Araluen (20 page)

He was. ‘As if I would miss your moment of triumph, my darling,’ he said and she loved him for it.

So, on a Wednesday evening in early March, 1938, the Bentley pulled up outside the theatre and Penelope, radiantly beautiful, stepped out to acknowledge her newfound status in the film world. She was disappointed that there weren't crowds being held back in the streets but this was, after all, Australia. When the movie became a huge success in America things would be different.

Franklin didn't like the film very much – he found it a little too posed and self-conscious. But at the party afterwards, when everyone was telling Penelope that her performance was nothing short of brilliant, he reminded himself that he knew nothing of film. And of course he had no intention of bursting her bubble.

‘You are the most beautiful woman in the world,’ he said. It was a very safe comment. It satisfied her and he meant it.

Penelope was on a giddy high. She could indeed have been the most beautiful woman in the world that night.

They wined and dined and partied till nearly dawn and Penelope drank too much champagne, which was very unlike her. She always liked to be in command of the situation.

Not tonight. When they arrived home her defences were well and truly down. Penny Green from Brighton-Le-Sands was loving being Penelope Greenway, star ...

‘That was the most glorious night of my life, Franklin,’ she said. ‘And you were the one who made it happen.’

She was overwhelmed with love and gratitude. When Franklin kissed her tenderly and told her he was very proud of her as his hand caressed her thighs, she wanted him. She had never felt so desirable and she had never felt such desire. She even ignored the fact that the corner lamp was still on as he eased her back upon the bed and started gently to undress her.

As she lay there, naked, watching him disrobe, there was the vague knowledge in the recesses of her mind that this was one of the nights when she should avoid sex. This was her fertile time and she had assiduously evaded Franklin's advances during her fertile times for the past eighteen months. Penelope didn't want to have a child. Not when her career was moving at such a pace. One day, she told herself. One day - but not yet.

Tonight it didn't seem to matter. Tonight there was nothing but the feel of Franklin beside her. The first touch of their nakedness. Skin upon skin. Together.

Penelope felt an indescribable ache between her legs and she desperately wanted him to touch her there. Her nipples responded eagerly to the caress of his fingertips and a quivering sensation went through her entire body. Then his hand was travelling down over her hip, her belly and she wanted to part her legs.

‘Yes, my darling, yes,’ Franklin murmured encouragingly. Her response was exciting him to fever pitch but he knew he had to retain control. He mustn't rush her. ‘You are truly beautiful, Penelope,’ he whispered as his hand finally sought between her thighs, 'truly beautiful.’ And she opened herself to him, gasping at his touch.

When he slowly entered her, their bodies were both shuddering with an unbearable desire. She thrust herself back at him as Franklin, fighting to control his excitement, kept withdrawing, teasing her to an exquisite pain.

Finally, when he felt she was ready, he drove himself into her steadily and rhythmically, their bodies responding in perfect unison.

The scene in the garden flashed through Penelope's brain. The woman's moans, the man's pounding buttocks. But these weren't the woman's moans, these were her moans. Then the image disappeared and she was gasping, desperately.

‘I love you, Franklin. I love you, I love you, I love you,’ she said, over and over. And then another image. A cliff. She had to go over the cliff. She had to travel down the other side. ‘Yes,’ she cried out. ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ Still Franklin managed to keep control. And, finally, the image of waves. Waves of sensation. No sound. Time stood still as she was engulfed in a sea of pleasure so intense she could no longer cry out.

A groan from deep within Franklin's chest as he allowed himself the ultimate release. And then Penelope was airborne, fluttering. Fluttering over the other side of the cliff and she clung closely to him as they shared their final shudders of fulfilment.

The first rays of the early morning sun knifed through the curtains of the french windows as they slept, exhausted, in each other's arms. It was midday before they awoke. Franklin rose on one elbow to look at Penelope curled up beside him, naked, vulnerable, and very lovely. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at him.

