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,
I think it is essential that she come and join us at Caddagat."
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!
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!
I knew when I met you I would not forget you
I knew I had to let you know…
Bye!
Oh
No
I'll never let you go
Go, oh
I'll never let you go
Oh, oh
I'll never let you go, go…
Thank you, driver.
I'll never let you go
Go, go
I'll never let you go
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."
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?
Anyone home?
There you are.
You're here.
What you want to be The big shot for, man?
What you want to be The big shot for, man…
Nature's breath
Like a fresh, clean breeze
Cut with the sweet smell of horse manure.
'Cause I got no fun and I got no money
Hello there.
Steady, boy.
What a magnificent horse. Can I say hello?
You shouldn't be here. This fella's still half-wild.
He's intoxicating.
What's your name, handsome?
Beau.
Well named.
You're that new one. The granddaughter.
That's me. Sybylla Melvyn.
Nell. Nell Kirby.
- Are you training him, Nell? - It's early days, but he's a good one.
- Mrs. Bossier sure knows how to pick 'em. - Sybylla?
What on Earth are you doing out here? We've been looking for you everywhere.
My fault, miss. I was just showing her Beau.
Take him back to the stables. I'll come and find you both later.
Granny. Finally.
And you must be my Aunt Helen.
Look at you, all grown up.
So glad you're finally here, Sybylla.
You're smaller than I expected.
It's a nasty habit.
Why is your jacket open like that?
It's just delicious to let the air in on a day like today, don't you think?
Impulsive.
Uh, well, I'm sure Sybylla's eager to learn.
I am.
Perhaps we should leave Sybylla to freshen up and get changed.
Nell?
Did you take him out this morning? How did you go with the saddle?
This is an old one of Mama's.
I have no clue, but Gertie does say it's well out of fashion.
Hm.
Also, it's my only one.
You're just down the hall.
Here we are.
I'm afraid to touch anything.
Well, it's all yours now.
Is my granny always so charming?
You are clearly my sister's daughter.
Here she is. Come in, Betty. Close the door.
Sybylla Melvyn.
Uh, Betty.
Ah. This… is for you.
From my mama.
Thank you.
Let's just keep this between ourselves.
I'm like a magpie with secrets. I keep all the shiny things to myself.
- Mama says you're a widow. - Ah.
I'm sorry.
Thoughts come into my head and out my mouth
before I even have a chance to stop them.
It was a long time ago.
Let's get you dressed.
What happened?
Uh…
We were on honeymoon in New York.
He caught the flu, and…
before I knew it, he was gone and I was back here.
That is the saddest story I've ever heard.
Why'd you never marry again? You're so beautiful.
Uh… I suppose I never met the right person.
Get rid of them.
Look at you. Butter wouldn't melt.
Well, that's not me. That's Lucy.
You look just like her.
Now you're just lying.
I take after Papa. I'm hotheaded with a snub nose.
That's why I prefer a direct gaze.
Sit.
What was so bad about my parents getting married?
Your father was a force of nature.
We were all taken with him, particularly Lucy.
- But he's-- - Mercurial.
- That's exactly the right word. - It's one of my favorites.
Now…
Find something that fits. They're just some of my old ones.
I'm going to get you some new smalls.
Do you choose for me? Is that how this works?
I could have a go.
I've always loved this one.
I appreciate it.
I really need to get this day down while it's still fresh.
Put your hand over your mouth.
Maybe we could play a game.
Do you know charades?
Have you even tried to start a conversation, Mr. Hawden?
I heard you met Harry Beecham today.
- The brusque man on the handsome horse? - That's him.
He was quite rude.
But I'm desperate to speak with his aunt at her party.
Absolutely not.
- Augusta would love to meet Lucy's girl. - Sybylla's not ready.
We can't possibly start with Augusta Beecham's birthday party.
Not like her nephew's the paragon of politeness.
- By whose standards? - By my standard--
Shh!
- Excuse me, Mrs. Bossier. - Ah, Betty.
Sorry to disturb.
I've just been out all day, and the horse needs a rest and some water.
Oh, absolutely.
Sergeant Baker, may I introduce you to my granddaughter, Sybylla Melvyn?
Pleased to meet you, miss.
Betty, would you see that Sergeant Baker has some refreshments while he waits?
- Mm-hmm. - Thank you.
So I'm allowed to meet the policeman.
He is not society.
- I need the lav. - Lavatory.
- Can I? - May I.
Black ink drips across the sky
And stars sparkle like a promise
Because nothing sparkles here.
Must you?
Can I…?
May I play it?
Oh, Sybylla.
Lucy loved the piano.
Who do you think taught me?
That was unexpected.
It was so quiet in there.
At home, we take turns to play music, sing, dance, make up plays.
Just lallygag about.
Sounds quaint.
Now you're making fun of me.
To be honest, you surprise me.
So I'm a curiosity?
Definitely.
At any rate, I'm sure you'll make someone a lovely wife.
But we've only just met.
I'm joking.
Trust me.
But isn't that why you're here?
That's Granny's plan. It's not mine.
I'm here to broaden my mind and soak in some culture.
We're a very long way from that.
