A Prince and his Pauper 6

After that first performance, everything changed, everything just blew up around us.

That first Friday night show was sold out, of course – as every opening night always seems to do – but there were seats available for the remaining five shows. The first of these was to be the following night, Saturday, then the following Friday and Saturday, then the Friday and Saturday after that. Six shows in all.

By the following morning, word was already spreading, and by Monday afternoon the remaining shows were all sold out. After just two performances, Charlie Brown was a star, and when we walked through the school gates on the Monday morning the buzz in the air was palpable.

For days, the performance was all anyone at school could talk about. Teachers, who had barely ever noticed Charlie before, stopped him in the corridor to say how extraordinary he had been. Students from years Ten and Eleven, who he’d never even spoken to, nodded at him like he was someone worth knowing. Even the principal, Mr Pritchard, stopped in the hall to talk, smiling like they were old friends and slapping him on the back as if it was all his idea.

‘Weird!’ Charlie said to me after the first time it happened, and we were watching the principal disappearing down the hall.

Martin Collins never failed to disappoint, taking every opportunity to throw snide remarks and gay jibes at Charlie every chance he got. We both pushed back on anything that Martin threw our way, along with the help of Brad and Danny, both of whom we had grown much closer to throughout the show’s run. And even though Charlie would tell me later how petrified he was of the truth becoming known, there was a new resolve in his bearing. Thankfully, even Martin’s own friends seemed to be growing tired of his rather boorish behaviour, and so any of Martin’s crap was soon falling flat, and it was him who was the one who was soon looking the fool.

Ethan came back to school on crutches later that week, all his swagger slowed by plaster. To his credit, he congratulated Charlie – but in his own back-handed way.

‘You did all right, Brown,’ he said. ‘Guess I must have trained you well.’

Charlie just smiled and said, ‘Guess you must have.’

Unbeknown to us all, Miss Carlton had organised for the opening night to be recorded, mostly for the school’s archives, but she’d then promised that everyone associated with the production would also receive a copy. When the DVD arrived a fortnight later, she handed Charlie the first one during the afterparty that was held following the final performance, then copies for everyone else who had been involved.

‘You’ll want to keep this safe,’ she said, her eyes glinting. ‘Might even be worth something one day.’

Charlie laughed, thinking she was joking, but later, at home late that night, we watched it together on Charlie’s computer in his room. Some of the camera work was shaky, some of the sound a little fuzzy, but none of that mattered. Watching himself on screen, especially during close-ups where his face filled the screen, he barely breathed.

‘That doesn’t even look like me,’ he said quietly.

‘It’s you alright,’ I replied. ‘It’s the you everyone finally saw. The you that everyone finally took notice of.’

He smiled, shy and proud all at once.

‘I still can’t believe I was able to do . . . that! I . . .’

‘You became, him!’ I said to him. ‘You were fucking brilliant!’

‘Thank you!’ he whispered, as he cuddled in close to me.

One day, about a week after the buzz had begun to die down, Miss Carlton pulled Charlie aside after class and asked if he would mind if she shared the recording with an old university friend who worked in local theatre.

‘It’s just for some feedback,’ she promised. Charlie looked confused at first, but agreed. When the two of us were able to speak about it later, Charlie said he doubted anything would come of it.

With life now settling back into its normal rhythm, rehearsals gave way to homework again, the stage props disappeared from the hall, and the buzz of the play slowly faded.

Still, it was as if Charlie was a different person now. He was lighter, more sure of himself. He even joined the local drama club, outside of school hours, and found himself working with everyone from those who were just beginning their thespian journey, to those with far greater experience, and loving every minute of it.

My Charlie now had a purpose in life, and for the first time, he walked through the school gates every morning without glancing over his shoulder.

Then, one Thursday evening around a month later, as everyone’s attention began to turn towards the end of the year and Christmas, the phone rang at his house.

I was there – as I so often was – and we were supposed to be watching a movie, though we’d mostly been sharing a bowl of popcorn and a blanket. His dad called up the stairs, ‘Charlie! It’s for you!’

We made our way downstairs and Charlie frowned as he picked up the handset and held it between us, so I could listen in. ‘Hello?’

A woman’s voice answered, sounding warm and professional.

‘Hello, is this Charlie Brown? You don’t know me, but my name is Rachel Devine. I hope you don’t mind me calling you at home like this?’

‘Errr . . . can I help you with something?’

‘I work for a company called Southern Light Films. I’m a production assistant and casting associate with our company, and part of my job is to help find actors for our movies. Your drama teacher is a friend of one my associates and sent us a copy of your school play. We would really like to talk to you about it, if that’s okay with you?’

Charlie blinked. ‘She . . . did? You do? I mean . . . oh, wow . . .’

