by Dave Warner
'It's not a particularly healthy diet,' commented Charlotte, who was eating rice and vegetables.
'That's what I've been saying for years,' added Feathers.
'I'm having salad with the pizza, aren't I?' shot back Leila.
'I don't think that's how it works,' said Charlotte. A familiar figure came towards them. Honey Grace still seemed agitated.
'Just thought I'd drop in to see how it's going,' she said.
'So far so good. Any news about Oscar?'
Honey shook her head sadly. 'I was so disappointed that pussy wasn't him. I still can't sleep. I tried to write but in four hours all I managed was this.' She produced a page which had no more than two lines written on it. 'I've told Mr Gold to hire another writer.'
Leila groaned.
Charlotte asked whether the Grants had been in touch about the window cleaner.
'Oh yes, I forgot you didn't know. My brain is all over the place. They didn't organise any cleaning.'
'Is there anybody you think might have a grudge against you?' asked Charlotte.
'What do you mean?' Honey was confused by the question.
Charlotte elaborated. 'Perhaps somebody stole Oscar to hurt you.'
Honey was dismayed by the thought. 'I don't know that many people and those I do are my friends. I did yell at a man once who nearly ran me over.'
Charlotte was thinking that whoever took Oscar, if indeed anybody had, would have to know a fair bit about Honey.
'If somebody did take Oscar, I only hope it was because he is such a lovely cat and they wanted to spoil him.' It was clear she was fighting back tears. 'Anyway, I just wanted to thank you again, Charlotte, for all your concern and to wish Leila well.' She checked her watch. 'I'd best be off now.'
'You're not staying?'
'I have an appointment with a counsellor who helps people grieving.'
Honey shuffled off, her whole body bowed.
'Seeing a shrink, that's bad,' said Leila. But she brightened as the tray of pizzas headed her way. She demolished them in no time.
'I wonder what S-J will try?' She licked her lips for the last taste of oregano.
'What do you mean?'
Feathers picked at a piece of crust and explained. 'It's day one. So far Leila has been the star. Sarah-Jane will have to do something to get the attention back on her.'
Leila stood waiting for her cue. The scene was a tricky one. It entailed Leila starting to canter when she heard Sarah-Jane's alarm whistle. Sarah-Jane would then burst out of the bushes, supposedly on the run from pursuing bad guys, run alongside Leila, and haul herself onto the saddle. By the time she grabbed the reins, Leila needed to be in full gallop. The bad guys then emerged from the bushes and fired after them. Not real bullets of course. Blanks. The clapperboard clapped. Tommy's voice floated over from the truck where he was sitting behind the cameraman.
'And action.'
Leila waited. There was the whistle. She started forward, trying to judge her speed just right. Sarah-Jane burst out of the trees and ran alongside her. She reached for the saddle, got her foot in the stirrup . . .
'Aeee,' she yelled. 'She's going too fast.'
Leila knew that wasn't in the script. Sarah-Jane's weight melted away, there was a cloud of dirt and Tommy's voice yelled, 'Cut'.
Leila pulled up immediately and looked over to see Sarah-Jane writhing on the ground. Tommy had jumped down from the truck and people were swarming from all over the place. Leila immediately suspected it was a con job.
'Are you all right?'
Tommy knelt beside Sarah-Jane, who was massaging her ankle.
'I–I'm not sure.' She turned and pointed accusingly at Leila. 'She was going way too fast.'
'Can you stand?' asked Joel Gold.
Leila stewed as Sarah-Jane did a great impression of somebody who'd just had their foot chomped off by an alligator. Her bottom lip quivered, she clutched Mr Gold and, with enormous 'bravery', hauled herself up. The doctor, a handsome young guy in jeans and sweatshirt, had arrived with his bag.
'Let's have a look.' He reached to Sarah-Jane's boot but she immediately shrieked, 'Agh, agh, agh. Don't touch it.'
The doctor examined it as best he could and pronounced no obvious break.
That's a surprise, thought Leila.
'All the same, I'd better get her to the hospital for an X-ray.'
Leila watched the press gallery reach for their phones. This was going to make news. Sarah-Jane caught Leila's eye and Leila could detect a glint of triumph in her look.
