Miracle Man (9 page)

The three of them laughed.
Then Malcolm smiled at Lahra, almost sadly. "Walter's actually mentioned
you quite a bit over the years. I was working here when your parents passed
away. Sad news indeed. Very sad."

"Thank you."

"We've actually got
some pressing business," Wally explained. "Could we go somewhere to
talk?"

"Of course! Enter the
plush surroundings of the most noble Riverbank Gazzette!"

Malcolm ushered them into
the small, paper-strewn room that was his office as senior journalist and
sub-editor. He cleared a couple of chairs and sat them down. For fifteen
minutes, Lahra went into detail about the Miracle Cinema situation. Malcolm
listened with all of the attention of an eager cadet on his first assignment.
When she finished her story, he played with his bottom lip and rotated a few
times in his swivelling chair.

"What was that fella's
name, again?” he asked.

"Marcus Dean."

"Is he tall?"

"About six two,"
Lahra estimated.

"I figured as
much," Malcolm said disapprovingly. "It's always the tall ones."

"So what can we
do?" Lahra prompted.

"Okay. Good thing
you're here now and not an hour later or we'd miss material deadlines for
tomorrow's paper. We can do the online edition any old time, but most folks in
these parts like their paper. Sounds like this Marcus wants to get in and do
his business as quickly and quietly as possible, so it's our job to make a bit
of noise. He must have council approval, and to have got that he must have
already given public notice of his intentions. Probably some little ad in the
personal columns that nobody would read anyway, let alone get uppity about.
He's been pretty crafty so far, but I think you're right. If enough people find
out about what's going to happen, we can get enough support to make it into a
political issue. I've seen this type of thing before. The local government
won't risk smashing down an historical landmark if they know the constituents
care about it. At the very least we might be able to get a court order to delay
demolition."

"But what about their
lawyers?" Lahra asked, concerned. "How can we hope to stand up to
their resources?"

"I wouldn't be worrying
about that. If we get the numbers behind us and let them know we're serious,
there's not a lot they can do. The trick is getting the numbers."

"We've got a strong
story to tell," Lahra pointed out, moving to the edge of her seat.
"The Miracle is one of the finest examples of Deco architecture in the
state, let alone in Riverbank. We should be asking the question why has this
been allowed to happen? What's going to become of our town if we keep letting
the things that give it its charm disappear? Why isn't there some sort of
system in place where historical and cultural landmarks are adequately
protected from developers?"

"Exactly!" Malcolm
agreed, slapping his palm down on the table. "What this town needs is a
good fight! Controversy, that's what I like! We'll create a full page
announcement in tomorrow's paper that will really get things going. I can see
the headlines now..." Malcolm squinted into the distance, as if making out
words written there. "
'Vanishing Miracle goes Unnoticed!'
Or
'Miracle
Undone by Developers.'
Or maybe we need some sort of call to action.
'Help
Keep the Miracle Performing.'
" Malcolm swivelled his chair to face his
computer and started typing.

Lahra traded a smile with
Wally. It was hard not to be amused by Malcolm's enthusiasm.

"We'll write the copy
right now," Malcolm went on as his fingers tapped furiously, "unless
you two have something more important to do, which I doubt. We'll also have to
organise some posters and flyers. We can get those whipped up by art department
in a matter of hours. We need out social media people to start with the
Facebooking and the Twittering. We have to think about organising petitions,
too. And we need phone numbers for people to call. Better still, we'll include
the Mayor's and the local Member's numbers. And what we could really do with is
some electronic media exposure. We ought to announce a public rally, get the
regional TV stations involved. I know a few people who might be able to help
out, but you two will have to find some more. I hope you've got friends. We
have to make this Marcus Dean and his demolition team sound like the most evil,
uncaring, greedy little suits from the city that ever walked the earth, so that
every person in the region can't help but get involved."

Something inside Lahra
wanted to stand up and sound its lone voice in defence of Marcus Dean. He
wasn't evil. He wasn't uncaring. To say such things would be wrong.