‘She did, Charlie,’ Rachel said, laughing softly. ‘And we were very impressed. Why we would really love to talk to you, is because we’re adapting The Boy Who Would Be King into a feature film, to be filmed here, in Australia. The director has seen your performance and would really like you to audition for the part of Prince Elwyn. Your close up shots were just captivating.’

He stared at me, speechless. Then we both stared at his father, who was leaning against the living room doorway and watching us, wondering just what was going on.

‘Are you still there, Charlie?’ we heard Rachel ask.

‘Yes, I’m here. And are . . . are you serious?’ he finally managed to say.

‘Very serious,’ Rachel replied. ‘We will need to talk to your parents, of course, to make sure it’s okay and to help make all the arrangements, but we’re holding preliminary auditions in Sydney next month, before Christmas, and we’d really love to see what you can do! Would you be able to put your father back on so that I can quickly discuss this with him?’

Charlie held the phone out towards his father. I could see his hands shaking.

‘She wants to talk to you again,’ he said, as his father took the phone from him.

We didn’t hear anything his father said to the woman, as we stepped back and grabbed hold of each other. I wasn’t sure if I was holding Charlie up, or if it was him who was stopping me from falling down. I’d heard enough of the conversation to know what was happening.

‘Charlie?’ I said carefully.

He turned to me, eyes wide, mouth open. ‘Brayden . . . they want me. They actually want me.’

When his father hung up a few moments later, he just stood there, staring at the receiver as if it might ring again to prove it wasn’t a dream, then he slowly turned to look at the two of us.

‘Did that really just happen?’ Mr Brown asked us.

I was grinning so hard that it almost hurt. ‘Told you the crown wasn’t finished with you yet,’ I said to Charlie, while nudging him in the ribs with an elbow.

He laughed, then suddenly wrapped his arms around me. ‘What if I mess it up?’

‘You won’t.’

‘What if they realise I’m just some kid from nowhere?’

I shook my head. ‘Then they’ll realise that nowhere makes the best someones.’

That night, after his dad went to bed and the house grew quiet, we crept outside and sat on the back steps, watching the stars.

‘So, this is real,’ he said. ‘A movie.’

‘Looks that way.’

He was quiet for a long time, then said softly, ‘You know what’s funny? I used to wish I could just hide, or better still, just disappear. Now all I want is to be seen – I mean really seen.’

I slipped my hand into his. ‘You will be. The whole world’s about to meet Prince Elwyn.’

He smiled at that – the shy, luminous smile that had started everything – and rested his head against my shoulder.

Above us, the sky was vast and full of endless possibilities. I just knew that a new star was about to be born.

Charlie pressed his face to the train window as we came down the line into Central Station, watching the city rise around us, a creation in steel, concrete and glass, which seemed to come alive in the afternoon sunlight.

His reflection looked pale and nervous though.

‘Still time to back out,’ I gently teased.

He turned, eyes wide. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘Then stop looking like you’re about to throw up.’

His father, in the seat opposite us, laughed. So did Charlie, only weakly. ‘I can’t help it. This is . . . insane. They actually want me to audition for a movie.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, grinning. ‘And they’re gonna love you.’

‘We’ll see,’ was all he could muster in reply, as he turned back to gaze out the window at the suburbs rolling by.

Sydney was much bigger, louder, and faster than either of us had imagined it might be. The last time I had visited the place, I had been quite young, and couldn’t really comprehend the vastness or the pace of it back then, but this time it felt different. I could see and feel all of that now, but we weren’t just visitors this time. This time we were here for him.

After pulling into Central, and then carrying our bags from the platform, we soon found a cab and were on the way to our hotel, which proved to be on Elizabeth Street and overlooking Hyde Park. At this hour, people were heading home for the day, and so traffic was quite heavy, but even allowing for that, it wasn’t long before we pulled up outside and were then paying off the driver.

Once inside, Mr Brown organised our rooms – Charlie and I were together in one room, which joined Mr Brown’s – and then we were being shown to the elevator by a bellhop and taken upstairs.

Later, after we had settled in, we decided to take a stroll around the blocks close to our hotel, to check out the streets and also search for some place to eat. As the city nightlife started to come alive, we crossed the road and strolled through Hyde Park, admiring the fountain and the Anzac Memorial, seeing tourists and homeless people alike all sharing the space. We then crossed the road at the exit to the park, where Market Street comes to a stop near the gateway, then went down that street for a couple of blocks, before turning into Pitt Street.

On a corner we found a food store that sold pizza by the slice, along with burgers and other fast foods, so while Charlie and I grabbed a table on the sidewalk, his father went and ordered for us, returning a few minutes later with some drinks.

‘It’ll be brought over in a few minutes,’ he said, as he handed us each a bottle of soft drink. ‘I just ordered some mixed pizza slices, at least for starters.’

‘Thank you,’ Charlie and I both replied.

