Artifice: An Ingenious Expedient

By Jeff Hopkins

It is 1974 and Fiona Beaumont is escaping from a failed relationship and a career in the art world that has stalled. She makes a spur of the moment decision to change direction and interacts with two generations from two very different families. The Mitchells, a service family who are constantly on the move, end up in Munich in Germany where Deutronics, a multi national electronics corporation, provides them with a lifestyle of which they could hardly have dreamed. The Robertsons from the western districts of Victoria have farmed at Casterton for four generations but their landholding future is uncertain as their only son, Tim, has a prodigious artistic talent and seems destined not to be a farmer following in his father’s footsteps.

Then there is Jeremy, a “golden boy”, the Mitchells’ eldest son whose sexual dawning, desires, and denials cause him to discover a different self. He wants to “bite off big chunks of life, chew them up, and spit out the distasteful bits”.

Slowly creeping into the consciousness of Tim, Fiona, and Jeremy is the influence of a 16th century Italian painter called Caravaggio. For all its participants life has it crossroads and culs-de-sac, some get left behind, but most go on to foster a new generation of players.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: May 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781925353020

Jeff Hopkins

Jeff Hopkins (1950) is a retired schoolteacher. He lives in Walyalup, Western Australia. Walyalup which means 'lungs' is the Whadjuk name for Fremantle, and is part of the Noongar Nation. As the drama master at Hale School in Perth, he wrote ten original musical plays and produced and directed them at the school.In 1992, he researched and wrote a family history, 'Life's Race Well Run', and after retiring in 2006 he has written twenty novels, a memoir, and three 'faction' biographies.

Book preview

1.

Fiona

Fiona Beaumont was a beauty. She was a little under average height for a young woman of her age, but she was delightfully petite. Her blonde hair, with its reddish tinge, and flawless complexion set her apart. Privately educated at an exclusive girls school in Western Australia, she had been a moderate academic, but had displayed exceptional talent in most of the arts. It was her drawing and painting that made her the envy of many of her peers, and there was little doubt when she graduated from her College, that she would pursue a career in fine arts. Fiona undertook a university degree to this end, and by age 22 years she was a fine arts graduate working on a catalogue that would see her stage her first exhibition.

Regrettably, however, Fiona had a major flaw. She was naïve. She trusted people almost without question, and took them at face value. That did not mean she liked everyone; far from it. Fiona could hate with ferocity, but too often she erred on the side of acceptance, and it had seen her experience some very savage let downs. She would not call them betrayals, and she had forgiven a number of acquaintances for the distress they had caused her, but still she fell into the same traps over and over again.

Just when the catalogue was nearing completion, and the embryonic plans for a first exhibition had been formulated, Fiona experienced one such let down. This time events had aligned in such a way that she decided to retreat strategically, and almost without warning she left for Europe. When her parents found out what she had done they were supportive and being comfortably well off they provided the finance for Fiona’s twentieth century version of the grand tour.

In Rome she found solace and inspiration in the many galleries that she visited, and her sketch and notebooks slowly filled up with ideas and directions for her to pursue. In Paris it was a similar story, but impressionism captured her mind and heart, and so did Luc Pascal, and the two of them lived out a Parisian idyll in an artist’s garret, but Fiona’s naivety had allowed Luc to manipulate her, and when one morning in November he left, she decided it was time to return to Australia and get serious about her career. Confident she would find another man to love, Fiona was not disillusioned by the experience with Luc, but then she was naïve.

The catalogue was still incomplete, and had stalled, and there were no prospects for a first exhibition, and Fiona had no intention of returning home to her parents, so the problem of independence, and its financial implications, were foremost in her mind. That is why she was looking at the Education Appointments section of the The Weekend Australian, a new broadsheet addition to the newspapers in Australia. The newspaper was so unfamiliar. In her home state Fiona had grown up with only tabloids, both in the morning and afternoon daily newspapers and the Sunday paper which had the same format. Broadsheets seemed cumbersome to her and the small pine wood breakfast table on which she was trying to spread the sheets was not helping either.

It was late in 1974 and Fiona was in Thredbo, a ski resort in southern New South Wales a couple of hours drive from the nation’s capital, Canberra, but it was summer, and anyone who took the snow seriously was in Europe or the United States. Fiona allowed herself a wry smile. You really are a contradiction Fiona she thought to herself. You fly back from the coming winter in Europe and go to a ski resort in Australia in summer. She smiled again as she wondered what she was doing here?