‘Good morning, my darling,’ he said and, brushing the hair from her face, he kissed her tenderly, his hand sliding down the long curve of her neck. Before it reached her breast, she sat up and pulled the sheet around herself.

‘What time is it?’ she asked.

‘Just after midday.’

‘Good heavens, I have a press interview in an hour. The publicist is picking me up at a quarter to one.’

She obviously wanted to jump out of bed but he
sensed that she was self-conscious about her nakedness. Franklin was briefly disappointed. She was behaving as though the night before had never happened. Surely everything had changed between them now. Surely the abandonment of last night had expelled her inhibitions.

He chastised himself. It was only natural for her to be self-conscious in the cold light of day. There would be other nights and gradually her reserve would disappear and she would become at ease with her sexuality.

Overnight, it would seem, Franklin had reassessed his views on sex dissipating one's energies. Now his whole body ached for her. But he knew he must be careful. He mustn't ask too much too soon.

He got out of bed and gathered up his clothes. ‘I'll leave you to get ready then, my dear.’

Penelope tried to avert her eyes from his naked body but it was difficult. She could plainly see his erection and it fascinated her. She felt that same slight ache between her legs and, as she watched him leave the room, she knew that she desired him. She wanted last night all over again, which appalled her. Was this the control Franklin was destined to have over her?

As Penelope bathed herself, she looked down at her body and her hand lingered upon her genitals. No. No, she told herself, she was no one's slave. That moment of pleasure, exquisite as it might be, was not worth the price of domination. She must suppress her desire, she told herself. She must suppress her desire at all costs. She had her career to think of.

Penelope washed her hair and towelled it vigorously. There certainly wasn't time now for such contemplation.

Three-quarters of an hour later, impeccably groomed, she left The Colony House in the company of her publicist for her interview with the feature writer of the
Sydney Morning Herald.

For the following week, Franklin and Penelope abstained from sex. ‘It's “that time”, my darling,’ she said as she kissed him deeply. ‘Only a few days, be patient.’

Franklin had to accept it. He would certainly never make overtures to her during ‘her time’ and it didn't occur to him for one moment that she might be lying. She had abandoned herself and he had felt her pleasure - why would she deny herself the repetition of such an experience?

A week later, when she could evade the issue no longer, Penelope steeled herself. She would allow him her body but she would not allow him control over her. She would not give in to her own pleasure.

It was possibly the greatest test of her life. She responded warmly to his kiss and returned his embrace with equal affection, but when he started to lift her nightgown ...

‘Would you turn the light off, Franklin. Please.’

He looked at her. The steel-blue eyes seemed to bore into her skull. For a moment Penelope was unnerved. Did he know she was planning to cheat? Of course not, how could he? He was puzzled by her modesty, that was all.

‘Please, my darling. Please, I'd prefer it.’

And Franklin could do nothing else but oblige. Penelope was right – he was puzzled. But he wasn't going to challenge her. They never discussed sex, which was only correct. It was not, after all, a subject one should discuss - and certainly not with women. But he hoped the return of her modesty didn't mean the return of her sexual inhibition.

In the dark, she allowed him to fully undress her and, as she undressed him back, Franklin started to relax. It didn't matter that she was too shy to let him watch her. It didn't matter that it had been the alcohol which had liberated her that night. Nothing mattered. She wanted him.

He felt her hand glide tentatively across his stomach, tracing the muscles of his belly, then, as if by accident, brushing against his erect penis. Yes, she wanted him.

Penelope was aware of the thin line she was treading. The touch of his penis, the silky skin with the rock hardness beneath, shocked and thrilled her but her mind was made up. The more she excited him and the more she feigned her own excitement, the less time he would take exploring her. But she mustn't be too adventurous, or behave too out of character.

When he entered her, Penelope steeled herself against the first ripplings of her own excitement. But she moaned and thrust her body back at him as she had that night. She timed her moans and her thrusts perfectly, recognising where the stages would be if she wished to abandon herself to them.

