Beginner's Luck (10 page)

The old man set the billycan on the hot coals. He held
a stick, and every now and then he poked at the fire,
sending sparks spiralling up in the smoke.

'This place was a movie set. It was built, or
should I say half-built, in the early 1960s for a movie
called
As Luck Would Have It
, which was one of
those bonnet movies. It starred an up-and-coming
young actress called Paula Something-or-other. She
didn't go as far as she thought she would, but nobody
else knew that at the time. Paula What's-her-face was
a very handsome woman, but a no-talent pain in the
behind.'

He paused to poke at the fire for a moment.

'As it happens there was another young lady on
the set. She was somebody's assistant's assistant – not
very important, but she had these legs.' He looked up
at Shelby with a twinkle in his eye. 'Never mind. The
significant point is that Paula Thinga-me-jig got
grouchy about not getting the most attention on set
and threw a great big wobbler. She pulled out, so then
the people who'd put in all the money back-pedalled,
and the producers ran a mile, and everybody backed
away from the whole thing.'

He took his beanie off and scratched under it.
'Which was a shame because it was the closest I ever
got to glory. I'd planned to ride that thing all the way,
but as it turned out I got six months' rent on a fifteen-acre
plot, and that's all she wrote.'

Shelby, feeling quite cooked on the front, turned to
the side. 'Yes, but that was ages ago. What about
now? Do you live here? How do you two know each
other?'

The old man sucked his teeth some more. 'It's not
your business.'

Lindsey croaked again. 'Tell her the way you told
me, Frank.'

His name is Frank
, thought Shelby.
Why didn't
Lindsey explain any of this before? And who's Ida?
She wondered if Ida might be Frank's wife. She would
have to remember not to be startled if an old woman
appeared out of the gloom.

'No,' he replied. 'That story belongs to you.'

Lindsey tilted her head to the side, looking at the
old man. 'I got to hear Shelby's story. She should hear
mine too.'

'I'm tired of talking now,' he grumbled.

'Well, I forgot my story. Tell me again.'

He grunted, and used his stick to shift the billycan
to a different part of the fire.

'It was the summer of 1985. Dire Straits "Money
for Nothing" was all you ever heard on the radio, and
it was still four years before the legendary "Funky
Cold Medina" by Tone-Loc.'

'This isn't my story!' protested Lindsey.

'Hush,' he said. 'Having clawed my way up
through the ranks from repertory theatre to local
musical productions, I was on my way to becoming a
small-time telemovie director. I auditioned four young
actors – Becky, Susie, Jason and, let me see now . . .
Mikey – and brought them out here to make a western
spoof, a dramatic, romantic comedy called
Luck and
Glass
. Every one of us was happy and hopeful, but
little did we know that there was a dark secret in this
ravine that would shatter our dreams and even try to
steal away our very lives.'

'This is dumb,' complained Lindsey.

'Quiet!' The old man frowned. 'Now you've
ruined the mood. Give me that torch.' Shelby passed
him the torch and he shone it under his chin to make
his face shadowy.

'On the first day of shooting, Becky, Susie and
Jason gathered for a swimming scene at the edge of the
pool over there. We looked for Davey – in his trailer, at
the caterer's stand – but he was nowhere to be found.'

'Who's Davey? I thought you said his name was
Mikey,' said Shelby.

'Same thing,' he said, waving his hand. 'Becky was
the first in the water. She'd been in there swimming
around while she waited for the camera crew to set up
their shot when she started complaining that she felt
something brushing against her leg.'

Shelby rubbed the spot on her calf where she'd felt
that too.

'Becky was always kidding around. Total extrovert
– you know how actors are – and so everybody
laughed when she first started thrashing about in the
water and screaming for help. Then she disappeared
down into the water. We were all on the shore
watching. It was eerily calm and then a few little
bubbles came up to the surface. Then SPLASH!' The
old man lifted off his seat, waving his arms. Shelby
rocked back, startled.

'Becky resurfaced. We could see her face frozen
into an expression of horror.' He opened his mouth
and rolled his eyeballs up. 'And as she floated towards
us we could see the bloody line right across her
stomach where she'd been bitten in half!'

'This is a stupid story,' complained Lindsey.

'I haven't even told you what happened to Mikey
yet,' he said. He paused, waiting for them to urge him
on. Shelby wanted to. She thought his story was scary
– enjoyably scary – but she didn't want to seem like a
little kid in front of Lindsey.

'You're no fun,' Frank said, squatting next to the
fire. He scraped the coals away from the edge of the
camp oven and then lifted it onto the ground with his
stick. He flicked off the lid and the delicious bread
smells wafted out, making Shelby's mouth water. The
top and one side was blackened, but the rest was a
deep golden brown.

'Not too bad,' he observed.

Shelby thought it looked fantastic. She licked her
lips.

The goat wandered over, bleating, and poked her
nose towards the pot. 'It's not for you, Ida,' Frank
said, gently pushing her face away. The goat looked
unhappy, but she dropped down, next to the old man,
folding her limbs gracefully underneath her.