Sitting there with darkness falling, only to be replaced by strips of neon and flashing lights, we watched as the world passed us by. People of all ages and nationalities were hurrying along, heading home, or heading out on the town, who could know, but watching them pass us by was certainly entertaining.

Soon the tray of pizza was brought out to us and set down on the table before us.

‘Dig in, boys,’ Mr Brown said to us. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from, if that’s what you want, but I thought afterwards me might see if we can find an ice cream joint. There’s bound to be one around here someplace!’

‘Cool!’ Charlie said, before biting down on a slice of ham and pineapple.

His father just laughed and picked up a slice of supreme.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, we ate and watched the activity all around us, amazed by what we were seeing.

When I had finished eating, a thought came to my mind, a question I felt I wanted to ask Charlie’s father, but I wasn’t sure if I should. A few minutes later we were on our feet and heading back up Pitt Street, our eyes still popping out of our heads. It was then that I decided I needed to ask my question.

‘Mr Brown, do you think we might be able to take a look at Oxford Street while we are here?’ I asked, which earned me a smile and a raised eyebrow.

‘Oxford Street, huh? You think you can handle that?’ he replied, still grinning at me.

‘Only one way to find out,’ declared Charlie.

Rachel Devine was waiting for us at the studio gates when we arrived at ten am the following morning. She was young, probably in her twenties, and dressed smartly, while carrying a clipboard with her. She appeared warm and calm and organised – the kind of person who made everyone else breathe easier just by her being there.

‘Charlie! So glad you could make it,’ she said as she shook his hand, then mine. ‘And you must be Brayden. Miss Carlton told me you were his good-luck charm.’

I could only blush. ‘Oh, I’m not so sure about that.’

Then turning to Charlie’s father, she said, ‘And you must be Ian Brown?’

‘Yes. And after all our phone calls it’s nice to finally meet you in person, Rachel,’ Mr Brown replied, while shaking her hand as well.

‘Oh, yes. We’ve all been so looking forward to meeting you.’

The studios were tucked behind an old industrial complex near Alexandria – a maze of low buildings, trailers, and people carrying coffee, apart from what appeared to be one massive shed at the far end of the lot. To our untrained eyes, it didn’t look like much, so it would certainly be interesting to see just where all the magic happened.

We entered one of the buildings off to the side of the car park, then Rachel led us through to a small waiting room with dark-blue carpet. A reception desk sat to one side, with a row of plastic chairs and a wall of framed movie posters on the other side. Some of the movies I recognised, while others were from before we had even been born.

Scattered around the room there were half a dozen other boys waiting – some older, some taller, some slicker – all with portfolios and headshots no doubt. A couple of them even looked familiar, though I couldn’t put a name to them. One kid even had a small entourage, whispering notes to their charge, while casting curious glances our way.

‘You’re in good company, Charlie,’ Rachel said with a smile. ‘We’ll have you read with a few other actors – who are mostly callbacks from the first round. So, just relax, listen to what is going on around you, and be yourself. Okay?’

That was easy for her to say, I thought.

Charlie froze, as we found some empty seats. ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ he whispered. ‘They’re all . . .’

‘Actors?’ I said. ‘Yeah. And so are you. Only you’re better.’

He shot me a look. ‘I’m just some kid from Riverbridge.’

‘Exactly. You’re a real boy, with the bearing of a Prince. That’s what they’ll see.’

We waited, and waited, and waited, while Charlie read and re-read lines he already knew by heart. The script in his hand was the very same script that we had both pawed over in preparation for the school play, and bore the scars of many a revision.

When they finally called Charlie’s name, he stood on trembling legs, then looked down at the two of us.

‘Go get ‘em, Your Highness,’ I said, while holding out my fist for him to bump.

He smiled, shaky but genuine, bumped fists with both me and his father, then disappeared through the door, which was being held open by Rachel.

The next half hour was agony. It was way worse than when he had auditioned for the school play. We could hear faint voices through the wall – lines I knew by heart. Then laughter. Then silence.

When he finally came out, he looked dazed.

‘Well?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I think it went okay? They laughed in the right places. The director asked me to read the scene again, slower. Then he said something about truth and presence. I have no idea what all that means.’

‘I think it means you nailed it,’ his father said.

He didn’t argue. He just smiled, that quiet, wondering smile I’d come to love.

Rachel walked us to the exit a few minutes later. ‘We’ll be in touch soon,’ she said. ‘You did wonderfully, Charlie. Don’t go overthinking it, okay?’

He thanked her, shaking her hand again.

As we left, she called after us, ‘Oh, and Charlie – the camera loves you. Don’t you forget that.’

We spent the rest of the day wandering the city – Circular Quay, the Opera House steps, ice cream by Circular Quay. We even walked along Oxford Street, which in the daylight wasn’t anywhere near as exciting and colourful as I had expected it to be. Still, it all felt like a dream, the kind of dream that you never want to wake from.

