Last Reels - 10. New Experiences

1986

Cat

There was always a break between the end of the afternoon and evening shows. Alfie used it to eat his meal, while Cat liked to go down to the mini screens and put on music for the staff. Non-sync music, played before the performances started was strictly instrumental; James Last and his Orchestra, Mantovani or music from the film soundtrack, if it met the criteria. It was part of the presentation standards that had not changed or years and she could see the point in some ways. When you started a film, an instrumental track could be faded at any point, whereas to stop half way through a vocal ballad wouldn’t sound quite the same.

It was still very old-fashioned though and as the cinema’s audiences were younger, she realised they’d appreciate being able to listen to more modern tracks. The staff got bored with it, too, hence the exhortations to ‘have something worth listening to’ during our break. Part of the reason why she did it was Gloria.

Gloria had started working front of house a few months back. She had a roguish smile she often flashed at Cat as she passed through the foyer. ‘Go on,’ she’d said. ‘Put on something I can dance to.’

So Cat brought in some CDs from home and watched Gloria, elegant even in her unflattering uniform, gyrate in front of the closed tabs for twenty or so minutes, before they had to start getting ready for the evening shows. She usually sat in one of the back seats and wondered what exactly was she found so attractive about Gloria. She didn’t have a conventionally ‘pretty’ face. Her Mediterranean ancestry had given her strong features, dark hair and a fairly prominent nose. Her figure was good though and when she got into the music, she could really move.

So Cat watched and said nothing, even though she felt tingles up her spine and in other places too while Gloria danced. One memorable evening, when none of the other staff had come down, Gloria sashayed up the aisle and held out a hand.

‘Come and dance, too.’

‘I’m clumsy. I trip over my own feet.’

‘Don’t worry. You just need to practice.’

Cat found herself in front of the tabs, copying Gloria’s moves. Their hands fit together perfectly. Their bodies did, too, when Gloria pulled her close.

‘I’ve wanted to do this for a long time’ She whispered as they danced close, simply swaying to the music. ‘I really like you.’

‘I like you, too.’

‘Want to go for a drink next time we’re both off of an evening?’

Cat wanted to get to know her better. ‘Yes. Why not.’

And then Gloria brushed a kiss across her lips, like the gentle touch of a butterfly and her heart melted.

Over the next few weeks, Cat felt as if she was really beginning to live at last. She had to keep it all contained and secret, which wasn’t so good, but it helped her get through the inconvenience of James still being at home. With him there, she had nowhere to take Gloria after a drink or meal and as Gloria shared a small flat with two other girls, they couldn’t go to hers either.

Alfie knew something was up. ‘You’re looking a lot happier these days. A lot more relaxed, I’d say. Is it something to do with that old boyfriend of yours?’

‘No!’ She protested. ‘I still want him out of my life. It’s just…’ She really wanted to tell him, but just couldn’t find the words. ‘Everything’s going right for me. I feel as if I’m getting better at the job…’

‘I’d agree with that.’

‘I like the job, too. All I’m worried about is how to cope with the serious breakdowns.’

‘They don’t come that often. And like I’ve said a million times before, it’s all down to experience. You’ll see, when one happens.’

His words came true on a weekday afternoon. Alfie was busy making up trailer sets and Cat was lacing up screen one’s projector when the phone trilled insistently. She answered.

‘There’s no sound in two,’ Jimmy said. ‘A bloke just came out and said it’s been off for about ten minutes.’

‘Right. Okay, I’ll go and have a look.’ She felt her heart rate quicken. This was her first real problem.

‘What’s up?’ Alfie said, coming over.

She told him.

‘Right, then. We’d better get down there. Save a bit of time and think about what you’re going to check. Best finish lacing up first, though. One screen’s got a problem, but you still need to keep the rest running normally.’

While she ran the leader back to the cakestand, she thought out loud. ‘First of all I’ll check that the sound’s in the right format and the right level. Mind you, it was okay when I put the feature on an hour ago, so I don’t think that’s going to be the problem.’

Alfie nodded sagely. ‘Then what?’

They made their way down the stairs. ‘Make sure the amplifier’s on? It might have failed, or the power’s gone off.’

‘Good.’

As they crossed the foyer, Jimmy raced over. ‘What’s wrong? When’s it going to be fixed?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve got there.’

Jimmy backed off, muttering something about the customers wanting something done about it right away.

‘Well done,’ Alfie said. ‘Last thing you need is interruptions when you’re thinking. Can you remember where you were?’

