by Judy Nunn
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘That was some win, I tell you.’
He drained his cup and exhaled loudly as it burned the back of his throat. ‘Mind you,’ he said, pouring himself another coffee, ‘I was gambling like a fool last night.’
Franklin continued to stare at the man, bemused, thinking that perhaps the duelling wound had addled his senses. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t betting.’
‘No, but your friend Mankowski was. And when I met him this morning to discuss our debt, he said he was winning for you.’ Franklin looked at the American, dumbfounded. ‘You mean you didn’t know?’ Sam asked and when Franklin shook his head, he shrugged. ‘Well, I guess you better sort it out with Mankowski, but he was very insistent and I’ve contacted my lawyers to start drawing up the necessary papers.’
Sam dropped his air of indifference and leaned forward in his chair. ‘I must say, Ross, if I have to share my property with anyone, I’m honoured that it is a man of your character and courage.’
It was a big thing for the American to say and Franklin realised that, whether he liked it or not, he had probably won a friend for life. ‘Thank you, Sam,’ he said.
‘What the hell do you mean, you were winning for me?’ Franklin demanded.
‘Just what I say, Boss, and the proof – here it is.’ Solly took a piece of paper from his pocket and, with a flourish, handed it to Franklin. Sure enough, it was a letter of agreement from Samuel Crockett signing over a half-share of his Queensland holdings.
Solly couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. He had never before seen Franklin Ross at a loss for words. ‘I do good, eh?’
After a moment’s dumbfounded silence, Franklin looked up from the letter. ‘You’re a madman, Solly,’ he said. Solly nodded in happy agreement. ‘What the hell am I going to do with a cattle station in Queensland?’
‘Get rich, Boss. Very, very, very rich. There will be a war in Europe, I tell you … ’
‘Yes, time and time again you tell me.’
‘And Australia, she will ally with Britain like the last time. And the army, the army, it will need supplies.’ There was no stopping Solly now. ‘Paddy Conway, he say it, "People, they can become rich in a war".’ Then he added hastily, ‘Not bad rich, Boss – good rich. Sell beef to the army, sell leather goods to the army.’ Solly’s eyes were shining enthusiastically. ‘I design good boots and belts, we buy a factory and we make thousands and thousands … ‘He stopped briefly. Franklin’s expression was still enigmatic. ‘Of course, we always give good price for the army,’ he added. ‘We help the allies.’
Finally Franklin had to give in. ‘You’re a madman but you’re right,’ he agreed.
They talked for an hour or so and, as usual, many of Solly’s ideas were excellent. They both agreed that Franklin should start making some firm contacts in the British military. And soon. For two reasons. Inside information on the state of the European situation was needed, and, with well-established contacts, Franklin would automatically be one-up on his competitors when it came to bidding for an army contract.
It was time for Franklin’s appointment with his doctor. The dressing on his shoulder had to be changed daily. But, as he was about to leave, Solly had one last request.
‘Hey, Boss, I look for factory to buy. You trust me?’ Franklin nodded.
A week later, Viscount Peter Lynell returned to England with a request to prepare his considerable contacts in the British military for Franklin’s arrival in six months. He was more than happy to oblige.
Franklin accompanied him to the passenger terminal and shared a brandy with him in his stateroom on A deck. ‘Don’t forget to bring some prize vintages with you,’ Peter added after they’d made their farewells. ‘We’ll educate the top brass in Australian wines. That’ll get them on side.’
It was late afternoon when Franklin arrived back at The Colony House and he was tired. He’d been tired for over a week. Although the shoulder was healing well, it ached constantly, which was debilitating. Also debilitating was the camaraderie it bred between him and Sam – or rather, the camaraderie Sam chose to believe it bred. Sam told everyone about the duel, referred to Franklin as a legend, calling him ‘partner’ to his face and boasting of their undying friendship. The man was utterly exhausting and Franklin couldn’t wait for him to go back to America.
‘Come on up for a drink, partner!’ Sam called. He was sitting on his balcony with a set of cronies, preparing to watch the sunset as he did each evening.
