edge sometimes. Look, have you even been to Africa?”
“Sure.”
“To work?”
Michael paused. “No. On Safari.”
Simon screwed up his face. “Did you maybe treat some locals when you were there, help someone…”
“My wife got the most incredible explosive dysentery, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Hmm, that could work. When was this?”
“Last year.”
Simon closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Look, let’s have the interview later, I’m sure we’ll find something, or maybe something will occur to you. You guys really should be rehearsing now.”
Wendy was standing by the CD player. “It’s about time. Now, shall we work on the routine?”
She didn’t even wait for an answer and stabbed the play button. Michael scampered to take a position in the middle of the floor and they began their rehearsal.
Once th
ey’d run through a couple of times Simon could see what Wendy had meant last Saturday. Sure there were some swings and twirls, but Michael’s routine didn’t have enough showiness. They were dancing with each other beautifully, but they weren’t dancing to wow the audience.
But Simon was seeing a new side of Wendy tonight. The meek little Asian girl had been put to one side, and a no nonsense boss was in charge now. Michael had a full routine worked out all right. But, as the rehearsal progressed Wendy tweaked and adjusted it into something more appropriate for the stage. And not once did Michael protest or even resist her suggestions.
I wonder why she doesn’t teach, he thought. He’d always assumed it was because she was too shy to stand up in front of a group and take charge. But, if the way she was bossing around Michael was any indication, the codger tap class would be putty in her hands.
By nine thirty both Wendy and Michael were getting tired and starting to make mistakes. So Wendy called a halt to the rehearsal, and Simon got to finish his background interview. Simon probed and questioned the doctor for half an hour, but nothing really noteworthy was uncovered for the effort.
Michael Hudson-Wells’s father had been the town doctor back in the forties. Michael had gone to Sydney to attend medical school and do his residency. But, once that was done, he came straight back to Galah and married his high school sweetheart. He was a true local boy who just loved Galah.
However, as the interview wound down, it struck Simon that there might be a human interest story in Michael’s past. And, it was a story that resonated with Simon.
What could be more admirable than a country born boy who headed to the city, made his fortune, and then returned to his hometown to become the local GP. Simply because he thought it was a great town with great people.
Chapter Eleven
Simon pushed open the door to the cafe with a tinkle and the seductive aroma of frying bacon made him lick his lips. The usually sleepy little cafe was thronging with late morning weekend breakfasters. Simon and Betty though, were there for the coffee.
The locals considered the Acropolis Cafe, or just ‘the Cafe’, as one of the secrets of Galah. It masqueraded as an unassuming, typical bush, fish and chips shop. However Con the owner was an uncompromising perfectionist when it came to coffee. It was like a little piece of inner city Melbourne had been transplanted in Galah. Without it Simon wondered whether he’d have managed to hold on here as long as he had.
“Don’t normally see you guys on the weekend,” Con said without even looking up from the coffee machine. “Just coffee’s or are you in for a spot of brunch?”
“Coffee’s please, we’re taking a break before the big unveiling.”
Con stopped working and looked around, eyes twinkling. “Ah, you know how the voting will work. Do tell.”
“I don’t think so Con,” Betty said waggling her finger. “We’ve kept this a secret all week, and you know what kind of herculean task that is in this town. So I won’t have you stealing our thunder. Even Simon here isn’t on the need to know list.”
Simon pulled a lop-sided grin. “She’s right, I got nothing.”
Con sighed. “But I can’t make the unveiling, it’s at lunch and look at all these customers.”
“As soon as we’re done, I’ll be straight over, promise,” Betty said.
“You’d better, otherwise I’ll be getting the teenagers to make your coffee in the future.”
Simon and Betty laughed then sat down. They had about twenty minutes before they were due back at the shopping centre for the unveiling.
It had been a hectic morning. The CWA had setup a small stage in the shopping centre, and curtained off the back half. Then six large plain brown boxes had been delivered, and squirrelled away behind the curtain.
Plenty of people had tried to talk their way behind the curtain. But, Betty had been standing guard and no one, including Simon, could get past.
“I don’t know what you’ve been telling people,” Betty said. She took a sip of her coffee and gave an audible sigh of relief. “But I can’t remember the last time I saw the shopping centre so busy.”
“Well you didn’t give me much to go on, and I only really spoke about voting to Doctor Hudson.”
“That would explain it, you know what the hospital’s like. But why are they all itching to know.”
Simon looked down into his empty cup. “I might have mentioned that you’d bragged that the voting system was cheat proof.”
Betty smiled. “Yep, that would do it. Typical Galah, they’ll all be trying to work out how to beat the system.”
Simon put on a serious tone. “But only in the interests of the greater good.”