Fiona scanned the Education Appointments section of the broadsheet. She had thought about teaching even though she didn’t have any specific qualifications to do so. She thought, a little naively again, that her fine art qualifications would more than fit her for teaching art in a school situation. She naturally looked at all the notices from girls’ schools first and found the offerings less than attractive. However there were two quite large advertisements for Teachers of Art for two schools. There was one for Albury College in southern New South Wales whose graphic featured a crest under which there was a line in bold type indicating that the College was a co-educational institution, and later in the text the now fashionable statement that the College was an equal opportunity employer. How things had changed in Australia in the short time she had been away Fiona thought. The second larger and more impressively designed notice for an art position was from Newtown Grammar School in Geelong which Fiona knew was an all boys’ institution and had been for over a century. She read that notice and found no mention of an equal opportunity employer there. It was not for Fiona to know that Newtown Grammar’s Headmaster, Mr. Garrett Barrett-Leonard, LLB. M.Ed. had been working with his Grammar School Council on a proposal for co-education for some years, and that 1976, less than two years hence, had been earmarked as a start up date for the transition.

Fiona Beaumont folded and creased the edge of each school’s advertisement and tore them from the broadsheet. She had just embarked on a course that was to change her life in a significant and irreversible way. She slipped the torn papers into her pocket and stood up and stared out of the chalet window as the scorching December sun began to raise the temperature in Thredbo rapidly.

In her second year at University, Fiona’s father, Hugh Beaumont, had bought her a Morris 1100 which was reputed to float on fluid. Fiona managed to float it in and out of a number of scrapes and bumps but she grew to love that car. It was stored in the Beaumont’s underground garage when Fiona flew off to Europe, but when she returned to Australia and her flight took her direct to Sydney, she rang her father and asked him to ship the dark blue 1100 to Canberra where she intended to go next and stay for a while. Hugh had the Morris trucked to Canberra and Fiona picked it up from a warehouse in Fishwyck. The drive back to her hotel on Northbourne Avenue was rather hectic as she had become quite rusty with the gearshift and she embarrassingly grated her way home. Once she was re-united with her car Fiona decided to drive down to Thredbo to see the ski resort that had held a place in her imagination for some time. It was a pleasant drive in the summer sun, and held none of the demons that the winding roads could hold throughout the winter months.

She booked a one-room chalet with little difficulty, a ski resort in summer is rarely crowded, and walked and sketched her way around the hill slopes for a few days. It was in her chalet, on that fateful Saturday morning, when she spread out The Weekend Australian on the breakfast table and tore the notices from the Education Appointment section.

Fiona took the Morris 1100 back to Canberra on the Sunday morning and as part of a leisurely day she wrote job applications to both Albury College and Newtown Grammar School. Really they were just slightly naïve enquiries about the advertised positions. With sketch and note books in hand she then spent several days walking in Canberra. She covered Civic and was enchanted by the merry-go-round that was being rebuilt in the centre of the shopping area. She sketched it in its half completed state, and made an impressionistic sketch of the carousel horses haphazardly stacked waiting to take their place on the ever turning, never ending, course they were to follow.

The Principal of Albury College responded to her letter with alacrity and enthusiasm, and invited her down to Albury on the following Saturday for an interview. Miss Fiona Beaumont, as she was addressed in the Principal’s epistle, was both surprised and flattered by the speed and tone of the response, and smiled inwardly at the ease with which she had taken this first step to a new career.

Fiona decided it was too much to drive the Morris 1100 all the way to Albury and back, so she went to the offices of Ansett Airlines in Civic and asked about a return flight to Albury. She was delighted to find there was a flight on Saturday morning returning to Canberra that afternoon and that the ticket price was just $28 return. She booked on the spot, telephoned Albury College to say she would be at the interview at the appointed time and then realised she had absolutely no experience of this kind of thing. Still she was Fiona Beaumont, and her confidence levels rose. She planned a suitable outfit for Saturday that was attractive but restrained and proceeded to get her papers together for the interview. She had a school reference, and a glowing endorsement of her art skills from the Dean of the Faculty of Art at the University of Western Australia, which she had originally planned to use in the foreword of the programme for her first catalogue, but that was all. The notice had asked for three referees. At this stage Fiona did not know the difference between references and referees. It was all a bit of a J learning curve.

On Saturday morning Fiona took a taxi to Canberra airport and caught the Ansett Fokker Friendship to Albury. She was one of only three people on the flight. Fiona took another taxi from Albury airport to the College and then had plenty of time to talk to students who were roaming the grounds before she met the Principal. They talked briefly in his rather spartan office before he walked her across the grounds to the Art Room. Fiona shuddered when she was ushered in and thought she had been transported back to Dickensian times. She smiled and used her feminine charms and when she and the Principal parted she felt sure she would be offered the position. She felt equally sure that she would not accept it. The College was poorly appointed and Albury was no Paris on the Murray River.

Fiona flew back to Canberra wiser for the experience, now knowing the difference between references and referees, and determined to do better than Albury College. On the matter of referees she thought about individuals she could call upon and finally telephoned her father for some advice. A list was formulated over the phone and Fiona selected four people and wrote to them that night seeking their support in her future applications. It had not been a completely wasted Saturday.

