Silver Wattle (30 page)

Philip stood up and reached out his hand to me, helping me up. He brushed his fingers under my chin and kissed me again.

‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘It won’t be right to be seen together until Beatrice has been told.’

Before leaving the maze, Philip turned to me once more and smiled. ‘It’s all going to be fine, Adela. Don’t worry. Promise?’

‘I promise.’

I watched Philip disappear behind the hedge. A few minutes later the voices that had been calling greeted him. ‘Come quickly to the house!’ one of them said.

I sat back down on the bench and fixed my hair. Philip was right. We were not trying to hurt anybody. We only wanted to be honest and to do what was right. I stood up and walked through the maze, drunk with happiness, desire and sunshine. I stepped back out onto the path and gave a start when I saw Freddy waiting by the cypress pines, smoking a cigarette. He looked at me with appraising eyes. ‘All the guests are leaving. I’m taking you and Klara home.’

‘Leaving?’ I asked, wondering why he was staring at me so harshly. Did he know I had been in the maze with Philip? ‘But it is still early.’

Freddy did not answer. I realised the strap of my slip was showing under my sleeve and I tugged it back over my shoulder.

‘What has happened?’ I asked.

Freddy threw his cigarette on the gravel and stamped it out. ‘A message came from the Fahey house. Beatrice’s mother has died. Beatrice went home half an hour ago. Philip’s just left to join her.’

M
rs Fahey’s funeral rekindled my grief at my own mother’s death. I was hesitant to take Klara with me, but she insisted. I was glad in the end she came, because when we arrived at the church the number of mourners was overwhelming. The Fahey family might have been small but they had many friends.

Mrs Fahey’s coffin was lifted from the horse-drawn hearse and carried into the church by the pallbearers: Philip and his father, Robert and Alfred.

Beatrice stood at the entrance to the church looking dazed. Florence put her arm around her. When the coffin passed and I saw ‘Mummy’ on the ribbon of the wreath, I almost broke down. I knew how losing a mother changed you. My life was divided into two parts: life with Mother, and life without.

The mourners followed the coffin into the church. Beatrice stumbled and I stretched forward to help Florence hold her upright. ‘Thank you,’ Beatrice said, her tears spilling onto my hand. There was no colour in her face and her red eyebrows stood out as if they were floating in the air by themselves.

In the church, I bowed my head and prayed for guidance. I had not spoken to Philip since the afternoon tea. But I trusted in his promise that he would find the best course for us. I knew that he had not told Beatrice yet because of the changed circumstances and accepted I would have to be patient a while longer in order to do the right thing by Beatrice.

Outside the church, Klara and I waited with the mourners to give Beatrice our condolences. She was sitting in a chair with Philip and Florence by her side.

‘I’m so sorry, Beatrice,’ I told her.

She looked at me with tear-stained eyes. ‘I know you understand what I’m feeling.’

‘I do,’ I said, patting her hand.

‘It was good of you to come,’ Florence said. ‘To give us support. Beatrice is fond of you, Adela. She thinks of you as a sister.’

‘Oh dear Aunty, I do,’ Beatrice said. Her lips trembled like an old woman’s. ‘That’s exactly how I think of Adela. I’ve only known her a short time but I would trust her with my life.’

I could not look at Philip when Beatrice said those words. I kissed her cheek and moved on to let the next mourner greet the family.

Klara must have sensed what I was thinking. She grabbed my arm and squeezed it.

‘I feel like a thief about to rob a helpless victim,’ I told Klara when we were out of earshot.

‘Beatrice is not helpless,’ said Klara. ‘It is only unfortunate timing. Everything will be all right.’

Afterwards, at the wake, Philip and I snatched a moment away from the others in the hall when I was heading towards the lavatory and he was rushing to the kitchen to request more hot water for the tea.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked me.

I nodded. ‘And you?’

He stroked his temple. ‘Yes, I think so. The situation is more awkward than I had anticipated. I have to help Beatrice through this time.’

‘I understand.’

‘I’m disappointed that I won’t make the premiere of your picture. I hope you’ll give me a private screening?’

‘I will.’

Philip reached out to touch my cheek then quickly pulled away. Doctor Page Senior was standing in the doorway.