'Ida is the
goat
?' asked Shelby, staring at Lindsey.

'I knew you'd been here, but I didn't know if you'd
met Frank. I figured if you knew Frank, you'd know
Ida, but it seemed to me that you didn't know either
of them,' Lindsey explained.

'Why didn't you ask Frank if he knew me?' Shelby
asked.

Lindsey shook her head. 'You can never get a
straight answer out of Frank.'

The old man tucked his hand inside the sleeve of
his jacket, grabbed the handle of the billycan and
poured the tea into the enamel mugs.

'Hold your horses, Hungry Helen,' Frank said as
Shelby leaned forward. 'These are both going to be
very hot. Why don't you run over and get us some
golden syrup from the cabin?'

Shelby noted that he had asked a question, but
didn't raise it in case it made him cross. She didn't
want to jeopardise her chances of getting some
damper.

Shelby rushed back to the doll's house and collected
the syrup from under the sink. She grabbed the
two plates and a butter knife as well.

The damper was crisp and crunchy on the outside,
soft and crumbly under the crust, and doughy in the
middle. Shelby scraped the chunks of bread in the
sweet syrup that had dripped onto her plate and licked
her fingers. She thought it was the best thing she had
ever tasted. Even the burnt bits were good.

'Thish ish
fantashtic
,' she said through a mouthful.

The old man raised an eyebrow. 'It's not my best
work.'

Lindsey had the plate high on her chest, feeling for
the damper fragments and then putting them in her
mouth carefully. 'It's pretty good,' she said. 'But it
would be better if we could eat it while hearing a
story.'

'
All
right,' the old man said, brushing the crumbs
from his palms. He stretched his legs out towards the
fire and linked his fingers together between his knees.
'But only because you're all broken.'

'The year was 1976,' Frank began. 'Abba released
three number one hits that year. Do you know what
they were?'

'Who did?' asked Shelby.

'Never mind,' he answered. '
Happy Days
was
playing on prime time television, and
Jaws
was the big
blockbuster that scared the pants off everybody. A
long way from Hollywood, and despite the fact that
culture-friendly Whitlam had been turfed out the
previous year, a pretentious young art student
managed to get funding from a kindly benefactor for
an experimental movie project called
Beginner's
. . .'
He paused to take a sip of his tea. 'Called
Beginners
.
Having complete confidence in his own genius, he cast
himself as director, producer, writer, costume designer
and leading man, and set off in search of his own
Yoko – a gorgeous, intelligent woman whom he
intended to partner on and off screen. He imagined
them both as internationally infamous Art Film
darlings.'

'What's a Yoko?' Shelby asked.

'Look it up.' The old man smiled. 'He wanted to
be rich enough to simultaneously renounce currency
as a tool for oppressing the working classes, and hold
the sorts of lavish parties that you're too young to
hear about.'

Shelby hooked her elbows around her knees. She
liked the girl-being-bitten-in-half story better than this
one, but when she looked over and saw a contented
half-smile on Lindsey's face, she decided to let him
finish before she asked him to go back to the other one.

'One day he went to the home of his kindly benefactor
and discovered that the old man had a beautiful
young wife. The art student fell in love the moment he
laid eyes on her, so he offered her the role, and she –
not being so far removed from a pretentious art
student type herself – accepted.'

Frank stopped, lifted the billycan off the fire again
and held it up, offering it to the girls. Shelby held out
her cup. She normally drank her tea with lots of milk
and sugar, and was finding Frank's tea a bit strong
and tart, but it was better than a poke in the eye, as
her dad would say. He filled her cup and then his own.

Lindsey put her hand over the top of her cup, indicating
that she had had enough. She was having
trouble drinking the tea without moving her shoulder.

'Then they fell in love,' Shelby prompted.

'They fell in love,' he echoed. 'The film was
finished, the poster had been printed. The premiere
had been organised. There was no need for the old
benefactor and his money anymore. The young art
student was sure that after its release he would have
all the riches in the world. He begged the young
actress to run away with him.'

'Did she go?' asked Shelby.

The old man didn't answer.

After a long pause Lindsey said, 'No.'

Frank sighed. 'On screen the kindly old benefactor
could not fail to see the passion between his young
wife and her wide-eyed co-star. He threw her out in a
rage, leaving her on the streets and destitute. The film
was a disaster, panned as self-indulgent tripe in the
one review it received in the mainstream press. The
young art student type abandoned his dreams. He and
the beautiful ex-wife travelled together for a while,
but without his zeal for art he became bitter and cruel.
She left him. She begged for her rich husband to take
her back. He took pity on her and gave her two
hundred acres of scrub, but he would not let her come
home. She sold off a small section and picked out a
living for a while, staying in a caravan.'

The old man stopped and took another long slurp
of his tea.

