The Silent Country (27 page)

‘I’ll wait until I have something to go on,’ said Veronica. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’

Veronica again sat at the computer in the library till her eyes ached and she thought that she couldn’t look at another page of print. She felt as though she’d sat through hours of news footage as images and headlines of 1955 Darwin rolled past. There was so much to get through, especially as she wasn’t sure what she was looking for, so she had refined her search to just the entertainment pages when suddenly a classified advertisement jumped out at her – ‘European Actress to Star in Famous Plays’. The words ‘European’ and ‘Plays’ were unusual compared with the rest of the stories she’d been reading. Holding her breath she enlarged the ad.

Famous Swedish actress Marta Johanssen will star in a one-woman show performing scenes from playwright Henrik Ibsen’s
A Doll’s House
and
Ghosts
, as well as scenes from Shakespeare and other classics. The Outdoor Theatre, Darwin . . .

‘Hallelujah,’ breathed Veronica, skimming through the ad looking for any photographs. She went through the papers for the following week to find, at last, a grainy photograph and small write-up.

Success for One-Woman Show

Miss Marta Johanssen has extended her series of dramatic performances at The Outdoor Theatre
for another two weeks, due to popular demand. The attractive Swedish actress is starring in a film documentary to promote the Northern Territory prior to next year’s Olympic Games in Melbourne. Following on the success earlier this year of
Jedda
, Australia’s first colour feature film set in Outback Australia and starring Aboriginal actors, the exposure of the north at the cinema could soon make it a popular destination for foreign travellers. Miss Johanssen has taken time off from this venture to entertain audiences in Darwin with her superb acting.

Veronica studied the face of the actress with her curly hair, broad jaw and large smile. She looked fun, Veronica thought, with a strong face that seemed to reveal a bubbly personality. And now she had her last name. Veronica continued to scan the papers but there were no further write-ups of Marta’s show.

Leaving Parliament House she rang Andy as she started to walk back into town.

‘Pay dirt. It’s Marta Johanssen. She did a one-woman show which was extended as it was apparently quite popular.’

‘A one-woman show, eh? Curious. I wonder why. And nothing else about any of them? Any pictures?’

‘Just a portrait of Marta. She looks cute.’

‘What’s your next move?’

‘I’m heading back to the archives as I have a message from Collette to say that she’s found something.’

‘Okay. Keep me posted. And say hi to Jim for me.’

‘I will. He and his wife have invited me to dinner tomorrow night.’

Collette greeted her warmly. ‘Your story has me quite intrigued, I have to confess. I’ve been doing some searching. How did you get on at the library?’

‘Two references to Marta putting on a one-woman show.’ She handed Collette the photocopies.

‘Hmm. We might have something on this, as well. People tend to collect programs and playbills. Anyway, come and see what I’ve dug up.’

‘This is very kind of you,’ said Veronica.

Collette directed her to a table in the reading room and handed her a pair of white cotton gloves.

‘It’s a policy. While this isn’t an old document, it’s a bit fragile because it’s been kept in poor conditions, but I thought you might find it interesting.’

She laid a journal in front of Veronica and opened it at a bookmarked page. ‘It’s the diary, well, journal, kept by a Mrs Annabel Johns who lived for a number of years on a station called Brolga Springs.’

‘They stopped there! Colin said that’s where they saw the corroboree. What does she say? Does she mention the group?’

‘She does.’

Veronica was excited. This was corroborative evidence of Colin’s story.

Annabel Johns had neat handwriting and she’d kept a journal of daily events at Brolga Springs. Some entries weren’t relevant, dealing with food supplies, rations, stock details, work she’d given to certain staff, what mail had arrived but the arrival of Topov’s group had given her some entertainment and she’d written about it in detail.

Len Buchanan met some weary travellers on the Stuart and suggested that they come in and camp for a couple of nights. I was introduced to a very unusual group led by a rather loud and overbearing Russian gentleman, a Mr Topov. They are
making a film about the outback and I don’t think they have yet had much luck, so I had Len and Samson round up some of the blacks from the camp to do a corroboree for them. I think it made quite an impression on them as most of the visitors were foreigners. One of them, an actress, a pretty young woman, took a great fancy to little Doris, as did the Yugoslav man who took many photographs of her. Doris was very impressed with an old yellow caravan they were towing. They said that they’re heading to Arnhem Land but I don’t know how successful they’ll be as they seem rather inexperienced in dealing with our conditions. I also had the feeling not all of them were in agreement with Mr Topov, though there was a quite capable woman in the party, a well-bred Englishwoman who seemed rather out of place. However, I do hope they manage to put together some sort of film. I can’t help but wonder how much longer before the Aborigines die out and there will be little record of their ceremonies and their culture.

‘She was prescient in a way, don’t you think?’ said Collette. ‘By the 1960s there was a lot of change. And it’s changing again, now, though not the way Mrs Johns imagined. Mr Topov sounds a difficult man, doesn’t he? Now, let me see if we have any reference to Marta’s stage show.’

While Collette went to her desk, Veronica used another computer and, on the off chance Marta had made a name for herself, googled Marta Johanssen. To her surprise, there were several results for Marta. One came from Sydney’s
Daily Telegraph
and showed a photo of the expedition group taken at the sandhills at Kurnell prior to their departure. There was the Dodge, the Jeep, the Land Rover, the caravan and the group posed around them, just as Colin had described it. Veronica peered at the faces trying to see if they looked the way she’d imagined them. Marta, curvy in shorts, hand on hips looked
flirtatious. Johnny, perched on top of the Land Rover, was too far away to make out any resemblance to the older John Cardwell she’d met. She almost laughed out loud at the sight of Topov. He was just as she’d imagined. Colin was still recognisable even with a shock of dark hair.

