The Silent Country (46 page)

‘I agree. And we can’t afford to buy food or petrol if
we haven’t the cash.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Are you disappointed at how things have turned out? Because I have to admit, I’m not.’ He didn’t want to think about what might happen when this strange journey was over.

Marta gave a low laugh. ‘I try not to make plans. I’ve been disappointed before today so now I’ve learned I have to stand up for myself.’

‘Marta, you’re so beautiful. You should be spoiled and looked after and have the world at your feet,’ whispered Colin. ‘I wish I could give you that.’

‘Colin, let’s live for now, where we are and with what we have. That’s something else I’ve learned.’ And Marta pulled his face to hers and kissed him with an urgency that obviously surprised Colin.

‘I’ll remember this for the rest of my life,’ he murmured.

I
T WAS A SHORT
tropical shower that swept from the sea onto the beach, warm and humid and it would soon pass. But Marta was fed up.

‘I am sick of this place. I want to move on. This is crazy,’ she fumed. ‘It’s so hot and the ants and mosquitos are driving me crazy. I’m going to see a solicitor about getting the money from Topov, or Olga. They just keep stalling.’

‘How are you going to pay a solicitor?’ asked Colin. ‘That’ll cost you a bit. Anyway, Topov says Madame Olga is sending the money.’

‘Topov says! Pissh,’ scoffed Marta. ‘Helen and Topov upset her and Johnny says Olga is holding back the money to teach Topov a lesson, so we all have to suffer.’

‘We’re caught in the middle,’ agreed Colin. ‘We’re stuck
here. Some of the others are talking about getting work to get some money to get out of Darwin. It would be a shame about the film, when we’ve come so far. Maybe Arnhem Land will be where we finally get all the action and adventure.’

Marta studied Colin. ‘You’re so nice, Colin. So trusting. You always want to believe the best of people, but soon it’s going to be everyone for themselves.’ She chewed her lip, hugging her knees, feeling claustrophobic in the tiny tent. Colin sat beside her, staring at her adoringly thinking he couldn’t believe the overwhelming joy of his proximity to her, day and night.

Suddenly Marta reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘I know! I know how I can get the money.’

‘You do? How?’

‘A play! I’ll put on a show. Sell tickets. People will come and then I’ll have enough money to pay the solicitor, get the money from Topov and we can do what we want.’

Colin shook his head in admiration. ‘Marta, you’re amazing. But how? I mean, that’s a big undertaking. How can we do it? Won’t it take money to put on a show?’

‘Not so much if we are clever.’ She jumped up. ‘Let’s go and check out a few things.’

They took the Jeep and went into town and Colin trailed after Marta as she charged from the city council to a small theatre restaurant in a pub, to the local cinema, asking their managers if she could stage a one-woman show. Colin stood quietly by, awestruck by her bubbling enthusiasm, her charm and the persuasive description of the show she planned.

‘It sounds fabulous. I’d buy a ticket straight away,’ said Colin as he followed her backstage at the cinema.

‘The stage is quite small, but they’ve done a couple of eisteddfods here, a prize giving, a Christmas recital. We held the world premiere of the new Australian film
Jedda
here earlier this year,’ said the cinema manager proudly.

‘What about the lighting?’ asked Marta peering up into the dusty roof above the stage.

‘Wouldn’t know. You’d have to look after that, miss. We don’t provide anything but the space. And a girl to run the ticket office if you want her.’

‘How much does she want?’ asked Marta in a businesslike tone. ‘Why don’t we get a girl from the high school who’s interested in drama? And she could help with props as well.’

The man shrugged. ‘I could ask my daughter, she’d probably want to do it.’

Marta was excited but practical. ‘Drago can help with lights. Create the mood. I will ask the pianist from the hotel to record some background music on Topov’s machine, to play during the blackout moments while I change my costume and rearrange props. You and I can make up posters and stick them up all around town. We’ll go to the local radio station and newspaper for some publicity. Next stop is the library to find some plays.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’ll have to brush up on some speeches and scenes.’

‘What sort of plays will they be?’ asked Colin, bowled over at the speed of Marta’s thinking and planning.

‘I shall act scenes from some of the classics. It will be a smorgasbord! Some comedy, some drama, some mystery. But I’ll keep it simple, just a few props, a hat, a cloak, a veil. Maybe I can find those at a church charity shop.’ Marta was now enthusiastic. Colin was happy to see that her mood had changed but had serious doubts about her pulling off this public performance.

‘How long is this going to take to get ready?’ asked Colin.

‘A few days, maybe a week. We want to get the word out so people know about it. The first thing is to find the venue.’

After leaving the library with a pile of plays and having discussed with Colin possible places to mount a show, Marta’s mood became churlish.

‘The town hall isn’t finished, the cinema is too big, the Catholic palais isn’t suitable and I don’t like the recreation hut at the army camp. It has no windows and a leaky roof and is too big. I need something intimate.’

‘What about the hotel?’ suggested Colin.

‘Noisy. Not the right atmosphere.’ She stood for a moment in the street, then thrust the library books at Colin. ‘Please put these in the car. I’m just going to ask that taxi driver.’

She walked with determination to the taxi driver who was leaning against his car, idly smoking a cigarette. There was a brief exchange between them and Marta returned triumphantly to Colin, while the driver appreciatively watched the sway of Marta’s hips.

‘It sounds perfect. A little outdoor cinema down at the harbour, people sit in deckchairs. Let’s go.’

‘What if it rains?’

‘Colin!’ she pointed to the sky which was clear blue. ‘I won’t let it,’ she added confidently.

