Miranda Lee - Scandals And Secrets

‘No, Nathan,’ she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘I didn’t miss the flight.’

‘Then where are you ringing from? You’re supposed to be in the air. Oh, I see. The flight’s been delayed. Never mind, darling. These things happen. So when will you be arriving?’

The two ‘darlings’ had really hurt, bringing the sense of outrage she needed. ‘I won’t be arriving, Nathan. I’m not coming home.’

‘Not coming home?’ he repeated in a stunned, almost blank tone.

‘That’s right. You told me once that if I ever wanted out of our marriage I was to say so up-front.’ She paused long enough to drag in a much needed breath. ‘I want out of our marriage, Nathan. My solicitor will be in touch.’

‘Wait!’ he cried, seemingly aware that she was about to hang up. ‘You...you can’t just leave me like this, Gemma. You must give me a reason. God-dammit, I have a right to know the reason!’ he demanded, clearly shaken.

‘The reason? The reason is you’re a cheat and a liar. I’m sure it won’t take too much intelligence to work out what I’m talking about. You took me for a fool, Nathan. And I’m not. I’m not...’ Her voice broke and she struggled for control. ‘Oh, God, how could you? I didn’t deserve that. I...I...’ She broke off and forcibly pulled herself together. ‘Goodbye, Nathan. Don’t bother trotting out to Lightning Ridge to find me. I’m not there.’

She hung up, then sank down on the side of the hotel bed, looking and feeling utterly drained. No tears came. She was all out of tears.

But dear God, whatever was she going to do? Where was she going to go?

Her overnight stay in the old hotel and many hours of thinking had provided no solutions except that she was going to divorce Nathan. No doubt some fancy solicitor could drive a hard bargain for her when it came to a financial settlement, but she automatically shrank from that and from what people would say about her. They’d only been married a few months, after all. She also shrank from having to tell Nathan’s family the reason for her leaving him—that he’d been cheating on her with his ex-wife.

Not that they would necessarily believe her. Nathan would deny it, of course, and so would Lenore. Byron, Gemma realised, would be loath to believe such a thing of his golden-haired boy. Nathan could do no wrong in his eyes, being supposedly as old-fashioned in his moral principles as his adopted father. Ava was the only person Gemma could think of who would be on her side, but how could she put brother against sister? It wasn’t right.

No, she would have to strike out on her own. She still had the money Byron had paid her as a reward for bringing back the Heart of Fire. That would cover her expenses for a while. And she could probably get a job easily enough with her mastery of oral Japanese.

Going back to work at Whitmore’s was not an option. Even if Byron didn’t fire her, Nathan would descend upon her there like an avenging angel, demanding further explanations when doing his best to whitewash his behaviour. He might even throw himself on her mercy and beg her forgiveness. She could not have borne that.

What she needed, more than anything, was to disappear for a while, out of reach of Nathan and any private detective he might hire to find her. Which meant not staying in any hotel, nor going to real estate agents nor applying for a job. That would leave a trail any decent detective would easily pick up on.

So where could she go?

Damian’s offer, which had been hovering at the back of her mind all along, but which she had previously dismissed, jumped to the fore. Why not? she rationalised. He was in a position to help her. He had the money and the connections. He’d even promised her a job if she ever wanted one. Campbell Jewels had stores in other states. Maybe she could move to Brisbane or to Melbourne: get herself well away from Sydney and Nathan.

At three in the afternoon, Damian would probably be in his office. Gemma looked up the number of the head office of Campbell Jewels and, once again, dialled.

‘Could I speak to Damian Campbell, please?’ she requested of the girl who answered.

An extension was tried but no one answered.

‘Mr Campbell doesn’t seem to be in his office at the moment,’ the receptionist said with brisk politeness. ‘Would you like to leave a message and I’ll get him to ring you back?’

Gemma sighed. ‘Yes, all right.’ And she relayed her name and the hotel number, adding that this was an emergency and she would appreciate every effort being made to get the message to Mr Campbell as soon as possible.

After she had hung up yet again, Gemma lay down in the dimly lit room and closed her eyes. Depression descended, as did exhaustion. She hadn’t slept much the previous night. Now, she could not stop her mind from slipping into the blackness.

* * *

CELESTE LEFT the court-house in a highly agitated state. Her encounter with Byron was bad enough, but having to face that pig who had manhandled her so brutally the night of the robbery had upset her more than she’d thought it would. Still, she was sure he’d be put behind bars after her solid and unwavering testimony. Men who perpetrated violence against women should be incarcerated and the key thrown away, in her opinion.

She chose to walk back to the office. It was only a couple of blocks and the fresh air would do her mood good. On the way she made a brief stopover in a coffee lounge where she banished some hunger pangs with a roll and some coffee. By the time the lift carried her up to the tenth floor of the city office block that housed the head office of Campbell Jewels, Celeste felt much better.

Five minutes later she was seated behind her large modern desk, reading the monthly sales reports and chewing thoughtfully on a Biro. Shaking her head, she picked up her telephone and asked for Damian’s extension, only to be told by his secretary that he wasn’t back yet from lunch.

Striding out to Reception, she informed the startled receptionist that Mr Campbell was to be sent into her office the moment he reappeared, and not a second later. She was fuming by the time he walked in—without knocking—at five to four.

‘You wanted to see me, Celeste?’ he said with arrogant nonchalance, plonking himself down on the black leather chesterfield and drawing a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

‘I don’t allow smoking in here, Damian,’ she said coldly.

‘Tough. If you don’t like it, fire me.’ And he lit up, drawing in deeply, then exhaling in her direction.

She glared at him through the haze of smoke. ‘I just might do that.’

‘No, you won’t. Darling Mama holds the ultimate reins in this place and she wouldn’t hear of it.’

‘Darling Mama is in Europe for another few months,’ came Celeste’s dry reminder. ‘Before she left, she gave me a free hand to do whatever I thought was best for the company. Not in one’s wildest imagination could your performance as sales and marketing manager be labelled that. Our retail outlets are still suffering a backlash from the publicity we received over the tour-guide scandal. Our exports are down nearly twenty per cent. And the quality of the opals we’ve been using leaves a lot to be desired.’

‘Shocking,’ he murmured, clearly not at all concerned.

Celeste’s eyes narrowed on him. ‘Have you been drinking, Damian?’

His smirk was revealing. ‘I may have had a tipple or two with lunch. Is that against the rules as well?’

‘No. But having a three-hour lunch is. You were supposed to be back at your desk at two. It’s after four.’

‘Is it really?’ he mocked. ‘I must have lost track of time.’

‘Damian,’ she said sternly. ‘You must realise I can’t allow this to go on.’