On the train home the next day, Charlie leaned against me, half-asleep, his hair brushing my cheek as he rested against my shoulder.

‘Do you think they’ll pick me?’ he murmured.

I glanced at his father, who had heard him and was smiling at us, then I looked out the window, at the farmland and the bush and the mountains flashing by. ‘I think they already have, mate.’

It was weeks later when the call finally came. Christmas had come and gone, and it was on a rainy Wednesday evening in January, at a time when we had all but given up hope, that the sound of someone bashing on the front door came echoing down the hall.

‘Can you get that please, Brayden?’ I heard mum call from the kitchen. I wasn’t sure where my father was.

As I got to my feet and started for the door, the sound came again. Bang! Bang! Bang!

‘I’m coming,’ I called out, then moments later I yanked the door open to find a dripping wet Charlie standing there, his hair plastered against his forehead, his t-shirt clinging to his shivering body, yet his face was alive. Glowing. His smile radiating.

‘Brayden! They want me. They actually want me!’ he almost squealed, as he jumped forward and jumped up, actually wrapping himself around me, burying his face in against the base of my neck.

He was sobbing. Or laughing. I couldn’t really tell. For a second, I couldn’t speak. Then I started laughing, as I hugged him. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? What did I tell you, huh? What did I fucking tell you?’

The commotion brought curious faces into the hallway from the other end.

‘What’s going on?’ mum asked, looking confused.

As we separated, but still with our arms around each other, while water dripped onto the tiles inside the doorway, Charlie said, ‘I got the part! They said the director loved my reading. Rehearsals start in May. Filming in September. They’re sending contracts. Oh my god! I actually got the part!’

My parents, who loved Charlie almost as much as I did, stepped up and wrapped us both in hugs and kisses.

‘Brayden, what do I even do?’ he gushed.

I was grinning so hard that it hurt. ‘You start packing your crown, that’s what!’

The weeks that followed were a blur of permission slips, meetings, and endless excitement. Miss Carlton cried when she heard. Brad sent a message on Charlie’s social media account full of exclamation marks. Even Ethan – the eternal rival – posted a comment online: Well deserved, Brown. Don’t forget us little people.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

‘Rehearsals and filming will be in and around Sydney,’ Charlie said one night as we sat under the jacaranda tree behind his house. ‘They want me there for three weeks for rehearsals and costume fittings, then eight weeks for filming later in the year. Private tutoring on set. I’ll have to take time off school.’

‘You’ll do great,’ I said, although my stomach was twisting in knots. ‘Eight weeks apart! That’s like . . . forever!’

‘It won’t seem that long, I’m sure.’

‘I would have thought they’d have needed a castle?’ I said.

‘Mostly indoor sets and CGI, apparently. You’ve heard of that, haven’t you?’ he teased.

‘Duh!’

He looked at me, all serious, then. ‘And what about us?’

I didn’t answer right away. The truth was, I didn’t know. I wanted to be happy for him – I was happy for him – but part of me was missing him already.

‘We’ll figure it out,’ I said finally. ‘We always do.’

He reached for my hand. ‘I don’t want to lose this, Bray.’

‘You won’t.’

‘And I don’t want to lose you!’

‘You won’t!’

But even as I said it, I knew that something was changing – the way seasons change, quietly and without asking permission.

The first four months of the year simply flew by, with the realisation dawning as to just what was ahead of us. For the first time in ages, we would be apart for more than just a few days, and we were both nervous about the prospect.

We managed, however. With Charlie and his grandmother initially heading to Sydney, while his father was away on business for part of the rehearsal time, we spoke every night. It took some fast talking, but after some lengthy discussions my parents allowed me to take the train down on the second weekend, where I was met at Central Station by Charlie and Nan. Those few days together were just what we needed and helped us get through those few weeks.

Over our weekend together we didn’t go to the studio where the rehearsals were taking place. This was a touristy weekend for both of us, and so that was exactly what we did, with Nan playing chaperone this time. Ferry rides on the harbour, a visit to Luna Park, another visit to the Opera House, Bondi Beach . . . it was all fun, but doing it with Charlie, that just made it special.

Charlie also told me about the sandstone castle in the Southern Highlands, which was surrounded by pine forests, where they would be filming some of the scenes later in the year, and which the cast had already been taken to visit. He also told me some of the names of the other actors in the cast, which were names I instantly recognised, as they all had extensive achievements behind them. The excitement in his voice was clear, and it was also infectious. I was so happy to see him like this, and excited to hear what was happening. I couldn’t wait to see how it was all going to come together.

‘You should have seen us all at the castle,’ he excitedly said. ‘We rehearsed a few scenes there and it was wild! Like stepping back in time for real. It was totally freaking amazing!’

