Heart of the Dreaming (32 page)

Roger Ambrose took Queenie's arm as they walked to the shade of the trees lining the creek bank, to watch the crew preparing for the shoot. As they sat down in director's chairs, there was suddenly a new sound that made everyone take notice — an aeroplane engine starting.

‘Ah-ha,' exclaimed Roger. ‘Red Jack is about
to get off the ground,' he smiled at Queenie. ‘How do you like your anniversary gift?'

‘It was a surprise. I don't know that we need a plane, or can afford it. But it was a sweet gesture … I suppose.'

‘If an extravagant one,' added Roger.

Queenie sighed. ‘Yes, Warwick is inclined to splurge a bit. He gave me some story about money from the film helping to pay for it. The way the crew eats, I think we'll be out of pocket!'

Roger grinned back at her. ‘I think he meant profits from his investment in the picture.'

Queenie stared at him. ‘Warwick invested money in the film?'

‘Oh dear, have I stepped out of line? Didn't you know?'

‘No, I didn't.' Queenie looked puzzled, thinking aloud. ‘How could he put money in the film and afford to buy that plane? We've been running pretty close to the wind on our overdraft.'

‘It's not my business, I know, Queenie, but I think Alfredo Camboni might have helped out.'

‘Helped out!' Queenie's eyes blazed. ‘That man doesn't do anything out of the goodness of his heart.' She snatched Nareedah's dangling reins and swung into the saddle. ‘This has been a private conversation, Roger. Please don't feel you have broken any confidences.'

She rode off and Roger Ambrose was glad he wasn't in Warwick's shoes, having to face Queenie with an explanation. Warwick had been carried away by the glamour of the film
industry and by the idea of quick and easy money. He had conjured up images of Hollywood film moguls and their ‘deals'. And as he had put it to Roger, rather naively, he wanted a ‘slice of the action'.

Roger sighed, he didn't have the heart to tell Queenie about the dismally low percentage of films that went into profit. Distributors, production companies, the studio, all creamed what they could from the exercise in the guise of fees and expenses for the making of the film, the marketing, the promotion and the selling of it.

Millie quietly put Saskia to bed as the argument between Warwick and Queenie raged behind the closed door of the study. Warwick finally left, slamming the door behind him, and picking up a bottle of rum and a glass, headed for his back bedroom. Yet again, Queenie slept on the sofa in her study.

TR was putting his horse through a stunt jump for the cameras down at the set by the creek when the mail truck, trailing a cloud of dust, trundled to the homestead.

Millie appeared at the front steps wiping her hands on her apron as the driver jumped down and greeted her with a big grin. She peered past his shoulder at the figure in the passenger seat. ‘Who's that with you, Tom?'

‘A visitor.' His grin widened and he tipped his battered broad-brimmed hat to the back of his head. He called over his shoulder. ‘Hey, we're here. You can get out.'

The woman inside had been waiting for her
door to be opened. She impatiently wrenched at the awkward handle and hitched her tight skirt above her knees so she could make the long step down to the ground. Tom continued to grin as he stared at her shapely legs. She slammed the door and strode towards them, an almost comic figure — someone dressed for a
Vogue
fashion spread in New York, but looking hot and bewildered in this outback setting.

‘This 'ere is a friend of TR's, Millie. All the way from America,' Tom announced, as if introducing a visitor from outer space.

Millie's eyes widened and she hurried forward. ‘Hello, hello. I'm Millie. Come on in out of the sun, you look all hot and bothered.'

‘You might say that,' she drawled, and fanned herself as she followed Millie along the verandah. ‘I'm Martine Hoxburgh. I was expecting TR to meet me. Is he here? It's been quite an amazing trip. I had no idea the country was so … primitive.'

She sank into a cane chair. Tom joined them, handing the satchel of mail to Millie. ‘Chance of a cuppa, Millie?'

‘Of course. What about you, Miss Hoxburgh?'

‘A cold drink would be wonderful. I can't tell you what this journey has been like.'

‘Aw, go on, tell her,' laughed Tom.

