To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5 Read Free Page B

auditorium of a picture palace in Sydney. She was not at the time in the theatre, but actually on the screen. Fenella Macintosh was making a name for herself as a famous film actress.
    The young woman slumped at a wooden table with her head in her arm did not appear to be aware of the manstanding behind her, armed with a long-bladed knife which he held raised ready to stab her.
    ‘Okay, cut. We will try that again from a different angle.’ The young woman raised her head from the table to glance at the man who had called the direction. ‘We need to see the grief in those big, beautiful eyes of yours, Nellie.’
    Fenella Macintosh turned to her would-be killer and took his hand. ‘Darling, you have an invitation to dinner next Sunday night at my father’s house,’ she said. ‘A long-lost cousin will be the guest of honour.’
    Guy Wilkes smiled down at Fenella. He was a handsome, dashing figure with dark, oiled hair parted in the middle and piercing eyes highlighted by the excess of stage make-up. Fenella was similarly made up, highlighting her most expressive features so as to convey her feelings to the audience, without recourse to sound. ‘I don’t think this script will work, Arthur, old dear,’ Guy complained to the older man who joined them at the table.
    Arthur Thorncroft frowned. He was a solidly built man but carried his sixty years well. He still retained the bearing of a man who had fought as an officer with the New South Wales contingent that had been sent to the Sudan. Thirty years earlier he had faced the fierce Dervish warriors. There too he had met a young colonial serving with the British army by the name of Patrick Duffy and an unlikely friendship had blossomed between the two men. In Arthur’s world he would have liked their friendship to have developed into a more physical and intimate relationship, but Patrick Duffy was not that way inclined. Despite their differences, the two men remained close friends and Patrick’s daughter, Fenella, was the nearest thing Arthur had to his own daughter. ‘My dear boy,’ he sighed, ‘to stay in business we have to make something a little more sophisticated thanbushranger films. The unwashed masses want melodrama from our studios – otherwise the Americans will crush us out of existence.’
    Now it was Guy Wilkes’ turn to frown. He had hoped to be portrayed as a sadly heroic figure fighting the evil establishment of colonial Australia instead of a maniacal, jealous husband bent on killing his unfaithful wife. After all, had not the portrayal of bushrangers packed the tents and community halls in rural Australia and the newly built picture palaces in the cities? Had not those same films made him the heart-throb of women who swooned whenever he appeared in public? On the other hand, he might be able to identify with the character he was portraying when he looked into the wide eyes of the young woman at the table. Fenella Macintosh received the same adoration from half the male population of Australia; the other half was yet to see her on the silver screen.
    ‘The crew feel that we should pack it in for today,’ a young man said to Arthur. ‘We can have an early start tomorrow.’
    Arthur turned to the young man whom he had appointed as his assistant film director, script supervisor, location selector, and manager of film props and lighting. ‘Yes, well, if that is the feeling we will call it a day,’ he agreed to the relief of the small group of people on the film set. The camera man carefully dismantled his hand-cranked camera in its wooden box on a tripod and took the cumbersome apparatus away. Soon he’d develop the footage of film they had shot that day.
    ‘Did I hear you tell Guy that you were having a long-lost cousin over for Sunday roast?’ Arthur asked. ‘And, if I had to guess, would I be right in saying it was young Matthew Duffy?’
    ‘It is, Uncle Arthur,’ Fenella replied.
    ‘Ah, how is Matthew?’ Arthur asked with genuine