‘Check the amp’s got power. If it’s dead, check the breaker. Swap it for the spare.’ They were almost there. She fumbled for the key to the mini box door. Once inside a quick glance verified that the amplifier’s lights were on, and all seemed fine with the settings.

She glanced at the projector and saw at once where the problem lay. The exciter lamp which illuminated the optical sound track was dead. ‘Shall I stop the projector?’ she asked.

‘You might as well, for now. If the film’s off and the lights are on in the auditorium, it’ll let them know we’re doing something. You know where the spare exciters are kept?’

She nodded, went over to the cupboard and got one. When she flicked open the cover, the old lamp looked fine; it wasn’t at all blackened and the filament was intact.

‘Change it anyway,’ Alfie said.

She did. The old lamp was cold, proving it had been unlit for some time. The replacement remained dark when she fitted it. ‘It’s not the lamp. Not unless the new one’s no good as well.’

Alfie remained calm. ‘Possible, but unlikely. What’s next?’

She thought a moment. ‘You’ve always said that if something’s not working, we need to see if it’s got power going to it.’ She looked at the projector base. ‘The switch is still on. Maybe a fuse has blown?’

The fuses were at the back of the projector. They were labelled in Italian, but someone had written a translation on a bit of card taped next to them. She found the right one and unscrewed the housing. The fuse inside looked fine, and when Alfie tested it with a meter, proved to be intact.

The house phone went off. Alfie picked it up. ‘No, haven’t found it yet. This one might take a while. Yes, probably best to give them a refund then.’

‘Does this mean we’ve lost a show?’ All through her training it had been stressed to Cat, not just by Alfie, but by everyone else in the cinema trade that to lose a show was the worst possible calamity.

‘It happens sometimes. As long as it’s not your fault – which this isn’t – then we just have to accept it. Look at it this way; they’d already missed ten minutes of the film and at least another ten’s gone by while we got down here and did these checks. We might be able to get it back on soon, but we can’t rewind to the point where they lost sound and those people are already fed up of waiting.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Carry on running the film through to the end so it’s ready for the next house. I’m going to check if there’s power going up to that switch.’

Cat had to run back upstairs to start screen one and when she returned Alfie had found the problem.

‘The power supply for the exciter lamp’s failed.’

‘Can we replace it?’

‘We could if we had one. But they’re too expensive to keep sitting around on a shelf just in case, so we don’t. I’ll have to call the service engineer and get him to bring one along tomorrow morning.’

‘Does that mean we’ll be off screen for the rest of the day?’ Losing one show was bad enough.

‘No. Luckily I have just what we need in the car.’

He returned with a battery charger and after a bit of fiddling and cursing to find the supply wires among the rat’s nest of cabling in the base the lamp lit up again. ‘That’ll do the job. You might be able to hear a bit of a hum if you’re up close to the screen, but at least we’ve got sound again in time for the next show.’

Cat wondered how many years it took before you knew all that kind of stuff. Would she ever have that same easy confidence and ability to improvise?

Once everything was back on screen again they had a break for something to eat and a refreshing cup of tea.

‘I’d better warn you now about the engineer,’ Alfie said. ‘He’s a bit of a character, but his bark’s worse than his bite. You’re going to have to meet him sooner or later, so you might as well come in early tomorrow and introduce yourself.’

She realised this must be the same engineer who had put the fear of God into Clive at the Gaumont. His name was Bertie. A cigarette remained clenched between his crooked yellow teeth as he fitted the new power supply, swearing and coughing and cursing the machines in their native Italian. As he worked, something stuffed inside one of the bulging pockets of his jacket began bleeping. He scrabbled around until he found a paging device, squinting at the number displayed.

‘It’s that fucking idiot at Plowbridge again. What’s he broken this time?’

He called the offending cinema from the box phone. ‘Come on, come on,’ he muttered, blowing out clouds of smoke like an angry dragon. ‘First he pages me in the middle of a job, then the bugger can’t be arsed to pick up the phone!’

Eventually the phone was answered. Cat couldn’t hear what was being said at the other end, only that Bertie became more and more annoyed. ‘You’ve checked the fuses? You sure about that? Good. Because if I drive all the way out to you and find it's just a blown fuse, there’ll be hell to pay.’

Cat made a mental note to always double and triple check the simple things. Both Alfie and the manual had stressed that already, but Bertie’s ranting hammered it home.

He finished the call, banging down the phone. ‘Trouble is there’s too many idiots in this game these days. I’m going to have to finish up here and get out to him.’ He fixed Cat with a scary gaze. ‘Let’s hope this one turns out better than the rest.’