'On the ten-year anniversary of the movie's
premiere the kindly benefactor hiked down here into
the ravine. Who should he find but the young fool
who'd taken his money and stolen his beautiful wife?
They fought, and in the struggle the old man stabbed
him through the heart.' As he spoke he punched the
bottom of his fist into the palm of his other hand.
'The blood spurted onto his clothes and he realised
what he had done. A murderer! He had money, but
not enough to save him from the law. He had no love
– nothing to live for. He ran desperately along the
path and threw himself into the water.'

The old man grinned. He started to sing,
'And his
ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong . . .
'

Shelby's face flushed as she realised the joke he had
played on her. Frank must have heard her singing
earlier in the day.

Lindsey joined in to finish the song.
'You'll come
a-waltzing Matilda with me!'

Shelby was cross. She didn't like being made to look
like an idiot.

'I have to go home. We need to get a doctor for
Lindsey,' she reminded him. 'How do we get out of
here?'

He patted his knees and stood up. 'Yes. You're
right. First we need to move Lindsey away from the
cabin. There are two options: we can take her out
near the billabong, or we can try to find a way to get
her back up the rock face. I think the billabong will be
the easiest.'

'Why?' Shelby interrupted.

He looked at her as though she was stupid. 'It's
flat. The rock face is steep.' He held his forearm on an
angle, indicating the grade of the climb.

'No, I meant why do we need to get her away from
the . . .' She had been going to say doll's house, but he
didn't call it that. 'Cabin?' she finished.

'Because when they come to tend to her then they
will know that this place is here.'

'So?'

The old man shook his head. 'I've kept this place a
secret for over twenty years. I'm not going to give it
up now!'

'Why?' Shelby insisted.

He took off his beanie and rubbed his sparse hair
briskly so that it stood on its ends. 'Scout groups will
want to abseil, and have sausage sizzles. They'll bird-watch
and sit around in circles making handicrafts
from natural fibres.' He screwed up his nose and
rubbed his face as though the idea made him itchy.
'Some overzealous community historical society will
want to set up an antique souvenir stall on my front
lawn. Buses of biddies will come here on day-trips.
They'll want to have scones. I'll never get any peace!'
His eyes widened as he revealed his deepest fear.
'They'll hold raffles and petitions!'

'You don't know that for sure,' Shelby said
sceptically.

'Oh yes I do!' he replied. He lowered his voice to a
whisper. 'They hold them already, even when they
don't believe this place really exists!'

Shelby thought back to signing up for the Matchstick
Challenge. They
were
running a raffle. The old
man was right.

'You could put up a sign that says "private
property",' she suggested.

'That will only make it all the more enticing for
groups of hooligans on trail bikes. They'll get drunk
and dare each other to come down here and smash
everything to pieces.'

Shelby stared into the fire, thinking. 'How are we
going to move Lindsey without it hurting her?'

'I have a tarp, or we could use the sleeping bag to
make a stretcher. Either way we should probably wait
until morning, because we'll be able to see much
better.'

'
Morning?
' said Shelby. 'Our parents will be going
bananas! I'm probably already grounded for a
hundred years.'

The old man frowned. 'Parents. Yes. I hadn't
thought of that. I guess that means we'll have to move
her tonight then.'

'Do you think you can handle it?' he asked
Lindsey.

Lindsey bit her lip and nodded.

Shelby squatted down next to her friend. 'This is
dumb. We should wait for a doctor. Remember how
much it hurt moving before? You almost blacked out!'

'This is a special place for me too, Shel,' Lindsey
answered. 'I don't want people to know about it
either.'

Shelby was torn. She knew her parents would be
really concerned by now. Her curfew was dark.
Usually she would arrive back at the paddock just on
dusk. Making Blue's dinner and getting him rugged
and settled for the night would take a bit longer, but
now that he lived in the front yard her mum and dad
would know she wasn't just mooching about with
Blue. They would think the worst.

She thought back to her dad's quadriplegia
comment at the dinner table the evening that Blue was
evicted. Shelby had never even thought about that
kind of thing, but the offhand way he said it made her
wonder whether her parents worried about it all the
time.

Shelby turned back to the old man. 'OK, so after
we've moved Lindsey – then what?'

'Then you go home and tell your parents. They can
organise for an ambulance to come and collect
Lindsey. After that you two can go off and live happy
lives and not bother me again.'

'How do I get home?' she asked.

He pointed to the path that led to the rock face.
'Follow that path above the ledge. It curves around
and heads along the back of the electricity station.'
Shelby had ridden past there before. It was a big plot
covered in tall metal structures and funny-looking coils
that hummed like a beehive. It had cables that moaned
on windy days, sounding reedy, like a bass clarinet.

'Then there's the nursery plot,' he explained. 'On
the other side of that you'll find the traffic lights on
Gully Way.'

Shelby said, 'If I cross at the lights I'm only a few
hundred metres from the stables.'

'It shouldn't be more than about twenty minutes'
walk,' he added.

'It would be faster if I was on Blue. 'How do we
get him out?'

He blinked. 'I don't know how you're going to get
him out. The only way I can think of is the way you
came in, but that's no good now. Maybe he will have
to stay down here with me.'

'Forever?'

The old man shrugged. 'Unless you can think of a
better idea.'