The Silent Country (43 page)

Augustus guided the launch into the steps of a grand hotel where a huge floating swimming pool bobbed on the unswimmable water of the lake. He escorted Marta through the marble foyer of the hotel and out onto the terrace, where he left her in the company of the maître d’, who greeted her warmly and led her to her regular table
overlooking the lake. Within minutes sparkling mineral water and two crystal glasses of pink chilled wine were set before them.

‘At lunch we only drink rosé. This is Provençal, quite good,’ said Marta lifting her glass. ‘Here’s to you, Veronica.’

She rolled the ‘r’ and Veronica touched her glass to Marta’s. ‘Thank you for bringing me here. I can now say I’ve seen the best of Lake Como.’ Veronica tried not to stare at the intriguing guests around them, but Marta ignored them and gave Veronica her undivided attention.

‘So now it is my turn. Before you interrogate me, I want to know about you.’ Subtly and sometimes quite forthrightly, Marta probed Veronica about her family, her life, her job and her love life. She was chatty, amusing and paid great attention to everything that the Australian girl said, so Veronica found herself confiding in the beautiful older woman.

The lunch was delicious and after two glasses of wine they finished with a small coffee and Marta’s favourite biscotti.

‘You should be an interviewer, Marta, I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone about myself,’ laughed Veronica.

‘Surely you and this Jamie have talked about yourselves when you were at Brolga Springs,’ said Marta. ‘I remember the confidences shared under those stars in the outback of Australia.’

‘Colin?’ asked Veronica. ‘Do you ever wonder about him? Would you ever try to see him again?’

‘Do not pre-empt the story,’ teased Marta. Then she added, ‘No, a card occasionally is enough. I haven’t the patience for doddering old fools. I prefer to be the pampered one. And I’m very fortunate, Paolo has always spoiled me.’

She signed the bill and Augustus hovered discreetly near the table. As the waiter pulled her chair away, Marta
reached for Augustus’s arm without looking, knowing he would be there. Veronica followed them as they weaved between the tables and she realised that Marta was indeed a very pampered woman who could demand and receive the very best of everything.

With Allegra hovering behind her, Marta watched from the front door as Veronica waved goodbye and followed Augustus back to the boat. Her hostess had insisted her boatman take Veronica back to her hotel in Varenna.

‘To your hotel?’ asked Augustus. ‘Or would you like a short scenic trip around the lake?’

‘Yes, please.’

When Augustus didn’t volunteer any chitchat, Veronica asked him, ‘Have you worked for Signora Luccosa a long time?’

‘A few years. I work mainly for Signor Paolo and his assistant, Dominico. I haven’t been with the family as long as Signora Allegra.’

‘That’s such a pretty name,’ said Veronica, wondering how to find out more about the stern housekeeper without broaching good manners and professional etiquette.

‘It means cheerful and happy,’ said Augustus. As he glanced at her they both burst out laughing.

With the ice now broken, Augustus pointed out the sights and told her about some of the characters, famous and infamous, who came to the lake each summer.

‘I shall collect you tomorrow morning with your camera man at eight-thirty,’ said Augustus as he helped her off at the wharf at Varenna.

‘Thank you,’ said Veronica. ‘I’m very excited the Signora has agreed to be interviewed.’

‘I’m sure she will have an interesting story to tell,’ said Augustus politely.

But Veronica was sure that Augustus had no idea that his wealthy and cultured employer was once the glamorous
young Marta who, with lots of ambition but little money, had followed the dreams of a crazy Russian filmmaker into a country of danger and wild beauty where secrets remained silent.

The following morning Augustus collected Veronica and Geoff the cameraman, who was an Australian working for Network Eleven in London. Although he’d been sent a brief by Andy, Veronica filled him in, aware Augustus could hear their conversation.

‘She’s a very beautiful woman who has looked after herself and having been an actress, she’s very aware of how she’ll look on camera . . .’

‘No probs, been there, done that. Even the young stars are fussy. Any particular angles we’re after? When to zoom in or hang back?’

