Silver Wattle (37 page)

When dawn broke, the joey crawled headfirst into Angel’s pouch. Angel gave me a look before climbing up the silver gum tree and disappearing into a hollow.

‘Welcome home,’ I said.

With Ranjana back in Sydney, I had someone I trusted to do the editing of
In the Dark
. But while the filming of the picture had been a cooperative effort, the editing did not go smoothly.

‘Cut that,’ Freddy told Ranjana, after she had played a scene of a car moving along a country road. It was a beautifully composed sequence with the interplay of light and shade.

‘No,’ said Hugh. ‘You have to leave that. It builds up atmosphere.’

‘It builds up nothing,’ said Freddy. ‘Cut it.’

‘It is visually stunning,’ I said in Hugh’s defence.

‘It’s boring,’ said Freddy. ‘It slows the story down.’

We all liked working with each other but never held back our opinions. Hugh and I were digging in our heels. Ranjana adjusted her tartan sari and rolled her eyes.

‘Look!’ she said. ‘I will play the previous scene then I want you to cover your eyes, and open them again when I tell you. That way you’ll see what the picture looks like without the car.’ We did as she suggested and saw that Freddy was right. Hugh and I were thinking artistically, but the way Freddy wanted the picture edited made it jump from the screen. I realised I had to see the difference between what had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time and what worked.

I nodded to Freddy and he smiled at me. It amused me to think that I had once found him annoying. He was dressing more elegantly these days, and, after Klara had told him that I thought his garden was sterile, he had employed a new gardener, Rex, to make it leafier.

The day we finished the last intertitle, I arrived home in the afternoon to find Uncle Ota sitting in the parlour by himself. The sight of his wet cheeks stopped me in my tracks. I had never seen my uncle cry before.

‘What is it?’ I asked, my stomach clenching with fear that something had happened to Klara, Esther or Thomas. Ranjana, I knew, was safe. I had just left her at the cinema.

Then my eye fell to the letter in Uncle Ota’s hand. I recognised Doctor Holub’s handwriting.

‘Aunt Josephine?’ I asked. ‘Has something happened to Aunt Josephine?’

Uncle Ota tried to say something but he could not. I took the letter from him and my gaze settled on the words:

It all happened within a matter of days. I assure you that your dear sister did not suffer long. We buried her with a picture of you and one of your nieces with their mother and father. Frip is an old fellow now but he is well taken care of by my wife. Although he misses his mistress, he has my four daughters to dote on him so he does quite well in his new home…

My eyes blurred. I could read no more.

Uncle Ota looked at me. ‘Influenza. There is a bout of it sweeping Europe again.’

I threw my arms around Uncle Ota and wept. Memories of Aunt Josephine and Frip visiting us in Prague flooded back to me. Milosh had not murdered Aunt Josephine, as I had once feared he might, but he had robbed us of time with her. I remembered her letter from Marianske Lazne. She had sounded unwell then. Undoubtedly dealing with Milosh had weakened her health and left her susceptible.

‘I thought I would see her again,’ Uncle Ota told me, taking my hands in his trembling ones. ‘She wasn’t old. There was still time. I thought when Klara was twenty-one I would pay her a visit.’

A cloud fell over our household after the news of Aunt Josephine’s death. Klara and Uncle Ota retreated into quiet moods, but somehow I could not. Aunt Josephine had encouraged me to be an independent woman, and I was sure the best way to honour her was to continue to work on my career. I imagined if she had known that I was soon to be one of only a handful of female directors, she would have been proud. I could not stop now, no matter how sad and lifeless I felt.

Aunt Josephine had left her house to Uncle Ota to be managed for him by Doctor Holub. She had also left Klara and me five thousand pounds each, kept in safekeeping with Doctor Holub until we returned to Prague. Five thousand pounds was the budget for
In the Dark
. It seemed almost symbolic.

In the Dark
was bought by Union Theatres for distribution. Freddy gave me the news when he turned up one evening in his new Bugatti sports car. He had invited me to the Wentworth Hotel ‘to celebrate something special’, although I suspected he was trying to cheer me up.

‘That’s wonderful news, Freddy,’ I said, when he opened the car door for me.

‘Wonderful news?’ Freddy mimicked, with a smirk. ‘You are hard to please. Here,’ he said, reaching into his pocket. ‘Look at what Stuart Doyle had to say about you.’

