The Silent Country (9 page)

Topov shrugged. ‘Word will spread. Someone will arrive. Let us go upstairs and have something to eat.’ He called for Nino and ordered food for himself and the small entourage of fans and hopefuls who were hovering in the café.

As Colin left to go to work, Johnny scuttled into the café.

‘That’s the man, right?’

‘Yes, but you need to speak to Helen,’ said Colin, pointing at the efficient woman in the severe blouse.

‘Nah. That’s the man with the action. I’ll talk to him.’ Johnny made a beeline for Topov.

Colin walked back to the bank, digesting the extraordinary auditions. He didn’t understand how anything could be achieved in Topov’s unstructured, emotional and casual manner. But maybe he was too used to the ordered calmness of the bank’s routine. He realised that he would have to relax and try to appreciate how these film people worked.

After work he returned to the café. Topov had left but Johnny, Drago and Peter were deep in conversation. Johnny’s face was flushed and he was in high spirits. He waved to Colin. ‘Hey, matey. I’ve organised the transport and I’m in. I’m going along. I’m going to be the cook and drive one of the vehicles. This is crazy. I love it. Come and have a drink.’

Colin was amazed. Johnny was such a town person. Colin couldn’t believe that he would join such an adventure, so far from the wheeling and dealing that the young
cockney loved. ‘Fantastic! That’s really good news. Congratulations. Is Topov downstairs? Any more girls turn up?’

‘A few. Topov has gone. Helen is going through the rest of them,’ said Drago. ‘She said she’d call me if she needed any photos taken.’

Colin went to the basement where a waiter was beginning to set up tables and chairs for the evening. Helen sat at the desk reading the notes she’d made.

‘Oh, Colin, glad you’re here, you can relieve me. Not that I think we’ll have any more hopefuls turn up.’

‘Has anyone interesting come in since I left?’

‘No. Young actresses obviously have better things to do with their time than try out for a film.’

‘So what do we do about a leading lady? Maybe we’ll find someone in a country town?’ said Colin.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Helen. ‘I would hardly rely on rural Australia to find dramatic talent.’

‘I suppose not,’ said Colin doubtfully. He remembered the amateur suburban plays he’d seen with his mother, which he had thought excellent, and offered, ‘What about the suburbs?’

‘Really, I don’t think the suburbs would supply the sort of glamour that Mr Topov is looking for.’

Colin decided to drop his suggestions. Helen was so imperious. ‘Have you met the new cook?’

‘I met Johnny when he and Topov discussed the transport. I hope he measures up,’ said Helen.

Topov suddenly appeared in the room. ‘Do not leave room. We have one more lady to see.’

Helen glanced at her watch. ‘It’s late. Lucky we are still here, seeing interviews began at nine am.’

‘From nine am,’ muttered Colin.

Topov sat at the table as a young woman came down the stairs. She had coppery curly hair, a big smile and was
wearing brown capri pants cinched with a wide belt and a clinging leopard-print top that showed off her curves. Colin smiled back at her. The girl came and stood calmly in front of them as Topov frankly studied her.

‘Name?’ asked Helen filling in a form.

‘I am Marta.’ She had a soft Scandinavian accent but spoke clearly. ‘I am an actress.’

‘Where you have been actress?’ asked Topov.

‘Theatre in Denmark, some short films in Sweden. I also work in London and Paris. French theatre.’ She was still smiling sweetly.

‘You make a scene for us,’ said Topov leaning back in his chair.

‘What would you like? I can do Chekhov, Bernard Shaw . . .’

‘Scriptwriter, you do with her,’ said Topov waving at Colin.

‘You mean, this? My scene?’ Colin picked up his script feeling dreadfully nervous.

‘Yes. Go stand, walk around, read,’ directed Topov.

Colin handed Marta two sheets of typed paper. ‘Sorry you haven’t read this. It’s two people on the banks of a peaceful river, when suddenly they see something scary.’

‘A crocodile?’ asked Marta with wide blue eyes.

‘Perhaps. The girl is frightened, then excited, and then . . .’

‘Read,’ bellowed Topov.

Colin stood on the spot, his head down reading the lines he’d written and knew by heart. But Marta was relaxed and walked around, lifting her eyes from the page to direct her gaze at Colin, occasionally tossing her head and catching Topov’s eye. When the script called for her to become fearful, she rushed at Colin and clung to him and he felt very self-conscious and knew that his face was getting red. After Marta had finished, she moved away from
Colin and stood in front of the table looking serenely at Topov and Helen.

‘Dobro,’ muttered Drago who had come in unnoticed.

Colin sat back down.

‘Script no good. Script rubbish,’ announced Topov beaming, as Colin cringed. ‘You,’ he pointed a finger at Marta. ‘You okay.’

‘Would you like to give us your details?’ asked Helen, pencil poised.

‘Drago. Make picture of this woman. Close up, walking, doing the faces, you know.’ Topov stood up as Drago began turning on his lights. ‘So, you have been to Australian bush?’

‘No. But I would like to.’ Marta’s curls bounced as she nodded and smiled.

Helen nudged Topov and murmured, ‘Investing?’

Topov scratched his head and looked crestfallen. He walked to Marta and dropped an arm around her shoulders. ‘You pretty lady. Good actress. Topov would like you star in his movie. But, budget, it no good. We have shoe budget.’

‘Shoestring,’ interjected Helen.

‘But Topov will make brilliant movie, show wild Australia to the world, for Olympics. Everyone in film become famous, get rich. But for making film, we all put up money.’

