by Miranda Lee
'And does he know about me?'
She shook her head. 'No. He doesn't even know we had a child together.'
'You have to tell him, Celeste,' she urged.
'Let me tell you first. I want you to know it all, so that you can understand ... '
Celeste hesitated, knowing that she didn't have to tell Gemma the basic background details of the man she'd believed was her father all these years. It was well documented in the report that his real name was Stefan Bergman, and he'd come to Australia from Sweden in the Seventies to go prospecting in the opal fields of Coober Pedy in South Australia.
When he'd struck it rich there, he'd come to Sydney to sell his finds and live it up big. It was also in the report that he'd started dating the pretty daughter of Stewart Campbell and several weeks later they'd both caught a plane for Europe, choosing to stay in Spain once it became obvious she was having a baby.
What the report didn't include was why Celeste had chosen to go with him in the first place. God, but it was hard to tell her own daughter that she'd committed adultery with her own half-sister's husband and become pregnant by him, and that she'd run off with Stefan on the rebound.
It sounded so appalling in the telling. Yet there was nothing but sympathy for her in her daughter's soft brown eyes when she at last found the courage to look at her.
'You really loved Byron, didn't you?' Gemma murmured.
Celeste nodded. 'Madly. We'd been lovers briefly when I was only seventeen. I thought he was in love with me too but he broke it off, saying it was only a sexual thing. I was devastated when he married Irene a few months later.'
'I've heard some terrible things about her,' Gemma said, frowning. 'Why did Byron marry her? Surely he couldn't have been in love with her.'
'I don't think he was, but she was very beautiful and madly in love with him. People always said he married her to get his hands on Campbell Jewels but my father left total control of the company in my mother's hands. Whatever, the marriage was not a happy one. To be honest, I think Byron might have married me if Irene hadn't told him some rather damning lies about me. She made Byron believe I was a little tramp who slept with anything in trousers. Which wasn't true, I assure you. Byron had been my only lover at that stage.'
Gemma was shaking her head. 'Why was she so mean?'
Celeste shrugged. 'I don't really know. She always resented my mother, even though her own mother died soon after she was born. My mother tried to be nice to her but truly I can't remember a time when Irene wasn't very difficult to live with.'
'Byron should have divorced her and married you,' Gemma said. 'He must have loved you. He wouldn't have made love to you while he was married if he didn't.'
Celeste's heart leapt before she got it back under control. Gemma was only twenty, and twenty-year olds could be very idealistic. 'I don't know about that, Gemma. Men can fall prey to lust more easily than women. I was very wrong to kiss him that day. I wanted to see if I was over him. Clearly, I wasn't,' she finished drily.
'So what happened?' Gemma asked.
'Irene caught us together soon afterwards and guessed what had happened. She didn't say a word, simply looked at both of us then walked out of the room. Byron turned on me and called me all sorts of names.'
'Which is why you went off with my father.'
'You mean Stefan.'
'Oh ... yes .. .I keep forgetting.'
Celeste fell silent, not wanting to tell Gemma about her eventual disillusionment over the man she'd thought such a gentleman. She especially did not want to see the horror in those innocent brown eyes if the whole truth was revealed.
Even so, Gemma was frowning. 'I presume he thought I was his,' she said.
'Yes,' came Celeste's reluctant admission.
'And you refused to marry him, I suppose. Is that why he stole me?'
'Something like that.'
'Yet you stayed with him till I was born. Why did you do that?'
'I. . .I wasn't in the best of health and he ... he said he wanted to take care of me.'
Gemma's frown deepened. 'Doesn't sound like the man I knew. Still .. .I suppose he might have been a kind person once. Maybe he changed once he realized you didn't love him. Maybe he became bitter and twisted.'
'Yes, I think that's what must have happened.' Celeste was happy to let her daughter believe this. Better than the ghastly truth.
'But what about the opal? You know ... the Heart of Fire.'
Celeste's heart missed a beat. 'The ... the Heart of Fire?'
'Yes. I found it along with that photograph after Dad died. I. . .I mean ... after the man I thought was my father died.'
'Good God,' Celeste murmured. 'I didn't realise ...
So Byron was telling the truth all along. It was found in a dead miner's belongings out at Lightning Ridge.'
'It certainly was. I thought I was rich for a while till I found out it was stolen. What I'd like to know is ... if .. .if Mr Bergman was rich back then, why did he steal it. .. and how?'
Celeste flushed. 'He didn't steal it initially. Though he did later. From me. I was the original thief.'
'You!'
'Byron was going to give it to Irene on their wedding day to symbolize the healing of the rift between our two families. I. . .I took it that day, vowing never to let the rift heal between the Whitmores and the Campbells. '
'Oh .. .'
'It was very wrong of me.'
'Understandable, though.'
'Do you really understand, Gemma?' Celeste said pleadingly.
Gemma clasped her mother's hands tightly in hers. 'Of course. Loving someone as much as you loved my father can make one do insane things.' .