But all too soon our weekend was over, and they were dropping me off at Central Station for my return trip home. As the whistle blew and the announcement was made for passengers to board, we stood there on the platform staring at each other, while people bustled around us.

‘I . . . I don’t want you to go,’ he said to me, quietly.

‘I don’t want to go,’ I replied. ‘But I also don’t want to get in trouble with the ‘rents!’

‘Yeah, I hear you!’

‘You’ll be home next weekend then?’

‘For sure. I’ll call you as soon as I get there.’

‘No need. I’ll be waiting at the station. So don’t be late!’

‘I’ll try not to be.’

Nervously, I looked around, as the crowd on the platform had started to thin. What I wanted to do was kiss him, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Not out here in the open.

‘It’s okay,’ Charlie said to me quietly. ‘We can save it for later.’

‘What’s that?’ I replied, as I looked back at him.

‘Whatever it is you’re thinking about.’

I grinned at him.

‘I’ll be home Friday.’

‘And I’ll be waiting for you,’ I replied, before giving him a brief bro-hug, then separating. After I picked up my bag, then received a quick hug from his grandmother, I stepped onto the train.

As I walked down the aisle to find my spot I watched them follow along, outside on the platform, stopping beside me when I slipped into the seat that matched the number on my ticket. Charlie was grinning at me and placed his hand up against the window. I placed mine against his hand as well, both of us no doubt wishing the same thing . . . that there wasn’t such thick glass between our fingers.

Just at that moment the train gave its first shudder, as we prepared to leave the station, and our hands soon dropped. Charlie held his hand to the side of his face, with his thumb near his ear and his pinkie near his mouth, making the shape of a telephone.

I couldn’t hear his voice, but I could see his lips move, as he said, ‘Call me!’

I nodded and said, ‘Yes,’ and then the train was moving. He followed along beside me until he could go no further, and my last sight of him was when he almost ran into a post near the end of the platform.

As the train sped through the suburbs and out into the countryside, there was more than just a touch of sadness in my heart. I knew I would be seeing him again soon, but still, any distance between us was a distance that was too far in my mind.

Charlie returned right on time, and I was waiting there for him at the station, before then accompanying him and his grandmother back to their house. I helped him carry his bags up to his room, then we gently closed the door, shutting out the world.

Life quickly settled down, and we fell back into our usual routine of school and spending time at each other’s homes.

Drama class was crazy for the first few weeks, with Miss Carlton insisting on Charlie sharing every moment from the rehearsals, hanging on every word as much for her own need to know exactly went on during the making of a movie, as it was for providing us with some real life education on the subject. The fact that Charlie kept insisting that the time spent in Sydney had only been for rehearsals was lost on deaf ears.

With his newfound standing, at least Charlie wasn’t having to cower at the thought of guys like Martin Collins ragging on him, at least not to his face. There was still plenty of crap that got back to me, of course, but I did my best to shield him from that.

It was the inevitable gay slurs that he feared the most, and which he confided in me were still hurtful. He was still paranoid about anyone finding out about us, but we managed to keep a lid on things, with the help of our friends Brad and Danny, who were both proving themselves to be truly great friends.

Before we knew it, September was approaching fast, and it wouldn’t be long before Charlie and his father would be heading to Sydney to begin filming. For another eight weeks we would be apart. Eight whole weeks. This was going to be hell, I reckoned, and I was complaining constantly to everyone and anyone who would listen, but it didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere.

Charlie was feeling the same way, I knew, but there wasn’t very much we could do about it; I still needed to be in school, while my boyfriend had a job to do. I guess it was something we just needed to get used to.

Others in our lives had other plans, however, and a few days before Charlie and his father were due to leave I was told by my parents to make sure that I had my bag packed for a trip to Sydney.

‘What?’ I asked them, incredulous.

‘You heard us,’ dad said to me. ‘We’re taking you down there, for a few days at least, so you can get to see what Charlie has ahead of him . . . and we’ll let you visit when Charlie has some downtime as well. We know how much the two of you mean to each other, so never let it be said that we are standing in your way, okay?’

‘Oh! My! God! Thank you both so much. Thank you!’ I cried, as I embraced and kissed my parents. ‘You guys are so awesome!’

‘We know,’ mum replied, laughing.

I travelled down to Sydney with Charlie and his father on a Friday, just as I had done the last time, with my parents set to drive down, and due to arrive the following day. Charlie was set to start final rehearsals and costume adjustments on Monday, so we would have a couple of days together before he had to go to work.

We had spoken with Rachel Devine prior to travelling down and had been told that the cast and crew would be gathering together on Monday. When Charlie mentioned that his father, along with me and my parents, would also be in Sydney, we were all invited out to the studios to have a look around and meet the director, producers and some of the cast. We jumped at the chance to do so.