He took out a sheet of paper and unfolded it. It was an article from
Everyone’s
reporting an address Mr Doyle had made to prove Australasian Films’ support for local pictures:

Miss Rose’s film is exactly what distributors and exhibitors want. The kind of film that is capable of finding favour in all parts of the world. She has created a story that shows Australia in its glory without lapsing into cliches about bush life. We have sold the film to Britain and there are other countries interested in it as well, including the United States…

‘The film has already been sold to Britain?’ I asked.

Freddy shut the car door and climbed into the driver’s seat. ‘Sure has. They’re expecting it to make good returns too.’

I read the article again. Established directors would have been thrilled at the news, but my mind drifted to Philip. I felt oddly disappointed, as if my life were a surrogate dream and what I most wanted was out of reach and always would be. I often hoped that Robert might say something about Philip and Beatrice’s life in London, but he was silent on the subject. Klara wanted to ask him but I begged her not to. I knew it would be intruding on her blossoming relationship.

At the Wentworth Hotel ballroom the maitre d’ led us to a table next to the dance floor. I had not been to a fine restaurant in years and my eyes drank in the beaded gowns and diamonds that sparkled on the women around us. A waiter appeared at our table to take our order. I chose the vegetable stew, the only non-meat dish on the main menu apart from the bread. I was surprised that Freddy ordered it too when he could have chosen the roast lamb or beef Wellington.

When the waiter left, Freddy turned to me. ‘Dolly Blackwood will be the next big star.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I want to use her for my next film.’

‘You won’t,’ he said, taking a sip of champagne. ‘As soon as the Hollywood studios see her they’ll snap her up.’

‘But we discovered her,’ I said.

‘Indeed,’ said Freddy, with a smile. ‘
We
did.’

Something about the way Freddy had emphasised ‘we’ embarrassed both of us. We fell into an awkward silence. We had never been self-conscious around each other before. There was something odd about him that night, apart from him ordering the vegetable stew. There was a nervous look in his eyes and he kept fidgeting with his collar.

Freddy never seemed to be concerned by anything. To protect his job with Galaxy Pictures he had given the production credits on
In the Dark
to Robert, who acted as his frontman for business transactions relating to the picture.

‘Aren’t you afraid of losing your job if you are found out?’ I had asked Freddy. It was apparent from his lavish lifestyle that he was paid a lot of money.

‘I only worry about things when they happen,’ he said.

So what was on his mind now? Was there a problem with the picture he was not telling me about?

The waiter brought our food and the band started up. The music was loud and I was grateful for it as an excuse not to speak to Freddy until the dessert arrived.

‘Pêche Melba,’ he said, looking at the plate in front of him. ‘That brings back memories. That’s the dessert we ate at Beatrice’s luncheon the first time I met you.’

‘So it is,’ I said.

‘I asked you what kind of pictures you wanted to make and when you told me you liked Fritz Lang I said that you’d never make any money.’ Freddy dabbed his lips with his napkin and laughed. ‘You must have thought I was rude.’

‘You still are,’ I ribbed him. ‘I have just become used to it.’

After dessert, Freddy asked if I would like to dance. The band was playing a quickstep. Freddy was light on his toes. We danced well together, despite our difference in size.

The music stopped and I expected Freddy to lead me back to the table. But he stood there, holding me in his arms. Then, with a suddenness that startled me, he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘Adela, will you marry me?’

I stared at him, not able to believe I had heard those words from Freddy. Was he drunk? No, I had only seen him sip one glass of champagne and one of brandy.

‘I’ve known for a long time that you’re the woman for me,’ he said.

My mind struggled to take in what was happening. I was fond of Freddy but I had never thought of him romantically.

He pulled me closer to him. ‘Look at your face,’ he said, and smiled. ‘I couldn’t have shocked you more, could I? Have you never thought of marrying me?’

I thought back over the past months. It became clear that Freddy’s change in dress style, the disappearance of the dead animals from his house, and his remodelled garden had all been leading up to his proposal to me. But I had not seen it.

The band played a waltz and couples returned to the floor. Freddy was looking at me waiting for an answer. I was too unravelled to give one. A frown came to his face.

‘How insensitive of me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I should have waited longer for you to grieve for your aunt.’

He is the eternal optimist, I thought. I had never given him any reason to think that I was in love with him, but he was confident that to receive he simply had to ask.

