by Judy Nunn
‘I hear you found your man.’ In answer to Jim’s querying look, he elaborated, ‘The brother, Simon whatever-his-name-is. Vicky’s told the world.’
‘Rothwell. Yes, I think he’ll be good. Chris is pleased.’
They sat and, after a pause, Greg said, ‘I spent the weekend with the folks.’ He took a huge bite of the roll and breathed the mustard up through his sinuses. ‘And I did it.’ His eyes started to water. ‘Oh hell.’
‘I don’t know how you can eat mustard like that. You’re crazy. Did what?’
‘It’s the pain. I love the pain. I told them.’
‘You told them?’ Jim looked at him in astonishment. ‘You told them you were gay?’ Greg nodded. ‘Shit. How did they take it?’
‘Fifty-fifty. Dad was every bit as shocked as I knew he would be but Mum didn’t seem all that surprised.’
To say Pat MacNeil had been shocked was an understatement. Pat MacNeil had been dumbfounded, incredulous. At first he hadn’t believed it at all. ‘Is this one of your jokes, lad?’
‘ ’Fraid not.’
Then had followed the interrogation. When had he decided he was homosexual? And the horror when Greg had said, ‘Ten, Dad, I knew when I was ten.’ Then the fact that it must all be a mistake: ‘How would you know if you’ve never tried women?’ And finally the justification: ‘It’s not your fault, lad, it’s this bloody business you’re in. All poofters, you don’t meet enough women. What we’ve got to do is find you the right … ’
It was then that Jill had interjected. ‘Leave it, Pat.’
‘Eh?’
‘He’s had the guts to front up and tell you. That must have taken some doing. Now leave him alone.’
Jill very rarely stood up to Pat, she rarely felt the need to, but when she did, she invariably won. This time was no exception and Greg left knowing that she’d finally talk his disgruntled father around to, if not condoning his sexuality, at least accepting that it didn’t need to destroy the family love and unity.
‘I got the feeling she’d somehow suspected all along,’ Greg now confided to Jim. ‘Buggered if I know how, I never dropped my cover.’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘What, tell them?’ Jim nodded. ‘I don’t know. Something to do with our talk that night. Thinking about Roddie again.’ Greg shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just needed to clear the decks.’ He took another bite of the ham roll. ‘The next step is to turn celibate,’ he said with his mouth full.
‘The next step to what?’
‘Self-improvement programme I’ve started on. Shit!’ He exhaled the mustard fumes.
Jim grinned. ‘What a time to tell your folks you’re gay, when you’re just about to turn celibate. Why tell them anything at all?’
‘Because that’s what the self-improvement plan is. It’s an honesty campaign.’ Greg discarded the rest of the ham roll, flashing a look at the fat lady behind the sandwich counter. ‘She’s gone too far this time, I wish she’d get a crush on someone else. Honesty with others and honesty with myself,’ he explained. ‘A few months of celibacy just to prove I can do it and then … ’ Greg looked suddenly serious. ‘And then I’m going to front up for the test again.’
Jim’s smile faded. ‘But why? You said you didn’t want to know. You said … ’
‘I know what I said. I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my life tarting around, I suppose.’ The flash of a smile. ‘I think I’d like to meet Mr Right. Settle down one day.’ Then he looked directly into Jim’s eyes and the smile faded. ‘You made me realise that.’
Jim felt a sudden panic. Surely the depth of his feeling for Greg wasn’t that readable.
Greg wrapped his half-eaten roll in a paper serviette and his tone was flippant again. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not expected to be the recipient of my affections.’ He rose and neatly lobbed the ham roll into the rubbish bin by the main doors. ‘Bullseye.’ He turned back to Jim. ‘Not unless you want to be.’ Then he grinned and left.
Jim stared down at his coffee. He hadn’t even had one sip and it would be lukewarm by now.
That Friday night, drinks in the greenroom finished early. After all, the cast would be seeing each other at the airport the following morning. Vicky was excited. Not only had she never been out of Australia, she’d never even been on a plane before — let alone a Citation jet. And she’d certainly never stayed in a mansion on a private island.