The second hit was the announcement of the stage show in the Darwin newspaper, which she had already found, but then, a couple of years later, there was a picture of Marta ‘heading for Hollywood’ and an article from the Sydney
Sun
newspaper.

The Australian-based actress Marta Johanssen, well known for her stage appearances at the Elizabethan Theatre and for her appearances in TV commercials, has landed a small part in a Hollywood film. The film in which she will play a war time European spy for the British Secret Service, will be shot in Los Angeles and Italy. Miss Johanssen, who now has a Los Angeles agent, hopes to continue to work in Hollywood films. Miss Johanssen added, that she would always consider Australia to be her second home.

‘Well, well,’ said Veronica. ‘Did Marta make the big time after all, I wonder? I’ve never heard of her, but she could have changed her name. And did she do it with Topov? And what happened to her friendship with Colin?’

‘The more you find out, the more questions you have,’ said Collette, who’d returned and was peering over Veronica’s shoulder. ‘Here, I found this.’ She opened a folder and delicately handed Veronica a leaflet.

It was a flyer for Marta’s show. Apart from listing times and ticket prices it didn’t say much more than the newspaper ad.

‘Oh, look here,’ said Veronica. In small letters was printed, ‘Produced by Colin Peterson’. ‘Well, they were still together, here in Darwin. Where were the others I wonder?’

The back of the flyer listed Marta’s show business credentials from Europe. ‘It looks quite impressive. I suppose Darwin would have been pleased to have someone of her calibre here.’

‘Actually a lot of entertainers and troupes travelled round Australia in those days,’ said Collette. ‘So you have some more clues. What do you do next?’

‘Eventually, I’d like to try to find Marta and I hope that she’ll talk to me, but for now I’d like to go to Brolga Springs. May I use your computer a moment longer, please?’

Quickly Veronica googled Brolga Springs NT to discover the word brolga was a popular trademark in tourism. But as she scrolled down, she found that there, in accommodation/adventure tours, was Brolga Springs Station. ‘Wow, it’s a commercial enterprise now.’

‘Check the newspaper reviews and articles linked to it,’ said Collette.

They both read the write-ups and looked at the photographs of the station, which now comprised of a large homestead, donga accommodation and safari-style tents. There was also a dining and entertainment area and a variety of tours and activities. A smiling young husband and wife were the hosts who promised visitors a true ‘Eco/indigenous Aussie experience’.

‘It’s owned by an Aboriginal corporation,’ read Collette. ‘That’s happening a lot as land goes back to the traditional owners. A lot of ventures have failed but this one looks very successful.’

‘Maybe because it’s got a great young couple in charge,’ said Veronica. ‘Look at their background, they’ve
both grown up on stations. They’re running an indigenous training program for the staff and have included cultural activities with local community people. All under one roof, plus it’s a commercial cattle enterprise. Now that’s a good story.’ Veronica leaned back. ‘I have to go there. By the way, what’s a donga?’

‘It’s like a cabin, except you can lift up the sides, so that it’s open and lets the breeze through. I wonder what happened to Mrs Johns?’ Collette added.

‘I’m sure I can find out when I get there. Unless the end of her journal gives us some clue.’

‘Would you like a coffee before you start on the journal, Veronica? You have a bit of reading to do.’ Collette smiled.

Veronica found Annabel Johns’ journal an interesting record of her time at Brolga Springs, filled with the dramas of injuries, deaths, cattle musters, wet-season isolation and humorous interludes with her Aboriginal domestic staff, but it didn’t give Veronica much material for her story. Her husband seemed to be away more than not and when he was at the station he was gone at dawn and returned at dusk. Annabel didn’t have children so Doris seemed to be her companion, friend and surrogate child.

But at the end of the diary Veronica felt saddened as she read of the death of Annabel’s husband in a riding accident during a flood. Mrs Johns had to sell up and move south as she found the property impossible to manage by herself. She wrote of her struggle to find a solution for Doris. She was sure that without her protection, the light-skinned child would be taken away to the missions to be trained as a domestic. Faced with this prospect, she consulted Doris’s mother and grandmother and they decided that the best thing for the intelligent little girl would be for her to have a good education. Annabel
Johns then approached the mission nuns and explained the situation and they managed to get Doris enrolled in a convent school down south.

There was a postscript, evidently written a few years later. It seemed that the new owner of the station was a businessman from Brisbane who didn’t live on the property. He put in a manager with instructions to double the carrying capacity of the station by introducing new breeds. He was not interested in the locals or their customs and the tribal families splintered and drifted away.

‘Oh, how sad,’ said Veronica.

‘Yet, look how it’s turned around. I think Annabel Johns would be pleased to see how Brolga Springs is being run today,’ said Collette when Veronica told her how the journal ended.

‘Perhaps. When I get out there I hope I can get a feel for its history as well as what’s happening today,’ said Veronica. ‘Collette, I can’t thank you enough, this has been such a breakthrough.’

‘You’re welcome. And have you finished going through the newspaper files? Will you do that?’

‘I guess so. I’ve no idea how long they all stayed in Darwin. Right now I’m interested in Brolga Springs. At least it will give me some good vision.’ And at that thought she sighed. ‘I have to talk to the TV station about a cameraman.’