Araluen (19 page)

Franklin thought the statue was a little ostentatious, but Penelope loved it so, Sam’s wishes were complied with and a place was found for The Dueller down on the grass frontage, his pistol pointing towards the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Solomon Mankowski was thrilled to be Franklin’s best man. ‘Me, Boss?’ he said incredulously when Franklin asked him. ‘Me? You sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure, Solly,’ Franklin laughed. ‘Stop acting humble.’

Penelope was secretly disappointed that Franklin had asked Solly. Surely it should have been Viscount Peter Lynell. Or Gustave Lumet at the very least. Someone with more style than Solomon Mankowski. But she wisely recognised that it was a little early to be questioning Franklin’s friendships.

Solly was quite aware of Penelope’s misgivings about him, but they didn’t bother him at all. He had a few of his own about her but so long as she made Franklin happy, who cared? Solly himself was far too happy to care about anything – he and Zofia were to be married themselves in two months.

The only member of Franklin’s family to have been invited was sadly absent. Catherine had died in February while Franklin was mid-Atlantic. Gaby called around to give him the news shortly after his arrival.

‘She tried to stay alive for your wedding, Franklin, but it was not meant to be. She left you something … a present.’ Gaby gestured towards the large square object in brown paper which the house butler had carried upstairs for her. ‘I thought of keeping it as her wedding present to you, but with all the other gifts and the excitement … ‘ She gave a tired shrug. Catherine’s death had exhausted her. ‘I thought you might enjoy it a little more at your leisure.’ She nodded for him to open the parcel.

It was the painting of the bright orange wheat fields. ‘Catherine was quite right,’ Gaby said proudly. ‘The piece is worth a lot of money. After only five years Margaret’s work is very much sought after.’

There was a note inside: ‘Franklin, my dear, Never forget – things are not always as they seem.’

Franklin smiled at Gaby. ‘She always had to have the last word, didn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Gaby smiled back. ‘Always.’

Franklin and Penelope honeymooned at the fashionable Hydro Majestic Hotel in the Blue Mountains, famous for its spa baths. They both agreed that they’d made enough sea voyages for a while. Besides which, Franklin was by now deeply ensconced in his many businesses, including the acquisition of shares in a movie company, and he wanted to get back to work within the fortnight.

‘Would you turn the light off?’ she asked. Franklin
paused for a moment, disappointed. He wanted to see her body. ‘Please, Franklin,’ Penelope insisted.

He obliged and, as he did so, he found himself inwardly agreeing with her. It’s the way it should be, he told himself. It was the correct request from a woman of virtue on her wedding night. He must put aside the memory of his hot, passionate couplings with Millie, he told himself. For the moment anyway. Tonight he must be kind and gentle, there would be time later … He kissed her.

Penelope had been a little apprehensive of their first night together but she’d looked forward to it nonetheless. After years of safe flirtation, she was about to discover the depths of her own sexuality. The memory of the couple in the garden remained vivid in her mind – most of all, the animal sounds the woman had made. The sounds which had both disgusted and excited Penelope.

Now, in the dark, Franklin kissed her neck and fed his hand through the opening of her satin nightgown to gently caress her breasts. He was longing to lift the gown and run his other hand up her leg, over her belly, between her thighs. But, when he’d taken her into his embrace, he’d been aware that she’d flinched at the feel of him hard against her thigh.

It was an instinctive reaction of Penelope’s to flinch at erections. She’d avoided so many on dance floors and in quiet corners while repaying a favour with a kiss and a discreet caress. But now she was married. Now it was fitting for her to discover such mysteries. In the dark, of course. She waited for Franklin to take off his pyjama trousers and to lift her nightgown so that she could feel
their flesh together. Then, maybe, she would have the audacity to part her legs, just a little, as she wanted to do.