‘Good day, Miss Rose,’ Doctor Page said to me. He glanced at Philip and raised his eyebrows. ‘The guests are waiting for the hot water.’

‘Excuse me, Adela,’ Philip said. ‘Thank you for your condolences to our family. They are much appreciated.’

He spoke formally in front of his father, but I caught the love in his eyes. The look was going to have to sustain me during our temporary separation.

After Philip left, Doctor Page turned to me. ‘I hope you have been keeping well, Miss Rose,’ he said. ‘How is your portrait work progressing?’

I told him about Frederick Rockcliffe’s portrait and other recent commissions, mindful to thank him for giving me a start to my career. I felt that he was scrutinising me and I did not know if he had seen Philip reach for me or not. His face was stern and I was not sure if his grim expression was caused by anger—or simply by grief.

After the funeral, I occupied myself by going to the cinema and meeting Hugh and Peter at the Vegetarian Cafe. I enlarged Freddy’s portrait, as he requested, so he could hang it in his office. I had used the light to downplay his suit and bring to prominence his chin and brow. He looked commanding. I was keen to see his reaction to it, and at the same time I was not enthusiastic to see him after Robert’s afternoon tea. I sent the portrait special delivery to the Galaxy Pictures office. It was the first time I had not delivered a portrait in person. I usually liked to see the subject’s initial reaction.

My twenty-first birthday arrived, and Ranjana baked a vanilla cake with pink icing. Mother used to make vanilla cakes for our birthdays. After a round of ‘Happy Birthday’, Ranjana placed a slice in front of me. It tasted exactly the same as Mother’s cakes had.

‘Josephine sent the recipe,’ said Uncle Ota, handing me an envelope and a small box. ‘Happy Birthday, Adelka.’

I opened the envelope and saw it contained a letter from Aunt Josephine.

‘Excuse me one moment,’ I told the others, before stepping out into the garden to read what Aunt Josephine had written.

My beautiful Adelka,

It is too difficult to believe that the baby who arrived in such a hurry one summer morning is now a young woman. How I wish I could share this important birthday with you, but in a way we are all together. Before leaving for Marianske Lazne, I visited the bank and took these diamond earrings from your mother’s jewellery collection for you. I know she would have wanted you to have them. While there I remembered her special recipe book and went to the blue house to see if I could find it. Indeed I did and was thrilled when I came across her birthday cake recipe, which I then sent to Ota and your aunt. How proud your mother would have been of you. How proud I am of you.

When I return to Prague, I will arrange for Doctor Holub to send some money to you. We will wire it to you from Austria so it can’t be traced…

Aunt Josephine wrote about Marianske Lazne but did not mention Milosh. She described her hotel set in the hills above the town and how Frip was pampered by the staff. Although Aunt Josephine said nothing of it, I feared that she was not well. Why was she visiting a spa? I wished I could be there with her.

I opened the box. Inside, tucked into a piece of silk, were two drop earrings. I admired the pretty fleur-de-lis tops and the sparkling diamonds. I shut my eyes and saw Mother wearing the earrings while she danced with Father at a Christmas ball that I had been allowed to attend when I was a child. Mother’s off-the-shoulder gown had been trimmed in lace, bows and flowers. I did not let the memory linger further than that. I did not want to think of Milosh or how he was progressing in America. No doubt the fact that I was now twenty-one was spurring him to greater efforts to find us.

The night of the premiere of
The Bunyip
Philip sent me a bouquet of pastel roses along with a card:

Beatrice was in mourning for three months and it would be improper of Philip to attend festivities while they were still officially engaged. I was disappointed not to be able to share my birthday or this important milestone with the man I loved, but I did my best to rally my spirits. Uncle Ota was providing the champagne and the cocktail sandwiches at his own expense and had gone to a lot of trouble for me. Raymond Longford’s feature film had already screened at the major release theatres and there was no need to hold a premiere for a short. But Uncle Ota wanted to bolster my courage. ‘You’ve got talent,’ he told me. ‘Let’s get you off to a good start.’

I stood by the entrance with him, greeting the guests as they arrived. There was quite a crowd, including former colleagues of Uncle Ota’s from the museum, guests and past speakers from our Tuesday night gatherings, as well as the regular cinema patrons. Mr Tilly and his wife came with Ben. Klara placed herself beside me. She looked beautiful in the blue dress she had worn for her concert. I was happy to see how far she had come since her illness. She was my stronghold now.