Rachel also mentioned that Charlie would be needed for final costume fittings on the Monday, but we would receive our studio tour while that was taking place, after which they would need to rehearse a few scenes, in costume. I suspected, however, that would be more for our benefit than having anything to do with the actual start of production.

After spending a couple of days enjoying ourselves in Sydney, we arrived at the studio gates at nine am on Monday morning and gave our names at the gates. After first checking a list, the guard let us in, and pointed towards the same building that Charlie and I had been in previously, when we had come down for the auditions. Rachel met us at the door, and a short time later we were being introduced to the producers and the director, Bryan Harrison, whose name I was familiar with, but wasn’t sure exactly why.

For all of us, this was a whole new world, as around us there were cameras, cables, makeup rooms, chairs with people’s names across the back of them and people with headsets moving like they’d all been born sipping on caffeine. Every corner seemed to buzz with purpose.

After our brief introductions and being told how excited the production company was to have Charlie playing the part of the Prince, Charlie was whisked away by the costume people, leaving the rest of us with Rachel.

‘Okay, then,’ she cheerfully said to us, ‘while Prince Elwyn gets fitted out, it looks like it’s time for your guided tour.’

We followed her out the door through which we had entered and for the next hour we viewed the various sound stages and other facilities, including what she referred to as the mega-stage, which was the massive building I had seen the last time I had been here.

‘This is new,’ Rachel said to us as she led us through the door and into a plush foyer, along one wall of which were large windows which showed only darkness on the other side. ‘Charlie’s movie will be the first one we film here, so it’s very exciting for us. It’s the most state-of-the-art soundstage in the country, which allows us to film absolutely anywhere in the world.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ my father asked, sounding more than just a little curious.

Rachel smiled and said, ‘Let me show you,’ before walking over to another door and opening it. ‘Okay, can you light it up please, Mike?’

Even before she had closed the door we could see light starting to build on the other side of the windows, and as it gradually grew we could see that the entire far wall was displaying a rugged mountain scene. As I stepped closer to the window to take it all in, I could see that the scene was more than just on the walls, it was also on the ceiling. All four walls seemed to curve inwards when nearing the top, so it completely, and seamlessly, wrapped around every surface of the room.

Then, as we all stood there with our mouths open, the scene changed, as clouds seemed to roll in, filling the entire room, only to reveal a stunning beach scene once the clouds rolled out again.

‘That is what I meant, Tom,’ Rachel said. ‘All four walls and the ceiling are made up of thousands of seamless LED screens, all linked to a supercomputer, which can display any scenery we can program. Think of it as Google Street View on steroids! Come on, let’s take a closer look.’

She led us through into the next room, where we found Mike sitting at a control panel and smiling at us. We were then taken out through a doorway and into the soundstage itself, as the scenery changed once more. This time it looked like we were in the Swiss alps, and on the set of the Sound of Music as my mother started walking around and then twirling around, as if she was starring in the movie itself.

‘Oh, my! This is amazing! I loved this movie when I was a kid,’ mum said, which only caused us all to laugh.

‘Yes, it really is amazing,’ said Rachel. ‘It really opens up so many possibilities and is going to put us at the forefront of movie production in this country. We already have bookings from all over the world from companies who want to use these facilities, so we are truly excited to be filming The Boy Who Would Be King here. Can you just imagine our being able to build a set for absolutely any location in the world, or out of this world, and film it all here in Australia?’

Just then we all heard her phone ping and after checking her screen Rachel said to us, ‘Okay, they are ready for us back on Stage One. Let’s go and see how Charlie is going.’

We were soon heading back across the car park towards the first building, talking excitedly about what we had seen, and I couldn’t wait to see Charlie again to tell him about it. When we got there, however, we were led into a different room to any that we had seen previously.

It was similar to the room that Mike had been sitting in over in the mega-stage, with a bank of windows facing darkness, while the director and a number of other people were all there waiting for us.

‘Ahhh . . . here they are. Just in time to see the star of the show,’ Bryan Harrison said to us, smiling, then before any of us could say anything he turned back to one of the people sitting at the console facing the windows and gave a nod.

Instantly the lights in the soundstage came on, and we could see a number of people milling around.

‘They can’t see inside this room, so nobody will know there is anyone watching. We’re just going to do a little test, to see how our young stars come up on the screen, while dressed in their costumes. We thought you might like to see a little taste of what is to come,’ Bryan said to us, as we turned our attention to where the spotlight shone in the next room.

Bryan leaned forward and pressed a button on the nearby console, then said, ‘Quiet on set please! And . . . action!’

