by Fiona Greene
No matter her talent, the company might think Emma’s dad was trying to shut down the theatre.
Did that matter here? Did she have any chance?
He dropped the pen and glanced over at the mayor, then back at Lexi, who had finished her introduction and had a slide up showing restaurant bookings, accommodation occupancy and chamber of commerce figures by week, in a side-by-side comparison to scheduled productions at Rivervue. Mark made a few notes and shot Jo a look. Lexi’s data was more detailed than that on file at Council.
‘As you can see, Brachen benefits economically when the productions are running.’
‘And will continue to do so, when the theatre goes out to the old Butter Factory. It’s only five kilometres from the CBD.’ The mayor interrupted.
Lexi smiled in the mayor’s general direction and changed the slide to show a map. ‘We offered a student placement to the local university and had the town-planning, statistics and creative students work together to determine the importance of location to our patrons.’
Mark caught Jo’s eye. ‘Get a copy,’ he mouthed.
‘On it,’ she mouthed back.
Lexi’s presentation continued. ‘This is the accommodation occupancy shown visually on the map. As you can see, the closer to the theatre, the higher the occupancy. Here is a comparison graph for the non-production week immediately after.’ Lexi flicked through similar slides for restaurants, and one about transport to the production, which was most commonly on foot.
Mark took another look at Lexi Spencer. The results were impressive, but the methodology even more so. She’d delivered figures the Council didn’t have and couldn’t produce. Impressive figures. He needed that data.
‘So, in conclusion, I believe this information supports my position that moving the theatre would prevent patrons walking to dinner and a show, would directly reduce patronage to the theatre, and as a result, affect visitor numbers to Brachen. The long-term economic downturn would impact the town well in advance of the anticipated increase in Council rates and charges anticipated from redeveloping the theatre into a residential precinct.’
‘And these visitors that drove all the way from Sydney for the show can’t drive the extra five kilometres?’ The mayor weighed in and Mark cringed. The time to rebut was after they’d reviewed the data.
Lexi didn’t miss a beat. ‘We didn’t present the data today, but we also asked the students to review police statistics for positive breathalyser tests and correlate them to events at the showground or events at the theatre. Proportionally, more people are detected driving over the alcohol limit when the local event is not within the CBD. This occurs irrespective of age, and feedback gathered by the students reflects a perception of poor public transport in the Brachen area.’ She smiled at Forsdyke. ‘As public transport is also in your portfolio, I’ll make sure to get you a copy of that data.’
Lexi clicked the remote and the most recognisable image of Ron de Vue, dressed in his army combats, slouch hat perched atop his head, came into view on the screen.
‘Ron de Vue. Brachen local. Australian soldier. Hollywood star. Everyone in Brachen knows the story of how after the war, Ron found fame in Hollywood playing the Aussie larrikin, and despite never returning to his home town, he ensured that the performing arts were never forgotten in Brachen, with the building of the Rivervue theatre complex.’ She paused and swept the room with her gaze. ‘How much more of the Ron de Vue story do you know?’
Across the room, members of the crowd furrowed their brows.
‘Most people, whether they’re local or tourists, don’t know much more than that. And that’s a tragedy.’ Lexi paused. ‘We, the team at Rivervue Theatre, want to give you that history. We want you, the people of Brachen, to get to know the man who brought us together in this room. What better time to do that than during the town’s bicentennial, and what better way to do that than a production about Ron de Vue with local creatives ensuring the production is truthful, respectful to Ron’s descendants and entertaining.’
Holy heck.
Mark stared at the siren in the polka-dot dress, then he and Jo exchanged glances.
Lexi was playing to the communal history that the people of Brachen were so proud of.
He, the mayor, and the townsfolk of Brachen had just been publicly served the one thing that would guarantee work wouldn’t start on any proposed development in the theatre precinct any time soon. He had to try and pull this back into Council’s favour.
Mark threw up his hand, and when Jo nodded in his direction he spoke. ‘Mark Conroy, Brachen Shire CEO. The Council is supportive of the development of local content for the bicentennial celebration. There are some unallocated funds available in the bicentennial grant. Could you provide a copy of the script?’
