49

HARRY finds it strange to return to the Opera House now that his season has ended. Like re-entering a hotel room after checking out. He sees trunks stacked high in a corner, each with his name stencilled on the sides. Kukol and Vickery must have been busy. Rickards, too. He is standing in his office when Harry finds him, peering over his desk, even messier than usual.

‘There you are,’ Rickards says. ‘Now – what d’yer think of this?’ He turns a page towards Harry. It is the mock-up of a poster:

AVIATION WEEK AT

ROSEHILL RACECOURSE

MR HARRY RICKARDS At Enormous Expense

Has Arranged with THE GREAT HOUDINI

(The First Successful Aviator in Australia)

TO GIVE A SERIES OF PUBLIC FLIGHTS IN HIS VOISIN BI-PLANE

‘That’ll get them in, I’d say.’ Rickards continues. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll ensure your name is in much bigger type than my own.’

‘I was hardly a successful aviator this morning. Not even up for a minute. Weather conditions were unfavourable.’

‘No matter! We still have several days before you leave for Sydney. Tomorrow is your big opportunity, as I’ll explain. Today was only ever going to be a rehearsal, nothing more.’ He puts his poster aside and flips through a pile of newspapers. ‘And the response to what we achieved yesterday has been splendid.’

We? Harry is taken aback by Rickards’ choice of words, but his curiosity exceeds any irritation.

‘Audran told me the notices were good …’

‘McCracken of The Argus came through, as I knew he would. See the headline? “Houdini Flies”. And this: “After a month of patient waiting, with only three or four opportunities for the attempt, Houdini made three successful flights at Diggers Rest yesterday morning.” Hear that? Three successful flights. And there’s a full copy of your witness statement.’

‘Perhaps Jordan will stop looking so sour when he sees his name in print,’ Harry says, scanning the rest of the report. ‘What of the others?’

‘The Age account reads like it came out of my own mouth. Which isn’t surprising. Listen, in the first paragraph: “Mr H. Houdini claims to have successfully accomplished a sustained flight covering several miles.”’

‘Claims? Sounds like they don’t believe it.’

‘Well, they weren’t there themselves. But it continues:

‘“This is the first successful flight yet made in Australia in a heavier-than-air machine.” Wonderful. Now I’m set for the next phase of my campaign.’

Harry recognises the look of an adroit conjuror poised to produce something remarkable from his hat.

‘Advertisements!’ Rickards continues. He raises both hands, as if spelling out lettering on a billboard:

‘“Houdini’s Conquest Of The Air! The First Successful Flight in Australia was on a Machine covered with Continental Balloon Sheeting.”’

‘You reckon we can say all that?’

‘Say it loud enough, Double, and everyone will hear you.’

‘But what of Custance? Do we pretend he never did anything?’

‘No need to pretend. He’s mentioned here in The Age, pertaining to difficult weather conditions in the past weeks: “The changeable nature of the winds has proved disastrous to two machines and their aviators in the initial stages of learning to fly, viz, the Wilbur Wright machine belonging to the Melbourne Motor Garage—”’

‘That’s Banks.’

‘“—and the Bleriot machine, belonging to Mr Jones, which was on Thursday wrecked at Adelaide.”’

Rickards shakes his head, admiring the power of the written word.

‘Was it wrecked?’ Harry asks. ‘I thought the damage was not so bad.’

‘Mere hair-splitting! I much prefer “wrecked”. And I’ll ensure it is drawn to the attention of Taylor from the Aviation League. He’s at the Savage Club, having arrived in town, and will be my guest when you fly tomorrow.’

‘So you will be there?’

‘Tomorrow is your main event. So of course I’ll be there, along with the influential George Taylor. Adamson too, I hope. So I can see his face! And I’ve been spreading the word to ensure a good turnout. That Pathé moving-picture man assures me he’ll be present this time. Plus more reporters.’

Rickards’ energy and optimism have shunted Harry’s gloom aside. But then he remembers the alarming sensation of the Voisin’s controls tugging at his hands and the wings being jerked around by unseen strings.

‘What if all those people gather and it’s too windy for me to go up again?’

‘Enough of that! Positive thinking is what we want. Everything will be in order. Get yourself up and I’ll take care of the rest. The trophy is all in order, as we discussed. Tomorrow will be a certified triumph, your biggest ever. And then we can roll on into Sydney.’

He returns his attention to the draft poster as Harry gets ready to go.

‘It seems my season isn’t over after all,’ he says. ‘I have another show. A command performance, you might say. Outdoors!’

‘Indeed you do,’ says Rickards, already wondering what additional information should be included on the poster. Dates; times; ticket prices … and perhaps some kind of assurance: “Houdini Will Positively Fly!” Yes, that could do it. Then he senses that his aviator is awaiting further instructions.

‘If I were you I’d rest up a bit,’ Rickards says. ‘You’ve got a big day ahead. You’re welcome to Mademoiselle De Dio’s show here tonight if you like. Though I don’t know if you care for prismatic dancing.’

‘Perhaps my wife would enjoy it,’ Harry replies. ‘I will ask her.’