From the darkness on the far side of the soundstage we could see three figures strolling towards the spotlight, each dressed in period costumes. There was an ageing King, looking strong and regal, dressed in a dark cape over a white frilled shirt. There was a Princess, young and beautiful, in a flowing white gown and wearing a fine tiara. And there was a Prince. My Prince, in a costume of rich, red velvet and gold trim, sword at his hip, his blond hair almost glowing under the lights.

Rachel suggested we watch the monitors, rather than try to see what was going on out on the stage.

The actors stopped in the middle of the stage, with the two younger actors turning to face the older actor playing the King; not Brad this time, but a real screen veteran named Michael Harland, who we all knew from one of the night-time soaps I know my mother enjoyed.

The lights flared. The mic boom swung in.

‘I know my father’s crown is heavy,’ Charlie said. ‘But I will bear it with honour when the time does arise.’

The King smiled down at him and placed a gentle hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

‘And you shall bear it well, my son,’ the King replied. ‘And with a wife and son to support you.’

The King and the Prince both turned to face the Princess.

‘I will do what I must,’ Charlie replied, but looking at the monitor nearest me, which was showing a close-up of his face, we could all see the disappointment etched on the young Prince’s face.

I had to bite back a grin. That’s him, I thought. That’s the same kid who didn’t think he was good enough. The same kid who used to panic about forgetting his lines. And will you look at him now!

‘And THAT is why Charlie is perfect for this part,’ Bryan said to us, before leaning into the mic once more and saying. ‘Cut!’

After the take, we were taken out into the soundstage to see the actors. Charlie spotted me near the monitors and ran straight over, cloak flapping.

‘Did you see that?’ he asked breathlessly, then wrapping me in a quick, excited hug before realising half the crew was watching.

‘Of course I did,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t let the King’s heir go to war without me.’

He laughed, cheeks flushed. ‘It’s insane, Bray. Everyone is so helpful, and they even treat me like I actually know what I’m doing.’

‘But you do.’

‘Barely. But there are acting coaches here to help, and teachers to help with schoolwork,’ He looked around, lowering his voice. ‘Bryan says we’re all set to start filming, just as soon as we finalise the rehearsals. He wants to get ahead of schedule if he can, so if we do, I might be home early, though he says he’ll also want me for interviews and press stuff between the end of filming and when it gets released. It’s all . . . scary, but exciting at the same time.’

I smiled. ‘You’ll charm them. You always do.’

He looked at me for a long moment, and I knew he was thinking what I was; that this was bigger than either of us had imagined.

We had left Sydney not long after leaving the studio, and the trip home seemed to go on forever. Staring out the car window for mile upon mile was just the pits. I much preferred the train, I decided. There was something comforting about the rattle and hum of the tracks.

The night, after dinner, Charlie and I began our new ritual of daily phone calls. As I took the phone into my room he told me that he and his father had just finished dinner also, and he was about to start studying the scripts for tomorrow’s rehearsals.

‘We better make it a short call then. I don’t want to be blamed for you forgetting your lines tomorrow,’ I said to him.

‘As if I’d blame you for anything you did,’ he shot back.

‘Oh, there will probably come a time . . .’ I replied, with a laugh.

‘We’ll see.’

We ended up chatting for about ten minutes, about what else he had done that day, and about my boring trip home, but when I heard him yawn, and knowing that he still needed to read his script, I figured we had best cut this short.

‘Now, you better go study up. Same again tomorrow night, then?’ I said to him.

‘You can count on it. I better go now.’

‘Sweet dreams, my Prince.’

‘And right back at you, my hero! G’night.’

‘Night babe.’

When we disconnected I just sat there for a few moments staring at the phone I was still holding in my hand, interrupted only when my mother came to the door. She must have been standing there for a few moments studying me, before she knocked on the doorframe.

‘Everything okay, Brayden? How was Charlie’s first day on the job?’ she asked, before I looked up and noticed her standing there.

‘What? Oh . . . yeah, all good thanks. He had a big day, and has to learn lines tonight, so we couldn’t talk for long.’

‘I guess there will be a lot of days like that,’ mum added, before sitting down beside me on the edge of my bed.

‘Hmmm . . .’ was all I could respond with.

‘He’ll be home before you know it. And it’s not like you won’t be seeing each other between now and when he finishes.’

‘I know. And I know he needs to do this . . . but I’m allowed to miss him, aren’t I?’

‘Oh, yes, honey. You’re certainly allowed to do that. But just count the days before you know you’ll see him again. They’ll go by in a flash . . . trust me on that,’ she replied, before getting to her feet and leaning over to kiss my cheek.

‘Thank you,’ I replied.

‘You’re welcome. And now, it’d probably be a good idea if you hit the sack as well. You’ve had a big couple of days, and you have school tomorrow!’

‘Thanks for reminding me,’ I answered.

‘You’re welcome, sweetheart,’ she replied, with a laugh.

