A Murder Unmentioned (2 page)

Edna grabbed his arm as he turned to go. “You will be kind, won’t you, Rowly?”

Milton laughed. “Kind? For God’s sake, Ed, that’s the least of our worries. Rowly will probably agree to wed the girl so she doesn’t think him impolite!”

Edna smiled. “Oh dear, you’re probably right.” Rowland’s excessive courtesy had gotten him into trouble before.

Even Clyde agreed. “Every girl you meet seems to become convinced you want to marry her, mate… It probably wouldn’t hurt to be marginally rude.”

“Yes, you’re all very amusing,” Rowland returned, mildly offended. None of the misunderstandings to which they were alluding were his fault. “I’d better disillusion Colonel Bennett before this gets out of hand.” He wasn’t sure how he could possibly do it kindly.

2

CENTRE PARTY

ERIC CAMPBELL’S

NEW PROPOSAL

SYDNEY, Monday

The formation of what will be termed the Centre Party, with its ultimate objective the abolition of machine politics by the institution of vocational representation was outlined by Mr. Eric Campbell at a large and representative meeting of the New Guard to-night. The hall was packed with men wearing arm bands of numerous colours, while all entrances were strongly guarded by bands of coatless men dressed in white shirts.

Addressing the gathering, Mr. Campbell referred to the “great god of the U.A.P. with feet of clay and a head of concrete” and the “high priests Stevens and Lyons, who are nothing more than a pair of mummers.” …

Amongst the objects of the proposed Centre Party as outlined by Mr. Campbell, were the unity of political, industrial, cultural and moral functions of the State, repeal of all Socialist legislation, indissoluble co-operation of capital and Labour in all industries, non-payment of members of Parliament, elimination of unemployment by efficient and economic government and development of the country’s resources and the freeing of industry from unjust and inequitable taxation.

The Canberra Times, 5 December 1933

M
orris Bennett had taken the chair behind the desk and was ensconced with his pipe and a cup of tea. He stood as Rowland entered, the smart abrupt movement of a military man.

“Colonel Bennett,” Rowland extended his hand.

“Rowland my boy, there you are!” Bennett grasped Rowland’s hand in both of his and shook it warmly.

“Can I offer you a drink, sir?”

“Why, yes, dear boy!” Bennett replied enthusiastically. “I expect that we will have something to toast quite soon.” He exhaled contentedly. “I’ve always thought a man should have a son… of course the good Lord deigned to give me daughters!” Bennett sat back and cleared his throat. “I must say I am very happy we’re having this conversation, Rowland, very happy indeed.”

For a brief moment Rowland seriously considered making his excuses and leaving. But what reason could he possibly concoct to suddenly rush from his own house? So he poured a glass of Scotch for Bennett and fortified himself with gin.

“To what exactly do I owe the pleasure, Colonel Bennett?” he asked deciding to get straight to the point.

Bennett frowned then. “I had hoped that you might have presented yourself as soon as you returned from abroad, Sinclair.”

“I see.” Rowland took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Apology accepted, Sinclair. After all a man must attend to business first, no matter what the ladies want, eh?” He sighed. “Did I tell you that I have four daughters, Sinclair? Four!” Bennett shook his head as if the gravity of his misfortune yet astounded him. “Still, they’re not bad gels if you can bear all the silly nonsense that they go on with.”

Rowland tried again. “Colonel Bennett, I have the greatest respect for your daughter—”

“Of course these things must be done properly, but Lucy would never forgive me if I stood in your way, which I can tell you, Rowland,
I’m not inclined to do. I knew your father you know… fine man. I expect you’re cut from the same cloth.”

Rowland tensed slightly. “I don’t think I am, sir.”

Bennett laughed. “I recall dining at
Oaklea
in Henry’s time.” He closed his eyes to savour the memory with his Scotch. “Extraordinary property. Splendid grounds, magnificent mechanised woolshed—twenty stands—simply superb… and the house itself…” His eyes shone, moist with emotion. “A stately oasis of British elegance and gentility in the Australian wilderness. Your father was an exemplary host, my boy… the finest of everything in abundance… and your dear mother, as gracious as she was beautiful. What wonderful, wonderful times they were.”

Rowland drained his glass of gin silently.

Bennett leant forward and lowered his voice. “I understand that you have been meeting with members of the government since you got back.”

“How did—” Rowland began uneasily.

The colonel grinned and tapped his nose. “I’m not without connections, you know. I presume you are contemplating a career in politics. A fine ambition, my boy. I expect I could be of some assistance to you on that account.”

Rowland almost laughed. He had, since returning to Sydney, approached every sitting member of the parliament to whom he could gain access to press his concerns about the excesses of the German government. The process had not left him with a particularly warm opinion of the esteemed members of the United Australia Party. Entering parliament himself was the furthest thing from his mind. “I’m afraid—”

“You’ll find Lucy an invaluable asset in that regard.” Bennett advised. “A wife can be very near as useful to a politician as his lodge.”

“Sir, I don’t think you understand…”

“But I do… it seems not so long ago that I spoke to my Marjorie’s father. And now—”

Bennett stopped as the door burst open. Milton and Clyde stumbled in, each carrying several canvases.

“Where do you want these, Rowly?” Milton asked, holding up a painting of Edna.

Bennett’s moustache bristled, as he studied the vibrant nude rendered in oil. She stood emblazoned on the canvas with her arms outstretched, beguiling, unashamed and utterly naked. The retired colonel moved his gaze systematically over the other paintings, flinching as he beheld each new nude.