She watched Malcolm hunched
over his keyboard. The words they put down together today would impact on
Marcus in ways that might damage his career irrevocably. Was an old building
worth a man's life ambition? Would she be able to live with herself if she won
the fight? Lahra didn't know. And there were so many voices inside her willing
to shout for her cause. It seemed this single note of concern was destined to
be drowned out.

She couldn't keep thinking
negatively. It was clear what had to be done. There wasn't a person on this
planet who could take the Miracle Cinema away from Riverbank while she had a
say in it.

Not even the man she feared
she may be falling in love with.

"
Lahra!
"

Lahra was just pulling on
her jacket when she heard the distant, demanding call. She recognised the voice
immediately, but didn't react. She checked her hair in the bedroom mirror
instead.

"
Lahra Brook, where
are you
?"

It was Marcus. He sounded
angry. She couldn't help but smirk as she headed down the stairs into the
living room. She'd been wondering all night what effect the article in the
Riverbank Gazette might have on him when he saw it. Malcolm had done a good
job.

"
Lahra!!!
"

She spied out through the
glass door, and saw him standing on the other side of the river, dressed in
jeans and a t-shirt, clutching what must have been a copy of the morning's
paper. Even from here she could see the lines between his eyebrows deepen, the
veins in his neck press outwards. He wasn't just angry, she decided. He was
livid.

It occurred to her that she
could just walk out to her car and drive away, ignoring him, but there was no
point in infuriating him further. She was going to have to go out to confront
him. The thought of doing so immediately set her pulse racing and her nerves
jangling. A part of her had been wishing that whatever happened now that she'd
taken steps to save the Miracle, it could happen without her coming face to
face with Marcus. If only there were such a way. But the only way to see this
through to the end was to stand up to him wherever and whenever it was
necessary, even though she knew that every time she looked into his eyes she
would be entering two battles. The one with him. And the one with her heart.

She closed her thick jacket
around her, and headed for the door.

A cold wind hit her as soon
as she stepped outside. The sneak preview of fine Spring weather had passed.
Now the sky was rolling with grey, shadow-sapping clouds, powered by the same
wind that seemed to turn the grassy hill leading down to the river into a
seething, living thing. She strode forward, squinting into the wind, and made
her way to the bank opposite Marcus.

He stood there oblivious to
the elemental forces around him, and Lahra could feel the intensity of his
stare as she approached. Before she even came to a stop he called out above the
hiss of the leaves and the churning of the river. "What the hell do you
think you're doing? I don't believe it!" He slapped the article on the
open page with the back of his hand. "Do you have any idea of what all
this is going to do?"

"I do," Lahra said
impassively. "Which is why it's there. If you have a problem with it I
wish I could say I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

"Lahra, the things I
told you were in confidence. I know you feel protective of the cinema, but I
trusted you by telling you my plans. Then as soon as I turn my back I find it
splayed all over the local newpaper sounding as if I were some sort of
criminal!"

"If you were so
trusting of me then why weren't you trusting with the people of Riverbank? It
seems you've done your best to keep everybody in the dark about what you're up
to."

"We've done nothing out
of the ordinary for this sort of project. But now you've jeopardised it by
acting like some sort of extremist. I can't believe you've done this after what
we shared."

Lahra received that last
line like a blow. After what they had shared? She laughed incredulously. “A
highly regrettable kiss and now I'm supposed to swear allegiance to your cause?
And I thought swimming in ice water was stupid!" She paused the briefest
of moments to let that one sink in. "Maybe you think you're pretty amazing
stuff, Marcus Dean, with your car and your money and your career path all
mapped out, but from what I can see, you're nothing but an opportunist, and a pretty
misguided one at that. I told you I wasn't going to let you get away with this,
and I meant it. If the idea of somebody like me not falling into line with
whatever you think shocks you, then prepare to be shocked big time, mate. In a
couple of days there are going to be quite a few of us walking all over those
plans of yours."