‘I didn’t realise how many people we knew,’ she whispered to me.

Robert and Freddy arrived together. Robert looked elegant but Freddy was dressed in a yellow tuxedo with blue shoes. I remembered my promise to myself to talk to him about his dress style.

Robert could not take his eyes off Klara. She looked older than her age but was just a week shy of fourteen. She would not be interested in him.

Other guests were waiting, so Robert and Freddy wished us the best before moving inside. ‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing your picture all week,’ Freddy told me.

Peter arrived with Hugh, who had Giallo on his shoulder.

‘Giallo’s been to the pictures before,’ Peter assured Uncle Ota. ‘If he poops on anything it will be Hugh.’

‘Will he talk during the picture?’ Klara asked with a cheeky smile. She scratched Giallo’s head, which he obligingly bent towards her.

‘Only during intermission,’ Hugh replied.

Uncle Ota glanced at his watch and told us to take our seats in the cinema. I saw Ranjana sneaking up the fire escape to reach the projection room without anyone seeing her. I felt sympathy for the charade she had to maintain. I had one of my own.

After the audience had sung the national anthem and we had been entertained by a comedian waltzing with his pet pig, the lights lowered and my film appeared on the screen. I listened with relief to the audience sighing and laughing in the right places. Esther, who was sitting between me and Hugh, gave a start when the bunyip appeared. It was amusing as she had fashioned the costume herself, from one of Uncle Ota’s tribal masks and a blanket.

‘The audience is enraptured,’ Uncle Ota whispered. ‘Congratulations.’

But my little effort was overshadowed by the feature film,
The Blue Mountains Mystery
. The cameraman, Arthur Higgins, captured the grand beauty of the setting in a way never seen before. It was as if the mountains had risen up before our eyes to dazzle us with their majesty.

Afterwards, the guests mingled in the foyer while Klara played the piano with two of her classmates joining her on violin and clarinet. Hugh, who was not comfortable with crowds, left immediately after the session, and Uncle Ota, Ranjana and Esther were occupied with the catering. I stood by the fountain and surveyed the room. I spotted Peter in the crowd, but before I could reach him I was intercepted by Freddy.

‘I’d like to see what you can do with a bit of money,’ he said. ‘That wasn’t a bad effort.’

‘Thank you.’

Freddy scratched his head and signalled to a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses. ‘I received my portrait and all the compliments that went with it. How come you didn’t bring it yourself?’

‘I would have,’ I lied. ‘But I have been busy.’

The waiter brought over the tray of glasses and Freddy took two, handing one to me. ‘Have you seen Philip lately?’

I was taken aback by his question. I had not forgotten how he had looked at me when I had emerged from the maze. But I had done nothing wrong. Freddy could judge me all he liked.

‘No,’ I said, firmly. ‘Beatrice is still in mourning.’

Freddy cocked his head. ‘Beatrice,’ he sighed. ‘Now there’s someone who has more to her than meets the eye.’

My curiosity was aroused. I was about to ask him what he meant when Uncle Ota signalled to me to move to the front of the room to give a speech.

‘I’ll catch up with you later,’ Freddy said.

But afterwards, when I looked for him, Freddy was gone and I had lost my chance to find out more about Beatrice.

Two days after the premiere Philip sent me a note asking me to meet him in the garden of Broughton Hall. Now it begins, I thought. Now my happiness with Philip starts.

‘You both deserve all the joy in the world,’ Klara said, when I told her where I was going.

The day was unusually humid. I stepped off the tram and the sun disappeared behind the clouds and the sky threatened rain. I had dressed in a floral skirt and blouse and had curled my hair especially for the occasion. But the listless air turned my locks frizzy and my blouse stuck to my back. I reached the path to the garden and the sky suddenly opened. Rain splattered down and splashed mud onto my shoes and stockings.

I hurried past the pine trees and tropical ferns to the summerhouse where Philip had said he would wait. I passed a fig tree and the summerhouse came into view. Philip was standing with his back to me. I was filled with such love that I forgot my clothes were soaking wet and my curls were falling into straggly ringlets around my face.