Page 20 of Christmas at the Movies

Roger, a small, dapper man in his early fifties, was the cinema’s head projectionist. James sometimes wondered if Roger’s arrival had also been the result of his mum’s divine intervention.

Roger had worked in cinemas for decades, progressing from ticket sales to projectionist. He knew everything there was to know about running a cinema.

They went back out to the lobby, where three coffees were waiting for them in the café.

Sarah was sitting at one of the tables typing on her laptop.

She had gone freelance after leaving the BBC and had had a steady stream of work editing scripts.

Her freelance income was a blessing, as the cinema had run so far over budget.

Once the cinema was up and running, the plan was that she would be able to devote more time to her own writing.

James took a sip of his coffee – Sarah had made his with extra milk, just the way he liked it. ‘What are you working on?’ he inquired.

‘An episode of The Vicarage Mysteries.’

‘Ooh, what’s it about?’ asked Roger, nursing his espresso. He and his partner, Omar, were both fans of the long-running programme.

‘Someone donates a Fabergé egg to the parish jumble sale,’ said Sarah. ‘But it gets stolen.’

Roger chuckled. ‘Of course it does. There’s never a dull moment at St Julian’s.’

After they finished their coffees, Sean took out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tapped them on the table.

Getting up, he headed out of the cinema’s back door to have a smoke in the car park.

James noticed that it was empty. The only vehicles were their car and Roger’s. ‘What if nobody comes?’

‘They’ll come,’ said Sarah confidently. She went back to working on her laptop.

‘Let’s run the trailers,’ suggested Roger. ‘Just to check Groucho is working OK.’

They went upstairs to the tiny projection room.

James took the reel of film from its metal cannister and, supervised by Roger, loaded it onto the top of the projector.

One of the biggest surprises was how much physical strength it required.

Roger’s wiry arms were strong from years of loading heavy film cannisters onto projectors.

James threaded the 35mm film through various cylinders, fitting the holes running along the edge of the film into the moving sprockets that gripped it in place. It was a delicate operation, as the tension had to be exactly right.

Roger watched James’s every move. ‘Make sure the film isn’t twisted.’

James tinkered with the amount of clearance, then twisted the framing knob and focus knob, making minute adjustments.

‘Always remember to check – and then double-check,’ said Roger patiently.

James opened the projector’s lamp house and turned the motor on. The top reel spun anti-clockwise, feeding film through the projector, then onto the bottom reel, which spun clockwise. As if by magic, an image appeared on the cinema screen as the trailers played.

‘Looks good to me,’ said James.

Roger turned the focus knob a few millimetres, making a minute adjustment. Once satisfied, he prepared the feature presentation, making sure the cue marks were perfectly positioned to ensure a seamless changeover.

‘We’re ready,’ he announced once he had finished.

James went back downstairs to change into smart clothes for the grand opening. In the office, he put on a suit for the first time since giving up his software job, while Sarah slipped into a dark green dress. It matched the emerald necklace Sean had given her as a wedding gift.

‘I’ve never been so nervous,’ said James, doing up his shirt buttons. ‘Not even on our wedding day.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Should I be offended by that?’

‘Not at all. I knew I wasn’t making a mistake marrying you,’ said James. ‘But I’m not so sure about the cinema. What if we’ve just spent two years of our lives, and our entire savings, on something that doesn’t succeed.’

He was aware of everything Sarah had given up so that he could pursue his dream.

‘It will be a success,’ Sarah assured him, straightening his tie. She pushed the hair out of his eyes and then gave him a kiss. ‘How could it not be when so many people have come together to help us?’

‘Well, here goes,’ said James. Taking Sarah’s hand, he went into the lobby and flung open the cinema doors.

Ian Griffiths, who ran an antique shop a few doors down, was the first to arrive. A volunteer from the Plumdale Beautification Society, he’d helped with the renovations. Ian had hooked them up with an upholsterer and the skilled craftsman who had restored their stucco mouldings.

Next to turn up was Pam, the librarian who had helped them with their research.

A short middle-aged woman, she was wearing a hand-knitted mohair jumper.

She looked around the lobby admiringly. ‘It’s so good to be back in here.

I took my kids to see movies here most Saturdays when they were little.

I was so sad when this place shut down in 1976. ’

‘At least it didn’t become a bingo hall,’ said her best friend, Olwyn Powell, a teacher from the next village over. ‘That’s what happened to a lot of these old art deco cinemas.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Vi, a trendy-looking local artist who had curated the display in the café. ‘I don’t mind a bit of bingo.’