But Franklin carefully avoided contact with any area of Penelope’s anatomy that he felt might be too confronting for her. As he did, his excitement mounted. The shadowy profile on the pillow before him. The woman he’d wanted for so long. The shape and warmth of her breast in his cupped hand. The feel of the satin nightgown through the open top of his pyjamas, rubbing silkily against his chest. He longed to rip their clothes off, to feel the full contact of their bodies against each other. But he daren’t. He must be gentle, he must …

‘Oh, God, Penelope … ‘He lost control so suddenly that he was barely aware of the ferocity with which he ripped away his pyjamas and dragged her nightgown up to her waist. Then he was fumbling between her legs, forcing her thighs apart.

No, I don’t want it to be like this, Penelope thought, although she did nothing to halt him. Distasteful as she found it, it was, after all, his right. Any prudery she’d felt at the prospect of opening her legs disappeared. In his excitement he was aware of nothing but his pleasure and she was performing as every good wife should – where was the shame? As she felt him start to push his way inside her, any desire of her own disappeared. It hurt. Penelope felt as though she was being ripped apart, but she clenched her teeth, determined not to cry out.

For a moment, Franklin seemed to realise his brutality and he slowed down. ‘I’m sorry, my darling, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.’ And
he pulled back, trying to ease himself into her more slowly, more delicately. ‘That’s it,’ he whispered. ‘Gently, gently.’ But, considerate as Franklin was trying to be, each thrust, which was like a knife to Penelope, was driving him mad and within minutes he was forced to give in to his desire.

The last few seconds as he pounded at her like a battering ram and growled with the torment of his desire was an agonising lifetime to Penelope, but still she didn’t cry out.

When it was over, Franklin held her close against him and stroked her hair. ‘I’m sorry. I meant to be gentle.’

‘I know.’ There was a burning pain between Penelope’s legs.

‘It will get better.’ Franklin kissed her gently. ‘I promise.’

‘I know, Franklin.’ She returned his kiss and then awkwardly climbed out of the bed. ‘I’d better clean myself up.’

While she was washing the blood from her nightgown, Franklin lay back, contented. Penelope had been a virgin and now she was his wife. There would be plenty of time for them to explore each other sexually. He would teach her the tricks that Millie had taught him. The tricks that pleasured a woman. Everything was perfect, Franklin thought.

N
EW YEAR
1938 came and went and still Penelope wasn't pregnant, despite the fact that she'd been married for nearly eighteen months. Franklin decided he wasn't going to let it worry him. A visit to the doctor proved there was nothing inherently wrong with either of them. ‘These things take time,’ the doctor said comfortingly and Franklin had to be satisfied with that. Besides, he was far too busy to be preoccupied with something which was beyond his control.

Franklin had never been so busy. In fact, he'd appointed a manager, one recommended by Gustave Lumet, to take over the running of The Colony House. Apart from refurbishing his suite there upon Penelope's insistence, Franklin had very little to do with The Colony House these days.

The expansion of Franklin's business had started in the spring of '36. That was when Solly had insisted upon taking Zofia to Poland.

‘I must meet your family, ma petite,’ he stipulated, ‘it is only right.’ Gustave Lumet had once jokingly referred to the buxom Zofia as ‘ma petite Sophie’ and Solly had adopted it as his personal term of endearment ever since. She was his little treasure. It seemed to escape Solly's attention that the young, healthy peasant girl from Central Poland was as big as he was and had the strength of a horse.

Zofia didn't care whether she saw her parents or not. When she and her elder brother had emigrated to Australia five years earlier it had been a relief to all concerned. Her background, like Solly's, had been one of poverty – too many children and not enough money.

She didn't confess to Solly that she also didn't care whether she ever saw Poland again. Zofia realised that Solly was using the excuse of meeting her parents in order to visit his beloved homeland so she meekly agreed.

‘Yes, Solly, it is only right,’ she said and she kissed him.

The trip brought out the wanderlust in Solly and they travelled throughout Europe, returning to Sydney in the autumn of 1937. Solly couldn't wait to tell Franklin everything he'd seen.

‘This man is evil, Boss. This man is mad. He incites the people. They call him “the Fuhrer”. This man is going to want more than Germany. More than Europe even. This man is going to want the world!’

Solly was pacing about the smoking lounge of The Colony House in such a state of excitement that he'd forgotten his large glass of iced vodka on the corner table. The several guests who were quietly relaxing kept giving him odd looks.