'It was going so well. We'll have to wrap for the day.' Tommy sounded like he'd been kicked in the stomach.
Mr Gold sighed. 'This movie is cursed. Hector's going to have a seizure.'
Which is when Miss Strudworth's imperious voice drew attention to herself.
'I know nothing about making films, of course, but I'm sorry, Joel, I don't quite understand the problem.'
Mr Gold was patient. 'Sarah-Jane has hurt her ankle and there's no time to set up for another scene, so we have to finish for the day.'
'I'm so, so sorry,' offered Sarah-Jane.
'It's not your fault,' said Tommy.
'I know. It's Leila's,' she added with bite.
Leila had a good mind to stomp on her and really give her an injury.
Miss Strudworth persisted. 'Yes, I understand that. But are you doing close-ups?'
'It doesn't matter,' said Tommy. 'Sarah-Jane's the only one here who can do the stunt.'
'We normally have a stunt double,' explained Joel Gold, 'but that part of the budget had to be pared back to allow for us to shoot again when Honey . . . if Honey . . . finishes the script.'
'Charlotte can do it,' said Strudworth.
Leila cackled inside. Yes! Way to go, Struddy-Duddy. She shot a look at Sarah-Jane, whose eyes were darting as she tried to think of a block.
'It's a great idea but I'm afraid the union wouldn't be agreeable to that,' she said.
Joel Gold's face creased in rare joy. 'She's a member. I took out a membership for her so there'd be no problem with her being on set.'
Standing some metres away, Charlotte was aware of none of this conversation. When all eyes turned in her direction she looked behind her to see what they were looking at. There was nothing there. By the time she had turned back, Strudworth, Tommy Tempest and Joel Gold were looming.
'Guess what, Charlotte?' said Miss Strudworth.
'You're about to be in a movie,' smiled Joel Gold.
Charlotte's legs went weak.
'I – I don't understand . . .' she stammered.
'Look at that,' cracked Tommy. 'An actor already.'
Chapter 8
'You know, my ankle might not be as bad as I thought.'
Sarah-Jane went hobbling after Tommy as he neared the wardrobe area where Charlotte was being fitted out. Leila noted that it seemed to alternate between Sarah-Jane's left and right foot as to which one was 'injured'.
'No, we can't take a risk with you,' said Tommy firmly. 'If we had to stop the film because you were hurt, the insurance people would have grounds to halt any payout. You should go to the hospital for that X-ray.'
Leila sauntered over to Feathers, who was also delighted by the scene unfolding. 'Worst thing for her is that the press gallery has forgotten all about her. They want to see "Crocodoll Dundee" do her thing.' She nodded to where various media types were on their mobile phones and Blackberries, filing reports.
At the wardrobe trailer, Charlotte was extremely nervous. Henrietta put her into Sarah-Jane's back-up wardrobe.
'You're almost exactly the same size.'
'In everything except ego,' whispered Cassandra, biting on a pretzel.
'How's she doing?' asked Tommy.
'Almost there,' said Henrietta.
'I don't have to say any lines, do I?' asked Charlotte.
'No, not in this scene, Charlotte.' Tommy was very reassuring. 'Just pretend it's you and Leila having fun.'
The first assist
ant director called out to Tommy that everybody was standing by.
'Okay, let's go, Charlotte,' said Tommy.
'Thank you, Henrietta.'
'It's a pleasure, Charlotte. I hope we do it again,' smiled Henrietta.
Charlotte's legs were jelly as she walked through the gallery of faces peering at her with a variety of emotions: curiosity in the case of the press; fondness in the case of Strudworth; animosity in the case of Sarah-Jane. She almost snarled at Charlotte but had no chance to say anything as she was suddenly hoisted in the air by paramedics and carried towards the ambulance.
Tommy led Charlotte into her position in the bushes where the second assistant director, Kansas, a big burly man, was waiting, headset clamped on.
'Kansas will cue you when to whistle and run for Leila. Now don't worry if we have to do this a few times; it's a very hard stunt, we know that.'
Charlotte nodded. Her mouth and throat were dry.
Tommy disappeared back out through the bushes.
'You're going to be fine, kid,' said Kansas.