Rowland stared at his friends bewildered.

“We’ve simply run out of space in the drawing room… we’ll have to hang these here,” Clyde said, holding a pastel piece up against the wall.

Bennett’s face began to flush.

“Oh hello. What are you all doing in here?” Edna walked in. She bestowed Bennett with an enchanting smile.

Still confused, Rowland introduced his friends.

Bennett looked from Edna’s face to the paintings.

She laughed. “You’ve recognised me, Colonel Bennett. They’re excellent likenesses are they not? No one paints me with quite the intimacy that Rowly does. Why there’s no part of me that he does not know.”

Bennett blustered incomprehensibly.

Milton, Clyde and Edna then fell into a rather animated conversation about the works, recounting the arduous hours Edna was called on to spend naked as she modelled for Rowland. They reminisced about the other models that Rowland used from time to time.

Bennett’s face was entirely red but for his lips, which were pressed into a hard white line.

“Oh, is that the time?” Milton said suddenly, with a deliberate scrutiny of his watch. “We’d best be on our way.” He nodded at Bennett and apologised. “You’ll have to excuse Clyde and me, Colonel. Party meeting, you know.”

It was probably then that Bennett noticed the red Communist badge pinned to Milton’s lapel. He gasped audibly.

Milton smiled, breathed onto the badge and polished it with the velvet sleeve of his jacket. He addressed Rowland. “We’ll get this lot up when we get back, if that’s all right with you, comrade.”

“Why this is outrageous!” Bennett exploded. “How dare you come here! Sinclair, I trust you are about to call someone to throw these… these trespassers out.”

Rowland replied quite calmly. “They’re not trespassers, Colonel Bennett. They live here.”

For a moment, Bennett seemed to lose his breath. “Here… under your father’s roof? Have you taken leave of your senses, boy?”

“
Woodlands
is no longer my father’s house, Colonel Bennett. The gentlemen and Miss Higgins reside here on my invitation.”

“And you will not withdraw it?” Bennett demanded.

“Not under any circumstances.”

“Well then, Sinclair, I regret to say that I cannot allow a man of such poor judgement, such undesirable associations, to… to marry
my
daughter. I will thank you to withdraw your attentions forthwith.”

“As you wish, Colonel Bennett,” Rowland said slowly.

Bennett seized his bowler from the desk, and slammed it onto his head. “I have no doubt that Lucy will be distressed, but surely not as appalled as your dear father would have been, Rowland. Henry was an upstanding man, a figure of decorum and respectability… as is your brother. But you, my boy, are a great disappointment!”

The colonel pushed angrily past Clyde and stalked out of the library.

Nobody said anything, waiting in silence as they listened to Mary Brown ushering the implacable Bennett out.

“Well, we arrived in the nick of time,” Milton observed finally, shaking his head at Rowland. “A few more minutes and you would have been engaged!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rowland’s response was somewhat ungrateful. “I was fine.”

“Fine? You didn’t want to marry her, did you, Rowly?” Clyde asked, dubiously.

“Of course not! I was just trying to find a courteous way to—”

“You can’t do these things politely, mate. Trust me, I know.” Milton sighed deeply.

Clyde snorted.

“It’s much better for Lucy this way, Rowly,” Edna assured him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well having one’s father forbid an association is tragic and romantic, but it’s not humiliating.”

Rowland considered her words. There was sense in them. The intervention of his friends had relieved him from having to tell Colonel Bennett, his sister-in-law and Lucy herself that he had never intended to propose marriage.

“Yes, I expect you’re right.” He leant back against the desk, smiling as he recalled the look on Bennett’s face when he realised Edna was the woman in the paintings. He glanced at Milton and Clyde. “And do you actually have a party meeting?”

“Not till tomorrow… that was just in case he was willing to forgive your scandalous paintings,” Milton replied grinning.

“We were ready to tell him I’d converted you, if it became necessary,” Clyde added gravely.

“Good Lord! I’m lucky he didn’t shoot me as it was.” Rowland had never before thought of using Clyde’s Catholicism as a defence against would-be fathers-in-law. The idea had its merits. He shook his head. “I still don’t believe I needed rescuing, but thank you for your efforts, regardless.”

“Rowly darling, whatever’s the matter?” Edna asked peering down at him from over the top of his newspaper.

“Ed… I didn’t see you,” Rowland said, shamefaced, as he lowered the broadsheet which had caused him to curse out loud. He stood hastily. “I’m sorry. I…”

Edna folded her arms and waited impatiently for him to finish apologising. She couldn’t have cared less about the profanity. He had, after all, believed he was alone. She simply wished to know what had inspired him to use it.

“That mad—” Rowland caught himself and started again. “Eric Campbell intends to field a party in the next election,” he said, handing her the paper so she could read the article for herself. “It seems that he was so impressed by what the Nazis have done in Germany that he’s decided to try it here.”

Edna glanced through the news story. They had made an enemy of Colonel Eric Campbell, founder and leader of the New Guard, at a time when he was at his most powerful, and New South Wales had appeared on the brink of civil war. The association had ended particularly badly for Rowland, and though Wilfred Sinclair had intervened to broker an agreement which would keep his brother out of gaol, they all knew it was a fragile and bitter peace. Although the membership of Campbell’s movement had declined since the dismissal of Jack Lang, whose controversial premiership of New South Wales
had united the establishment against him, there were still New Guardsmen keen to settle the score against Rowland Sinclair.