Chapter 2
Lydia’s community spirit, which tended to lag when it came to fundraising and volunteering, peaked around social events.
Indeed, she rather felt that the collective success of the entire summer depended on the first Friday drinks: how long she stayed and how much fun she had.
So she went early, decked out in a plunging bikini top and a sarong and carrying one of Jane’s bottles of bubbly, secure in the knowledge that she did this every year, movie stars or no.
Jane followed a little later with a cheese platter.
It had been years since Lily and the rest of the cousins had been young enough to really enjoy being anywhere near the adults when they got boozy.
While little ones spent Friday-evening drinks capering on the green in view of their parents, teens tended to slink off for their own gatherings on deserted decks or among the rocks at the north end of the beach.
But not this Friday. There was no way Rosie and her cousin Kat, age fifteen and thirteen, would miss this opportunity to meet Casey Brandon.
They spent the afternoon showering, blow-drying, and curling, while Lily and Juliet didn’t even get changed and insisted to themselves and each other that they were only going out of curiosity.
The other cousin, Jane’s fifteen-year-old son, Martin, forgot the drinks event was even on.
His passions were video games and spreading awareness of the climate crisis, and as Casey Brandon was neither of those things, he went off with a local friend to find out whether the vines along the main hiking trail were strong enough to climb.
Word of the newcomers had spread well beyond the family circle.
Pippi Beach was such a hidden pocket that overseas visitors were rare.
It was a small beach settlement surrounded by dense bushland, only accessible by boat or a two-hour hike, with no shops, bars, restaurants, cars, or roads.
Its pristine beauty attracted only those with the energy to seek it out.
Locals and the wealthy businesspeople who spent their weeks in the city and their weekends in the top-tier waterfront properties liked to keep it that way, smug in the knowledge that they really did know Sydney’s best-kept secret and only happy for publicity of the most exclusive kind, such as appearing on fashionable lists of Sydney’s best-kept secrets.
A small amount of social media was considered appropriate, preferably with ocean views and sunsets, good grooming, smiles, and expensive props, like boats.
So a clutch of rich celebrities was most definitely on-brand for those at Pippi Beach who cared about branding, and was unlikely to disturb the peace and privacy of those who didn’t.
These were the long-term original residents, the nature-lovers, the boaties, and the retirees who lived in beach shacks or old cottages on the blocks back from the beach with no water views.
Yet everyone, even Max, the local hoarder and plumber, seemed to have put a bit more effort into their beachwear and were more aggressively jovial than usual.
Lily noticed that all eyes flicked regularly, apparently randomly, to the line of houses rising across the south headland, even though before yesterday, most of the over-forties, who made up most of Pippi’s population, hadn’t even known who Casey Brandon was.
In just one day, all had become very familiar with his entire filmography and were able to conduct knowledgeable conversations about his upcoming releases.
The adults were on their second drink by the time Rosie spotted movement on the path from the cliff house.
“They’re coming!” she shrieked. The adults paid no attention to her but nevertheless proceeded to stand up straighter and laugh more loudly.
The younger teens watched the approach from a safe distance, while the older ones steeled themselves for potential embarrassment by pretending not to care.
They need not have worried. When the four newcomers—two young women and two young men—reached the group, any awkwardness was soon nullified by Casey Brandon’s winning smile and genuine charm.
He already appeared to know everyone. While his three well-groomed friends kept their distance, Casey fielded handshakes and backslaps and follow-up questions from previous chats.
It appeared that Jane was not the only local he’d befriended, nor the only one who had invited him to the drinks.
Lily watched with amusement as a handful of people jostled to introduce him to everyone else, only to find he knew them already.
Lily could see that, unlike his three friends, Casey Brandon had a knack for making everyone feel comfortable.
He chatted with people as though there was nothing he would rather be doing right now.
Lydia poured him a champagne and tried to fill her own glass at the same time, which caused her to spill half of it down her front.
She shrieked with laughter and made a joke about a wet T-shirt competition.
Casey’s lofty friends visibly recoiled, but any embarrassment Lily felt was soon swept away by admiration for how quickly and easily Casey got his glass and moved on, somehow leaving Lydia with the impression that he found her delightful.
Meanwhile, Fire-Chief-Steve thrust a beer at the other young man (“Here, have a real drink! It’s local!
”), who accepted it in a way that made it clear he would much rather not.
In that moment, all the teenagers watching knew this wasn’t just any young man. This was Dorian Khan.
Tall, dark hair, brown eyes, amazing posture, cheekbones and jawline that could cut glass, and a distant air of preoccupation with something important and devastating, like the environment.
Lily marveled that he had remained at Pippi unrecognized for so long and mused that perhaps the weight of fame had kept him indoors.
Casey Brandon was a relatively recent star; Dorian Khan had been in the public eye for over ten years.
He first appeared at the age of fourteen in the lead role of a teen-spy franchise.
Since then, he’d been in blockbusters, well-reviewed independent films, and further installments of the original franchise.