My family certainly feels a million miles away.
I can't imagine what it's like for you, Mr. Hawden.
Like breathing free air.
And please call me Frank.
Good night, Sybylla.
Did you even know she had grandkids?
Yeah, Mum said something about trouble from years ago.
Hmm?
The youngest daughter, she married this one no-good fella.
Then they borrowed biggest lump of money.
Never paid it back.
- Hey. - Oh, sorry.
I'm trying to work out whether that was a bullshit story or your smell, sis.
Oi, shame!
Guess what I saw?
Okay, you know that new one? The granddaughter?
Spotted her squatting a bushie in the back garden,
saying a whole load of weird shit, and whistling.
- No. - Yes.
- No. - Yes! Like this.
"The stars in the sky sparkle."
No, don't be coming near me if you're gonna whistle at night.
No, true, eh?
But she's all right. She liked Beau.
You spend any more time with that horse, you're gonna turn into one.
Better than becoming baby Boss. "Yes, Mrs. Bossier."
- "Oh, yes, please. Is that all right?" - I do not sound like that.
I mean, what's wrong with wanting to be a Boss?
Fair.
All right, I'm going to bed.
Coming, sis?
- Nah, I'm right out here. - Ah. Go on, then.
Night, sis.
Night.
Nature's spirits soar As Caddagat wakes
And the day breaks like a
Golden kiss
No.
"…molten honey."
That's better.
Sun burns off the dew
Like drying sweat on a man's collarbones
Ow!
Ooh!
Hello.
New housemaid?
That's right, sir.
There.
Well, we'd better get you to less dangerous ground.
Mm.
You know they have an apple orchard of their own?
I'm hoping to bribe the old dragon into doing me a favor.
Does she breathe fire?
If she does,
I'd be worried about all this kindling, if I were you.
So you're Mr. Beecham.
I heard your aunt's having a party.
That's why I'm here. But I hate asking favors.
Harry!
I see you've met my niece, Sybylla Melvyn.
Indeed.
- How could I miss her? - Good morning, Harry.
- Mrs. Bossier. - What's all this?
Oh, it's my fault.
I, um… I dropped my apples.
I'm sure you're not to blame.
So… apples?
Uh, an excuse.
It's about my aunt's party. Later this month.
Oh, sadly, Sybylla cannot attend.
Oh, well, um…
It's just, I'm… I'm worried about… pulling off the surprise if it's at home.
She never misses a trick.
He needs a favor, but he's too polite to ask for one.
Oh, there's nothing you cannot ask of us, Harry.
Do you think we could have Gussie's party here?
We'd be delighted.
Ah. Excellent. Um…
It's all on me, of course, and I will send everything over.
And please do allow your granddaughter to come. I'm sure my aunt would insist.
Absolutely.
Unexpectedly sneaky, Sybylla.
She's clearly innocent.
Something tells me that is rarely the case.
Goodbye.
But here we are. And we don't have much time.
Shoulders back. She has a fine strong figure.
- But the hair. - Well, we'll make a feature of it.
Minus the greenery.
Well, it certainly is a feature. I'm sure you can work wonders, Helen.
So may I go?
We'll see.
"My darling Gert,
I'm being gussied up,
straightened out,
and slowly turned on the spit of propriety."
What's Augusta Beecham like?
Augusta runs her own race.
"I'm learning all sorts of new tricks."
Dainty…
"Like… walking."
…like a gazelle.
Again.
Frank says she's a suffragist. So am I. Definitely.
What about you?
I don't like to make a fuss.
"And eating."
"But it's finally happening, Gert."
Useful.
Women make up half the world and give birth to all of it.
How is it making a fuss to ask for equality?
"I'm about to experience life."
Surprise!
Who is that?
It's not me.
Not me, who?
Ooh! So this is what you call a small dinner with old friends.
I detest a surprise. You've done me a favor, Sybylla Melvyn.
You have your mother's eyes.
And you were right, Harry. She is quite distinct.
Ah, Josephine!
How delightful to see you all. Is there champagne?
- Augusta, happy birthday. - Thank you.
I'm so sorry about the surprise.
I think tonight, that's you.
How does it feel to be out?
Intriguing.
That's a fitting word for Australian society in general.
I know we've only just arrived, but I don't like to speak in public,
and my aunt hates to waste the party on speeches.
Parties are for champagne and gossip.
So let's quickly raise a toast to my wonderful aunt.
Gus, you make my life infinitely more interesting
and my house definitely more full of things.
It's called art, Hal.
Not in every circle.
To Augusta.
- Augusta! - Happy birthday!
- Happy birthday.
Stop it. Keep going.
Good luck.
- Happy birthday, Augusta. - Cheers.
- I think it was wonderful. - Absolutely.
You think so?
A Gypsy roaming through the meadows
Spied a linnet
A linnet on a tree
Cheers!
- Ah, though they lay she said is pretty - We'll probably only need about…
Listen, songster, listen to me
Tra-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la
Tra-la-la
Tra-la-la-la-la
Tra-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la
That's what thy song should be
That's what thy song
That's what thy song should be
Yes.