‘I had my first kiss here, in the back row of the stalls,’ Ian told Sarah and James. ‘During a screening of Jaws.’

‘Who was the lucky lady?’ asked Sarah.

Ian’s eyes twinkled. ‘A gentleman never tells.’

‘Pari!’ squealed Sarah, noticing her best friend come in. Pari had used her contacts in the comedy world to help the cinema. She’d organised a fundraising gig and got big-name comedians to donate.

James gave Pari a hug. ‘It’s good of you to come.’

‘It worked out well,’ said Pari. ‘I have a gig in Oxford tomorrow. Besides, I know how much this means to you both.’

Pari still juggled working at the BBC with plugging away at her stand-up. James wasn’t sure why she hadn’t made it big yet – she was funnier than most people on TV.

‘Bonjour,’ said a dark-haired man in a suit. ‘I was very happy to see that you will be showing some French films.’ Roger’s partner, Omar, a maths teacher at the local secondary school, was originally from Morocco. He spoke fluent French as well as his native Arabic.

James nodded enthusiastically. ‘Sarah is going to run a weekly world-cinema club.’

There was a murmur as David Langdon, the local MP, came into the cinema with his teenaged daughter, Kath.

The MP was a notorious womaniser, who featured regularly in gossip columns.

Despite his questionable morals, he’d been extremely helpful when it came to navigating planning permissions and dealing with English Heritage.

‘Thanks for all your help, David,’ said James.

‘My pleasure,’ replied David, pumping his hand heartily. ‘I’m always glad to see new jobs being created in my constituency.’ He smiled proudly at his daughter. ‘Plus, Kath loves going to the pictures. She can’t wait to see the film.’

‘Are you a Jude Law fan?’ James asked her.

The teenaged girl blushed awkwardly. ‘I prefer Cameron Diaz.’

‘Let’s get you some popcorn.’ Sarah led the MP’s daughter over to the café area.

James looked around the lobby, which was now full of guests drinking champagne that Roger and Omar had procured on a trip to their holiday home in Normandy.

He was touched that so many friends, old and new, had turned up for their big night.

It felt like the whole community was rooting for them to succeed.

‘It’s time,’ said Sarah, coming over and slipping her arm around his waist.

They walked over to the auditorium doors. James cleared his throat. ‘Thanks very much to all of you for coming, and for all of you who helped along the way. After thirty years, the magic of cinema finally returns to Plumdale tonight.’

Pari let out an enthusiastic whoop.

Sarah cut the red ribbon stretching across the auditorium doors. ‘I declare the Plumdale Picture Palace open!’ she announced.

As the audience filed into the cinema, Olwyn played a medley of show tunes from movie musicals on the Wurlitzer organ.

‘Come on,’ said Sarah, nudging James. ‘We don’t want to miss the trailers.’

They took their seats in the circle with Sean. James looked down at the packed stalls below, filling with people. His heart swelled with pride.

‘We did it,’ whispered Sarah, squeezing his hand.

The feature presentation was a new Christmas film called The Holiday.

It was about two heartbroken women who swap houses – one in Los Angeles, the other in a village not unlike Plumdale – after bad break-ups, and both fall in love in the process.

James still didn’t love romcoms as much as his wife, but this one seemed like it might stand the test of time.

Halfway through the movie, Sarah stood up and slipped out of the auditorium.

‘Everything OK?’ James whispered when she returned.

‘I just got my period,’ Sarah said quietly.

James put his arm around her and pulled her close. He knew that despite the happiness of the day, his wife’s heart was breaking. The cinema was their baby – but they wanted a real baby, too. Despite doing everything they could to conceive, Sarah’s period had arrived like clockwork every month.

Dr Curtis had assured them that there was nothing to worry about. ‘You’re young and healthy,’ he’d said, sounding unconcerned. ‘Come back once you’ve been trying for over a year.’

It had been ten months now. James knew how badly Sarah longed to be a mother, how difficult she found it when yet another friend announced her pregnancy, or she saw a cute baby in a pram.

James wanted children, too, but as long as he had Sarah, he felt complete. But just as Sarah hadn’t given up on his dream of owning a cinema, even when things got tough, he wouldn’t give up on their dream of having a baby.

‘We’ll just have to keep trying,’ he whispered, kissing the side of her head.

Sarah’s emerald necklace, that had once belonged to his mother, glinted in the light from the projector. James hoped that if his mum was looking down on them, she might help them out yet again.