The days that followed proved to be hectic for Charlie, and each night I could hear the growing tiredness in his voice. His life quickly became rehearsals, costume fittings, endless retakes of scene after scene – all so they could get them just right – and then there were our calls each night. In between all that he was receiving acting lessons, as well as trying to keep up with his schoolwork, which had been set for him before he had left.

I went back to school, trying to pretend everything was normal, but knowing that everything was far from it. I know he was beginning to struggle, as was I, and I knew we needed to talk about it before it became a real problem.

When I raised the matter during our next phone call, he said, ‘Well, I did warn you that it might be like this.’

‘I know,’ I answered. ‘It’s just . . .’

‘Yeah, I know.’

An uncommon silence stretched between us for a few moments as a thought began to form in my mind, but it was one I really didn’t want to express.

‘What are you thinking?’ I soon heard Charlie ask, which snapped my attention back to the here and now. ‘I can almost hear the cogs turning in your head from here.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. Are you okay?’

‘I just miss you, that’s all. But . . . with you being so busy, and so tired every night, maybe I should just let you get some rest.’

‘What? Now?’

‘No, I mean, maybe . . . I dunno . . . I shouldn’t ring you every night. Maybe we should skip a day or two, you know, so you can catch up a bit? I can do that if you like.’

‘Well, maybe that mightn’t be a bad idea . . .’

‘It won’t be for long. And we’ll see each other soon, won’t we? You’ll get a break, or I can go down to see you.’

‘Of course,’

‘And we’ll get to “catch up” then . . .’

‘Catch up? Ohhhhh . . . yeah, I get you,’ he said, laughing. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Then we’ll just keep thinking about that.’

‘Yeah, we will.’

After that conversation we spaced out our calls, but we would still text daily. When we did speak, I could hear the strain in his voice, even if he was trying to remain upbeat. Although there was one time when he was really excited.

‘You’ll never guess what I was doing today!’ he almost squealed.

‘Surprise me,’ I answered, while laughing.

‘I was having riding lessons!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘On a horse! There’s this scene where I’m out riding with the King, and apparently it has to look real, although for some of it there’s going to be a double. I only have to look good when the camera is close.’

‘But don’t they know that you look good all the time?’

‘Oh, that’s smooth, that is!’ he answered, while chuckling to me.

‘Well, it’s true. But maybe I’m just biased?’ I replied.

‘I can forgive you that flaw.’

‘You are too kind, my Prince!’

‘I know. My father taught me to be kind to the peasants . . .’

‘So, how is young Barnabus going? Still shining your boots?’

‘Of course. He adores me, don’t you know?’

‘Just so long as he doesn’t adore you too much . . .’

‘Is that a hint of jealousy, I hear?’

‘You better believe it. I’ve heard all about those arty-farty actor types.’

‘Yeah, there seems to be a lot of them around. Anyhow, I think I need to go and get some beauty sleep. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Absolutely not,’ I replied. I’ll talk to the ‘rents and see when they’ll let me go down . . . unless you have a better idea?’

‘I’ll see what our schedule is like over the next couple of weeks. We’ll be halfway through shooting by then.’

‘That sounds great. Thanks.’

We said goodnight and disconnected after that, then a little later I was climbing into bed and wondering whether he was doing the same.

A couple of nights later, after dinner, I was doing my homework when my phone buzzed beside me.

CHARLIE: < Sorry. Long day. Fell asleep in the makeup chair. You’d laugh. Miss you so much. >

I stared at the screen, smiling despite the ache in my chest.

ME: < You’re forgiven, Your Highness. Don’t let them turn you into a diva. >

He sent back a photo, of him in full costume, grinning, with the crown slightly crooked.

CHARLIE: < Too late. So . . . got time to talk? >

ME: < Always! >

Seconds later the phone was ringing in my hand.

‘Hey,’ I said when I answered it. ‘You got your homework done? I’m just finishing mine.’

‘Yep, all in the old memory banks. But that’s not why I wanted to talk . . . I have the weekend off! I’ll be home Friday night!’

It was my turn to squeal then. ‘Seriously? The whole weekend?’

‘Yep. Travel up Friday. Weekend at home. Then travel back Monday. You wanna, maybe, hang out or something?’ he asked, his voice sounding quite coy.

‘Or something, sounds pretty good!’

‘Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Will you meet me at the train?’

‘With bells on!’

‘You better!’

He sounded good tonight, as if he had a renewed spring in his step, and it was great to hear him like this. I worried every day about what he might be like the next time I spoke to him; whether he would be on an upper or a downer. Today, with his news of a short break, he was definitely on an upper.

We chatted for about fifteen minutes; with him asking about what was happening at school. And if there was any news of interest from home.

‘And what about Miss Carlton?’

‘Oh, you’re going to have your work cut out when you get home . . . she wants to know everything!’

To be continued . . .