Page 41 of Christmas at the Movies

‘I’ve always thought it was a shame that our culture doesn’t celebrate the onset of puberty the way others do.

’ Nick’s grandmother sat down on her bed, in a way that suggested she was about to go off on one of her lectures.

‘In many societies, young men go through rites of passage at the onset of adolescence – the Apaches take ice baths, indigenous Australians go on walkabouts in the bush—’

Nick interrupted before his grandmother forced him to take a freezing cold bath.

‘Is Mum ill?’

Grandma looked at him sharply. ‘Why do you ask that?’

Nick sat down next to his grandmother. ‘I heard her telling Auntie Pari that she went to the doctor. And she’s been acting weird and unhappy.

’ Admittedly, his mum seemed more cheerful now that she’d thrown herself into working on the movie script.

But Nick hadn’t forgotten the months leading up to it, when her smile hadn’t reached her eyes.

‘I wonder if her anxiety is back,’ said his grandmother. ‘It was bad right after she had you. It’s not that unusual – a woman’s hormones can go haywire after giving birth.’

What? This was news to Nick. He didn’t know that he’d made Mum sick. What if he’d made her sick again? He knew she worried about him.

Noticing the horrified look on Nick’s face, his grandmother patted his knee. ‘Don’t worry, Nick. I’m sure she’s fine. She would have mentioned it to me if anything was wrong.’

Nick carried his grandmother’s decorations into the living room. He set up her little tree in the corner and wound fairy lights around it. Then her friends helped to decorate it.

‘I got this ornament in Peru,’ his grandmother explained, adding a little llama to the tree. ‘And this jade bauble is from my time in China.’

‘You really have been everywhere, Geraldine.’ Pam smiled at Nick. ‘Do you want to travel the world like your grandmother, Nick?’

‘Nope. I like Plumdale.’ Nick thought it was the perfect place to live. At least, it used to be, before stupid Noa Drakos and his film crew moved in.

‘This one is my favourite.’ Grandma showed Nick a lumpy angel made of dough. ‘You mum made it when she was in primary school.’

‘So you do have a sentimental side after all, Geraldine,’ teased Roger.

By the time the last batch of biscuits had come out of the oven, the tree was fully decorated.

‘Many hands make light work,’ said Olwyn. ‘Now, I’d better get back home – I need to finish reading The Kyoto Magical Cat Café before my book club tomorrow.’

‘I’d better get home too,’ said Nick.

His grandmother offered him the plate. ‘Take a biscuit to tide you over.’

As he walked home, Nick took a bite of the star-shaped biscuit, but it felt like clay in his mouth – he was too worried to enjoy it. He’d hoped to get answers from his grandmother, but he was no closer to solving the Mum mystery.

It felt like his family, who mattered more to him than anything else, was falling apart.

As James cycled to the cinema, he noticed more traffic on the road than usual. Sarah had taken the car earlier that morning so she could cover the Baby and Me screening.

‘I really don’t mind,’ she’d said. ‘I have a meeting with Noa to discuss the final draft.’

There was a blast of a horn and James swerved out of the way, narrowly avoiding being run over by a huge lorry.

‘Hey, watch it!’ he shouted.

As it sped past, he noticed the writing on the vehicle’s side – Star Lights: Film Equipment. It was no doubt heading to the same place he was.

Preparations for filming were in full swing in Plumdale, transforming it from a sleepy village to a Hollywood backlot. Trucks and movie trailers were parked all along the road leading into the village, with more arriving in a steady convoy.

Not wanting to take his chances, James got off his bike and walked, irritation growing with every step. Crew in fluorescent yellow vests spoke into walkie-talkies, while others unloaded equipment.

‘Mind your back!’ shouted someone, carrying a huge white reflector past.

James ducked out of the way, only to narrowly avoid being hit by a cart filled with black cases of lenses and rolls of gaffer tape in every hue. There was an enormous generator parked in the alley at the side of the cinema, like a giant carbuncle.

What an eyesore, James thought. The Plumdale Beautification Society wouldn’t be too happy about that. Although, at the last film-festival screening, Ian had mentioned that he was going to be an extra in the movie, so perhaps he didn’t mind.

A reporter with platinum-blonde hair and an American accent stood on the pavement in front of the cinema, being filmed by a cameraman.

‘This is Goldie Johnson, reporting live from Plumdale, where Noa Drakos will be filming his comeback movie, Ex-mas Eve. The film stars heart-throb Mateo Ajose and up-and-coming starlet Mia Winslow. Will this be the hit the award-winning film-maker needs to get his career back on track?’