Charlotte's life flashed before her as she tried to make sense of how she, a shy girl from the deep Australian outback, had wound up here in Hollywood. She supposed it all had to do with Leila. Life could never be normal when she was around.
'And . . . action,' came Tommy's voice from beyond the trees. Kansas gestured for Charlotte to whistle. Which she did. Kansas listened to his headphones and nodded for Charlotte to go.
Charlotte burst out of the trees and ran towards Leila, who was moving across an open expanse of grass at a canter. While Charlotte had never done anything like this stunt with Leila, many times when she had been on a cattle drive with her father she had needed to mount her horse quickly to chase down a bolting steer. She reached Leila, threw out her hand, seized the pommel, and pulled herself into the saddle, not even bothering with stirrups as she galloped away hard. It was only when she approached the third assistant director waving her to stop that she remembered this was a movie stunt. She had lost herself completely in the moment. She pulled Leila to a halt.
'Nice job, Charlie,' said Leila from the side of her mouth. Tommy's truck came alongside.
'You didn't use the stirrups.' Tommy seemed quite confused.
Charlotte felt like an idiot. 'I'm so sorry. I can do it again. It's just that it slows you down and if I had men chasing me with guns I wouldn't bother.'
'No, no, no, it's great!' Tommy looked to his cameraman, who gave a thumbs up to show he'd captured it all. 'You were terrific, Charlotte. That's a take.'
People began to applaud.
'You know,' said Tommy's first assistant director arriving on the scene, 'we've still got a good hour. We could set up for another stunt.'
Tommy was nodding, his mind racing.
'The one where she gets caught by the creeper slung across the track and falls. If Sarah-Jane does it we'll be half a day fixing her hair.' He swung to Charlotte. 'What do you think, Charlotte? Think you could manage that?'
Charlotte shrugged. It was the kind of thing the kids from Snake Hills grew up doing – playing cowboys and indians, falling out of the saddle.
'Don't see why not, Tommy.'
Tommy suddenly had a spring in his step. 'Okay, guys, let's go.'
'You really saved the day, Charlotte,' said Joel Gold later at a restaurant he had commandeered near the Kodak Theater in the heart of Hollywood. Miss Strudworth, Charlotte, Mr Gold and Leila were the only diners in the large room. Feathers had been most indignant that he was not allowed to come and Tommy was too busy planning shots for the next day.
'I don't think I did anything much.'
It wasn't false modesty from Charlotte. To her there was nothing easier than jumping on and off horses.
'Don't go getting too many ideas, Charlotte,' cautioned Strudworth. 'The Annie Oakley stunts belong on a movie set, not in the show ring.'
'Of course not, Miss.'
Charlotte was relishing her meal, steak with spaghetti and French fries. Leila was scoffing down vegetarian pasta.
'I've been coming to this place for forty-two years,' said Mr Gold affectionately as he looked around the room of somewhat faded splendour. 'Goran, the owner, began as a busboy the same time I started as a studio messenger. I used to have to pedal my bicycle from set to set passing on messages. Forty years ago, Caroline, what were you doing? Besides breaking boys' hearts, I mean?'
Leila groaned. The only thing worse than tetanus shots was being forced to watch Sarah-Jane's showreel or oldies flirting as they talked about ancient days. Okay if it were Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful, maybe she could bear it, but Mr Gold and Strudworth. Yucch, it sent a shiver down her body.
Charlotte watched Miss Strudworth's smile creep over her face.
'I'm not sure there were too many boys with broken hearts, Joel.'
'Hey, Caroline, I can tell you were a stunner then, just as you are now.'
She melted. 'Well . . . there was one boy . . . Mark. He and I went to The Sound of Music together and then he was sent to Vietnam.' She shook her head sadly. 'I get upset every time I think of it.'
'He was hurt?' asked Mr Gold carefully.
'Oh no, he never even saw any action but he stopped off in Hong Kong and decided it was so much fun there he would stay. I never saw him again, though he did send a very nice postcard from Victoria Peak.'
Mr Gold's phone burst into life. 'Yes, Josh. How is she? That's great news . . . no, of course not, Charlotte was just filling in.'
He ended the call.
'Sarah-Jane's manager. X-ray was clear. She'll be fine for tomorrow.'