Lexi’s chin, held aloft for such a long time, dropped. She corrected it so quickly he might never have noticed, if not for his earlier observation about her carriage. ‘We don’t have a complete script yet. It is still a work in progress, and it’s important that we, as the first team to attempt to retell the story, ensure its accuracy.’ She smiled briefly. ‘I can provide the synopsis.’
‘The celebration is eight weeks away.’ Mark checked his calendar. ‘Actually, seven and a half weeks. Can your team deliver a production worthy of the bicentennial, given you don’t yet have a finalised script?’
Her glare said what her voice couldn’t. Arse.
‘It’s not unusual to begin production with a script that requires work. I have every confidence in the timeline.’ She met his gaze head-on, and stared, unblinkingly at him, then her mouth curled into a small smile. ‘Provided I don’t have to worry about moving the theatre from the CBD.’
Mark stared deep into her eyes that were so serious. She was so engaged in the story she was telling him. But it didn’t feel real. Something in her body language was off.
‘Eight weeks.’ The mayor interjected. ‘No decision for eight weeks, but after that …’
Mark glanced at Jo and they both mentally rolled their eyes. It wasn’t the mayor’s decision to make, it was Council’s.
Someone started clapping. Slowly it built to a crescendo. Old Angus started tooting the horn of his scooter.
This was the sort of small-town politics that did his head in. Everyone knew there was a process, and the mayor had gone around it. Just as he’d blurted out the proposed plans for Rivervue a few weeks earlier in a meeting just like this one.
Not helpful.
Not that the man did anything by accident. No matter how bumbling he played things.
Mark raised his hand again. When the clapping finally abated, Jo indicated he should speak. ‘What Mayor Forsdyke means is that he will be raising a motion to go before Council, recommending that there is a delay in progressing any further work on finalising the proposed development until after the bicentennial celebrations. The councillors will need to vote.’
‘Lexi,’ Jo said, stepping in to back him up, ‘we’ll be able to provide a final position on any decision to delay once the Council meets. Not today.’ She looked down at her notepad. ‘The councillors will want copies of the statistics, the synopsis for the play and anything else you’d like to present.’
‘Thank you. I’d appreciate the opportunity.’
She turned to Mark, pinning him with those intense chocolatey eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated.
He stared into her eyes, holding her gaze when every single part of him wanted to stare at those fire-engine-red lips. ‘You’re welcome.’
She straightened her shoulders, and it was as if the weight had been lifted from them. She stepped away from the microphone and headed past the tables where he, Jo and the mayor were seated, returning to the public seating. There was a low murmur of conversation and Jo tried to bring the meeting back to order.
But Mark was having as much trouble staying on topic as old Gus had had staying upright. The sway of Lexi’s hips, the way the fabric of her dress hugged and highlighted every singl
e one of her curves. Those stockings.
He couldn’t look away.
Did she slow, ever so slightly, as she drew level with him? Or was that just his overactive imagination?
No, he didn’t imagine it.
She turned her head and met his gaze.
Do not stare at her lips.
But it was impossible.
Thank you, she mouthed. Her fire-engine-red lips quirked into one last smile.
Then she kept walking.
Chapter Five
Lexi knew the pain that auditions caused, but when Orla phoned her to let her know Emma Conroy was having a complete meltdown in rehearsal, she dropped everything and ran.
Emma was one of the children she’d specifically wanted to audition to play Ron’s half-sister in one of the timelines. Mary Devon had been the same age as Emma when she’d stepped into a caring role for baby Ron, as was the way back in those days. Larrikin showed Ron Devon’s journey from farm boy to soldier to Hollywood star Ron de Vue, which meant that big sister Mary played a pivotal role.
Lexi though Emma would be perfect in the role of young Mary. The little girl didn’t realise it, but she came alive when she got into a role, and made it seem effortless.
