The Silent Country Page 3

  ‘Sorry, Trisha, I must have forgotten to mention I’ve been chartered to look for a cache of weapons left by the navy during the war. There’s also supposed to be gold stashed on one of these islands. You’d better cover up. I have a feeling we’re going to have company on this trip.’

  Veronica giggled. ‘I can see why this show, Riptide, never took off. Those lines are excruciating. But he was a good-looking guy and the location looks nice.’

  ‘Yeah, they shot some stock footage on the Barrier Reef, the rest of the series was shot around Pittwater and in the studio,’ said Alec.

  ‘So when did they start all those successful Aussie TV shows you hear about, the cop shows?’ asked Veronica.

  ‘Once Hector Crawford, you must have heard of him Veronica, started his production company in Melbourne in the 1960s he began using local stories with local stars. Well, the shows made them stars. Serious actors from theatre and film wouldn’t work in TV,’ said Jim.

  ‘Interesting. Seems the reverse these days. TV is where movie actors cut their teeth now,’ said Veronica.

  ‘Look, here’s where many started.’ Alec pointed at the TV screen.

  In a dark street, late at night, the illuminated sign of Russell Street Police Station glowed faintly. A 1964 Holden, its engine throaty, swung to a stop and its doors opened simultaneously before three tall men in suits and hats stepped from the car.

  In the cluttered and busy police headquarters Inspector Jack Connolly finished briefing his team, Detective Sergeant Frank Bronson and Detective Rex Fraser.

  ‘And so, gentlemen, it seems we have a rather nasty piece of work on our hands. While this man remains at large the streets of Melbourne cannot be safe for men women or children.’

  ‘And it’s not just them who are threatened,’ commented Detective Fraser.

  ‘Yes, homosexuals have also been targeted and they deserve the same protection as every other citizen,’ commented the inspector. ‘Now, we have a tip-off where this bloke could be dossing down. Here’s the address. Take back-up with you.’

  In the early hours of the morning, in a dark laneway off Gertrude Street in Fitzroy, three homicide detectives wearing overcoats and hats, with guns drawn, placed themselves on either side of a doorway. At a nod from Connolly the other two slammed their shoulders into the door, kicked it open and plunged into the darkness.

  Shots rang out.

  ‘Now that’s one television program I’ve heard of,’ said Veronica, ‘Although I can’t say that I know much about Hector Crawford. And that dialogue. It certainly wasn’t terribly PC, was it?’

  ‘Jeez, how long did Homicide run, Andy?’

  ‘Eleven years or so. Ended in seventy-seven when the networks started bringing in cheap American shows.’

  ‘Homicide was a good cop show, reckon half this room worked on a Crawford Production of some sort,’ said Jim.

  ‘Yep. Where many in the industry learned the ropes. Technicians today don’t get the same training,’ said Andy, glancing at Veronica.

  ‘Digital cameras make it too easy, no control, no imagination. I thought it was pretty slick when video tape came in, but you talk to some of the old hands here, the feature film boys, the lighting cameramen, they say film still looks best on TV,’ said Alec.

  ‘My crews carry gear that could fit in a handbag. The equipment’s so light that we even have a couple of female camera people, don’t we, Veronica?’ said Andy.

  ‘That’s right,’ she said, suddenly thinking of Eddie, who maintained video could look as good as film if you had good lighting.

  ‘How’s your station going?’ Jim asked Andy. ‘Is the network still rating?’

  ‘Yes. But some shows might go now that Big Bill has taken over.’

  ‘Oh, you mean William Rowe, the mining magnate. I thought he was supposed to be a huge philanthropist. But maybe not to employees, huh?’ said Jim.

  Veronica waited for Andy to respond to his friend’s question but he merely shrugged. ‘There’re always rumours in the television industry.’ He turned back to the TV screen. ‘This next clip is from a good Aussie movie, though it was directed by a Brit and starred an English girl. I love this film.’

  Silver water, floating above the wavering horizon, glimmered, shimmered, then slowly faded. Two small figures, ciphers in a barren land, gazed at the expanse of pale yellow dust between them and the distant oasis. There was no sound. Nothing but the arid expanse of desert surrounded them. From the sky they were mere specks among the dunes and saltpans, ants’ trails of footprints behind them.