"You don't know what
you're up against Lahra. Even if you had the time to mount a protest, there's
nothing you can do to stop us. Face it. You're fighting a futile battle."

"If it's so futile then
why are you so worried about people finding out about it?"

"Because that's the way
we do business. And frankly, I'm only worried because I thought I could trust
you."

For a while, there was only
the sound of the swirling, black torrent between them. Lahra wanted to reply
but she couldn't.  Unspoken words built up inside her until the pressure
seemed unbearable. She stood with her arms crossed tightly, as much containing
her own emotional torrent as bracing her against the cold. Marcus didn't seem
to notice the chill. His muscled arms didn't have a goosebump on them.
Somewhere above the mountains a thunder clap sounded, reverberating ominously
down into the valleys.

"I'm sorry all this has
happened," Marcus spoke at last. "I'm sorry it's come to this."

A response which said 'I am
too' burst free from the tension in Lahra's chest and found its way to the back
of her lips. But her lips remained pressed firmly together, and the only
response Marcus got was the unyielding glint of her eyes. She thought he might
say something else, but he didn't. He hesitated a moment, then turned and
walked quickly back up to the house.

Lahra watched him until he
was out of view, then her gaze dropped to the rushing water before her. It
seemed to be flowing quicker than yesterday. Its momentum was almost
frightening. It seemed just like the force she had fallen into, that had
gripped her and was pushing her forward at an ever-increasing rate. And right
now, as all the things she should have said to let Marcus know exactly how she
felt pained her heart, she couldn't help but wonder if it would be better to be
trapped down there. Trapped by the dark, surging current of the Ulonga-Bora
River.

*

"Sometimes," Dave
'The Rave' Conigrave began in his customary close-to-the-microphone drawl,
"the world changes and we don't even see it. It's like when you see a
friend for the first time in ages and the first thing you think to yourself is,
'Boy did she get fat!' or, 'My God, what happened to his hair?' But what about
all those other friends, the ones you hang around every day, at work, at the
pub, at school? You don't notice the changes in them because they're so
gradual. Until one day you’re eighty and you look at your friend and think,
'Boy, did you get old and wrinkly all of a sudden!'

"Well, a friend of ours
in Riverbank is about to undergo some major changes right before our very eyes,
and if it goes ahead, one day we'll be eighty years old wondering whatever
happened to that beautiful, gracious landmark, the Miracle Cinema. That's
right, listeners, the Miracle Cinema, here in Riverbank since 1936, is now at
the mercy of city developers. And in their wisdom, they plan to replace the old
cinema with a giant amusement centre.

"This is Dave 'The
Rave' Conigrave with you on Valley FM, and after this musical interlude, we'll
be talking to Lahra Brook, who's leading a fight to save the Miracle Cinema
from extinction, and inviting your comments. Don't go away."

Lahra watched Dave's skinny,
practiced fingers press a couple of buttons, then music began playing in the
background. He swirled on his seat and faced her and Wally.

"Does this mean I'm on
in a minute?" Lahra asked nervously.

Dave's pointy face smiled at
her from between his long, tangled hair. "About three minutes, actually.
But don't worry, you'll be fine. It's just like a one on one conversation,
except twenty thousand people are eavesdropping."

The strange looking disc
jockey's unaffected manner eased Lahra's nerves a little, as did the assuring
pat on the back from Wally. She was used to talking to groups of forty or fifty
students, but radio was something else again. When Wally told her that he was
friends with the program manager at Valley FM and that he owed Wally a favour,
it had seemed like a great idea. But now she wasn't so sure.

"Wally, why don't you
do it?" she urged. "You've got a strong voice-"

"Lahra, all the strong
voices in the world couldn't drown out your passion when you get going. Just be
yourself, and the message will get through loud and clear."