But when Lexi arrived at the rehearsal room it was to find Emma sobbing her heart out, with Phantom, the theatre’s newly adopted doggie mascot, plonked down beside her. The deaf staffy couldn’t hear Emma’s meltdown but he could surely sense it. Orla had seated her off to the side and was standing in front of her holding a towel and a bottled water.
‘Hey.’ Lexi slid into the seat next to Emma. ‘I came to see how the auditions are going and I saw you guys here.’ She took the towel and drink from Orla and gave her a wink. Orla nodded back and excused herself to head back to the stage.
‘Want me to sit with you a while?’
‘Uh huh,’ Emma nodded as another shuddery sob racked her frame.
‘Okay.’ Lexi opened the water and dampened the end of the towel. ‘Here, wipe your face with this.’ She pulled a wad of tissues out of her pocket and left them on the armrest. ‘Tissues.’
They sat for a while, the only sound the heartbreaking sobs that started deep in Emma’s belly and her occasional snuffle into a tissue. Phantom had laid his head on Emma’s knee and just once he flicked his glance to Lexi.
It’s okay, he seemed to be saying. I got this.
Good dog, she signed to him.
Lexi pretended to watch the action on the stage, but really, she was watching Emma. ‘You know, you get to see a lot from over here.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So, you’d see if someone wasn’t standing in the right place or turned the right way. It’s not just about learning the lines.’
Emma grabbed another tissue. ‘I didn’t forget the lines.’
‘Well, that’s great.’ Lexi smiled at the young girl. ‘If you tell me, I might be able to help you figure it out.’
Another sob racked Emma’s tiny frame. Lexi watched her try, and stop, and try again.
‘It’s okay.’ Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t okay, but this wasn’t your standard CJ’s meltdown.
‘My dad.’ Another sob. ‘He’s going to …’
This was about Mark? Lexi tried not to react and waited.
‘If I don’t do good, it’ll be like before.’
Lexi tilted her head. She’d expected her to follow he’s going to with knock the theatre down. Now she had absolutely no idea what Emma was talking about. ‘How so?’
‘I used to do pageants. Before. With mum. But I don’t like all that hair-spray and bronzer and stuff. I wasn’t very good at standing around looking pretty.’
‘Well, it would be hard to be comfortable if you were covered in things you didn’t like.’
‘I didn’t win, and Mum said I was hopeless, and she was done with me.’ A huge sob shuddered its way out. ‘And that’s why she didn’t want me anymore. So, she gave me to Dad.’
Lexi sat back.
Even Phantom looked surprised.
‘No.’ Despite their hands-off policy, she wrapped Emma in the hugest hug. ‘No, I don’t think that’s right at all.’
Phantom pushed his silky muzzle into the mix.
‘If I don’t get this part, then Dad will think I’m hopeless too. And if he gives me away, there isn’t anyone left to go to. I don’t want to go to an orphanage.’
Lexi hugged Emma again. She might not want to work with Mark, and she might not know him very well anymore, but she was certain he was not one of the problem parents she sometimes encountered. Ironically, she’d always called them the ‘pageant’ parents.
She paused for a second to gather her thoughts. ‘I’m pretty sure there were two different things going on. Sometimes mums and dads get upset when their little ones don’t win because they wanted so badly for you to do well.’ She grabbed both of Emma’s hands. ‘I’m pretty sure your mum was letting off steam and she never meant to say those things. And I bet she’s really sorry she did.’
‘She didn’t like it that I didn’t win.’
‘Winning isn’t important. Having fun is important.’ Lexi folded the dry end of the towel into a crude puppet and it asked. ‘Are you having fun at CJ’s?’
A glimmer of a smile broke through the devastation on Emma’s face. ‘Yeah.’
‘So, that’s what’s important, isn’t it?’ Lexi leaned close. ‘I’ll let you in on a secret.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve never seen anyone give their kid away. Not even the really naughty ones. And I’ve seen plenty of those. You know what I think?’
‘What?’
‘I think your dad missed you, and he rang your mum and asked if you could come live with him. And she said yes, not because of the pageants, but because she knew he missed you.’
Emma considered that for a second, but she didn’t say anything.