‘So we have shares in the picture,’ said Marta brightly.

Helen stared at her.

‘You have money?’ asked Topov.

‘If I invest and I am the star, I get a share in the returns plus living salary,’ said Marta briskly.

‘All investors get the same return,’ said Helen.

‘We make you happy,’ Topov assured Marta. ‘Comfortable. You will love the outback. Yes, Mr Colin?’

Colin nodded enthusiastically. ‘It’s a wonderful chance
to be in a film and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see these places.’

‘How much?’ asked Marta.

‘Camera ready,’ said Drago.

‘You do screen test, we talk money, contract after.’ Topov signalled Helen and they headed back upstairs as the waiter began setting out cutlery and glasses on the tables around Drago, his camera and Marta.

‘Good luck Marta,’ whispered Colin as he gathered up the papers and hurried after Topov.

Everyone had dispersed and Colin headed back to his flat. He thought he might grab Johnny and go out for a drink but there was no answer to his taps on Johnny’s door. So he stayed in and thought about Marta and her performance and wished he’d written a better script. But now he could see that the project was coming together with definite possibilities and he hoped that he’d be able to live up to Topov’s expectations.

The next day an invitation was slipped to Colin at the bank. His hands started to shake with excitement as he read.

Madame Olga Konstantinova and Maxim Topov
invite Colin Peterson
to dinner at Prince’s Restaurant, Martin Place,
this Friday at nine pm to celebrate the launch of filming
Wild Australia,
a film by Topov

‘P
RINCE’S
R
ESTAURANT
. I’
VE HEARD
of it,’ said Veronica. ‘My granddad proposed to my grandmother over dinner there. It must have been pretty fancy. She often talked about it. Soft lights, sweet music, fine food. Very romantic.’

Colin nodded. ‘Oh my, yes. I was so nervous going to the dinner Topov gave to celebrate the start of the movie. As it turned out Madame Olga was the hostess. I don’t think we all quite scrubbed up to Prince’s usual standard. It was black tie, very formal. Marta looked beautiful, Helen was a bit of a plain stick. She wore black and some family heirloom jewellery. Turns out she came from landed gentry. Funny, though, the person most at home was Johnny.’

‘The cockney cook?’

‘Yes. Turns out he had connections in restaurants
and clubland. He was into everything, worked for some very, er, colourful characters. I was surprised at how many people Johnny knew after such a short time in Australia.’

‘You have very clear memories of the night it seems.’

‘For an unsophisticated boy working in a bank, a dinner at Prince’s was a wonderful experience. I remember the tablecloths and napkins were pale pink damask. It was all very glamorous – a last blast before heading to the bush. It also made us feel we were part of a substantial company.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘A week later was a different story.’

Veronica fiddled with her coffee cup, wondering if she could tell Andy there was a story here or not. Here was a cast of intriguing characters, heading into inhospitable and unknown wilderness at an interesting time. Perhaps it didn’t matter about the success or not of the expedition. Maybe this was a case of the journey being more interesting than the destination. Nevertheless, she would have to find out a lot more before it would work as a story for a television program.

‘What happened to the film Topov made?’ she asked Colin.

‘The picture was never finished, although we did shoot quite a bit of film on the trip.’

‘So there was some film?’

‘Yes. Several cans of it. It was sent back to Sydney for processing and safekeeping and replaced with new stock as we went along. It’s probably long gone.’

‘That seems a shame. It’d be interesting to see it now. Have you any idea what happened to that film footage?’

‘All I know is that it was sent to Madame Olga. So many questions. You are thorough,’ he smiled.

‘It’s my job, Colin. I trained as a journalist and I’m trying to work out how your story could fit into a program on the Australian film industry. There’ve always been a lot
of mavericks in our film history and Topov seems to take the cake.’

‘Topov was certainly larger than life,’ said Colin thoughtfully. ‘His background was a bit mysterious though. Sometimes we got conflicting stories. You know, I’ve wondered if the Topov film that I saw and was supposed to be set in Russia was actually shot there. Sometimes I’m not even sure that Topov was even a Russian.’

Veronica was planning to pay for the coffee and return to the office, but this made her pause. She knew that Andy would expect her to find out all she could before making a final judgment about the suitability of the story for
Our Country
. ‘Colin, as we’re here, why don’t we order lunch? You might as well tell me as much as you can. I mean, you started the story, why not finish it for me?’

Colin didn’t answer for a moment as he stared out at the street of smart cars and restaurants, passing people, all so far from the country he had seen so many years before. In reply, he reached for the menu and Veronica turned to a fresh page in her notebook.

‘Colin, you write newspaper story. Make publicity,’ ordered Topov.

Colin pulled out his diary and began to make notes. They were at Nino’s. Topov, Peter, Drago and Johnny.

‘What do we tell the press?’ asked Colin, hoping now he’d find out some firm details about Topov’s plans as well.

‘We have star, we have motorcade, we announce expedition going to film wild Australia,’ said Topov.

‘Where’s the route map?’ asked Peter.

‘No map. No big roads, we follow sun,’ exclaimed Topov expansively. ‘Bourke. We go first to Bourke.’

‘Bourke? That’s to the north, I think, so it’s not exactly following the sun,’ said Colin, but Topov missed his little
attempt at humour. ‘I’ll contact the papers, ask them to send a photographer. Where shall we take the picture?’ he asked. ‘At Madame Olga’s?’

‘No, no. Do not mention Madame Olga to press. This is Topov Production. We go to sand dunes, place where they make films for desert. We pose in desert with motor cars. Marta in sexy clothes.’