Free Superstar by T C Southwell Page B

out a
letter from a film studio, which she read with incredulous delight.
They were pleased, they wrote, to inform her that her screenplay
had been accepted, and a contract was enclosed, which she must sign
and send back. The contract was full of fine print, but she did not
bother to read it.
    Heart
pounding, she turned to the final page and read the sum offered.
Her eyes scanned it several times before the enormity of the figure
registered. She gasped, and the room spun. They were offering a
million dollars. Carrin stared at it. A million dollars! When it
was converted to the local currency, she would be a
multi-millionairess. Would she accept it? Would she ever! She
hugged the contract and jumped for joy. Her hard life was over. She
could buy a house. The interest would be enough to live on
comfortably. It was a dream come true, and even if it did not
include Mark Lord, it was still unbelievably wonderful.
    Clutching the
contract, she ran to the farmhouse to tell her mother. Mrs York was
disbelieving at first, but the contract convinced her. She summoned
Paul, who joined in the celebration. They opened a bottle of cheap
wine and sat around the kitchen table. Julia looked miffed, but
already cast coy smiles at Carrin.
    Carrin did not
bother to read the fine print. She found a pen and signed it, then
tucked it into an envelope and wrote the address that they had
given her on it. That afternoon she posted it, her heart singing
with joy. For the next week, she could hardly stop smiling.
Everyone told her what she should spend the money on. Paul wanted a
tractor, Mrs York wanted to pay the bond, and Julia waved fashion
magazines under Carrin's nose.
    When the
cheque arrived, boldly printed with the unbelievable sum of a
million dollars, the celebrations started afresh. The members of
her family took turns to hold it, to convince themselves that it
was real. Paul asserted that it must be deposited in the bank
before she lost it, and offered to take her to town. She opened an
account, and the manager gaped at the cheque. The staff plied her
with coffee and cakes, and the effusive manager presented her with
a chequebook. Paul took her straight to a farm machinery shop and
pointed out his dream tractor. Carrin bought it. She settled the
bond and drove the truck home so that Paul could bring his precious
tractor. That night, her mother cooked a feast, and Carrin fell
into bed happy and tired.
    Over the next
week, she went house hunting, and found a smallholding not far from
her mother's farm. Carrin paid cash, unable to believe her luck.
She filled it with new furniture, and Julia, now her best friend,
took her shopping for new clothes, padding her own wardrobe at the
same time. Carrin moved into her new house, installing her horses
in the stables and her dog on the rug before the fireplace.
    Once the
initial excitement was over, Carrin had time to reflect. Her bank
balance was more than healthy. Two labourers ran the smallholding
and tended the horses. What more could she want? Mark Lord's fine
features intruded, and she thrust them aside. No. She was content.
Why spoil it with impossible dreams? Two months had passed since
she had received the cheque, and she was happy. Was she? Of course
she was. She bought a smart new car and enjoyed driving it. She
went out for lunch at restaurants and even took a short holiday at
the coast. Alone. Perhaps she should go overseas? A trip to
Disneyland. Carrin sat in a cane chair on her veranda and
contemplated the fading calluses on her hands. Perhaps she should
write another screenplay?
    A week later,
the second bombshell fell. A letter from the film studio advised
her that her film would be going into production the following
month, and she was needed on the set to make changes to the script.
It gave an address in Hollywood. Carrin almost panicked. That meant
returning to America. It meant seeing him again... Just when she
had settled into her new house, content with her new life. Content?
Well,