‘And he is going to want the world his way -his people only. You see what happen at the Berlin Olympics?’

Franklin nodded. He had seen the newsreels of Hitler leaving the stadium during the gold medal presentation to the black athlete Jessie Owens.

‘And Germany,’ Solly continued. ‘You should see Germany! She is a war machine, Boss, I tell you!’

‘Relax, Solly,’ Franklin said finally. ‘Sit down. Have your vodka.’ Solly drew breath, looked about, noticed the curious glances and sat down to attend to his vodka.

Franklin sat quietly for several moments. Then he said, ‘We must expand.’

Two months later, Franklin bought a cannery and began preparing it for the production of tinned beef. Army rations. It would only be a matter of time before the military would be heavily demanding ‘bully beef.

He also expanded the small leathergoods factory that he and Solly had acquired shortly after his return from America. Their army contract had not yet included the supply of boots. But it would shortly. Franklin would make sure of that.

Then he travelled north to Mandinulla for discussions with Kevin Never-Never Everard. An offer was made, and accepted, for the adjoining property. ‘We must expand, Never-Never,’ he said. ‘We must expand.’

Despite the excitement of expansion, Franklin had not forgotten his commitment to Penelope and, while he was conducting his business transactions, he extended his bank credit yet further to include the funding of a mid-budget feature-length film which, given the limited overseas distribution available to Australian producers, would hopefully help launch its star, Penelope Greenway.

By 1938 there was certainly no time to ponder the fact that his marriage was not yet fruitful. Penelope was, after all, only twenty-four, time was on his side. And, although she wasn't as voracious or as adventurous as Millie had been, their sex life was good. In fact, Franklin was convinced that a preoccupation with sex dissipated one's energies and that he was accomplishing far more with Penelope by his side than he ever would have with someone like Millie. It was the correct relationship for a man to have with his wife and, on the occasions when they did make love, always in the dark, Penelope certainly seemed to be satisfied.

Penelope was not satisfied, but she quickly discovered how to dissemble. All she had to do was recall the moans of the woman in the garden and imitate them – an edited, genteel form of her own. It not only discouraged Franklin from experimenting but it excited him to the point where he climaxed earlier and he seemed quite happy with her response.

She didn't feel cheated. She too had decided that theirs was the correct marriage relationship and she told herself it would have been wrong of her to seek a greater excitement – that was for loose women.

As usual, Penelope was managing, very successfully, to delude herself. It was convenient for her to play the proper woman, the respectable wife, and to ignore the urge deep down to feel what the woman in the garden had felt. There was no point in dwelling upon that, anyway. Franklin was fulfilling his promise to her and she was starring in her first feature film.

They were exciting times for Penelope. The role of Ruth, a strong, independent career woman, was the perfect vehicle for her and she loved the script. She loved the script and she loved the director and she loved the writer and, above all, she loved being a star.

Much of
A Woman of Today
was shot on location around Sydney. ‘Identifiable places only,’ Rick, the director, had insisted. ‘This film is for international release. We must have locations people recognise.’ Richard Lang was a very intense young man who desperately wanted to work in America. He'd directed meaningful, well-received documentaries and one successful low-budget film and this was his big chance for overseas recognition.

So they filmed around the various tourist haunts. The Sydney Harbour Bridge, Bondi Beach, the ninety-foot cliff known as ‘The Gap’ at the south harbour headland, a favourite suicide spot. Penelope was in her element when the tourists gathered around to watch. There was something about a movie camera which attracted crowds and she basked in the constant attention.

The writer wasn't too happy about the relentless glamour of the locations. ‘Ruth came from a working-class background. We have to have
some
squalid locations, for God's sake.’ But Rick and the producer didn't listen to him.

The producer agreed to ban the writer from the set if he upset Richard any further. They had, after all, bought the script outright and allowing the writer any further input was only a courtesy.

Franklin was in Queensland at Mandinulla during most of the filming. Penelope was so busy that she didn't really have time to miss him. But throughout the postproduction stage when she wasn't required, she felt lonely and restless and hoped fervently that he would be back in time for the premiere.