Martine glared at him and said nothing. Millie excused herself and Tom followed her to the kitchen. ‘I'll give you a hand, Millie. By crikey, Millie, she doesn't know if she's Arthur or Martha. She comes on like some
hoity-toity glamour queen, nice enough, but obviously used to the finer things in life. She was so anxious to see TR she's been on three mail runs. I picked her up only this morning. Everything that could have gone wrong, has. You wouldn't credit it. She's dressed to kill and on one trip they break down, on the other trip they hit a flooded creek and had to be winched out, and then they find a snake in amongst the mail. She's had hysterics so often she can hardly talk. She made me stop in Longreach at a hotel so she could freshen up. She get's all fancied up in the lav at the George Hotel — '

‘The George! Why did you take her there? I wouldn't let a dog in that scummy place.'

‘I had mail for them. Anyway, she comes out, picking her way through the drunks, when two Abos start a bloody blue on the verandah and stumble right into her, that sets the dogs off and they start fighting. She took off down the street in them high heels … laugh … I thought I'd die.'

Tom's laughter dwindled away seeing Millie's set face. ‘I don't think it's that funny, Tom Higgins. Here, take this tray outside and keep your mouth shut.'

Queenie had got used to strange people about the place with the film crew and cast drifting around. However, the house with Rose's valuable paintings and pieces of silver was off limits unless it was being used to shoot a scene.

She was therefore somewhat surprised to arrive home and find a beautiful redhead in
a cream linen skirt, a silk shirt and sunglasses, flipping through a magazine as she lounged on the verandah.

Queenie greeted her graciously. ‘I'm Queenie Redmond. You're new — you must be an actress. I didn't hear the plane come in.'

They shook hands as Martine lowered her dark glasses. ‘Plane? I have been to hell and back for three days on trucks. They told me the property was “Just up the track”. A quaint interpretation of distance, I must say, but apparently a very Australian understatement. And the men! My God, they're unbelievable. If they are specimens of Australian males, I pity the girls out here.'

Queenie laughed, enjoying her Southern drawl. ‘You're American. Yes, the fellows can be a bit rough and ready in their treatment of women, but they're good men underneath. Why on earth did they send you up on the mail run? That's scarcely star treatment. I'm sorry, what was your name? Or should I know you? I've trodden on a few egos, I'm afraid, as I don't keep up with the movie business.'

‘I'm Martine Hoxburgh and I'm certainly not an actress. I'm in the fashion business, and I've come out to visit my … a friend. I thought I'd surprise him … it was a mad idea at the time. Seems even crazier now.'

‘I think that's a lovely idea. You're a friend of Roger's , are you?'

‘No. TR Hamilton. Do you know him? He doesn't know I'm here, he's still filming in the wilderness somewhere.'

Queenie paused a moment. ‘Yes, I know TR.
Martine, would you care for something to drink? If you'll excuse me, I just dropped in to pick up some serum for a sick horse. I'll be back shortly.' Queenie strode into the house. ‘Millie …'

Millie hurried downstairs. ‘Oh, Queenie. Did you meet TR's girlfriend? She's just arrived. Poor thing. Had a dreadful trip. I put her in one of the spare bedrooms, was that all right?'

‘For the moment,' Queenie called as she disappeared into the rear of the house

A short time later Queenie approached Martine. ‘Would you like to go down to the filmset and find TR?'

‘Oh, that would be great!'

Queenie wanted to be there when TR saw Martine. She reversed the Land Rover with unnecessary force.

Roger Ambrose hurried to the two women and Queenie introduced Martine. Roger's eyes flicked appreciatively over the elegant Southerner. ‘TR is just over the rise. They're filming him galloping and jumping the creek. He's doubling for Ty, the main actor,' explained Roger.

From the Land Rover they watched the sequence go smoothly for three takes and when the director called ‘Print', TR reined in his horse and dismounted. Roger called to him and TR turned and came towards them. Before he could react to the sight of Martine, she ran forward to embrace him.

‘Good lord, Martine! What a shock! How did you get here?'

‘Honey, don't ask.' She lifted her face to be kissed. TR kissed her lightly and came towards them with Martine holding his arm. ‘You've met Martine?'

‘Yes. We've been hearing how she decided to surprise you at Guneda and when she found you were filming out here, she just set off into the wild. A nice surprise, huh, TR?' smiled Roger Ambrose.

‘I am surprised.'