The others in the group seemed to have found diversions around Darwin. Topov was nowhere to be seen and Helen said he was busy dealing with some sort of bureaucratic government department, about what she wasn’t sure except it had to do with permits and paperwork connected to Arnhem Land.

When Marta asked Drago to help with the lighting for her play, he agreed, but added, ‘Just as well it’s in the evening. Peter and I got a job today.’

‘A job? Doing what?’ asked Colin.

‘Signwriting. Peter has some experience. We’re making some advertisement signs.’

‘Maybe I should look for work,’ said Colin. ‘Though
I’m not sure what sort of work. I’ve only ever worked in a bank.’

‘You’re too busy helping me,’ said Marta quickly. ‘You are my producer.’

‘What about you, Johnny?’ said Marta.

‘I have a few ideas I’m working on,’ he said.

‘At the races?’ said Helen.

‘Mind your own business. I reckon that we should give Topov a week to raise the money or we all find our own way out of this mess,’ he said.

‘If we all get some sort of work and pool our money we could bail ourselves out and finish the film,’ suggested Helen.

There was an instant outcry of derision.

‘What for? Why should we help Topov?’ said Peter. ‘Besides, we have paid already.’

Drago shrugged. ‘I’m not siding with Topov, he’s behaved badly, but we do have half a film and Colin is right, maybe it can be salvaged in Arnhem Land.’

‘I’ll keep working on him. I wish I knew what Topov was up to,’ said Helen. ‘He has a knack of pulling irons out of the fire and coming up with the goods at the last moment,’ she added.

‘His silver tongue won’t get him far up here,’ said Johnny. ‘These bush people know bulldust when they hear it.’ He eyed Helen. ‘What about you, Helen? Are you getting a job?’

‘What sort of work have you done, Helen?’ asked Peter.

Helen lifted her chin. ‘I have been fortunate in my personal life, but I am not lazy. I drove an ambulance during the war and made myself available for volunteer work.’

‘Why don’t you get money from your toffee-nosed family then?’ asked Johnny. ‘Sell some of your thoroughbreds.’

‘That’s none of your business,’ said Helen. ‘My being here has nothing to do with my family. Besides, people’s circumstances change. I prefer to lead my own life. But I am willing to look for a job to get money to help us continue.’

‘Thank you, Helen,’ said Marta. ‘Don’t let him bait you.’

Johnny shrugged and grinned at Helen. ‘Well, I bet I can earn more than you can.’

Helen stood up. ‘Very well. I shall look for work, although the only jobs for women in this place seem to be as a barmaid or a waitress.’

Johnny burst out laughing and the other men couldn’t help smiling at the idea of the cool, aristocratic Helen pulling beers in a pub. But Helen surprised them all by landing a job with a Stock and Station agent as a bookkeeper.

Marta ploughed on with plans for her show. Colin need not have worried about publicity. One small write-up in the newspaper, which he had organised, brought a flurry of requests for tickets.

‘There is no culture here,’ said Marta. ‘They are starved for it.’

In their little tent at night she ran through her lines as Colin followed along by torchlight, gently correcting a word or two where she faltered.

‘First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. My fear is, your displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your pardons.’

‘What’s that from?’ asked Colin.

‘Henry IV. Next, let’s do Shaw’s St Joan speech. Find the page.’

‘I don’t know how you remember all this,’ said Colin in admiration.

Marta was a whirlwind. Peter helped them by designing a flyer which they had duplicated at the high school and Marta and Colin stuck them up all over town. She
hired a young girl who was working at the Darwin Hotel to handle the box office and sell tickets. The outdoor cinema manager showed Drago the lighting system and Bobby, the pianist from the Green Room, agreed to record some music to entertain between scenes.

Marta sent Colin from the front of house to backstage to check on every detail, while she sat in the tiny dressing room preparing to go on stage. She wore elaborate, heavy make-up and a black dress which she would accessorise with the costume props. She maintained an air of distraction, at once removed from the normal, while remaining razor sharp about every small detail of the production.

‘When it goes black at the end of the first scene, wait and count to ten before cueing the lights and the music. Don’t forget to change the props and don’t lose the order of my wardrobe. They are laid out as I need them. And did you get flowers for me? They must be presented at my curtain bows,’ she told Colin.

Colin nodded. Marta was rather imperious and although she said she was nervous, she looked self- possessed and confident. ‘You really love doing this, don’t you?’ he smiled.

‘Don’t you love doing something that you know you’re good at, that sweeps you away, that fulfils you?’ she asked, her eyes shining. ‘Now go. Sit in the front row and clap very loudly!’

There was an almost full house. Some people had made an effort to dress up and there was an air of anticipation. The lights dimmed, the stage was in darkness. Suddenly, the spotlight blazed onto the stage showing Marta standing, hands folded, head bowed. There were a few half hearted claps. By the end of the first scene, however, the audience were mesmerised and the loud applause was enthusiastic. Her clear voice reached to the back row and the audience stared, transfixed by her accomplished performance. The
time seemed to speed past and at the interval Colin raced backstage to double-check on the props, but before he could say a word, Marta held up her hand.

‘Do not say anything. Not until the show is finished. Now, make sure everything is in place. Don’t forget the music.’

After Marta, who’d been word perfect all evening, had finished her final speech and taken three deep bows, Colin presented her with the bouquet of flowers. The thunderous applause continued until Marta blew a series of kisses and gave a small signal to Drago who darkened the set, allowing her to make her way off the stage.