‘She’s fine,’ Alfie said quickly.

‘A bit quiet.’

‘Can you blame her?’

Bertie laughed, which set him off coughing again. ‘Come on, let’s get this thing sorted.’ He checked his watch. ‘I should have time for a quick coffee before I hit the road.’

While they had a coffee, Cat laced up ready for opening, mostly to keep out of Bertie’s way. It was easy to see why Clive had been scared of him. By the time she returned to the staff room to get her sandwiches, there was no sign of him. ‘Has he gone?’ she asked before settling down.

‘Yes. Off to frighten the bloke who called him earlier.’ Alfie must have noticed her look of relief. ‘Bertie’s not so bad once you get to know him. He’s a bloody good engineer. I’ve never come across anything mechanical he can’t fix. One time, he stripped down a crossbox to replace a worn striking pin. Saved us having to pay out for a new one and it’s still running fine today. He likes you,’ he added.

‘Does he? I thought I was just another idiot in his opinion.’

‘Not at all. He was asking when you’d be going on shift. I told him another month or so.’

‘But I’ve only been training for four months now. Do you think I’m ready?’ Being left in sole charge of the place seemed like a huge responsibility. She wasn’t sure how she would manage if a major problem arose.

‘Don’t look so worried. You’ll be fine. You know enough to cope with all the day to day routines and basic fault finding. Everything else you only get by doing the job.’

Her first week on shift was planned for the beginning of December. It was a quiet time of the year, and as Alfie said, it gave her a chance to get used to single manning before the Christmas holidays arrived with early openings and packed houses. ‘Plus, with three of us on the rota, we can all get some time off over Christmas and New Year.’

On her next day off she went to pick up some shopping at Sainsbury’s. As she loaded bags into the boot of her car, a Jaguar pulled in to the space next to her. When the doors opened, she recognised James’s parents at once. His mother was perfectly turned out as usual. Not a hair dared to move out of its assigned place.

His dad noticed her first. ‘It’s Cat, isn’t it?’ She had always got along better with him than his wife, who seemed to be of the opinion that Cat wasn’t good enough for her little boy.

‘That’s right.’

‘So what are you doing with yourself these days?’ he asked cheerfully.

‘I’m training to be a projectionist. In the cinema.’

‘The cinema?’ James’s mother said, ‘Gracious.’ She sounded faintly disapproving.

Cat ignored the perceived slight. ‘So how’s your new extension coming along?’

‘Extension?’

‘Yes, on your house.’

James’s dad looked perplexed. ‘We aren’t having any work done.’

‘Oh. I thought…’

‘Wherever did you get that idea?’ James’s mother said.

‘Actually, James told me.’

‘Oh well, with him being abroad, he probably misunderstood something I said,’ his dad put in.

‘But he’s here. In England. In Fairham.’ Now it was her turn to be puzzled.

‘No he isn’t. He’s doing voluntary work in Cambodia,’ his mother insisted.

‘He’s been back since, oh, September. He told me he couldn’t stay at home because you were having an extension built.’

There was an uncomfortable silence. For a moment, Cat felt guilty at having told them anything. But then, she’d fallen for his story. Presumably, they had also believed whatever he chose to tell them. ‘He’s been staying at my flat ever since,’ she continued. ‘I thought you knew.’

James’s parents looked at each other, then back to her. ‘Perhaps we’d better ask James himself what’s going on,’ his dad said.

They followed her back to the flat. She knew there was going to be a scene. Part of her relished the idea. But she also hated confrontations and usually did her best to avoid them. Why hadn’t James told the truth?

When she’d left, he’d been asleep on the sofa. As she opened the door, he was sitting up and scoffing a Pot Noodle. The look on his face as he saw who was behind her was priceless.

He glared at her. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘Why not ask mummy and daddy that? If you hadn’t told us all a pack of lies to begin with…’ She could feel her temper starting to bubble.

‘Yes, why didn’t you just come straight home, darling?’ his mother said.

James put on his ‘dejected little boy’ look. ‘I didn’t want you to know how badly things went wrong out there. I felt as if I was a failure…’

‘Oh, come on.’ Cat said, exasperated. ‘You’ve been back nearly two months. Surely you could have told them by now.’

James stared at the floor, his Pot Noodle forgotten. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, his voice quavering slightly. ‘I just couldn’t face telling you,’ he said to his dad.

His mother went over to hug him. ‘Well, it’s all right now. You can come home with us.’ She looked around the room. Cat expected her to add ‘out of this squalor’, but she refrained from saying it.