The following week she received two letters. As expected another one from the Principal of Albury College offering her the position as Art teacher on a very modest salary indeed starting on the first day of first term 1975 about a month away. The other impressively embossed envelope was from Mr. Garrett Barrett-Leonard LLB M.Ed., the Headmaster of Newtown Grammar. When she opened the Newtown letter it was little more than a pro-forma with several pages attached that constituted a formal application form. Fiona sighed at her naivety and realised this process of securing a teaching position was not going to be so straightforward. Initially she thought of simply binning the Newtown letter, writing to Albury and politely declining their offer. However, when she re-read both letters in the quiet of the evening, she decided to do only the latter.

Meticulously she worked her way through the Newtown Grammar School application. The process was punctuated by many sighs as Fiona thought she was probably just wasting her time, but she needed experience of this process if she was going to secure a teaching position so she persevered. It was close to midnight when she completed the application and had written a list of things she would have to do tomorrow before she could post the application off. Her meagre references would have to be copied, she would have to purchase some quality stationery to pen a covering letter and she needed an appropriately large envelope and stamps.

All this was duly achieved the next day and when the bulging application package was complete, she placed it in the envelope, applied the stamps and walked down Northbourne Avenue to the Civic Central post office and slipped it into the box. She admitted to herself that this was just an exercise and little would come of it. Fiona then caught the bus to the Australian War Memorial and spent the first of a number of days roaming the galleries, sketching and making notes.

Fiona’s hotel on Northbourne Avenue was a residential establishment filled with unmarried public servants of both sexes. As an unemployed artist she was something of a curiosity, but she had made a few friends. If they weren’t going out at night (as most tried to do) they gathered in the hallways of the Hotel and talked about the day’s events. It was a heady time in Canberra with the Whitlam Government in office and the face and fate of Australian society seemingly changing every day. It was on such a night that Fiona was chatting with friends in the hallway when the Hotel public address system announced a telephone call for her.

When guests received phone calls they went to the landing on their floor, contacted the switchboard, who would then put the call through to their location. Fiona followed the procedure and waited for the caller to come onto the line. When silence ensued she eventually said:

Hello, Fiona Beaumont speaking.

Hello, Miss Beaumont, it is Garrett Barrett-Leonard here from Newtown Grammar School in Geelong.

The voice was cultured, and had a slightly English twang, and Fiona guessed it was a man in his mid forties, although it is almost impossible to judge ages by listening to voices. Fiona took a deep breath and switched into her most charming mode.

Oh hello, Mr Barrett-Leonard.

The voice now went businesslike as if that was all the time that could be spent on greetings and pleasantries. It continued:

I received your application form, and was interested in your qualifications and your recent overseas experiences. I would like to meet you to discuss your application further.

Deflated Fiona thought to herself; no, not another wasted flight, this time to Melbourne and then down to Geelong. She contemplated cutting him off and lying that she had accepted another position, perhaps she could falsely talk about Albury College, but Mr. Barrett-Leonard left no opening. He simply went on:

My Personal Assistant and I will be in Canberra later this week for an Independent Schools’ conference and I wondered if we might catch up?

Well that’s a bit easier thought Fiona, no flights, no extra expenses, perhaps he might even buy me a coffee. She regained some enthusiasm and put the charming chime back into her voice.

That would be very good, Mr. Barrett-Leonard.

Fiona was about to go on, but the busy voice cut her off.

Shall we say 5:00 p.m. on Thursday this week. I will come to your Hotel on Northbourne Avenue and have you paged at the front desk. Is that suitable for you?

Yes, Mr Barrett-Leonard. Fiona was enjoying the sound of his name as it escaped from her lips.

Good, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.

With that the line went dead and Fiona stood flummoxed. What was she to do next? It was Tuesday and she only had two days to prepare.

There was no need to prepare any more documentation she had already sent that on to the Grammar School in her application, but perhaps she could do something about clothes and shoes. Fiona tried to imagine what an Art teacher at a prestigious boys’ school might look like but all she could think of sounded like a cliché. In the end she purchased a woman’s business suit in black and a pair of flat-heeled sensible shoes. When she tried them on in front of the mirror in her hotel room she looked years older. She thought a pair of plain glass spectacles might enhance the look but she dismissed that thought as silly along with the notion of pulling her hair back into a bun. She selected a striking gold blouse to wear with the suit and waited for Thursday.

At 5:00 p.m. precisely Fiona heard her name being paged and as she was in the television lounge on the ground floor she was with Garrett Barrett-Leonard within less than a minute. The Headmaster of Newtown Grammar looked just like she had imagined. He was average height, distinguished looking, and wore a silver grey suit and blue tie. She immediately was struck by his highly polished shoes and kept glancing at them to see if her eyes had deceived her. Garret Barrett-Leonard took one look at Fiona Beaumont and in his own mind decided to give her the job on the spot. She was a beautiful woman who looked much older than he had imagined in her business suit, blouse and sensible shoes. He shook her hand but it was all he could do to restrain himself from kissing her.

"Hello Miss