  The girl stopped. Before them a straggly tree, a sparse clump of grey shrub and a dip in the earth loomed as dramatically as a city building in the pink-brown surroundings. Was this tiny gully hiding a stream? They slipped and skidded into it, finding only sand. The girl lifted a handful and let it dribble through her fingers. The small boy began to weep.

  As they stood there, the girl suddenly jolted and grabbed her brother’s shoulder, staring at the apparition that had appeared from behind the skeletal tree. As alien as they must have appeared to the man standing there, so was he to them. Scrawny, lean, his black body daubed in clay, he stared at them, the whites of his eyes wide.

  The girl took in his dusty curls, his curious, fearless expression, his naked body clothed only in a woven band around his hips and loins. Dead lizards, tongues protruding, hung from it. He held a spear and a wooden implement and as they studied each other he spoke softly in a language she’d never heard before.

  ‘Water. Please, we want water. Can you help us?’ she asked.

  The young man answered in a gurgle of words.

  ‘Tell him we want water.’ The boy tugged at her.

  ‘Water. We need water. Can’t you understand that?’ she said, a desperate note of exasperation in her voice.

  The stranger merely stared.

  The little boy stepped forward, tilting back his head, jabbing his finger in his mouth, swallowing and cupping his hand.

  A wide smile broke out on the Aborigine’s face. In his rapid language he seemed to be explaining as he stepped into the sandy indentation by the scrubby bush and began digging with the wooden tool.

  Dampness soon stained the sand and a small puddle formed. He showed them how to place their hands, straining the water through their fingers as they knelt to lap the precious moisture.

  He watched the girl’s pink tongue greedily suck at the water, her lips moist, her strange fair lashes closed on her golden skin. She sat back on her heels and stared at their saviour and saw in his eyes a softness, a hesitant pleasure in the curve of his lips revealing bright white teeth.

  ‘It’s going to be all right,’ she told her little brother.

  ‘Oh wow, that’s so beautiful.’ Veronica continued to stare at the screen. ‘Was that David Gulpilil? He’s amazing.’

  ‘Walkabout. 1971. Yep. I think it was his first role. I reckon it’s a movie that still holds up. You having another wine, Veronica? And you fellows, another beer?’

  ‘No thanks, Andy, I have to drive.’ Veronica was thoughtful. ‘I’ll have to try to get that movie on DVD. Must have been hard filming it, it looks a pretty desolate setting.’

  ‘You been outback, Veronica?’ asked Jim.

  She smiled. ‘I’m a city gal, but I have done the odd story in the more remote parts of Australia.’

  ‘Sometimes it pays to get off the beaten track. You look at places with new eyes,’ said Jim.

  ‘You’re right,’ agreed Veronica. ‘I had a friend who was a cameraman and he said the world looked different through the lens of a camera. Sometimes you don’t really see things that are right there in front of you.’

  Andy knew she was talking about Eddie and stepped in. ‘I’ve been trying to suggest to Veronica that there must be a story, a new angle, about the Aussie film and TV industry. And I don’t mean hearing your reminiscences,’ he grinned at his friends.

  ‘Aw, I dunno about that. I covered some pretty hot stories in my ti
me and Alec, you could spill the beans on some well-known characters,’ said Jim.

  ‘Our show isn’t about that kind of stuff and you know it. But any ideas are welcome,’ said Andy.

  Veronica glanced at her watch. She was surprised to find she’d been enjoying the humorous shop talk and the warm company of these older men who’d been part of the TV landscape almost since its beginning. ‘I’ll have to make tracks to my sister’s for dinner. She doesn’t entertain very often so I mustn’t be late. Thanks for the drinks and the invitation, Andy. And it’s been a real privilege to meet you, gentlemen. Perhaps I might come round and pick your brains some time.’

  ‘Anytime, Veronica.’ The men shook her hand and smiled and watched her thread her way through the room.

  ‘She’s a bright young woman. Very nice. Hope she doesn’t fall in love and leave you, Andy.’

  ‘We’ve been down that road,’ answered Andy. ‘I’m afraid she’s one of this new generation, work is their life. No balance. Not that I’m complaining because she’s a very talented producer. Hey, we should find our tables, dinner is happening by the looks of things.’