‘Yes, get your things together, son,’ his dad said. ‘We’ll sort things out.’

‘And you’ll be home for Christmas,’ his mother said happily, blinking back tears.

In just a matter of minutes, he’d stuffed his things into the giant holdall he’d brought with him and was walking out of the door like a prodigal son. Cat watched in amazement. All the stress of the past two months was melting away.

‘Have a lovely Christmas,’ she said as he left.

James’s dad turned to her. ‘Thanks for taking care of him,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’d like to join us for Christmas dinner?’

Cat saw the horrified look on his wife’s face. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer,’ she said. ‘But I’ve already made plans. Bye.’

She shut the door behind them. Her home was her own once more. Now she could bring Gloria back any time she liked. Maybe they could even have Christmas together?

She returned to work in a more relaxed frame of mind than she had felt for a long time. Even the thought of going on shift was less worrying now.

Although single manning meant that theoretically there was only one projectionist on duty at a time, having three people available meant that in practice there was an overlap during the middle part of the day. One person would start early – usually at eleven o’clock during term time – and work until five. It was their responsibility to do any maintenance jobs prior to the doors opening and to get the projectors laced up and ready to run. Another projectionist came in at two o’ clock and stayed until the last film finished at night. Fairham didn’t run late night shows, so they were always out of the building before eleven. This meant that customers and staff were able to catch the last bus home, or get in a drink at the pub before last orders.

Cat’s first day alone was on a Tuesday. It was a late shift, so by the time she arrived, the cinema was already open, the first performance having started at one-forty.

Gloria was replenishing the sweet stock. ‘Good luck.’ She gave Cat one of those melting smiles. ‘You’ll do fine. I just know it.’

‘Thanks.’ She made her way up to the staff room and dumped her bag in its usual place. Paul must still be downstairs, she thought, so she went through into the main box and peered out of the porthole. He’d already raised the lights and the non-sync music was playing softly; something by James Last and his Orchestra. A few people had taken their seats. She patted the projector softly. ‘Be nice to me,’ she said. ‘Don’t go wrong today.’

Back in the staff room, she put the kettle on for her first cuppa as a fully-fledged projectionist. She heard Paul bounding up the stairs. ‘Tea or coffee today?’ she asked as he joined her.

‘Coffee, please. How are you feeling?’

‘Slightly nervous, to be honest.’

‘So was I, the first time I was left on my own. Mind you, I’d been a projectionist for nearly two years before single manning started, so I had a bit of experience behind me. It’s a lot tougher for you.’

He sat in the battered Lloyd loom chair, which was too tatty for the foyer, leaving her the comfy chair. ‘Everything’s ready to go. I’ve lamped up the mini screens, the boilers are on and we’ve got next week’s timesheets from the office. There’s nothing in the film dump yet, so you should have a nice easy day.’

‘Good.’

‘And I’ll take care of the minis until it’s time for me to go home.’

Cat smiled. ‘Thanks Paul. I really appreciate it.’

All too soon it was five o’clock. He packed his things away and said goodbye. Outside, it was getting dark. The neon sign at the front of the cinema sent a pink wash through the staff room window. Although she knew the timesheet by heart, having checked it multiple times during the afternoon, she glanced at it again. Next to start was screen three. There was time to eat dinner before she went downstairs, but she wasn’t very hungry.

Putting the next lot of shows on made the time fly by until seven o’clock. By then, she was starting to feel peckish, so heated up some soup on the Belling. After eating it, she went through into the main box again. The cakestand plates turned slowly, reflecting light onto the ceiling and the projector purred like a contented cat.

As she crossed the upper foyer on her way to lace up the minis for the final time that day, a gentle buzz of voices rose up along with the smell of hot popcorn. When she started the last show upstairs, it was a wonderful feeling to look out and see quite a few heads above the backs of the seats. She timed the feature change perfectly, with the curtains swishing apart just as the censor went on screen. She remembered the feeling of passing her driving test; how good it had been to take off the ‘L’ plates and drive off alone. This was a comparable moment.

How worried she had been at the start of her training; how impossible it had seemed that she would learn everything she needed to know and yet, here she was, on shift. A full member of the projection crew. This time last year she had been facing redundancy and an uncertain future; now she was starting out on a career that would, hopefully, last a lot longer than Mr Doom and Gloom had forecast.

At the end of the evening, when she turned off the box lights and shut the door behind her, she began a habit that would continue through all her years at Fairham. ‘Goodnight,’ she said softly to the cinema. ‘See you tomorrow.’