My Brilliant Career

- -

Forbidden fruit ripens untouched

As desert winds caress soft curves

Sticky, persistent Urgent in their need to spawn

Delicious, ticklish Like an ant under scribbly bark

Seeking secret places His limbs like burnished myrtle

-As her flower opens with the dawn - Flower?

Nature wears her spirit Raw, feral, uncouth

So what is man

But a whiskey breath behind closed doors

Seeking to possess Something that will never be his

I don't even know what to say.

Sybylla!

-Sybylla! Come back here now! -

You said it was warm!

I said "refreshing."

Gertie, wait!

-We must remember the active verb, Gert. -You hurt my brain.

There it is.

- -

"Dearest Lucy,

I know we have our differences."

"But I'm writing today concerning my eldest granddaughter, Sybylla."

Syb, wait up!

"The girl is well and truly of age."

"And I think it's high time that she were to enter society."

"I wonder if she's sweet like you,

or whether you've allowed her to run wild like her father."

Women should swim. They should swear.

They should eat like a man. Ride like a man.

-And they should decide their fates like-- - Sybylla!

Sybylla!

What about love?

-I want to create, not procreate. - Sybylla Melvyn!

If you don't come down here right now, I'll confiscate your ink.

"Nonetheless, if the girl is to have any romantic prospects at all,

No!

Why does she care about my romantic prospects?

-I've never even met her. -It's not just that.

-It's time you became a lady. - Said no aspiring writer.

You're going.

Mama!

Mama!

Your granny's letter is utter nonsense.

Thank you, Papa.

-Managed to get a dig in at me, I see. -Hey.

-"Run wild," indeed. -It's not about you, Richard.

If she's so tremendous, how come we haven't met her?

Excellent point, Gert.

Because she dropped your mother as soon as she married me.

Well, that's not entirely true, Richard.

Ah.

Caddagat is the most beautiful place in the world.

So why don't you go?

I'll never step foot in that house ever again.

You'll be fine.

Papa!

Your granny's a stuck-up, bitter old crone.

But she's finally realized that you're her eldest grandchild.

And she has a nice big library.

-Hundreds of books and a proper piano. - You're a bright girl, Syb.

You need to have all your talents stretched.

So they can truss me up like a turkey

and marry me off to some old stinker when I'm not looking.

- I'm sure you'd notice. -Not helping, Richard.

Look, you don't have to do everything your granny says.

But you can't stay in Possum Gully your whole life. You don't even want to.

Is Granny really stinkin' rich?

Absolutely filthy.

-So why'd Mama leave Caddagat? - Oh no.

I have a rule never to get involved in disagreements

concerning the Bossier women.

They're fierce. Like you.

I prefer "headstrong."

Your gran's trying to help.

Otherwise, why would she go to all this trouble to invite you to stay?

"Something that good must have strings attached, Richard."

-That's what Mama is always saying to you. -Or…

"There's a flash of luck just when you need it most."

Is it my choice?

Always.

Excellent.

Then I choose to stay in Possum Gully with you all.

And before you know it, you'll be married to some dumb farmhand

and even poorer than us.

That's not funny.

Don't miss out because you're being stubborn.

I'll come and rescue you myself.

If you hate it.

Promise?

Gert. Give me the kindling.

I'm dying for a cuppa.

I'm not stubborn.

Maybe you'll meet a handsome stranger and fall desperately in love.

That's your dream, Gert. It's not mine.

What if you can't help yourself?

Love's like that. Comes out of nowhere like, "Bam!"

I'll practice self-control.

No chores. No money troubles. Tea and cake whenever you want.

I wouldn't enjoy any of it without you.

But if Aunt Helen and Granny like you, then I can come and visit.

I'll try.

But I'm not like you, Gert.

I'm an acquired taste.

You'll try ?

I would love the freedom to write whenever I want.

Then you can write me letters about all the adventures you're having.

I do need some new stories.

I've decided that I need to fully experience the world

before I can write about it.

Oh, that's good news, Syb.

But no husband.

You're going to Caddagat!

Bye!

Thank you, driver.

- -

Miss Melvyn?

Who's asking?

Frank Hawden.

At your service.

You work for my granny?

I'm the acting foreman at Caddagat on my year-long sabbatical.

From England.

Your granny sends her apologies, but she's very anxious to see you.

Wait, wait, wait. Miss Melvyn! Please, Miss Melvyn, I must go first.

Have you noticed how men speak in the active form?

Women are expected to use the passive.

"If you'd rather. If it's not too much trouble."

- - When I was your age…

But if women could speak freely, they'd be far less bother.

-Are you all right? Ooh. -

He's going. He's going. Oh. And he's down.

Bit early for it, but there you are.

- Come on. Need a hand? - Oh yeah.

-At least let me carry your bag. -Ooh. Careful!

Wouldn't light a match next to you. Up you get.

I'm fine!

- You good? - Yeah.

Old friends.

Books.

This way?

Miss Melvyn.

Oh, here we go…

-Hawden. -Beecham. This is Miss Melvyn.

Did you get my note about the O'Donahues having to sell?

The Bossiers aren't taking on property.

This is about helping our neighbor keep his farm.

Perhaps he shouldn't have borrowed what he couldn't repay.

If one farm fails, we all do.

-Hup! -

- -

Is Mr. Beecham always so curt?

He behaves how he likes.

In these parts, the Beechams are colonial royalty.

I don't believe in the monarchy. Federation's coming, and I'm glad.

Then you'll get on fine with his aunt, Augusta Beecham.

She's a close friend of your granny's. Always has a new cause. Raving suffragist.

Now I'm dying to meet her.

Well, you're in luck. We're invited to her birthday party.

My first party already?

This is marvelous.

Hello?

Hello?

Anyone home?

There you are.

You're here.

Nature's breath

Like a fresh, clean breeze

Cut with the sweet smell of horse manure.