“Greater good?” asked Betty taking a sip of her coffee.
“Yes. Beating Berooma.”
Betty snorted. It was lucky she’d just swallowed, or Simon would have worn her mouthful of coffee.
Simon looked at his watch and lowered his voice. “So it’s only fifteen minutes to go, can you give me the scoop now.”
“Absolutely not! The walls have ears you know,” she said. Her eyes darted toward the counter. Simon glanced over his shoulder and saw Con wiping down the already spotless surface. He couldn’t have looked guiltier without adding a tuneless whistle.
“We’d better get back then before someone drops dead from the suspense,” he said.
They made their way back to the shopping centre. All they had to do was cross the main street but even so Betty had to fend off people left and right. Everyone wanted to know how to vote for their couple.
“This is almost a little scary,” Simon said as they finally made it through the shopping centre doors and into the relative calm inside. “Has it been like this all week?”
“Just the last couple of days.”
Betty bustled up onto the stage, leaving Simon down with the rest of the crowd. She took a quick peek behind the curtain and then turned to face the expectant crowd. Someone shepherded her in front of the mic and she stood there fidgeting with her notebook.
“Ahem. Hello everyone, thank you for coming. I’m surprised and pleased to see so many of you here today for the official kick off of this year’s annual fundraiser. This year we have something different, something exciting.
“But before I tell you about that, I want to let you all know what this years fundraiser will be in aid of. We plan to purchase a chemotherapy machine for the hospital. Now this is an ambitious goal, but I know that everyone knows someone touched by cancer and this machine will make a huge difference to everyone’s lives.”
A cheer went up in the crowd. Wow, Simon thought, that’s ambitious all right. From what he could recall the CWA were lucky to make ten grand from a fundraiser, which would be a drop in the bucket when it came to that kind of medical equipment.
Betty calmed the crowd down with a wave and continued. “This year, with the aid of the dance schools we will be putting on a live stage version of the hit TV show Celebrity Dance. We have six local celebrities, and they have each been paired with a local professional dancer. Over the next eight weeks they will learn and prepare a dance number for the show, but most importantly you’ll all be able to vote for your favourite couple.”
“How?” yelled a voice from the crowd.
“Patience everyone, all will be revealed momentarily. But while I have your attention, I want you all to understand that your votes will count just as much as their performance on the night when it comes to determining the overall winner. So no matter how good their dancing is, they still need your votes.”
Whether Betty sensed it or not, the crowd were getting restless. This was an awful lot of talking for Galah. Fortunately Betty seemed to be done. With a flourish of her hand the curtain was drawn and six life size cardboard cut-outs of the celebrities were revealed. Simon looked a little closer and realised that they’d cleverly attached a box to the font of the cut-out, positioning it so that it looked like each celebrity was holding the box.
And writte
n on the front of each box was ‘one dollar, one vote’.
“I encourage you all to vote. In fact we’ll look the other way if you vote more than once,” Betty said with a wink. “We’ll be moving these around over the next eight weeks, and there’s also smaller ones that the celebrities will be placing wherever they think they can garner the most votes.”
She gestured towards a table off on the side that had a number of donation boxes, just the right size for a shop counter or tuck shop window. The crowd started to murmur, everyone was realising that not only was the voting system cheat proof, it actually encouraged cheating.
Betty raised her voice to speak over the crowd, generating a small squeal of feedback from the PA.
“Finally everyone, tickets for the big show will be available soon, wherever you see the voting boxes. Don’t miss out, there will be one show and one show only.”
She stepped back from the mic and smoothed her dress down, then turned and goaded the ladies at the back of the stage into action. They each grabbed a cut-out and scurried off the stage. But before the lady with the Mayor’s cut-out was even at the bottom of the steps, the Mayor himself materialised out of the crowd and grabbed her elbow.
“Hold on there young lady, I want to vote,” he boomed, grabbing everyone’s attention. He held up a hundred dollar bill and put it through the slot in the top of his cut-out’s box. Then he punched the air. “And the Mayor sprints to an early lead.”
The crowd erupted in a frenzy of yelling, cheers and whistles.
Simon had his camera up, and though he missed the competition’s first vote, he got the Mayor’s air punch. It should make a nice front page photo. Besides if they needed a re-enactment he could always rely on Mayor Grimshaw to help, if it meant the chance for some free PR.
The ladies with the cut-outs were being jostled left and right as they made their way through the crowd. Eventually they managed to spread out and place the cut-outs around the building. Already each cut-out had a crowd around it. Galahgalone Mountain Goat green was a theme for the people around Daryl’s. While Doctor Hudson’s had more than its share of white nurses uniforms milling around.