At ten o’clock on Saturday morning they all met in the flight deck lounge. All, that is, except Edwina. She loathed airports and the gawking of the general public. Partners were once again not invited and she didn’t want to go to the Bryces’ at all, let alone without Davey. She chose to arrive five minutes before takeoff.
It was the first interstate trip of ‘The Glitter Game’ cast and Sidney Meredith had lashed out on a new wardrobe. He arrived at the flight deck complete with wide-brimmed Texan hat, sheepskin jerkin and large dark glasses. It had always been his policy when travelling with a recognisable show to travel as a star. Mandy was disgusted, even though her philosophy was basically the same and she was wearing a blue silk blouse with a very large silver bow at the throat. Sidney downed as many of the free drinks as possible, smoking incessantly as he did so. Flying always made him nervous. Seated beside him, Narelle was swathed in smoke and excused herself to sit between Mandy and Paul. Mandy left for the ladies’ loo, Paul was busily hunting the crowded lounge for Edwina and Narelle wondered what she’d done wrong.
Vicky was talking nineteen to the dozen at Jane who was delighting in the girl’s excitement but not listening to a word she said. Jane was sorry that only the cast had been invited and was wishing that Chris was there. Not for any special reason, of course. She just so enjoyed their discussions.
Greg was thinking along the same lines. What a pity Jim wasn’t coming along. He hadn’t seen much of him since he’d dropped the bomb on Tuesday. He really mustn’t push the poor bloke too fast, he thought, or send him up too much. He grinned to himself nonetheless. Jim invited send-up and it was why Greg had decided that he loved him. Yes, you’d better watch it, old sport. I’m deadly serious.
The trip was pleasant but uneventful. Sidney drank his fill of the endless supply of free alcohol and Vicky ate rapaciously of the endless supply of food.
‘Careful,’ Greg whispered. ‘No one loves a fat TV star.’ Vicky shot a look in Mandy’s direction. ‘Not a young one anyway,’ he corrected.
They were met at the island’s landing strip by three Rolls Royce limousines. Greg, Vicky, Jane and Narelle made great friends with their chauffeur called Ron who promised to take them on a guided tour of the island after lunch.
Paul tried to corner the second limousine for Edwina and himself. He no longer heavied Edwina in any way, he simply idolised the woman. But Mandy barged in. She hadn’t intended to be intrusive but when she realised she was going to be stranded with Sidney in the last limousine she had no alternative.
Sidney was legless. The chauffeur helped him into the third car and Sidney sank into the back seat, blissfully aware that he had a chauffeured limo all to himself and that he was a star and that everything was the way it should be.
The drive to the Bryce mansion was short but spectacular. As Sidney was helped from the car, he noticed the others piling out of the two vehicles ahead and suddenly realised they hadn’t all had limos of their own. No time to think about that, though, he’d dropped his hat. The chauffeur picked it up and put it on his head and they all proceeded inside.
Ray Chaplin was there to meet them with several other senior members of Bryce’s staff. The Bryces themselves were absent but, according to Ray, were looking forward to meeting the cast at the formal dinner that evening. In the meantime, they’d be shown to their suites; there’d be a private informal buffet lunch by the pool and the drivers would be waiting in the foyer at three o’clock should anyone want to be shown the sights.
It
was a magnificent mansion — ultra modern but in the best of taste. Each suite in the guest wing had its own balcony overlooking the ocean, and was luxuriously appointed and individually coordinated. Vicky had never seen anything like it.
‘Wow!’ Jane had the room next door. Vicky raced in. ‘Is yours as good as mine?’ She looked around. ‘Wow!’ she said again. ‘Just as good but different. Unreal!’
‘Fantastic, isn’t it?’ Jane had intended to play it worldly but how could she be hypocritical in the face of Vicky’s enthusiasm? After all, she wasn’t exactly accustomed to luxury herself. She smiled as Vicky ran out onto the balcony. Whatever had happened to that tough, defiant little kid who had turned up to the first rehearsal not so very long ago? They had all warmed to Vicky’s metamorphosis and had learned that they couldn’t be phoney with her — the girl was too genuine. Anyway, it was embarrassing if one tried; she seemed to see through any artifice.