"He's right," Dave
agreed. "When you came in here and started telling me all about what was
going on, I was sold! When my listeners hear you speak, they'll be sold too.
Believe me, I'm a radio man and I know what I'm talking about."

Lahra saw that resistance
was futile. "What do I have to do?"

"Just relax. It's
fun!"

Looking at Dave in his
ripped jeans and baggy shirt, Lahra supposed he was never anything but relaxed.
She picked up her headphones and slipped them on, accepting a comforting smile
from Wally.

"Okay, get ready,"
Dave said suddenly, taking his position at the microphone. "We're almost
on." Lahra listened as the music came to an end, then watched Dave pressed
his buttons again.

"Dave 'The Rave'
Conigrave with you on Valley FM, and I'm here with Lahra Brook, the head of a
movement to stop the impending destruction of the Miracle Cinema in Main
Street, Riverbank." He winked at her. "Hello, Lahra."

"Um, hello Dave."

"Now Lahra, you did a
lot of your growing up in Riverbank, and your parents were lecturers here at
Charlton University for a long time. Today you yourself lecture at the Sydney
campus of Charlton, in film history and appreciation. So what's your
association with the Miracle Cinema?"

"Well, in one way or
another, I've been a part of the Miracle—or it's been a part of me—since I was
about seven years old. From the first time my parents took me there I fell in
love with the place, and with cinema in general. I guess you'd say I have the
Miracle to thank for putting me on the path to where I am today."

"Then in this morning's
Riverbank Gazette, we read this headline:
'Help Keep the Miracle
Performing.'
Along with an eye-opening account of plans to knock down the
cinema and replace it with a high-tech amusement centre." Dave paused for
effect, shaking his head. "Now tell me, Lahra, what's the guts of the
story and how did you come to be involved?"

Lahra related the story as
clearly as succinctly as she could. The more she spoke, the more she felt the
warm tingle of confidence spread through her mind and body. She told of the
development plans, of Wally’s retrenchment, of how she learned of what they
hoped to build in the Miracle’s place. Her throat tightened a little as she
recounted Marcus’s words, without naming him directly, but she swallowed
heavily and got through it.

"Why did this Stone
Rowbottom person tell you all this?" Dave asked.

Because he trusted me, Lahra
thought in anguish. And now here she was on live talkback, proving him wrong
again. "We're neighbours. It just came up in the conversation."

"Bad move on his
part," Dave assessed dramatically. "Seems like he told the one person
in Riverbank who had the passion in her to do something about saving what
really is one of the treasures of this town. Now in a moment we'll take some of
your calls, but first, tell me, Lahra. With demolition due to start in a matter
of days, what do you hope to achieve in such a short time?"

"I hope to discover
that the people of Riverbank really do care about the heritage of this town.
The Miracle Cinema is a classic building which only needs a little tender
loving care to return it to its glory days. We can still have our amusement
centres and the like, but it shouldn't be at the expense of our history. We
already have online and physical petitions in circulation, and a public meeting
scheduled for tomorrow night at the Riverbank Town Hall at seven o'clock. If we
can get enough people to show that they care, that they're not just going to sit
back and let things like this happen right under their noses, we have a chance
to stop it. Admittedly, a slim chance. But it's one worth fighting for."

"Well said," Dave
smiled at her across the deck. "Okay, let's take some calls. Hello, you
must be Glenda."

"Hello Dave."
Lahra heard the woman's voice over her headphones. "I think it's
absolutely disgraceful! That's the only word I can think of to describe it. I
don't go to the movies all that often, but I don't think that attendance is the
issue. As Lahra said, this town's heritage is far more important than some real
estate deal. If there's anything I can do to stop this happening I'll be more
than happy to play a part."

"Lahra?" Dave
prompted.

"Thanks for your
sentiments, Glenda. If you can just get into town and sign a petition or come
along to our meeting tomorrow night, you'll be doing us all a big favour."

"Well it's a wonderful
thing you're doing, Lahra," Glenda stated. "There should be more
people like you."