Not wanting to get in the shot, James wheeled his bike down the side alley to go in through the back entrance.

It was even busier in the car park. There were trailers parked there, a row of portable toilets, and some gazebos had been set up as well for the costume and make-up teams. James locked his bike up, then headed for the back door.

A burly man holding a clipboard was blocking the way. ‘Name,’ he barked.

‘James O’Hara.’

The man checked his clipboard and shook his head. ‘Sorry, film crew and authorised personnel only.’

‘I own the cinema,’ snapped James impatiently. He checked his watch. Delays to his journey meant he was running late, and he’d promised Sarah he’d get here by the time the Baby and Me screening was over.

‘Nice try – I haven’t heard that one before. Look, everyone in town is hoping to meet the stars,’ said the security guard. ‘But you need to move on now.’

James had met Mateo Ajose a few times through their mutual friends, Simon and Nora, but he wasn’t going to bother telling that to the security guard. ‘Let me in!’

The man spoke into his walkie-talkie, never taking his eyes off James. ‘We have a problem, sir. A fellow is causing a disturbance. Says he owns the cinema.’ The guard laughed dismissively.

A moment later, Noa appeared at the back entrance. He looked as cool as ever in jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms. It was as if he was so tough the cold didn’t affect him. James felt like a wimp in his thick winter parka.

‘So sorry about that, Jim.’ Noa apologised smoothly. ‘Our security team is overzealous.’

‘He wasn’t on the list,’ said the security guard, still eyeing James suspiciously.

‘Please, do come in.’ Noa magnanimously stepped aside to let James in, as if he owned the bloody place.

Fuming, James made his way into the cinema. The lobby teemed with film crew and film equipment littered the ground. He stepped over some thick black cables that snaked across the lobby on the way to the concession stand.

‘Oh, good, you’re here.’ Sarah came out from behind the counter and gave James a peck on the cheek. ‘You can take over now. Is it OK if Noa and I use the office? We need a quiet place to read through the final scene.’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’ muttered James sourly. ‘He’s acting like he owns the place.’

But Sarah didn’t hear – she was already halfway to the office.

Just then, the Baby and Me screening finished. Parents came out of the auditorium with their infants. The sound of children crying only added to the din.

Sarah’s new friend, Iris, was struggling to get her buggy over the cables. She was with an attractive lady with long dark hair wearing a baby girl in a baby carrier.

‘Here, let me help you.’ James lifted the front wheels up to manoeuvre the buggy over the obstruction. ‘I’m sorry about the disruption – it’s complete chaos in here today.’

‘That’s pretty normal for a movie set,’ said the woman with the baby carrier, smiling.

Suddenly, James recognised her – she was Mateo Ajose’s wife.

‘Nice to see you, Sam,’ he said. ‘Have you met Iris?’

She nodded. ‘We met earlier. Iris helped me out when Priya here had an exploding nappy situation. She loaned me a spare Babygro in the ladies’ room.’

‘Speaking of that,’ said Iris. ‘There’s no toilet paper left in there.’

Bloody hell, thought James. The film crew were supposed to be using the portaloos outside, but he’d noticed them going in and out of the much-nicer cinema toilets. At this rate, they’d be spending all the money they were getting on toilet roll.

As the two mums headed off, James went to restock the bathroom.

Then he got out his laptop and updated the film times on the cinema’s website.

They were showing Elf – the eighth film of Christmas – as a special sensory-friendly matinee.

He’d had to change the start time to accommodate the film crew.

So much for keeping disruption to a minimum …

As he was finishing, Kath Langdon, their local MP, appeared.

‘Hi, Kath,’ James said. ‘How’s your dad?’’ Kath’s father, David, had been their MP for years. Kath had stood for the seat when he’d retired.

‘Dad’s fine. And I’ve got good news – I was able to fast-track the permits,’ she said. ‘I just need a few signatures.’

All the café tables were occupied by film crew, so Kath took a thick stack of papers out of her briefcase and spread them out on the ticket counter.

‘Thanks so much for your help,’ said James, signing the paperwork. ‘I know how busy you are.’

‘No worries,’ said the MP. ‘The film will be excellent for the local economy. If the movie is a success, it should drive visitors to the area – fans will want to visit locations.’ She grinned. ‘I’m a big Mia Winslow fan myself.’

‘Hopefully tourists will come and see a movie here while they’re at it,’ said James. That was the point of all this disruption – to save the cinema.