Jane and Vicky explored their rooms together, Vicky screaming like the teenager she was and Jane screaming just as loudly. They opened one of their bottles of Dom Perignon and read their personal letters of welcome which were nestling in huge bouquets of flowers. Then they ripped apart their baskets of tropical fruit and Jane taught Vicky how to eat a mango.
Edwina’s reaction wasn’t quite so exuberant. She’d rather be at home with Davey and anyway the Bryce mansion was too modern for her taste. She gave her welcoming letter a perfunctory look and then noticed the handwritten note beside the fruit basket.
It was from Melanie. If Edwina was a little tired after the flight and didn’t fancy socialising by the pool perhaps she might like a quiet lunch in Melanie’s private apartments?
OK. Might as well get it over and done with. Besides, Edwina thought, it could prove rather interesting. Melanie was a fascinating woman and, to tell the truth, Edwina was just a little bored with the continual ‘Glitter Game’ fraternising. Interesting people as they were, there was no challenge left. Apart from acting — and performance relationships were now very firmly established — she didn’t feel she had that much in common with the rest of the cast. On the other hand, power was stimulating and Melanie certainly had power. Not all wealth-related either. Melanie had real power.
Sidney carefully packed away the gift bottle of Dom Perignon in the bottom of his overnight bag then attacked the courtesy bar-fridge. Three lethal premixed daiquiris later he decided to have a little lie-down before lunch and passed out.
Mandy took a long time wondering what to wear to the poolside buffet and decided on the apricot chiffon.
Greg and Paul both arrived at lunch wearing shirts and bathing costumes and Narelle arrived with a wrap-around over her bikini.
‘Hell, is it OK if we swim?’ Vicky asked.
‘ ’Course it is. It’s a poolside party just for us, stupid,’ Greg answered.
Vicky and Jane exchanged glances and raced for the lifts to get their bathers.
Paul was disappointed that Edwina wasn’t there but had a wonderful time ducking and bombing the girls and generally letting everyone know that he was a superb swimmer. Greg flirted outrageously with the drinks waiter but inwardly smacked his wrists and told himself not to; and after inwardly agonising, Mandy ate a large slice of wild cherry cheesecake in front of everyone, and loved it.
In a suite of rooms in the ‘house’ wing things were a little more subdued.
Melanie looked every bit as good as Edwina remembered. Very tall, about the same height as Edwina, slim and elegant with a mane of flaming red hair. The two women sized each other up admiringly.
‘It’s lovely to see you again, Edwina.’
‘You too, Melanie. You’re looking wonderful.’
‘Champagne?’
‘Thank you.’
‘Which?’ Melanie lifted a bottle of Bollinger from the ice bucket on the table. ‘I seem to remember you like Bollinger.’
Edwina noticed the open bottle of Dom Perignon on the table and Melanie’s half-filled glass beside it. She smiled.
‘Dom’ll do fine, thanks.’ My God, the woman had a memory. They’d only met once after her concert. Mind you, Edwina recalled, they’d talked voraciously for an hour and only called a halt when Melanie had suggested they go back to her hotel and Edwina had replied, ‘I’m not that kind of woman’. But they’d laughed and parted friends.
‘How are you enjoying the show?’ Melanie asked. ‘You’re very good. Robert’s thrilled.’
‘I’m glad.’ Edwina decided she had nothing to lose by being honest. ‘I was rather nervous to start with. All those established actors. Me with no training.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it worked out.’
‘It certainly did.’ Melanie took a sip of her champagne. ‘It’s an excellent cast. Jane Richmond’s wonderful — I love your work together.’
‘Yes, she’s good, isn’t she?’ Why did Edwina feel a tinge of animosity towards Jane? Their scenes together were good and she loved acting with her. Was she a touch jealous of Melanie’s interest in Jane? Why, for God’s sake? Was it because she felt that Jane was competition in the work field? Maybe. Her reaction on first meeting Jane had been ‘beware’ and in a sense she knew she was right. She knew that Jane was dedicated and ambitious, but surely that could be said of any serious actress worth her salt? So why did she feel jealous, competitive, self-protective? Edwina stored it all up. She’d think about it later.