Franklin waved back with his good arm. ‘Sorry, too busy,’ he said and ducked inside. It wasn’t as though Sam were starved for company, after all.
Safely in his suite, Franklin had no sooner sunk into an armchair than there was a tap on the door. It was Millie. She was pale, but her eyes were glowing and she looked excited.
‘I need to talk to you, Franklin,’ she said a little breathlessly.
‘Of course, my dear.’ He rose, kissed her on the cheek and crossed to the cabinet. ‘May I get you a drink?’
‘No, please,’ she said. ‘Sit down, you look weary.’
Franklin took her by the hand, led her to the sofa and they sat together. He waited. There was a hesitancy about her. ‘What is it, Millie?’ he asked.
She hadn’t prepared a speech. She’d decided she would just come out with it. She had no idea what his reaction would be but there was such tenderness in his eyes now, surely it would be the one she’d been praying for. Indeed, he’d been very loving towards her for the past week. Ever since the duel.
‘I’m going to have a baby,’ she said. There. She’d done it.
His reaction was unlike any of the possibilities she’d contemplated. It was nothing. He simply stared ahead, as if he hadn’t heard her.
‘Franklin?’ she said, finally. ‘Did you hear me, I said I’m – ’
‘I heard you,’ Franklin replied, still not looking at her. And he crossed to the cabinet and poured himself a brandy. ‘How far gone?’
Millie felt a tightening in her chest. Far gone - what did he mean, talking like that? ‘The doctor said I’m between six to eight weeks.’
‘Still time to get rid of it, then.’ He took a deep swig of brandy.
The tightening in Millie’s chest shifted to her stomach and she felt suddenly nauseous. ‘You can’t mean that.’
‘What are the alternatives? Marry you, is that what you want? Or acknowledge the child out of wedlock - which is it to be?’ He drained the brandy, then turned and looked at her for the first time. ‘I will never marry you. And I will never give my name to a bastard.’
There was no anger in Franklin’s eyes. Millie would have preferred it if there had been. Instead, they were cold and dead. ‘You haven’t played by the rules, Millie,’ he said.
The sick feeling in her stomach slowly disappeared as Millie realised what the outcome was to be. ‘I won’t get rid of it.’ It came out a whisper but her decision was just as irrevocable as his.
‘Very well.’ Franklin put down his glass. ‘I shall make arrangements for a monthly allowance to be transferred to a bank of your choice. Under the proviso, of course, that you are never to contact me nor ever to divulge the identity of the father of your child. Should you do so, all funds will be – ’
‘I don’t want your money, Franklin.’ Millie suddenly felt very strong. ‘And I promise you, you shan’t see me again.’
‘Very well.’ Franklin opened the door for her. ‘That is your decision.’
‘But you can’t do this, Boss … ’ Solly was shocked almost speechless.
‘I’m not telling you in order to elicit your opinion, Solly.’ The eyes were still cold and dead. ‘She won’t accept my money but when she becomes desperate she will no doubt accept yours – for the child’s sake. I am going to open a separate account from which you may draw funds and I expect you to see to her needs.’
‘That I would have done anyway,’ Solly answered.
Before he
could continue, Franklin interrupted. ‘She will need to move out of that poky little room at some stage. You will see to that too and, when you do, I have no desire to be informed of her whereabouts.’
‘You’re a hard man, Boss,’ Solly said as Franklin turned to go. ‘You want to watch one day that it does not catch up with you.’ But the words hung in the air, unheard.
Franklin had closed his mind to Millie. She belonged to the past and he must concentrate on the future.
CHAPTER FIVE
Franklin and Penelope
VISCOUNT PETER LYNELL stepped out onto the balcony of his club and breathed deeply. The dozen or so friends with whom he’d just dined were all smoking cigars and he was grateful to escape the stale air of the club lounge.
London was well into spring but the evenings retained a winter nip and the breeze which now swept up from the Thames was chilly. Lights glowed along the Victoria embankment and intriguing pinpoints flickered on the black waters as the night traffic made its mysterious way up and down the river.