‘It’s not that,’ I told him. ‘I don’t see myself getting over my aunt’s death but we still have to live.’

I wanted to tell him the truth. Hadn’t he said himself that mincing words showed a lack of respect? I was about to explain that I could not forget my past, that I was still in love with Philip and always would be, when he threw back his head and laughed.

‘Oh, I understand,’ he said, pulling me towards him again. ‘I’m used to American gals. I’d forgotten how traditional you European ladies are. I should have asked your uncle first, is that it? Well, my darling, I’ll do that tomorrow and then you can say “yes”. All right?’

The evening had taken a strange turn, but at least I had been given a reprieve.

Freddy took me home after midnight when the household, including Klara, was already asleep. I washed my face and hands, brushed my hair and cleaned my teeth, but when I climbed into bed I was still wide awake. I realised that I would not be able to wait until the morning to tell somebody what had happened. I shook Klara’s shoulder.

‘Freddy?’ she said, sitting up and turning on the light when I told her what had passed. ‘Freddy asked you to marry him?’

‘Shh!’ I said. ‘I’m not ready for the whole household to know.’

Klara beamed from ear to ear. ‘I like Freddy. He would—’ She must have noticed the uncertainty on my face because she stopped herself. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

I could not find the words to answer her. In the end I did not have to.

‘Adelka, because you can’t be with Philip does not mean you can’t be happy,’ she said. ‘He loved you so much, but he was already involved with Beatrice when he met you. He would be heartbroken if because of him you never married or experienced the joy of having children of your own.’

I climbed out of bed and looked out the window. Robert would propose to Klara as soon as she finished her studies, I was sure of it. I would be alone, like Esther and Hugh, longing for a past that could never be lived again. What Uncle Ota had said about Emilie came back to me: ‘I’m not going to give you any platitudes about time healing all wounds…I will never forget the woman I gave my youthful heart to and lost tragically, but I am deeply happy with Ranjana. Sometimes your true companion turns up in a surprising place.’

Was Freddy my true companion turning up in a surprising place? I had enjoyed arriving on the set of
In the Dark
every morning and seeing him there because I benefited from the challenges he was always throwing me. If I had become a good director, it was due to him. Freddy was intelligent and full of life. I thought of his house in Cremorne and the changes he had made to it—and himself—to please me. I was looking at a life that I had not envisaged until this moment. But to enter it, to even consider it, I would have to forget Philip.

‘Freddy is going to ask Uncle Ota’s permission tomorrow,’ I told Klara.

‘Uncle Ota will say “yes” if that is what you want. He likes Freddy. He has always said so.’

I rested my head against the cool window glass. Freddy had held me in his arms when he proposed to me. I had felt safe in his embrace. It was like being wrapped in a warm coat on a windy day.

‘Freddy makes you laugh,’ Klara said. ‘He will make you happy. I am sure of it. Are you going to say yes?’

I trembled with the trepidation of someone turning away from one path and committing themselves solely to another. Aunt Josephine had been against marriage because she saw it as the end of a woman’s independence. But things would be different with Freddy. He supported my career. I could have the best of both worlds.

‘Yes,’ I told her. ‘Yes, I am.’

I clenched my fists, knowing that my life was about to change as surely as my name. Freddy was a wonderful person, and the more I knew of him the more I liked him. Philip’s face flashed into my mind but I turned my thoughts away from past memories. I would think only of Freddy from now on.

‘Mrs Adela Rockcliffe,’ I whispered.

‘Mrs Frederick Rockcliffe,’ Klara corrected me.

‘Mrs Frederick Rockcliffe,’ I repeated.

I had made my decision.

F
reddy and I married in October that year, on a day so windy that when we stood on the steps of St Peter’s Church in Watsons Bay, waiting for Uncle Ota to take our photograph, the skirt of my gold lace dress billowed about my legs like a seabird about to take flight. Klara, in a dress of china blue, and Ranjana, in a matching sari pinned in place with coronets of imitation pearls, flanked me on either side to hold my dress down by clutching the skirt between their fingers. Thomas stood in front of me with an orchid from my bouquet in his buttonhole. I smiled when Uncle Ota showed me the picture. The five of us looked as if we were standing at the helm of a ship, our faces to the wind and our fortune waiting on a distant horizon.