if he didn’t!
Black thoughts swirled in her head.
‘You don’t have to go to the party afterwards,’ Celeste said quietly.
Gemma blinked, her confusion clearing as she realised that if there was even the smallest chance Nathan loved her she had to take it.
‘Oh, yes, I do,’ she said, her nerves calming a little in the face of having no alternative. ‘I don’t have any choice.’
Celeste almost argued with her daughter, till she recalled all the stupid, crazy things she had done in the name of love. Could anyone have dissuaded her at the time? She doubted it.
So she remained silent, and eventually Byron returned with the champagne. Eventually, too, the play resumed, the second half as compelling and shocking as the first. And eventually, the three of them left the theatre to go to the post-première party.
CHAPTER TWO
‘WHY didn’t you hold this party at Belleview?’ Celeste asked Byron as he drove up the ramp of the underground car park. ‘Not that I’m complaining, mind. Double Bay is a lot closer than St Ives.’
‘Which is precisely the answer to your question. The cast and crew have two performances tomorrow, it being a Saturday, and most of them live close to the city. So when Cliff offered his place as the venue I jumped at it.’
‘Who’s Cliff? One of your business cronies?’
‘He’d like to be. He’s an American movie producer who wants to buy the rights to Nathan’s play. A colleague of his snapped one up earlier in the year. When Cliff read it, he hot-footed it over here as if he was shot out of a cannon. He’s as slick as they come and thinks we Aussies have all come down in the last shower when it comes to the movie business. Which we have, in a way,’ Byron finished drily.
‘Don’t let him have the rights to this play for less than two million, Byron,’ Celeste advised. ‘I’ve heard that’s what a top screenplay commands these days.’
‘Two million, eh? You’re sure that’s not excessive?’
‘Not at all. That play will be a big hit, be it on stage or screen.’
‘You’re right!’ Byron pronounced firmly. ‘It’s easily worth two million. I’ll ask for three.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Celeste laughed.
Gemma sat silently in the back of Byron’s Jaguar, grateful for her parents’ lively conversation. It took her mind off the evening ahead, and her mission impossible. She wondered idly what kind of place this American movie mogul had rented. A large harbour-side apartment, she supposed. A penthouse, even.
When Byron turned down a quiet Double Bay street and pulled into the kerb outside an outlandishly huge Mediterranean-style white-stuccoed mansion, her eyes almost popped out of her head. She would not have believed that any home could make Belleview pale by comparison, but she was wrong. This particular place dwarfed Byron’s home in size, outdid it for opulence, and made her realise that, while money could not buy everything, it could buy a hell of a lot!
Celeste must have been having similar thoughts.
‘If he can afford a place like this, Byron,’ she said as they climbed out of the car, ‘then three million will be just a drop in the ocean.’
A security guard checked their identities at the gates, then let them inside.
Gemma was all eyes as they made their way through the lushly tropical front garden—complete with fountain—up some statue-lined steps and on to an arched portico that was at least twenty feet wide and God knew how long. It disappeared into the dim distance as did the ranch-style building itself. The ceramic pots lining the covered veranda at regular intervals were enormous and alone would have cost a small fortune.
Byron moved over to ring the front doorbell while Gemma turned to admire the gushing fountain from the top of the steps.
‘If only Ma could see this place,’ she muttered.
‘Have you told Ma about me yet?’ Celeste asked her daughter on hearing her mention her old neighbour out at Lightning Ridge.
Gemma nodded. ‘I wrote to her last night. She’s going to be tickled pink when she finds out Byron is my father. I think she always rather fancied him.’
‘Did she, now?’ Celeste said archly. ‘I think I’ll have to put a stop to all those opal-buying trips dear Byron goes on. I’ve never subscribed to the theory that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m more inclined to believe out of sight out of mind, especially where the male sex is concerned!’
Gemma laughed. ‘Ma’s about seventy, Celeste. I don’t think you have to worry on that score.’
‘Worry?’ Byron butted in. ‘What are you worried about, Gemma? Look, I’m sure Nathan will come round eventually. Give the boy some time and he’ll see sense.’
Byron’s reminder of why she had come to this party brought a resurgence of nerves to Gemma’s stomach. Her confidence slipped another notch and it took all of her courage not to turn and run away.
‘Nathan is not a boy, Byron,’ Celeste advised tartly. ‘And we weren’t talking about him, anyway. Did you ring the doorbell?’
Right at that moment, the heavy front door was flung open and a big, barrel-chested man with a ruddy face and thick white hair appeared, a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigar in the other.
‘Byron, my man!’ he boomed in a broad American accent. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to show up. Everyone else has been here for a while. What kept you?’
‘The Press.’
Cliff laughed. ‘I saw them swarming all over you afterwards. I gather they were keen on the play?’
‘Very keen.’
‘How could they not be?’ the American enthused. ‘The damned thing was brilliant! If you don’t sell me the rights, I’ll have to throw myself off your Gap.’
Gemma was startled by this mention of a rather notorious Sydney suicide spot since she hadn’t really been tuned into the interchange. Her mind had been elsewhere.
Byron merely laughed. ‘That’s a bit drastic. I’m sure we could be persuaded to sell at the right price. Have you a spare three million or so?’
‘Three million! Why, you Aussie rogue, you! But let’s not talk money matters on the front doorstep. I’m much better at negotiation after a pint or two of Southern Comfort. And with a bit of luck, you won’t be,’ he chuckled.
‘Come in, ladies, come in,’ Cliff continued expansively, and threw an appreciative glance first at Celeste, then at Gemma. ‘Two women, Byron?’ he joked as he ushered the threesome into the spacious terracotta-tiled foyer. ‘I thought you were a conservative widower. Is this a side to you I haven’t seen before?’
Byron gave him a look of mock horror. ‘Good lord,