- Cheers, darling. - A carol then the linnet warbled…
Looking forward to that very much.
The girl of the hour.
I'm not supposed to talk to you, but I couldn't resist.
Well, tonight you're the star.
You'll have the pick of the crop.
Of young men.
Oh! So that's what they farm out here.
Don't tell Granny, but I'm interested in cultivating something else.
Intriguing. What is it?
Please forgive me, Augusta.
Frank Hawden has been asking after you.
Now.
We'll pick this up later.
No, I would love to dance with you. I just…
I had a recent injury, and so I--
- Here I am. - There you are.
You didn't ask for me?
A lady should at least pretend she's not actually on the chase.
- Okay, attagirl. - Okay.
I think I've had enough of pretending.
Sybylla. Sybylla!
Hi.
Could you play something upbeat?
- Uh… - One, two three…
Come on, Billy!
Billy left his home with a dollar In his pocket and a head full of dreams…
Stop doing that. Sybylla. What are you doing?
No, what are you doing?
Patti packed her bags
Left a note for her mama She was just 17
There were tears in her eyes
When she kissed Her little sister goodbye
Young hearts be free tonight
Time is on your side
Don't let 'em put you down Don't let them push you around
Don't let 'em ever Change your point of view
They held each other tight as they drove Through the night, they were so excited
We got but one shot at life
Let's take it While we're still not afraid
Because life is so brief
And time is a thief When you're undecided
And like a fistful of sand It can slip right through your hands
Young hearts be free tonight
Time is on your side
Don't let 'em put you down Don't let them push you around
Don't let 'em ever Change your point of view
Ooh.
Ow.
Finally, some quiet.
I saw you talking to Miss Carter.
I think "trapped by her mother"
is a more accurate term for what I just experienced.
I understood there was some interest there.
Definitely not.
My family wants me to marry, but the picking's slim.
- Perhaps you should try the city. - Not according to my father.
"Better to find the healthiest stock before you breed."
His words, not mine.
- You think he'd approve of Miss Melvyn? - I think she scrubs up fine.
But can you imagine that feral poker in London?
Actually, it was quite fun.
- What is it that you like? - I'm running out of time.
If I don't go home with a bride, my father's threatening to cut me off.
Who said romance was dead?
She should be grateful.
Talk around the estate is that her mother ran off with a drunk,
and there's a whole slew of his brats scrambling around the dust bowl somewhere.
- He's sending them to refill the coffers. - A lot of mouths to feed.
I don't mind there's no dowry, but I'm not supporting the rest of them.
Surely that would be your obligation.
Good point. Still, the Bossiers are a good family.
There is a kind of…
uncouth spirit about her that is at once attractive and repellent.
You can hardly blame the girl for her father's greed.
So the coast is clear on your end, then?
Don't worry.
I wouldn't get in your way.
To be honest, I'm undecided.
Drink?
Why not?
It's such a weight off my chest talking to you about it.
Gentlemen, there you are. Nice of you both to join us.
- Could I have everyone's attention? - Absolutely not.
Do you mind? It will answer your question.
I can't wait.
I'd just like to recite something that I started tonight.
I was so inspired by the gentlemen and their scintillating conversation.
That's you.
Forbidden fruit ripens untouched
Sybylla!
As desert winds caress soft curves
Sticky, persistent Urgent in their need to spawn
Feral, uncouth
So what is man
But a whiskey breath behind closed doors
Seeking to possess Something that will never be his
Disgraceful.
Why am I even here if you dislike everything about me so much?
You ask me that… after your filth?
It was poetry. It's modern.
There was never ever a chance with Harry Beecham.
But Frank Hawden is a fine young man with a sizable inheritance.
And a manor house in Somerset coming his way.
Conditional, apparently.
Unless he goes home with a bride, his father will give him nothing.
So there you are.
You've ruined a perfectly good opportunity for the both of you.
And quite honestly, Sybylla, with your circumstances and at your age,
you should be grateful anyone would even consider you.
- I don't want a husband. - Well, you're getting one.
- You can't make me. - Really?
I'm going to leave you to think about that.
And when you change your mind, you can come out.
I won't change it.
I haven't changed my mind.
Sybylla.
Mama?
How are you here?
You read this in public?
It's about nature.
It's clearly a provocation.
And what of it?
They wanna marry me off.
And I wanna go home.
There's no future for you at Possum Gully.
At least I'm free there. And we're happy.
We're poor.
Syb, the only way a woman can have money in this world is to marry into it.
So that's all anyone expects of me? Just to fall in love?
Oh no. The last thing I want is for you to repeat my mistake.
There was no other way out for you.
I had to write to my mother and beg her to help.
You wrote to her?
You lied to me.
We can't afford you anymore, Syb. We can't afford any of you.
But at least you could start to make your way in the world.
- No, I'll write to Papa. - Whose idea do you think it was?
We're in debt, Syb.
If your Papa doesn't pay off his loan to the McSwats,
I don't know what we'll do.
We're relying on you.
You have a year.
To get married?
For all of us.
Dark knight
You said you saw it in the stars
Stage fright
Or was this coming from your heart?
Salty kisses turn to acid lately