  Andy shook hands with his fellow guests as the waiter began pouring wine. He knew the old TV and film hands at the table save for a man sitting on his right. He introduced himself.

  ‘Andy Fitzgerald, Network Eleven.’

  The man with white hair and a neat silver beard smiled as they shook hands. ‘Colin Peterson. I’m a bit of an interloper, can’t claim to be much of a TV or film industry person. Did a bit of scriptwriting once. You still in harness?’

  Andy thought the man probably had a good twenty years on him, which made him around eighty. He nodded. ‘Yep. Still working.’

  ‘What show do you work on?’

  ‘Our Country. Wednesday nights.’

  Colin nodded. ‘Of course. I love it. About Australian places and people. You’ve had some really interesting stories. Where do you get your ideas?’

  There was general chat around the table as the dinner was served and by the time dessert appeared, everyone at the table was mellow and sharing stories.

  Andy turned to Colin. ‘So, you said you did some scriptwriting, which show?’

  Colin leaned back in his chair, ‘Ah, nothing you’ve ever seen. But tell you what, it was the highlight of my life. A wild outback adventure.’ For a moment the silver-haired man with the flushed face and slightly crooked bow tie looked like an enthusiastic young man.

  Andy lifted his glass of red wine. ‘Do tell. What was it? A feature, a doco?’

  ‘It was in the fifties. I was hired to write the script for a documentary film which was supposed to showcase the Australian outback to the world prior to the 1956 Melbourne Olympics. There was a mixed group of us. Off we went on this crazy expedition making it up as we went along.’

  ‘And how did it come out?’

  The older man looked wistful then he straightened up. ‘Well, it was all a bit of a saga. Good and bad memories. But I’ve never seen anything as wild, beautiful or as mystical as the wilderness of the Northern Territory.’

  Andy was intrigued and about to ask more questions, but there was a blast of loud music, the lights dimmed and a cabaret of former TV stars began to strut their stuff. Andy shrugged at Colin and put his hand to an ear.

  Colin nodded, understanding their conversation was now impossible above the noise of the music.

  Veronica’s sister and husband lived in an affluent North Shore suburb where expensive cars were parked in driveways and immaculate lawns and flowerbeds were maintained by professional gardening teams. Most homes had swimming pools, also cared for by regular pool maintenance men.

  Although they were close to the train line, Sue and Philip both drove to the city and parked in their company car spaces, taking it in turns, depending on meetings and business appointments, to drop their two girls off at a costly private, but creative, day-care centre which had a long waiting list.

  Veronica noticed the extra car parked at the curb and sighed. So there was another dinner guest. She knocked at the door rather than ring the chimes and wake the children but the door was pulled open by four-year-old Sarah jumping up and down.

  ‘Auntie Vee, Auntie Vee.’ Sarah rushed at her.

  ‘Hey, I thought you two were supposed to be in bed. You haven’t even got your nightie on. What have you been up to?’

  Sue came to the door and gave Veronica a quick kiss. ‘The girls are being very naughty. Wouldn’t eat their dinner, wouldn’t get out of the bath, wouldn’t go to bed until they saw you.’

  ‘Maybe they need a story. Is Sophie asleep?’

  ‘Of course not. She’s in there flirting with Ben. Come and meet him. I don’t know where the time has gone. I haven’t had time to do anything . . .’

  ‘I hope you didn’t go to any trouble,’ said Veronica.

  ‘Believe me, I didn’t.’ Sue tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and headed to the living room.

  Philip and his friend were sitting on the lounge, two-year-old Sophie jumping up and down on the cushions between them. The TV was blaring, but no-one was watching. Bottles of beer were on the coffee table and the dog was eyeing the bowl of peanuts beside them. Philip waved to Veronica.

  ‘Hey, here at last. Come and meet Ben. Say, you look great, where’ve you been? Cocktails with some celebrity? She works in TV,’ he said to Ben.

  ‘Kind of a work function.’ She held out her hand towards Ben who struggled to his feet as Sophie clung to him. ‘I’m Veronica. Sue’s sister.’

  ‘Hi. Yes, I’ve heard all about you.’

