Miles Off Course (43 page)

R
owland rubbed a dilute solution of burnt umber over the surface of the canvas. The colours darkened and mellowed as he intended. The shadows
about the river Styx, before which Psyche wept, deepened. He stood back and surveyed the result critically. Miss Martinelli was unarguably beautiful but he was glad she was gone. These finer
finesses could be completed without a model and so he had been able to conclude their session early. Clyde was driving her home in the Mercedes. Rowland had done all that he could, all that could
decently be asked of friendship. Now it was up to Clyde, and Rowland Sinclair could go back to painting in peace and quiet. Still, he had not forgotten Norman Lindsay’s part in all this.

“You’re ageing the painting?” Edna said, as she came into the room with a tray of tea and crumpets.

“Painting it aged me,” Rowland replied.

Milton snapped closed his book and saw fit to contribute his poetic insight. “An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick.”

“Yes… Yeats,” Rowland replied, without looking up from his work.

“Come and have some tea,” Edna smiled. “How did your board meeting go yesterday?”

“Slightly less tedious than usual, considering recent events.” Rowland pushed Lenin off the couch to take a seat beside Edna. “Without Babbington, the option on the Lister
franchise was approved unanimously.” He shrugged. “I wonder who would have voted against it, if Babbington hadn’t been disgraced?”

“Was he a Communist then?” Edna asked.

“Hard to tell… certainly not a member of the ACP, but who knows. He has a degree in the classics too—perhaps plotting world domination is what they actually do.”

“I had always wondered,” Milton murmured, opening his book once again.

“Poor Humphrey,” Edna said quite sadly, as she curled her legs up onto the couch. “I can’t believe he… I really wish it might have ended differently.”

“It would have ended badly even if he hadn’t have jumped, Ed,” Milton reminded her. “He killed a man aside from everything else. He was facing the noose.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But I was just beginning to like him.”

Rowland didn’t say anything.

Lady Abercrombie had returned to Sydney and, in her grief, retained solicitors. She had identified the shoes and jacket as belonging to Humphrey Abercrombie, but it seemed she was more than
willing to litigate against any postmortem allegation that her son was a Communist. The Harbour Police hadn’t yet recovered Humphrey Abercrombie’s body. And those of Abercrombie’s
associates who had been caught were saying nothing. Rowland wondered if they might all be underestimating the man again.

Edna wriggled around till she was facing him. “Did you finish reading Aubrey’s manuscript?” she asked, obviously deciding the subject needed to be changed.

“Yes.”

“And? Did you like it.”

Rowland smiled. “Aubrey’s my brother, I’m predisposed to like it.”

“Of course. What’s it about?”

Rowland laughed. “Have you read
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
?”

“Which version?” Milton asked.

“The banned one—there’s a copy in the library…”

Edna gasped. “Aubrey’s book… really?”

Rowland nodded solemnly. “Like Lawrence with a sense of humour.”

“Always thought
Sons and Lovers
could have used the odd punch line,” Milton muttered.

Edna giggled. “Who would have thought…? Aubrey was more like you than Wilfred.”

Almost unconsciously Rowland glanced at his father’s portrait. Henry Sinclair’s image seemed none too pleased with the idea.

“Sounds like Aubrey’s manuscript might be worth the pain of having to illustrate Sarah Brent’s monkey book in return,” Milton ventured, grinning.

“Oh, I’m not doing that.” Rowland folded his arms resolutely.

“Surely you didn’t refuse?” Edna asked, dismayed. “Sarah had her heart set on illustrations…”

“Not to worry, Ed. I’ve sorted it.”

N
orman Lindsay stormed into the sunroom at
Springwood
. Rose Lindsay looked up, startled. She was used to her husband’s artistic
temperament, but this mood was darker than most.

“Whatever is the matter, Norman? Has something upset you, dear?”

“That woman’s impossible!” he exploded. “My monkey doesn’t look intelligent enough according to her.” He threw down a folder of fine, detailed drawings, on
which he had already spent countless hours. “Apparently the simian in question is bloody brilliant!”

“Now Norman, calm down… it can’t be that bad…”

“She wants me to start again. Suggests we hire a monkey so I can get a better understanding of the creatures!” The great artist put his head in his hands and pulled at his hair.
“Where the hell am I supposed to get a bloody monkey?”

Rose Lindsay stroked his back sympathetically. “Why on earth did you commit to the project?”

“I was tricked!”

Rose laughed. “Oh come now, Norman, who would want to trick you into such a thing?”

“You know, Rose,” he said bitterly, “Rowland Sinclair is a complete and utter bastard!”

Humphrey Abercrombie’s body was never recovered. With none of his compatriots willing to say anything, no charges were ever laid against him, posthumously or
otherwise.

Following the Reichstag fire of the 27 February 1933, the Nazis under the leadership of Adolf Hitler as Germany’s new chancellor, passed a decree which rescinded most
German civil liberties, including habeas corpus. Jews, communists, socialists, anarchists and other political enemies of the Nazis throughout the Reich were imprisoned in the Dachau Concentration
Camp. In March 1933, the Enabling Act was passed conferring dictatorial powers on Adolf Hitler. By July, Germany was officially a single-party state, with the founding of any new parties
banned.

Charles Babbington denied any knowledge of Humphrey Abercrombie. The rumours did however ruin him. He was allowed to resign from the board of Dangar, Gedye and Company. Mr. and
Mrs. Babbington left Australia permanently in 1935 to take up residence in London.

Dangar, Gedye and Company went on to flourish, due in no small part to its association with Lister, which through its pumps, engines and other plants, powered rural
Australia.

The Rules Point Guesthouse was demolished in the 1960s. Until then it operated at various times as a guesthouse, pub and fishing lodge. There are still people in the High
Country who remember the Rules Point Sports Days and dances.

August Eichorn continued to stage his snake handling shows and purvey his Snakebite and Blood Poisoning Cure for the entertainment and good health of the people of the Riverina
and surrounding regions. So confident was he of the efficacy of his cure that he encouraged some of Australia’s most dangerous snakes, including tiger and brown snakes, to bite him, sometimes
simultaneously. He eventually died in 1944 from blood poisoning.