'Yes,' Celeste muttered bleakly. 'Yes, it can .. .'
'You still love him, don't you?'
Celeste blinked her amazement at this intuitive guess.
'I suspected as much when I saw you together last night,' Gemma explained gently.
'He ... he's all I've ever wanted,' Celeste confessed brokenly.
'Then go to him. Tell him everything you've just told me. Tell him the truth.'
The truth ... Dear God, this sweet child didn’t know the half of it.
'Please, Mother,' Gemma begged. 'For me .. .' Celeste melted.
'All right, my darling. For you .. .'
Celeste was a nervous wreck by the time she knocked on the hotel suite door. Byron wrenched it open immediately, a smoldering scowl on his handsome face.
'You do pick your moments, Celeste,' he grumbled. 'What could be so urgent that you had to see me immediately? And why, if it's not my body you want, did you choose to meet me here of all places?'
A wry smile tugged at her lips. Same old Byron, always huffing and puffing when he was caught at a disadvantage. Well, he was at a disadvantage, there was no doubt about that. He was also about to get the shock of his life, if she was any judge. Would it be a welcome shock? Or would the thought of a woman like herself having had his child turn his stomach?
She'd never had the courage to tell him, first because of his marriage to Irene and secondly because she'd been afraid of his reaction. She could not have borne to see the scorn and skepticism on his face. Even if she'd been able to find their baby-and my God, she had tried-there had been riot DNA tests to prove paternity all those years ago.
Byron would have scoffed at her claim that he was the father. He would have seen this as another evil attempt of hers to break up his marriage. But now, his daughter was living in his own home. The truth was an easy matter to prove nowadays. Three simple blood-tests and Byron would not be able to deny his paternity. Celeste hoped and prayed he wouldn't want to. Not for her sake, but for Gemma's.
Celeste's heart turned over as she thought of her daughter. How lovely she was, and how loving. Gemma deserved everything good in life, which included a father who would open his heart to her and give her all the love and support she needed at this difficult time in her life. She was having a tough enough time as it was with that rotten h
usband of hers.
Fancy Nathan's deliberately keeping her mother's identity from her when he must have known what it meant to her! Then, on top of that and everything else he'd done, he still had the hide to insist on a divorce because of her supposed affair with Damian. The man was a raving nutcase! Truly, Gemma was better out of the marriage, a decision she'd thankfully come to herself.
Celeste would never feel happy with her daughter staying married to anyone as unstable and abusive as Nathan had already proven to be. But that didn't mean the girl was happy about the situation. She loved that man so much it was quite depressing. Love like that could be incredibly self-destructive...
'For pity's sake, Celeste,' Byron muttered impatiently. 'Are you going to stay standing in the doorway all afternoon, or are you going to come inside and tell me what this is all about?'
Celeste stared at him. Why do I love you so much, Byron? she asked herself for the umpteenth time. What have you ever done to deserve such undying devotion?
Shaking her head more at herself than him, she brushed past him, moving along the corridor and into the sitting area of the suite. Placing her bag on the large low table between the two sofas, she walked over to briefly admire the harbor view from the window before turning her back on it to face a frustrated looking Byron.
'How about pouring me a whisky?' she said: 'And get yourself one, while you're at it.'
He threw her a disgruntled glare before shrugging and walking over to open the cabinet that housed the mini-bar.
'I take it this is going to be bad news,' he said curtly. 'No doubt something to do with Gemma.'
Celeste caught her breath. 'Why do you say that?'
'A logical deduction. I was the one who dropped her off outside Campbell's after her unsuccessful reconciliation with Nathan this morning. I concluded she must have found in you a sympathetic woman's ear, something that has been very lacking in her life so far.'
He turned and brought the two glasses over, handing her one and lifting his own to his mouth. 'So what's the problem?' he asked after a couple of sips. 'Does she want to live with you at Campbell Court
instead of at Belleview?'
'We haven't discussed that yet,' Celeste hedged.
'But it's on the agenda?'
'Maybe .. .'
'I would never feel comfortable with her living under the same roof as Damian, Celeste,' he pronounced pompously. 'I'll advise her against it, most strongly. She'd be safer at Belleview with me and Ava.'
'I'm sure Damian will not be any danger to Gemma ... once I tell him what I'm about to tell you.'
Damian was going to be rocked to his socks when he found out he was Gemma's uncle! But no more than Byron was going to be.
Celeste swallowed. How did one say news like this? Really, there was no other way but to just say it but dear God, her tongue suddenly felt thick in her mouth and a trembling had started up deep inside.
'For pity's sake, Celeste, would you just spit it out?'
Byron growled.
His impatience was just the impetus she needed. 'Gemma is my daughter,' she blurted out.
Celeste knew that for the rest of her life she would never again see such an expression on Byron's face. Stunned did not describe it. Clearly, he was so shocked and astonished that he was rendered speechless.
