The Silent Country by Di Morrissey

that she escaped from Russia with her family when she was a little girl and lived for many years in China. There, I have been told, she met her husband who made a great deal of money in that country, but when the Japanese invaded they came to Sydney with their two little daughters. I do not think that they are poor.’
    ‘How come you know these things,’ asked Colin thinking that the recent Dutch immigrant mechanic was well informed.
    ‘Not all immigrants that come here do so with just a suitcase and the clothes on their backs. Australia is the land of opportunity and some who have come here hope to exploit that. They paint a welcoming picture but your country is conservative, indeed, oppressive,’ said Peter. ‘Like its mother country there is a club and you are part of it or not. Capitalism can disadvantage the poor and make the rich richer.’
    The Dutchman’s tone was rather grim and disapproving. But before Colin could ask more questions, their attention was taken by the gathering on the terrace where Madame Olga and Maxim Topov were hosting a small group of people, some of whom Colin recognised from the film screening and Nino’s Café. The two men were swept into the circle, introductions were made and waiters passed around drinks and hors d’oeuvres on silver trays.
    Colin was glad he’d worn his best jacket and tie and while he chatted he tried to take in all the expensive surroundings in order to describe them to his mother. He hoped they’d be invited indoors so he could see more. A tall, strong-looking woman was talking to Olga who waved at Colin to join them.
    ‘You are Peterson, yes?’ said Olga. ‘Mr Colin. This is Miss Helen Thompson. She is business manager for the expedition. Mr Colin will be writing the script.’
    ‘Excellent. It all sounds quite exciting. Do you have an outline or anything down on paper yet?’ Helen had what Colin considered to be an aristocratic British accent. She was athletic looking, with a plain face, free of make-up and wore a grey flannel skirt with a blouse buttoned up to the neck and fastened with a cameo brooch.
    ‘Not really. I believe this is all still in early stages. I’m anxious to know more.’ Colin hesitated, not wanting to admit he hadn’t actually made up his mind about the project. Helen Thompson seemed an intimidating sort of person. ‘As business manager do you know exactly where we’re going, how long we’ll be away, the sort of things we’ll be filming?’ began Colin.
    But before Helen could respond, Olga held up a jewelled white hand to silence them all. Her rings, sunk into fat white fingers, caught the fading sunlight. She was wearing a floor-length swirling cape made of silk andsplashed with bold colours that matched the swathe of silk wound around her head, a jewelled clasp in the centre of the turban.
    ‘You are all so eager. So charming. Topov will explain more. He works in a very unorthodox manner.’ Olga smiled. ‘But he is very talented. Very creative man.’ She looked quite emotional at this declaration of the talents of Topov and Colin felt very uncomfortable. He turned to Helen.
    ‘And you? Do you have family here?’
    ‘No. I’m travelling. Looking for a bit of adventure. Life in the home counties is rather dull and the country suffered so much in the war, I rather felt I’d like to travel while my mother and father are still spry and occupied,’ she answered.
    ‘Oh, so you’re not a ten-pound Pom,’ said Colin lightly, trying to make a small joke. The assisted passage of British immigrants to Australia for the cost of ten pounds was regularly in the news. But his remark seemed to offend Helen.
    ‘Certainly not. I travel at my own expense and do as I wish. This filming thing seems a good way of seeing the country that might otherwise be inaccessible.’
    ‘Helen comes from good family,’ interjected Olga. ‘My family also.’ She lifted a champagne glass from the tray proffered by a waiter. ‘Let us drink toast