Peter could hear the men carousing in the lounge behind him. He even heard one of them mention the name Franklin Ross. Yes, he thought, pleased with himself, the wheels were well and truly set in motion. Everyone was looking forward to meeting the Australian.
It was the story of the duel that did it, of course. It impressed men and women alike, but particularly the top brass, and it was the military, after all, that Franklin was out to impress. Peter congratulated himself. He’d done well. He was looking forward to Franklin’s arrival next week. It would be amusing to show a novice around London.
He looked at his watch. Eleven o’clock. Time to pick up Miss Greenway from the theatre. It was the final performance of Quality Street and she wanted him to accompany her to the closing night party. He didn’t particularly fancy a gathering of theatricals but he certainly fancied the company of Miss Greenway.
Penelope Jane Greenway had forgotten the time when she used to be Penny Green from Brighton-Le-Sands, Sydney, and she’d made sure that everyone else had forgotten too. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of. Brighton-Le-Sands was a good, middle-class suburb, her parents were good, middle-class people and her upbringing was as proper as that of every other good, middle-class girl of the twenties. But Penny knew she could do better. So, in 1933 at the age of twenty-one, she set sail for Europe aboard the SS Invercargill and, despite the fact that she shared an eight-berth cabin on F deck, she was Penelope Jane Greenway when she arrived. Penelope Jane Greenway, actress.
The six weeks at sea were eventful and Penelope learned a lot. Most importantly, she learned the power of her beauty. She’d been aware of it before, of course. She’d been aware throughout her childhood that she could use her beauty to bewitch her parents and their friends. During her school days, and at Ladies Business College, she’d been aware that her contemporaries wanted to be like her. And of course she’d been aware that her many young suitors were very much in love with her. But it was aboard the SS Invercargill that Penny realised she could use her beauty to manipulate men. It was there she discovered male lust and the fact that she could evade it, control it and turn it to her advantage.
It started with the besotted purser who smuggled her regularly into first class where she partied and flirted with the wealthy. That was when she decided to become Penelope Jane Greenway. And ‘actress’ sounded glamorous. It was what she wanted to become, after all, and she’d played Cecily in the Brighton-Le-Sands Amateur Theatrical Society’s production of The Importance of Being Earnest so she knew what she was talking about.
The purser was easy enough to keep under control. She opened her mouth for his kiss, even though she detested the feel of his tongue. And she let his fingers stray briefly to her breast. But the moment he pressed his groin against hers and she felt his awful hardness, she excused herself and headed for the eight-berth cabin.
Deluded by the belief that he would one day bed her in his comfortable cabin on B deck, the purser continued to be accommodating and the following evening saw Penny once again mingling in first class.
His hopes were futile. Penny intended to keep her final gift for the man who bought the full article. Penelope Jane Greenway was a professional virgin.
London proved as easy to conquer as the SS Invercargill. She kept her part-time secretarial job a secret while she attended the elitist social functions to which she was invited by virtue of her beauty and the influential contacts she’d made in first class and, over the next six months, her field of contacts broadened to include actors of note and influential entrepreneurs. Finally, Penelope Jane Greenway got her break. She was cast as Poppy Dickey in Rookery Nook and the critics were kind.
‘Miss Penelope Jane Greenway is a beguiling Poppy. Tall, slim and dressed in camiknickers, she displays a generous amount of well-proportioned leg while singing ‘Yes Sir, She’s My Baby’. However, with her short-cropped auburn hair, porcelain skin and perfect features, she rises above the possible tasteless nature of the role.’
A number of minor roles followed ‘Poppy Dickey’ and, although the critics rarely commented upon her talent, or lack thereof, they were unanimous in their appreciation of her beauty and charm.
Amongst the wealthy patrons of the theatre who fell under her spell was one Viscount Peter Lynell and, although Penelope wasn’t particularly attracted to him, she allowed him to fete her with roses, after-show suppers and, when she wasn’t performing, opening nights at the ballet and opera.