‘You know your dad and I are working together, right?’
Emma nodded.
‘Well, we’re mates now.’ Or something like that. ‘And mates can ask mates anything. Do you want me to ask him?’
Emma shook her head.
‘Okay, then. But I’m pretty sure that’s not what happened. So, I don’t want you to worry.’
‘Okay.’
‘Good. You know what we could do? We could sit here and run your lines for a while. Then, if you feel like, you can go down to the stage. If not, no drama.’ Lexi gave her a smile. ‘Did you see what I did there? No drama. Get it?’
Emma smiled through her tears. ‘That’s silly.’
‘Yes, it is. You know why I love this job? Because I love being silly and this is one of the best jobs for being silly.’
And so, for the next twenty minutes, Lexi ignored the mountain of work on her desk and sat and ran lines with Emma, with Phantom their enraptured audience.
Mark’s daughter was a talented performer, and once she stopped worrying, she was even better. The clock was ticking, but Lexi didn’t rush Emma. Auditions were running over two nights, and tomorrow was soon enough.
The session ended, and Lexi was surprised to see Mark arrive right on time to pick up Emma. The tears had dried and the sobs had stopped but it was clear that Emma had been crying.
‘Everything okay?’ Mark asked his daughter.
‘Uh huh,’ Emma mumbled, nodding.
‘You sure?’
She nodded.
‘Good. Let’s head out for dinner.’ As Emma squeezed the ever-patient Phantom in one last hug, Mark met Lexi’s eye over Emma’s head.
Lexi mimed putting her phone to her ear, and Mark nodded. She gave Emma a quick hug and, with Phantom sitting on her foot, watched them leave. ‘It’ll all be alright,’ she told the dog. ‘Thanks for helping me out.’
No matter what she thought of Mark from working alongside him, she was having trouble processing what Emma had told her as correct. Surely Mark couldn’t have married someone who would abandon their child over something so shallow.
But if he had, Mark needed to know.
***
Her phone rang later that night and the display flashed Mark’s name.
‘Hi Lexi. Is this a good time?’
‘Yeah, thanks for calling. About Emma, did she talk to you at all?’
‘No, never said a word. I should tell you though, last week she was worried that you wouldn’t pick her for the play because I was the one who was going to shut down the theatre.’
‘Jeez.’ Lexi sank down onto the lounge. ‘If I’m going to fight Council, I’ll go through the courts. I’m not going after your daughter.’
There was silence on the other end of the phone then Mark said, ‘I never thought that you would. She’s pretty upset though. Did she mess up the audition?’
‘No,’ Lexi was quick to reassure him. ‘She hasn’t auditioned yet. She never even made it to the stage. Mark, what I’m going to tell you is a bit confronting, but if I was Emma’s parent, I’d want to know. Emma didn’t want me to say anything.’
Another big silence then he asked, ‘What?’
‘You might know what I’m talking about here. You might not. Back when Emma was doing pageants, there must have been some sort of bad experience. Maybe she didn’t do well, or something. Her mum might have been upset.’
‘Sounds like Skye,’ he grunted.
‘Well, Emma’s put that bad performance together with moving in with you and has concluded that her mum gave her away because she failed in that pageant.’
A string of swearwords echoed down the line.
‘I told her it wasn’t true,’ Lexi reassured him. ‘But she’s worried that if she doesn’t do well in this audition, you’re going to lose your temper too. But if you give her away, there’s nowhere left for her to go.’
‘Jeez,’ Mark groaned. ‘Skye never said a word. You’ve probably guessed the split wasn’t amicable. Skye isn’t good with the truth, or with parenting if I’m honest. She walked out on me, having found a better prospect and took Emma out of school so she could follow her new man on his yacht around Australia. Eventually, she returned to Sydney. I fought tooth and nail when she took Emma, and again when she came back, and I couldn’t even get access. She used Emma to control me. I worry every second of every day about what damage she’s done. When Emma first came to live with me, she was on tenterhooks the whole time. She was so scared of me.’ He sighed. ‘I thought we were past that.’