Of course she will, thought Leila. She's seen how expendable she is. Thirteen-year-old precocious brats are a dime a dozen. But try replacing a mare with attitude, a sense of rhythm and impeccable timing.
Goran, a small rotund man with black hair that looked like it may have been painted on, entered the room.
'Is everything to your liking?'
'The osso buco was marvellous,' smiled Strudworth.
'Steak is great,' added Charlotte.
'There is only one thing missing, my friend,' said Mr Gold with a serious expression.
Goran looked concerned.
'Where's Johan?'
Goran burst into a wide smile. 'You want some music, eh?'
'Could I request The Sound of Music?' Mr Gold asked.
Goran wagged a finger. 'Coming right up.'
He disappeared from the room in a flash.
'What's going on?' Caroline Strudworth had become quite girly in her manner.
'Just wait and see,' said Mr Gold, pouring her wine.
From outside the doorway came the sounds of violins. Two men and a woman dressed in gypsy-style costumes, the men with puffy shirts, cummerbunds and headbands, the woman in a flowing dress, entered playing.
Strudworth's hand fluttered to her heart.
Mr Gold leaned across, offering his hand. 'May I?'
'Of course.' Strudworth stood and the two prepared to dance, which was quite a sight with the small, portly Joel Gold and the tall, equine-like Strudworth.
'Perhaps Leila and I will go for a walk around,' suggested Charlotte.
'By all means,' said Joel Gold, gazing into Strudworth's eyes.
'Take your time,' said Miss Strudworth, gazing into his.
Leila and Charlotte left the room, watching them spin elegantly around the floor.
'Okay, Charlie, let's take in a little action, see if the pavement is cooking,' said Leila as they emerged from a side door into the street.
In Charlotte's home town of Snake Hills, a busy night could be defined by more than a dozen cars lapping the town's one and only street. Charlotte had spent a night in the city once after running away from Thornton Downs but even that was nothing compared to this. There were so many people out and about. She couldn't get over the noise and motion, the giant billboards and endless stream of gleaming cars. Charlotte had thought people would be startled at a horse in their mid
st but, apparently, they were used to such sights and most barely offered a second glance. The sidewalk, as the Americans called it, was full of people in costumes doing little acts. Leila explained they were dressed like famous movie stars.
'Who is the little man with the funny moustache and the round hat?'
'The hat is called a bowler. That's supposed to be Charlie Chaplin.'
'Why do they dress up like them?'
'Why do you think?'
Charlotte saw some passing Chinese tourists place money in the bowler hat.
'They charge for it?'
'They don't charge. You pay if you want.'
Charlotte recognised the woman with the platinum blonde hair and the beauty spot.
'That's Marilyn Monroe, right?'
'Looks more like Marilyn Manson,' cracked Leila. She took a deep sniff of the gasoline fumes, the fried food and the desert dust that seemed to cling to the wind all over L.A.
'Hollywood Nights,' she said with a fondness, remembering how she had given Bob Seger the title for his famous song one night at the Sunset Marquee bar. Of course, he hadn't known it was her. He just heard somebody pass him and say, 'You should do a song about this, call it "Hollywood Nights".' He probably thought it was the cocktail waitress.
'Way to go, Leila,' called one young guy in a Lakers cap, from a passing car.
Leila nodded at a hotel. 'That's a famous rock'n'roll establishment where I've been for many an album launch.' She cackled. 'Should have seen Don Henley and me doing "Wild Horses" at the bar. That was something. Until Don decided to jump me through the plate glass window. Still don't know how I emerged without a scratch.'
A convertible went past loaded with young people who began tooting and screaming, 'Oh my God, it's Leila and Crocodoll Dundee!'
Leila showed off by rearing high.
Charlotte was flabbergasted. 'I was on TV for, like, five minutes.'
'That's all it takes,' said Leila knowingly.
'Don't worry though, by tomorrow you'll have been forgotten. Careful, you're about to step on Cary Grant.'
Charlotte's foot poised midstream. She looked down to see a gold star in the footpath. 'Oh, wow.'
'You get famous enough, you get your own star. I would have had mine by now if I hadn't stuck with you.'
