herself up onto the seawall again. ‘Best of all is that adults leave kids alone on Glencairn.’
‘Mostly!’ chipped in someone from the sidelines.
‘Cut!’ called Jack, lowering his camera. ‘Thanks, Zanth. You’re done.’
She tipped her two fingers to her forehead, a casual salute, and walked across to her Director’s chair and, for a few seconds was grateful just to sit under the shade of the spotted gum. Film work is exhausting, she realized as she looked across to Honey who was lying on her tummy in the grass, doing a last minute read of her lines.
‘Summers? You ready?’ Xanthe yelled out to Honey.
Honey nodded and stood up.
Xanthe clicked her fingers and pointed. ‘You’re on. Hurry. Over you go.’
Honey’s lips were moving as she walked across the bush clearing to her marker, the place Xanthe had decided would be where Jack would shoot her.
Honey Summers was wearing white jeans and white t-shirt. She practically lived an all-white life when school was out, thought Xanthe. Except when she decided to dress up, which was most of the time. But today, the all-white was in evidence, except for a piece of bright purple and pink silk she had wrapped around her floppy hat. Anyone could see she was nervous from the way she flicked back her hair and ran her tongue over her lips.
‘Just move to the left a bit,’ Xanthe called out through her megaphone. ‘Out of the shade ... to the right ... further. That’s it! And push your hat back so we get a look at your face, can you? Or, take it off! Good. Ready to roll, Jacko.’
Clasping her hands behind her back and looking straight into the camera, the subject took a deep breath and began. ‘Hello. I’m Honey Summers. This unique island is my home.’
Honey’s arms did the talking. She waved them over the scene. ‘Some houses are down at the edge of the water with their own jetties and sandy beaches.’ She walked a couple of paces towards the beach and spread her arms out to embrace the shore.
Jack pointed the camera down to the water.
He knew what to do, thought Xanthe, because they had done a storyboard – something they had learned from her dad who was in Advertising. Storyboards are rough drawings, a step by step kind of comic that lets the cast and crew know where to stand and what’s coming up next. Honey, being FIFU’s artist-in-residence, had been responsible for today’s storyboard.
Now Honey turned and pointed in the other direction. ‘And some houses are up in the spotted gum trees. Oops!’ She swallowed hard and tried to rub out her mistake. ‘Well, they’re not actually up in the trees. Like, they’re not tree houses or any think.’
Thing! Not Think! She called out.
She had made a megaphone from rolled-up cardboard the night before as well as a ‘Director’ sign to clip on the back of one of her father’s canvas fold-up chairs. Sitting there in her khakis, with a back-to-front black baseball cap on her head, a whistle around her neck and a clipboard and megaphone on her lap, she knew she looked for all the world like a serious movie director.
‘OK. Any Thing!’
Xanthe cued Jack, who began recording again.
‘They are not tree houses or anything.’ Honey gulped and carried on. ‘They are up the hill, among the trees. Spotted gums. The kind that were once used to build sailing ships on the island.’ Ms. Honey Summers, nervous star, was flustered. Her cheeks had turned bright pink.
‘That’s great!’ yelled Xanthe.’ Best to tell her that, she thought, appreciating her friend’s nervousness in front of the camera.
‘Anyway, everyone’s house has a view across the water towards Bayville or the Palms Peninsula. But no one lives around on the far side. It’s too dangerous because there’s a haunted––'
Xanthe blew her whistle. ‘No!’ she yelled, her voice as shrill as her whistle. ‘Stick to the script, Summers!’
Jack laughed. So, did the others. Honey had just tried to slip one in on her Director.
‘How do you get...’ Xanthe prompted Honey.
‘Oh, yes! How do you get across to the mainland? Well ...’ Honey held up the fingers on one hand and counted off, starting with her thumb. ‘... you can row your boat, drive your tinny, catch the ferry or, if you’re rich enough you phone for Shelley Bentley’s Blue Water Lady. That’s our water taxi service.’ She paused for effect then touched her pinky. ‘Or you can swim ... if you’re Thorpy!’ She giggled and did a bow to the camera.
‘That it for Honey?’ said Jack, turning to Xanthe.
Xanthe nodded. ‘You’re done, Summers,’ she said, and went back to consulting the notes on her clipboard.
‘How was I?’ said Honey as she passed Jack.
‘Okay. Cool, actually.’ He gave Honey a high five.
‘She should’ve let me tell them about Island Gertie’s.’ Honey said, her voice oozing with disappointment as she looked over at her Director.
‘Zoran?’ Xanthe called out through her megaphone.
There was no response.
‘Hey, where’s the Radz? Anyone seen him?’ asked Xanthe. 'He’s supposed to be on next.' She put her megaphone to her lips. ‘Zoran Radlic on set, please!’
Jack was grinning.
‘Where is he? What’s he doing?’
‘What comes naturally!’ laughed Jack.
Xanthe followed his gaze and saw exactly what Zoran Radlic was doing!
He was behind the bushes with his back to them and what he was doing could only take so long before grinning, he stepped out, closing up his fly and flipping his skateboard, which he caught in mid-air. He strolled across to his mark, still with a smirk on his face.
'Mr Too Cool for Words,' muttered Xanthe.
Now, with his feet apart, Zoran shuffled his Nikes in the soft ground and ran a comb through his hair – dark brown, shoulder-length and in need of a good shampoo and conditioner. He shook his head so that some of the hair dropped over his forehead and covered one eye, then slid the comb in the back pocket of his faded jeans – torn, of course. Finally, he winked at the camera, giving Jack a thumbs-up. ‘Ready to roll, bro.’
‘Good. Let’s go, then ‘bro’!’ Xanthe said, trying to remind people around her who was in charge of this shoot.
But Zoran still wasn’t quite ready. Not until he had turned up the collar of his black Polo shirt. Then he hooked both thumbs in his belt tabs and practiced a few serious looks until he found the exact one he wanted.
Xanthe cued Jacko to roll the cameras.
‘Glencairn Island is a magic place and we intend to keep it that way.’ Zoran indicated his surroundings. ‘But it’s not all fun. Offshore life can be hard. Yeah, real hard!