Martine smiled and TR looked at Queenie. ‘I hope this won't put you out?'

‘There's room at the house. You're welcome to stay as long as you wish, Martine. Well, I have work to do.'

Queenie turned away and got back into the Land Rover. She knew it was unfair to feel so jealous. TR was entitled to have a woman in his life — but not under my roof, she thought furiously.

That night at dinner Roger Ambrose raised his glass to make a toast to the three beautiful women gracing the table. ‘Our new guest from the States, Martine; Babette, our beautiful star of
Red Jack;
and our hostess, the lovely Queenie.'

TR, Warwick and Roger sipped their Bollinger, but Queenie rose, disguising her discomfort, murmuring, ‘I'll see to the dessert.'

‘I'm sure Millie has everything under control,' called Warwick, but Queenie had left the room.

As soon as she could excuse herself she fled to her study and the friendly sofa, hoping to avoid Warwick until the morning.

Queenie was asleep when Warwick came in and flung himself into the armchair beside her. ‘You awake, Queenie?'

‘I am now.'

‘That was rude, leaving early like that.'

‘Rubbish. They were all having a good time talking about life in America. I was tired. Goodnight, Warwick.'

‘TR's got himself a real elegant lady. Can't see her settling into our life style though.'

Queenie didn't answer, and Warwick reluctantly left her alone.

‘TR, when are we going to be able to be alone? This is awful, me staying in the house and you in that bunkhouse. I came out to see you.'

‘Martine, I'll be finished here in two days. Then we can go back to Guneda. You'll have to face driving, though.'

‘It will be different with you. To tell you the truth, darling, I can't take the manners of these Australian men. They don't know how to treat a lady. You certainly are the exception to the rule. But even you seem a bit on edge. The sooner we get away the better.'

‘Why did you come, Martine?'

‘Why, honey, I hadn't heard from you in so long and I missed you. Besides, you always talked so much about Australia I wanted to see it.'

Martine had her arm around his waist as they walked towards the stables. ‘Martine, you really shouldn't be walking about in those high heels, you're going to break an ankle.'

‘TR, I was going into town with Roger. I thought I'd have a look around and maybe get my nails and hair done.'

TR stifled a grin. ‘Martine, I don't think there's a women's hairdresser in town. There's a barber. And I know there isn't a manicurist for a few hundred miles. Ask Roger if the film crew girls can fix you up.'

‘Well, I could do my own hair, but my appliances don't work out here. Wrong power system. No wonder the women are so plain. Not Queenie, of course. Y'know, maybe that's why the men don't have any manners. The women don't bother, so the men think why should they? A beautician would make a fortune out here.'

‘I doubt it. Women's priorities in the bush are a bit different. Don't worry about it, you look just fine.'

TR had always admired how well groomed American women were, but here it all seemed rather silly and superficial. He couldn't help comparing the two Americans with Queenie. The movie star was either swathed in a scarf and no makeup, hiding from the world, or else she was in full war paint for the cameras. At home Martine always looked fashionable and immaculate, but here he felt she looked all wrong.

Queenie looked beautiful without any effort. She seldom wore makeup, except for the occasional touch of lipstick, and never painted her nails which were oval and naturally pink. Her face had a soft glow from the sun and her thick hair shone, falling in
heavy waves when it wasn't pulled back or braided. Some evenings, when she had pinned it on top of her head and tucked a flower in one side, she looked almost regal.

TR couldn't imagine Queenie fussing with hair curlers and coloured nail polish. He had seen little of her since Martine arrived and felt uncomfortable. He was anxious to get back to Guneda.

Queenie was also restless. The constant problems and confusion with the film were claustrophobic and she wished she could disappear and leave it all to Warwick whose enthusiasm hadn't dimmed. He joined in the crew meals, knew everyone's name, revelled in the ‘in' jokes, shared the camaraderie and helped smooth over petty jealousies and tantrums.

Roger, Warwick and Martine had become a friendly little unit while TR and Queenie went about their work.

When one of the stock agents rang Queenie to tell her there was a mob of good cattle for sale, her spirits rose. ‘Warwick, we have to get them. They've been fattening out in the Channel Country after the rain. Seven hundred head. A good price, too. We put them with the Brahman bulls at Cricklewood to breed up and we're in business.'