He had an actual Oscar nomination and was currently appearing in moody black-and-white photos on magazines and bus stops advertising watches that no one his age could afford to buy. Lily noted he was wearing one now.
Rosie and Kat were beside themselves at the appearance of Dorian Khan.
Lily and Juliet had to physically hold them to stop them from squealing and jumping up and down.
Rosie wriggled away from her sister and squeezed in through the crowd on the pretext of retrieving a handful of chips.
She came back bursting to report what she had overheard Casey say: nobody was anybody’s girlfriend or boyfriend!
Lily winced. Who would even ask that? But it was just Sheila, who was over sixty and beyond flirting, unlike Lydia, who had cleaved herself to Casey’s side and was laughing way too loudly.
Soon everyone knew that the exquisite tall girl with dark complexion was Casey’s sister Cecilia, the delicate one who didn’t speak was her friend Yumi, and Dorian was, of course, Dorian Khan. Mega movie star.
Kat wanted Rosie to go with her on another mission to get chips, but Lily talked them out of it by pointing out that if they went anywhere near Lydia, she would claim them as her young relations and neither of the girls wanted to make a first impression being labeled as mere children.
Casey was surrounded by adults. Max was giving him advice on the best wind for sailing; Sue the artist was offering him her kayaks; and Fire-Chief-Steve was trying to tell him the history of the cliff house, Pippi Beach, and the greater Sydney area.
The two girls who had arrived with him hovered nearby.
Lily, Juliet, and local friend Nicola wanted to make a social approach.
They were clearly quite close to the American girls in age, but somehow any attempts to make eye contact, or even get close enough to say hi, slid off and ended in distant smiles or turned shoulders.
The American girls entertained some light chitchat when Casey drew them into broader conversations, but mostly they just took photos of each other and themselves and the sunset in a way that was appreciative of Pippi’s glory.
This was enough for word to spread among the adult locals that the girls were, indeed, very sweet.
“Nice to see some smiles. You girls could learn a thing or two from them,” Birdie-Round-the-Back told Lily and her friends.
Meanwhile, Dorian remained firmly on the outside of the group and refused to allow Casey or anyone else to draw him into it.
Word spread just as quickly that he was arrogant, pretentious, and not at all nice.
“Reminds me of your mum’s ex,” sniffed Birdie-Round-the-Back.
Lily watched Dorian shut down an attempted approach by the president of the Pippi Beach Association.
Yes, he might have been extremely old, but he had a sense of humor and a PhD in environmental law and it hardly seemed fair to give him the flick when poor Casey was stuck with Bob-with-Two-Dogs, one of the biggest bores at Pippi.
Dorian hovered near the sand and looked at his phone, ignoring the crowd, the sunset, and the glowing water so comprehensively that many locals gave up on him and concentrated all their attention on Casey and the girls.
But Lily kept an eye on him and concluded that a career playing sensitive, intelligent, and artistic young men in sensitive, intelligent, and artistic films didn’t necessarily cultivate those qualities in a person.
And in fact, might incline one more toward the exact opposite.
She noticed Casey tactfully escape Bob-with-Two-Dogs, having just heard all about the distinguishing features of yachts, and seek out his friend.
“What are you doing, man? Lurking on your phone? You look like you’re on the subway.”
“I’m checking the weather.” He spoke with a clipped British accent, so perfect it almost seemed like a cover-up.
“The weather’s here,” urged Casey as he spread his arms to the sky. He noted his friend’s reticence and changed his tone. “It’s cool. No one’s asking for selfies.”
“No need to ask when they’re on offer.”
“Don’t make me babysit you.”
“Go ahead and socialize. I’m not stopping you.”
“You’re ruining the vibe.”
“Casey, these people are just kissing up to you. You know that bores me.”
Casey tilted his head toward Lily, who stood nearby on the edge of a conversation with Juliet and Nicola. “What about her? She’s not kissing up. She looks kinda fun.”
“She looks suburban.”
Lily’s eyes flicked to Dorian’s at this casual dismissal. She had heard every word, and as a look of recognition passed between them, he knew it and she knew he knew.
“Aw, she heard you, man!” complained Casey.
“I’m going back to the house.” Dorian shoved his barely touched beer at Casey, turned, and strode off.
“Hey, wait for us,” cooed Casey’s sister, Cecilia.
Cecilia and her friend Yumi swayed after him, but Casey didn’t follow.
Instead, he turned to the three Pippi girls with a winning smile.
“I’m so sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Casey.
” And he shook hands with all of them, repeated their names, and asked questions with such unaffected charm that quite soon they were laughing along with him as though they’d known him all their lives.
Later at dinner, Lily told everyone of her encounter with Dorian, which she thought was hilarious. Lydia, on the other hand, found it outrageous.
“Suburban!” she exploded. “We’re not suburban, we’re semirural! Anyway, who cares about Dorian bloody Khan.”
“What?” Rosie frowned.
“You know he’s originally from Geelong, right? Now, that’s suburban.”
“Mum, he’s an Oscar nominee,” said Rosie.
“So? Let me know when he wins.”