The Dingo Dilemma

money.

I made surprisingly good time to the studios, so arrived early. This was fortunate, because there was kafuffle going on outside Bellina's main entrance. Helicopters circled overhead and a considerable crowd of onlookers waited to be entertained. People were milling around waving placards and shouting slogans. Strangely, most of them seemed to be young and very good-looking. I wondered why. Perhaps LA provided a better standard of demonstrator?

There seemed to be two distinct groups-the pro-dingo set and the pro-collie set. The cops were there in force, trying hard to keep them apart and at the same time make sure the entrance to Bellina remained open.

'Collie! Collie! Collie!' shouted one side.

'Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!' shouted the other.

Apart from the helicopters egg-beatering overhead, there were media trucks disgorging reporters and camera operators. This story was going to make the news tonight in a big way.

I found myself in a queue of cars waiting to get into Bellina Studios. Remembering that the Collie Coalition was supposed to have links to Al Qaeda, I scanned the crowd of onlookers for Secret Service types, who could be expected to be observing a demo like this. There were several who could fit the image I had of such an agent-a solemn-faced, dark-suited individual with a watchful manner. I thought they'd probably work in pairs and would talk without looking at each other, as their attention would be on the potential enemies of the country.

The head of Bellina security, Eppie Longworth, was at the boom gate with a mob of guards, who were giving each vehicle a complete going over, including using mirrors on long metal arms to check for bombs underneath each car.

'A fair bit of excitement,' I said to her as I handed over my new ID card that had been in the package of stuff Howie had sent me.

Eppie used a handheld device to read the barcode on my card. 'Rent-a-crowd,' she said.

'Sorry?'

'Rent-a-crowd,' she repeated. 'Most of them are out-of-work actors. They get paid by the hour to demonstrate.'

I looked back at the turmoil outside the studio gates. 'Bonzer publicity,' I said.

Her quick grin illuminated her face. 'You'd pay millions to get this much exposure, but the media are obligingly doing it for free.'

'So the media people don't realize it's a set up?'

'Oh, they know,' said Eppie. 'They don't care.'

****

'No! No! No! Try it again: Ow-ah-ya-mate?'

'It's mite' I said. 'Mate is pronounced mite if you're speaking broad Australian.'

Felicity Frobisher drew herself to her full height-not very much-and glared at me. Her masses of black, curly hair seemed to expand with her rage. 'I've been a dialogue and voice coach for many years,' she said in an icy tone, 'and in all those years I have never, never had an actor correct me in this fashion.'

'Sorry,' I said, 'but I am an Aussie, so of course I know how they speak.'

Felicity Frobisher sighed dramatically. Spreading her hands, she asked the ceiling, 'Why? Why me?'

I remained respectfully silent.

After gusting another sigh, she said, 'Let me try to explain it simply enough for you to grasp the concept. You will be speaking an artistically modified version of the Australian accent, suitable for American ears. Otherwise, the dialogue would require explanatory subtitles running across the bottom of the screen.'

'Crikey,' I said, 'You're not giving the audience much credit.'

Felicity Frobisher folded her arms. 'We're a happy little family here on the Darken set. We don't make waves, we get along together. That means we don't argue with professionals who are, after all, the experts in each field, be it technical or artistic. My profession is particularly demanding, as it requires me to master both the technical and the artistic.'

She paused to let this sink in, then asked, 'Is it too much to ask for your cooperation?'

'Ow-ah-ya-mate?' I said.

Two hours later I was dizzy from meeting people. Through it all I concentrated on keeping straight when and where I needed to be for the shooting of my first scene the next day. If Melodie had this part, no doubt she'd be preparing by reaching deep within herself to touch the primal essence of Olive as she meets her long-lost brother, Timmy, after many years. Having no idea how to do this, I was reduced to panicking over how I'd memorize all this dialogue.

I'd found a seat in a relatively quiet corner, and was having a lash at learning a line or two, when a voice said, 'And who are you?

'Kylie Kendall,' I said. 'G'day.'

I knew who the speaker was. Apart from the huge billboard at the entrance to Bellina Studios, over the past few days every story about Darken and her threatened abduction had featured shots of the show's Hardestie family with Dustin Jaeger up front, his arm around Darken. In person, Dustin seemed about twelve. He was small for his age, but he had a compact little body and an appealing face complete with endearing dimples when he smiled.

He wasn't smiling now. 'The role,' he said. 'Who are you?'

'Olive, Jimmy's sister.' I indicated the script I'd been reading. 'We have a scene together.'

'Dustin Jaeger will be instructing Earl to edit your lines. The emotional center of the scene is Timmy, not Olive.'

I stared at the kid. Why was he referring to himself in the third person? 'Aren't you Dustin Jaeger?'

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, then reached into a satchel and extracted a large headshot of himself inscribed: With every warm wish from Dustin Jaeger. 'Something for you to treasure,' he said, handing it to me.

A harried young woman came rushing up to us. 'Dustin, Earl's waiting! Darleen's on the set, and you know how she gets if she's there too long.'

'That fucking dingo! You go tell the bloody wrangler that if that animal snaps at Dustin Jaeger again, he can start looking for another job.'

Hopping up and down with agitation, she said, 'Earl sent me to get you. Everyone's waiting!'

'Dustin Jaeger will be there after he has had a hot drink to lubricate his vocal chords.'

The young woman and I watched him stroll off in a lordly fashion. 'What's it with the third person?' I asked her.

She rolled her eyes. 'Surely you realize Dustin's a major star. It's his cute little way of showing how superior he is to mere mortals like us.'

'Totally up himself,' I remarked.

She wasn't listening. With an expression close to terror, she squeaked, 'I've got to tell Earl that Dustin isn't ready yet.'

'Earl won't take it well?'

'He'll kill me! Or worse, he'll fire me.'

'I'll deliver the bad news, if you like.'

She stared at me with astonishment. 'You will?' Then she frowned. 'Why would you do that?'

'I would like a bit of a favor in return. I've been trying to get hold of Dingo O'Rourke since I got here today, but I haven't had any luck. Is there any way you can arrange for me to have a quiet word with him after this scene's finished?'

'Sure. That's easy.'

'Right-oh,' I said. 'We have a deal. Point me in Earl Garfield's direction.'

We could hear the director before we got there-a tirade of blue language delivered at a near shriek.

'Crikey,' I said, 'he'll blow a gasket if he isn't careful.'

The set-a country kitchen-was brightly illuminated. Darleen, looking bored, was sitting beside Dingo O'Rourke.