by Di Morrissey
Johnny started to back out of the room. ‘We’ll leave you to rest and see you at dinner. Come on, Marta.’
‘Bring me that film,’ called Madame Olga as they shut the door to her suite.
Marta strode down the hallway, ignoring the maid now wielding a polishing machine over the waxed wooden floor. ‘This is the limit, Johnny. I will not go any further without being paid. Topov has wasted money or hidden it and she knows it. And now she is going to eat him – and Helen – alive because she thinks they are lovers.’
‘Are they, do you think?’ asked Johnny.
‘I don’t care. Topov might be sleeping with the fat old hag because she’s rich. But I don’t know about Helen. They think I am a stupid actress. Well, they will know that I am strong,’ she declared.
‘Let’s wait and see, after she has consulted with Topov,’ said Johnny. ‘Perhaps that’s why Topov isn’t around.’
Nevertheless, as the sullen group gathered for dinner, Topov sailed in with Madame Olga at his side. She was dressed to the hilt, a fresh display of jewels on her bosom and seemed to have not a care in the world.
‘Where’ve you been today?’ asked Johnny.
‘Topov is making plans. Big plans,’ he said mysteriously. ‘Appointment with important people.’
Madame Olga settled herself at the table. ‘Yes, it all sounds quite interesting. However, like many things, it requires some organisation.’
‘Is this to do with our film?’ asked Peter.
‘There won’t be any film if we don’t get our money,’ said Johnny.
‘It is coming. Money coming. Plenty of money,’ said Topov, waving to the waiter.
Marta glanced at Helen who was sitting quietly at the far end of the table. ‘Helen, do we go shopping tomorrow?’ called Marta gaily.
Helen shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t rush, we’ll have time before we move on.’
‘And when might we move on?’ Colin asked.
‘Not until we’re paid,’ said Peter.
Topov told the waiter to bring wine and beers to the table. ‘Madame Olga is taking film to Sydney, then we get more money. So we stay little while in Darwin.’
‘And who’s paying for this pub?’ demanded Johnny. ‘It’s not coming out of my pay.’
‘Just little misunderstanding. Helen explain to Madame Olga but she not understand well. So Madame Olga send money when she go back to Sydney.’
‘I’ll be returning there tomorrow,’ added Madame Olga. ‘It’s far too hot here.’
‘Yeah, I bet it is,’ muttered Johnny.
‘So when do we get the rest of our money? What we got today is barely a third of what we’re owed,’ said Marta.
‘I will send it by telegraphic transfer to the bank. Colin, you are in banking, you know how these things work,’ said Madame Olga. Then she turned her attention to the menu.
Everyone looked at Colin.
‘Can you get things speeded up?’ asked Drago.
Colin looked at Madame Olga who looked unconcerned, her biggest problem seemed to be what to select for dinner. Whatever had passed between Helen, Topov and Madame Olga would not be discussed, but Helen didn’t look happy.
Dinner plates were cleared from the table. Marta gave Colin a secret smile that seemed to say, Let’s make the most of tonight while we’re here with a big comfortable bed. Johnny decided to drink and headed to the bar. Peter and Drago were discussing the camp at Rum Jungle over a bottle of red wine knowing that some of their compatriots were sleeping rough. Helen excused herself and disappeared to her room.
Topov escorted Madame Olga into the Green Room, where he walked up to a table of well-dressed cattlemen and the pearling master and introduced himself.
‘I am Maxim Topov, this Madame Olga Konstantinova. We making amazing film in outback Australia. So, where we go for exciting pictures?’ The well-to-do group invited this odd couple to join them and soon it was the locals who sat spellbound, listening to Topov talk while Madame Olga sat by, smiling and nodding.
But amongst the other filmmakers there was festering resentment. The following morning Helen made the point of talking to each of them.
‘Look, the problem with the money is that it’s just a misunderstanding on Madame Olga’s part and she’s overreacted. She’s rather an emotional lady and she has it in her head that I am having an affair with Topov!’ She gave a laugh. ‘I hope you don’t think the same. I have been quite particular about my male friends. Frankly, I wouldn’t have cared if an orangutan was in the other bed as long as I had a mattress and a pillow off the ground.’
For the first time they saw Helen as a genuine person without airs and graces and they believed what she told them.
Then she went on. ‘Madame Olga is flying back to Sydney this morning. She’s taken the film we’ve shot and left us fresh film. The hotel bill is paid up until breakfast this morning. After that, we’re on our own until she releases the rest of the money.’
This was not well received. But as they discussed their predicament, there was general acknowledgment that they were stuck.
‘I’m not leaving till I get what I’m owed,’ said Johnny.
‘We can’t leave anyway, we have no money,’ said Peter.
‘We can’t give up now, we have to finish the film,’ said Colin.
‘I think Topov is up to something,’ said Drago.
‘Helen you have twenty-four hours to pay me the money I’m owed or I’m going to go to a solicitor and sue,’ said Marta.
The others stared at her.
‘That will cost money. How can you afford it?’ said Colin calmly. ‘Let’s just wait it out.’
‘For how long? And where are we going to stay? How can we pay for a pub without any money?’ said Johnny.
Marta shrugged. ‘Then there’s only one thing for it. We camp again, but this time at the beach, where we can have some fun!’
There was an immediate outbreak of chatter and some enthusiasm and they began planning how they would organise the sleeping arrangements. No-one knew where Topov was but later, when they told Helen their plan she turned up with her belongings looking tired and harassed.
‘You can have the tent we used. Colin and I will share,’ said Marta.
‘Thanks, Marta. I won’t be moving back into that smelly caravan,’ she sighed. ‘He’s moved into it. I guess now we wait for Madame to calm down, send the money, and then we can go and finish what we started.’
‘Do you really believe Topov wants to make this film?’ asked Marta. ‘I just feel we’re all part of some play he’s devised but we don’t know the plot.’
‘He does want to make it, but he gets sidetracked so easily. He’s got this bee in his bonnet about finding minerals, gold, gemstones, uranium,’ said Helen. ‘He sits up at night reading geology books.’
‘Might make us more money than this film. I don’t care, really. I’m not expecting this to make me a star. But we all invested in good faith to get the equipment and vehicles and be paid expenses,’ said Marta. ‘I’m not a charity, I’m not funding some Topov fantasy,’ she continued. ‘So I’m not going anywhere till we get what’s owed to us.’
Helen nodded. ‘I understand. I feel badly that this is partly my fault. I really don’t understand the relationship between Maxim and Olga.’
Marta’s eyes widened. ‘Do you mean financially and business, or personally?’
Helen shrugged. ‘It is a mystery and I don’t probe into other people’s business.’
‘Well, I’d like to know,’ said Marta bluntly. ‘Because it affects all of us. Never mind, let’s see what happens in the next few days.’
That night when the campfire on the beach had dimmed and everyone had rolled into their swags and tents, Marta snuggled into Colin’s arms.
‘This is cosy,’ he murmured. ‘Are we sharing this when we set out next?’
‘Of course. I just hope there aren’t these little biting mosquito things sharing it, too. But you know, Colin, I won’t go if we don
’t get our money. It’s not right.’
‘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.
12
IT 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.