‘Just run with it. It’s a long story and I’m not sure how open she might be or if she’s going to censor anything, or how clear she will be about details, though she seems as sharp as a tack. She’s very charming,’ added Veronica.

Geoff was taken aback at the sight of Marta, carefully made-up, hair softly but immaculately in place, dressed in elegant pale aqua pants and jacket, a soft cream silk blouse and a few heart stoppingly beautiful pieces of jewellery. She shook Geoff’s hand, thanked him in advance for his consideration and patience and had him eating out of her hand in a flash.

‘I have some lovely soft blondies and redheads – lights that is,’ he smiled. ‘Very flattering. Could you show me where you think it is best to film our conversation?’

‘Ah, nice lighting, not just a video camera pushed in my face. I like this.’ Marta led him through the French doors to the terrace.

Indoors, Allegra placed a large silver tray set with coffee on the desk in the library where Veronica sat checking her notes.

‘Buongiorno, I am Marta’s husband,’ said a quiet, warm voice.

Veronica turned and pushed her notes aside. ‘Buongiorno, I am Veronica Anderson.’

‘Please, call me Paolo. I hope you have everything you need?’ He waved an arm. ‘Allegra will bring you anything you wish, iced water, something to eat?’

‘Thank you, but no. The coffee will be lovely. This is very kind of you, I trust we’re not interrupting you,’ said Veronica, rising to shake his hand. She hoped that she wasn’t obviously staring. Marta’s husband was tall, straight, tanned, with a head of silver hair and perfect teeth. Even Veronica could tell his clothes were especially tailored for him: a pale-blue, fine, light cotton shirt, white linen trousers, soft leather shoes and a watch with an understated leather band that she imagined probably cost more than she made in a year. While his skin and face carried signs of his age, his bearing and movie-star looks put him in another league. He was a rich and handsome man, but there was a softness about him and the way his exquisite manners focused on her, made Veronica realise what a knockout couple he and Marta were.

‘You are most welcome. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you yesterday. I have just returned from London.’ He waited till she sat back down before lowering himself into a deep armchair and crossing his ankles, revealing smooth, tanned skin. ‘Your visit has brought some excitement into Marta’s life. I think she is rather elated to be in front of a camera again.’ He paused. ‘Though this time there is no script. While I do not understand your fascination with this moment in my wife’s life, she seems very occupied with the black child she met.’

‘Yes, Doris McIntosh. From the wild bush girl with no prospects she’s become a very distinguished woman, looked up to as a leader and an educator,’ said Veronica.

‘Interesting. Australia prides itself on being egalitarian, isn’t that so?’

‘That’s the theory. In practice, sadly, there are too few women like Doris. Despite our image we are probably like most other places,’ said Veronica.

Paolo gave her an amused look. ‘And are all Australians as frank, clear eyed and honest as yourself?’

‘Possibly not. Though as a nation we don’t take ourselves too seriously. Being able to laugh at ourselves is a national saving grace.’

Paolo chuckled. ‘I like that. European arrogance and English pomposity are tiring. So, would it be fruitful for my wife to visit Australia again? Meet this Doris and her family?’

Veronica’s eyes widened as she saw the potential for her story. ‘I don’t know about fruitful, but I had the impression Marta has a very busy life. I’m sure Doris and her family would welcome her. In fact, I believe it would mean a lot to Doris. She has always kept a memento that Marta gave her.’

Paolo shrugged. ‘Australia is far away. It was an idle thought. Perhaps I might mention it to her.’

‘It might not be my place, but I would be interested in her reaction,’ said Veronica.

Paolo stood up. ‘I have board reports to write. I hope your discussion with Marta is what you wish. It has been charming to meet you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Veronica holding out her hand, which he took and then gently kissed her fingertips.

Marta was sitting in the shade beside a small stone table, a potted clipped orange tree behind her and a vista of the lake in the distance. Geoff had bounced soft light from a reflector onto her skin and the camera was mounted some distance from her using a long lens for a soft effect. It also intruded less on the two chairs at the table.