Her moans became louder as Franklin's passion grew stronger. Now the waves would be engulfing her. She cried out and arched her back as he drove himself into her in a frenzy of fulfilment. Then, as his strangled cry rang out, she clung to him fiercely. ‘My darling,’ she panted, ‘my darling, my darling.’

It was the best performance Penelope had ever given. The first of many such performances.

Penelope's performance in
A Woman of Today
was not so well received. Neither was the film itself.

‘Edited by one hour
A Woman of Today
would qualify as an impressive travelogue,’ one major critic commented. He went on to say that ‘Penelope Greenway may have the beauty and style of Katharine Hepburn but Miss Hepburn does it better.’

There were cutting comments from other reviewers: ‘A one-dimensional performance lacking warmth’ ... ‘A hackneyed story which has already been done to death by Hollywood’... ‘Pretentious direction’.

The heavy criticism was aimed at all levels of the film but Penelope took it as a personal attack and was deeply hurt. Franklin did all he could to raise her spirits. He even offered to take her away on a holiday although he could ill afford the time.

Then came the thrilling news which propelled the film into total insignificance. Penelope was pregnant.

‘You see, my darling? Nothing else matters.’ Franklin was delighted.

Penelope was aghast. How had it happened? That night, of course. It had been that night.

There was very little Penelope could do but accept her lot. For Franklin's sake, and for the sake of peace and quiet as much as anything, she feigned joy at the prospect and, during her confinement, took all the correct precautions in preparing herself for motherhood.

Shortly before the baby was due, Franklin's father died. Despite entreaties from his brother Kenneth and his Aunt Mary, however, Franklin declined to go to South Australia for the funeral. His place was at his wife's side, he said. And that was that.

In December 1938, Penelope Ross gave birth to a son. Terence George Franklin.

Franklin was overjoyed. For the first time in his life he was unable to control his emotions and there was a definite glisten in his eyes as he embraced Solly.

‘A son, my dear friend!’ he said. ‘A son!’

Solly, as the elected godfather, was also pacing the floors of the waiting room of the Royal Hospital for Women when the doctor came out to announce the news.

Now a married man, Solly had openly wept a month earlier when Zofia had announced that she was with child. To Solly, Franklin's display of emotion was quite understated. Nevertheless he recognised it as uncharacteristic and was moved. He fervently returned the embrace.

‘Cognac and cigars, Boss. That's what we need. Cognac and cigars.’ And they went home to The Colony House, where they sat up till all hours drinking cognac, which Solly disliked, and smoking cigars, which Franklin loathed, and discussing the magic of birth and the future of the Ross empire.

Penelope had detested being pregnant. She'd loathed her swollen belly and thickened ankles and the pain in her lower back. As soon as she was able, she exercised rigorously to regain her former shape.

There had been one compensation during her pregnancy, however. Franklin had made no demands upon her sexually and she was thankful for that. She had denied herself pleasure with such regularity that the faking of her enjoyment was no longer a test of strength and character, it was a chore.

Although she resigned herself to being a mother, and determined to be a good one, Penelope had not yet relinquished her career plans. Certainly she realised they would have to be deferred for several years, but she had a long-term strategy that was a satisfactory alternative. Indeed, given the disaster of
A Woman of Today,
it might be to her advantage to keep a low profile for a while.

Penelope convinced herself that she would, after all, be in her prime around the age of thirty and that the roles would be far better then - she'd never been a lightweight juvenile actress, anyway. Undaunted, she once again determined to make the best of the situation.

Her plans did not altogether exclude Franklin. She didn't relish the prospect of another pregnancy but she recognised the fact that she must give him another son. She'd take a year's break, she decided, then plan a second conception. And she prayed fervently that it would be a boy. She didn't dare contemplate what she'd do if it was a girl -the thought of a third pregnancy was more than she could bear. Besides which, her career had to be back on course within three years. That was her plan.

Franklin was puzzled by Penelope's reluctance to have sex. For the first several months after the birth of Terence it was to be expected, of course, but when she finally did allow him to make love to her, and then only rarely, she didn't seem to display the same enjoyment she had in the past.