Or was his goldfish-mouth stare an expression of disbelief?
'It's true,' she insisted, and walked over to snap open her carry-all and draw out the brown envelope. 'Gemma left this with me so that I could show it to you. It's a report from a private investigator. There's a photo too which she found in her father's things after his death. She told me that's what prompted her desire to search for me in the first place and was the main reason she came to Sydney. Anyway, Nathan hired a detective agency on Gemma's behalf some time ago but the bastard told her they hadn't been able to find her mother. Only this morning did he produce this, possibly because he considered such an unforgivable deception would make Gemma agree to a divorce.'
Byron took the envelope, still in an obvious state of shock.
'Sit down and read it,' Celeste suggested, her voice sounding firm despite her insides being an utter mess. What would Byron do when he was told the rest? He already looked pole-axed.
Slumping down on to one of the sofas, he put his whisky down and shakily extracted the report from the envelope. Celeste filled the intervening minutes while he read the report by drinking her whisky, refilling her glass and drinking that as well. Slowly, the alcohol seeped into her system, bringing with it a false seose of calm.
Finally, Byron dropped the report into his lap, but kept staring down at the photograph for ages, running his fingers over it. Finally, he looked up at her, his face ashen.
'Gemma never showed me. this,' he said in an uncharacteristically subdued voice. 'Maybe I would have recognized you. But probably not, with those sunglasses on. And your face is so thin and drawn. Not as I remembered you ... ' He frowned down at the photograph again. 'I take it the baby you're carrying here was Gemma?'
'Yes,' she choked out.
'So you were able to have children back then, it seems,' he muttered, an angry color seeping back into his face. 'Whatever happened to make you barren must have happened after this.' His eyes snapped up, hard and glittering and accusing. 'One doesn't have to be a genius to guess what you did. This hospital stay when you got back to Australia explains all. Clearly, babies did not fit into Celeste Campbell's lifestyle. One mistake was enough, so you made sure there wouldn't be another.'
'That's not true!' Celeste gasped. 'I would never do a thing like that.'
'No? From what I've heard and seen for myself, there isn't anything you wouldn't do, Celeste, to ensure your sex life fulfils all your very demanding expectations. An unwanted pregnancy would curtail your activities for far too long. So tell me about this man,' he went on savagely, jabbing at the photo with a furious finger. 'This Stefan you gave your child to. I don't believe that other rubbish. Where did you meet him? Why did you go to Europe with him? Why have a baby by him? Was it that he was simply so good in bed you got carried away one night and forgot to take precautions?'
Celeste stared at Byron, disbelief changing to dismay and despair. She should have known Byron would always believe the worst of her. It was par for the course. This time, however, something snapped inside Celeste and she couldn't even find a righteous anger to fight back with. Her normally rebellious spirit began draining from her and she swayed slightly on her feet. Fearful of actually collapsing, she turned and walked slowly towards the window, where she stood for a moment before turning to glance back over at a still scowling Byron.
'I did not give Stefan my baby,' she said in an empty voice. 'He stole her.'
'Bulldust!' Byron scoffed. 'No one could take anything from you, Celeste, unless you wanted them to.'
Celeste was too tired to stop the ghastly memories from rushing back, or in stopping the emotional devastation they always caused. 'I woke one day to find him packed and the baby's cradle already empty. He told me not to bother trying to find either him or the child because I never would.'
'And you didn't try to stop him?'
'Oh, yes .. .I tried.'
'And what happened?'
'He beat me to a pulp and left me there alone to die.'
There was no satisfaction in Byron's shocked gasp. Or any confidence that he now believed her. Neither did she really care any more.
'My mother can vouch for what I'm saying,' she continued in a dead, flat voice. 'She spoke to the Spanish doctors who treated me, and paid for the hospital bill in Barcelona.'
Celeste felt the tears welling up and she turned her face away, clutching at the curtains for support. 'I was taken into emergency surgery where, among other things, I was given a hysterectomy. I nearly died,' she admitted hoarsely. 'Occasionally, over the past twenty years, I wished I had .. .'
Celeste's head and shoulders drooped in defeat. For even if Byron believed her now, it wouldn't be enou
gh. Underneath, she had been wanting more than his belief. She had been wanting his understanding and sympathy.
The unexpected feel of Byron's arms closing over her shoulders in what seemed to be a gentle, comforting gesture broke what little was left of her control.
'Oh, God,' she sobbed, and, whirling, threw herself into his arms. 'I'm telling the truth,' she cried against the broad expanse of his chest, tears streaming down her face. 'I swear to you .. .I'm telling the truth!'
'Hush,' he soothed, his warm strong arms holding her tightly but tenderly. 'I know you are. No one would make up a horror story like that, least of all you, Celeste. Least of all you .. .'
'I tried to find her,' she wept brokenly. 'I spent a fortune on private investigators, but he was far too clever. .. and in the end I had to stop or go mad!'