The afternoon sped by pleasantly enough. They ate eggs Benedict and opened the other bottle of champagne. They talked music, theatre and film. Edwina found that she had a lot to learn from Melanie. Not only did Melanie’s interests lie in the arts but Robert’s many investments included film and theatre so Melanie had made it her business to know all she could about them. They listened to and discussed avidly the scores of two hit musicals about to have their first Australian productions — Robert had invested in both shows. Edwina had never met Robert, but she made a mental note to work on him when she did. The lead in a big musical could prove interesting if she got bored with the series at any stage.
It was nearly five o’clock before Edwina finally made a move to leave. They’d been sipping their coffees in the rooftop garden which overlooked the ocean.
‘It’s been a lovely afternoon, Melanie, thank you.’
‘It could be even lovelier.’ Melanie took her hand but Edwina withdrew it gently and shook her head. ‘I take it you’re still not that kind of woman.’ Melanie gave a wry smile. ‘I didn’t think so. Pity.’ She laughed. ‘Robert’s going to be pleased.’
‘Oh?’
‘He knew I sent you an invitation. I don’t think he liked it very much. And of course by now he’ll have been told you’ve spent the afternoon with me.’
‘Oh.’ Edwina didn’t look too happy.
Melanie laughed again. ‘My dear, don’t worry. I don’t flirt very often — there never seems to be anyone all that worthwhile. On the odd occasion that I do, though, Robert’s most forbearing. We have an understanding.’
‘But we didn’t … ’
‘Exactly. And I’ll tell him just that. Which is why he’s going to be pleased.’
‘And if he doesn’t believe you?’
‘He will. He always does. We always believe each other.’
Edwina left with only the slightest of misgivings. If Melanie was lying about the Bryces’ ‘understanding’ and if Robert were to take umbrage, then what the hell? Edwina had never allowed herself to be dictated to by people or circumstances and she didn’t intend to start now.
Melanie hadn’t been lying. She and Robert had a perfect understanding. Although neither particularly liked the other’s occasional peccadillo, they always told each other about them — which, after twenty-five years of marriage, they considered a very healthy attitude.
They’d remained faithful for the first fifteen years. Ever since they’d met at university, in fact, she a vibrant nineteen-year-old first year student and he topping his final year at twenty-three. They married six months later. Mela
nie and Robert were, and had always been, the best of friends. Their sexual compatibility was still good, if in need of the odd meaningless extramarital fling every now and then, and their personal and work relationship was perfect. Although allowing Robert centre stage, Melanie’s input to their vast empire was as important and as committed as Robert’s. They were inseparable and totally supportive of each other both emotionally and in the image they presented to the outside world.
There’d only been one shaky episode and that was when Melanie had been tempted to indiscretion. It had been five years ago — by then, both she and Robert had succumbed to several one-night stands, always conducted discreetly and with the other partner’s knowledge. Then Melanie had let an attraction get out of hand – she’d let an attraction become an obsession.
His name was Brian Hopgood and he was Robert’s personal bodyguard. Brian never succumbed to Melanie’s advances which made him all the more attractive. If he’d only agreed to satisfy her, he may have become just one of those nights of passion, but Brian’s loyalties remained with his employer and Melanie’s obsession grew.
Robert watched with growing concern, aware of what was happening but unsure as to the action he should take. It was unfair to dismiss Brian when it was no fault of his and God only knew what would happen if he forbade Melanie to see the man.
It was Brian who solved it all. Very simply. Bryce Holdings had recently acquired Network Three and Brian applied for the position of security chief at the Sydney channel. His reasons for wanting the transfer were never mentioned. He merely reminded Robert of the rumour that there may have been an illicit business being run by the team of security guards at Channel 3; studio supplies, timber and equipment had gone missing recently. Brian thought he’d be the person to sort it out.
He was. Brian sacked the entire studio security staff shortly after his arrival and personally vetted those re-employed, mostly from the ranks of ex-policemen. The rip-offs ceased immediately.
Melanie got over her infatuation and Robert’s gratitude to Brian’s loyalty knew no bounds. Now Brian Hopgood, although continuing to serve as security chief, was in essence Robert’s undercover 2IC and was remunerated accordingly.