Veronica sat opposite Marta, put her notes in front of her and smiled. ‘Your husband is lovely. I see why you fell in love with him.’

‘At first I was attracted to his good looks and the way he courted me so lavishly,’ said Marta candidly. ‘But then I discovered he had a very caring heart. My life with him has been a very happy one.’

Veronica was tempted to ask if she had ever wondered how far her own acting career might have gone if she had not become an elegant wife and superb hostess managing a complicated life. Veronica still found it hard to believe the transformation of this exquisitely groomed and gracious woman from the feisty and fun-loving Marta she’d come to know through Colin’s recounting of their trip with Topov. She pushed the thought away and nodded at Geoff.

‘Rolling,’ he said quietly.

Marta straightened her shoulders, tilted her head, gazed at Veronica and waited.

Veronica briefly filled her in on the story that Colin had already told her. Then she took a deep breath and said, ‘Marta, could we go back to the night before you arrived in Darwin. You’d just left Brolga Springs, said goodbye to Len Buchanan and camped for the night. The following day you headed for Darwin. Could we pick up the story there . . .’

The morning was clear and fresh, the sun beginning to tinge the horizon red and gold. Peter was stirring the hot ashes of the campfire, waiting for the twigs and dried grass to catch. Slowly a thin curl of blue smoke wound skywards and the fire burst to life. Colin poured water from the jerry can into the billy and set it to boil for tea as Marta sleepily emerged from her tent.

‘I love the smell of the fire first thing in the morning,’ she said, rubbing her hands above the flames to warm them.

‘It’s the leaves that make it smell so good.’

‘What’s in the camp oven?’

‘Johnny’s damper. Warm bread and cocky’s joy for breakfast.’

Marta smiled. ‘I love that golden syrup.’ She sighed. ‘I’m going to miss these breakfasts at the campfire.’ She perched on a log that they’d dragged beside the fire the night before.

‘We’ll be camping in Arnhem Land,’ said Colin.

‘If we get there. We have to get things sorted in Darwin,’ said Marta.

‘We need to be paid and Drago says he’s almost out of film,’ said Peter.

‘I’m sure Topov has made arrangements with Madame Olga to fix things up,’ said Colin optimistically.

By the time everyone was assembled for breakfast, having first packed their gear, the mood around the campfire was friendly, almost jovial. Topov was last to appear. He ate his breakfast and when everyone had finished and started clearing up the campsite he disappeared into his caravan and emerged with the map.

‘Johnny, Drago, who driving cars? Come, I show you way on map.’

‘Don’t worry, Darwin’s straight out thataway,’ said Johnny.

‘We take detour,’ announced Topov.

‘What?’ exclaimed Marta and even Helen looked surprised.

Muttering under his breath, Peter stomped over to Topov who was waving the map.

‘Bloody hell, Topov. What sort of a detour? We want to get to Darwin,’ said Johnny.

‘Ah, this very exciting. Topov make survey, enquiry. We go to Rum Jungle, very close. Secret place, maybe make fortune,’ beamed Topov.

The group simply stared at him with varying expressions of anger and annoyance.

‘What the hell is Rum Jungle?’ demanded Drago. ‘What’s there? Why do you want to go there?’

‘Ah, I hear all about this place when we are in Birdsville. It’s place where they find uranium,’ said Topov triumphantly.

The group exchanged looks.

‘What’s uranium for again?’ Marta asked Colin.

‘What’s that got to do with us?’ demanded Peter.

Topov lifted his arms in mock surprise. ‘This very valuable . . . for making atomic bomb. All world wants uranium.’

‘We’re not out here to find uranium, we’re making a film, aren’t we?’ said Drago and there was a murmur of agreement.

The mood had now shifted and the brief feeling of camaraderie at breakfast had dissolved. Tensions began to mount but Topov was unswayable.

‘We go. Topov hear many things about this place. Big boom in jungle.’

‘Boom? You mean like a bomb?’ asked Marta fearfully.