  ‘Sorry, Philip, did I get the time confused? I thought Sue said to come late-ish.’

  ‘That was the plan. These monkeys were supposed to be in bed. Do you want a drink, Veronica?’

  ‘I’ll wait till dinner, thanks. How about I read these two a story? C’mon, Sophie, you haven’t given me a hug yet.’ She peeled the younger girl off Ben who looked relieved. ‘I’ll see you shortly.’

  ‘I get to choose,’ squealed Sarah, dashing ahead to the bedroom as Sophie started wailing, ‘Me choose . . .’

  Veronica went past the kitchen. ‘Sue, I’ll see if I can quieten them down then I’ll help you with the food, okay?’

  ‘Thanks. When they’re settled, go and talk to the boys. Nothing to do in here, I got Indian take-away.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Veronica couldn’t help noticing the smart kitchen with all its modern appliances looked as though a small army had invaded, leaving dishes and glasses and open cartons everywhere. For someone who was meticulous, a detail person and thorough in her work, Sue was unbelievably messy at home, thought Veronica. But then so was their mother, Joan, who ran an employment agency but always paid people to keep the family home tidy especially as their father, Roger, travelled a lot as a marketing executive.

  As Veronica settled the girls into their adjoining beds, smoothed the covers and pulled a chair between the two beds to read them a story, it occurred to her that although her parents had never spent a lot of time with them, she and Sue never felt neglected. There were babysitters and lots of visits from their two grandmothers. Unfortunately for Sue, their mother still worked, so there were fewer visits for her daughters to enjoy.

  Sue stuck her head in the door. ‘You all right, girls? Now be good and quiet for Auntie Vee. Dinner won’t be long.’

  ‘We’ve had dinner. It was yukky,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Well, we won’t get that dish again from the Yummy Tummy Shop,’ said Sue. ‘Poor Auntie Vee and Mummy and Daddy and his friend, we haven’t had our dinner.’

  Veronica glanced at her watch. It was quarter to ten. She was feeling past food. ‘Sue, do you remember when our grannies used to visit, look after us? They always cooked us stuff, read stories, sewed things, didn’t they?’

  ‘God, yes. Mum loved it. When she and Dad came back the cupboards were tidy, all the ironing done, freezer full of home-baked goodies, though I think we might have worn the
old dears out.’ She smiled at her two daughters. ‘A bit like you two. Okay, ten minutes and then lights out.’

  The little girls argued with Veronica when she finished the story, but she was firm and walked out of their bedroom, shutting the door behind her, ignoring their complaints.

  ‘Phil, I’m ready for that drink now.’ Veronica moved toys off a lounge chair and sat down.

  ‘I’ll get it. What would you like?’ Ben jumped to his feet as Phil went to find plates and cutlery.

  Sue carried the take-away containers to the table. ‘I’m not fussing with platters, we’ll just help ourselves.’

  ‘Saves washing up,’ said Phil. He grinned at Ben. ‘I told you this was casual, just family.’

  ‘How about I light a candle?’ Veronica took a small candelabra from a sideboard and put it on the table in a gesture to dress up the meal.

  Ben was pleasant looking, with a good job. He was earnest and asked questions about her work and tried to appear interested in her brief answers. Veronica knew he was trying to make a good impression and she tried to be interested in his work but she felt they had little in common and there was simply no chemistry.

  Driving home later, Veronica chided herself for not making more of an effort. Many of her contemporaries would have had at least one date with him to test the waters. What was wrong with her, she wondered. The damage from her relationship with Eddie must have had affected her more than she suspected and she felt the hurt and resentment towards him resurface. Or was it something else? Veronica understood very well the pace at which Sue and Philip lived, their drive to provide for their family, but it didn’t feel right. She was always glad to see them, but she always came away feeling exhausted. She didn’t think that she could live in such chaos. Veronica knew that she didn’t want her life to be as complicated as theirs.

  The following Monday morning Veronica sat across from Andy as they shared their morning coffee prior to the production meeting.

  ‘So how was your sister’s dinner?’

  ‘Fine. There was a fellow there who works with my brother-in-law. Don’t get nervous, Andy, he wasn’t my type. And by the time I’d read a story to the girls and we finally ate dinner it was past my bedtime.’