He was a little old for her, she felt – he must have been in his early forties at least and she was only twenty-two – but he was immensely wealthy and she actually rather liked him. Besides, he wasn’t as demanding as the purser or some of the other admirers she’d encouraged. His goodnight kiss occasionally became a little persistent and his hand occasionally brushed her breast as if by mistake, but it was nothing Penny couldn’t control. She was starting to feel rather tempted. Peter certainly appeared to be the wisest choice.
And then he introduced her to his friend from Sydney.
‘Penelope, this is Franklin Ross. Franklin, Penelope Greenway.’
Penelope hadn’t been particularly interested in meeting Peter’s friend. Apparently the man had fought a duel over a woman and had been shot in the shoulder and everyone seemed to find that fascinating. Not Penelope. She thought it was a rather stupid thing to have done. Besides, Peter’s friend was Australian. From Sydney, what’s more, and Sydney held little interest for Penelope Greenway. As it turned out though, Franklin Ross was an extremely attractive man.
‘How do you do, Miss Greenway.’
They shook hands. Penelope met the steel-blue eyes and knew immediately that the man was attracted to her. She was used to that. ‘Mr Ross,’ she said nonchalantly, and made to release his hand. But he held on to her for that fraction of a second too long and his eyes didn’t waver and Penelope felt a little disconcerted. If he found her overwhelming, then surely he should be the one to feel uncomfortable?
‘I believe you’re from Sydney,’ she said. Damn, she hadn’t meant to bring Sydney into the conversation but he was staring at her and she had to say something. Now he’d probably ask her where she came from and she’d have to admit to Brighton-Le-Sands and the respectable childhood she’d escaped.
‘Yes,’ was all Franklin said.
Penelope started to feel something akin to panic. No one had ever had this effect on her before and she wasn’t sure if she liked it.
‘Franklin’s originally from South Australia.’ Mercifully, Peter Lynell continued the conversation. ‘His vineyards produce some of the finest wines in the country.’
‘Peter tells me you’re an actress, Miss Greenway.’ The eyes hadn’t left hers.
Before she could answer, Peter was called away to welcome some newly arrived guests. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘back in a moment. Look after Franklin for me, Penelope.’ They were at a cocktail party in Peter’s Chelsea townhouse.
Franklin suggested they step ou
tside onto the small balcony which overlooked Elm Park Square. There was little Penelope could do but oblige.
‘When may I look forward to seeing you in the theatre?’ he asked.
Penelope focused on a park bench in the middle of the square, terribly aware that his sleeve was nearly touching her arm as he leant against the railing. ‘I’ve just completed a season in Mr Barrie’s play Quality Street,’ she answered. ‘He came to the opening night – a lovely man.’ Then, before Franklin could ask her which role she’d played (it was a very minor one) she continued, ‘How long are you planning to be in London, Mr Ross?’
‘I leave one month from today,’ he answered.
‘I’m afraid I shan’t be performing during that time. I’m between engagements.’
Penelope hoped he wouldn’t ask her what her next engagement was, she didn’t have one. But it appeared he wasn’t interested anyway. For the first time, he took his eyes off her, looked up at the night sky and breathed deeply.
‘The air is so different here, isn’t it?’
It was sheer willpower that dragged Franklin’s eyes away from Penelope Greenway. He could have sat and drunk his fill of her all night. The patrician bones, the chiselled nose, the perfect mouth which held such promise. She was graceful and feminine, and yet there was something unyielding in the set of her brow. She was a strong woman, he recognised that. And she was well-bred. Young. In fact she was ideal. And she was as attracted to him as he was to her, he could sense that.
Franklin decided to test Peter Lynell’s intentions and the following night, when they were dining at Peter’s club, he brought up the subject of Penelope Greenway.
‘I admire your taste, dear chap,’ Peter agreed. ‘She’s fascinating. But totally unobtainable, I’m afraid. At times I wonder whether it’s worth the chase.’
‘So what are your intentions then?’ Franklin asked.
‘My intentions? Good God, man, to get her into my bed, of course.’ Franklin Ross never ceased to amaze Peter. How could a man with such style and breeding be so naive about women? He was an Australian, of course, but nevertheless …
