Kiss Heaven Goodbye (19 page)

Then again, it wasn’t as if Gabriel had to be on the set. She had dared to wonder if he had stayed in Port Douglas for her or whether he had just been sucked into the allure of Hollywood. She grimaced.
Whichever. When he hears about this, he’s going to be off like a rat up a drainpipe.

‘Grace, there you are! I want you to meet some people,’ said Gabe as soon as she’d seen him through the crowd.

Grace froze. ‘Some people’ was David Robb, the star of the movie and one of the biggest names in Hollywood. Robb exuded that slick, untouchable confidence that all ultra-successful people seemed to possess. He pumped Grace’s hand as they were introduced, holding it for a minute longer than necessary, a trick that her father used to draw people into his confidence and anoint them with his glow, if just for a few precious seconds of his time.

‘So, Grace, what do you do out here?’

‘I work on a boat.’

‘Grace wants to be a writer too,’ said Gabriel, sliding his arm around her shoulder in an almost paternal way. ‘I’m putting her in front of my agent as soon as we get back to New York.’

Grace looked up at him sharply. New York? ‘We’? He hadn’t mentioned this to her; in fact he had never spoken about them as a plural or of them having any future together, now she thought about it.

The future. What would that be? A cold sterile room? A nurse with rubber gloves and a tray of steel instruments? How much would it hurt? How late could she leave it? She’d wished she’d paid more attention to those stories in the women’s magazines, but back then, she’d thought it would never happen to her.

‘Write a role in there for me, won’t you?’

‘Sorry?’

‘A role. For me,’ smiled David. ‘When you sell the movie rights for your first book, I want to take the leading role. Make him sexy too, OK?’

He was smiling his megawatt smile, but already the star was looking over her shoulder, eager to move on.

‘Well, I think you’re the first person to ever resist the David Robb charm offensive.’ Gabe chuckled.

‘Not my type,’ she said, forcing a smile.

Gabriel caught the look and frowned slightly. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, touching her on the arm.

‘Of course,’ she said breezily. ‘This is my first Hollywood party. I’m a bit overawed.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘Well I’m a bit out of my depth myself. Writers’ parties are nothing like this, let me tell you.’

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne and Grace automatically reached for one, desperate to calm her nerves, but then instantly recoiled as she remembered her condition.

‘I was just telling Gabriel how he should come to LA for six months or so,’ said a man in a cap. Gabriel introduced him as Neil Berry, the film’s director.

‘What do you think, Grace? We need storytellers like him out there and he’s sure as shit gonna make more than writing those fruity little books of his. I was on the phone to Joe Eszterhas this morning. The buzz on
Basic Instinct
is good, and if it does great box office, he can charge three million a script.’

Grace nodded and smiled thinly. She was beginning to feel dizzy now. She needed fresh air.

‘Sorry, could you excuse me? I’m just going outside.’

‘You OK?’ asked Gabe.

‘Fine.’

She walked into the grounds and sat on the terrace overlooking the party. Sitting in the dark, her hand on her quite flat belly, she felt vulnerable and alone, so far away from home. She was twenty-two; it wasn’t too young to have a baby.
But am I ready?

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Grace could see Gabriel inside, effortlessly gliding from person to person – actors, producers, studio heads, all the top people at the party. Writers might be bottom of the totem pole in Hollywood, but not this writer. They all wanted to talk to him, his very presence made them feel more intelligent. Was this man ready to be a father? With her? The reality was she just didn’t know, because she barely knew Gabriel. He would certainly be against an abortion. His family were staunchly Catholic, and while Gabriel was more relaxed, his faith was still important to him; his novels were laced with religious symbolism, and every Sunday he went to the local Catholic church for mass. Grace dearly wished she had such strong spiritual principles; at least it would make the decision easier. One thing she was sure of though: she had to be responsible for her own actions. She’d learnt the hard way that you had to make the right decisions, not the easy ones.

Finally Gabriel bounced up the steps towards her holding two flutes of champagne aloft.

‘Refreshments.’ He smiled, sitting down next to her. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe I don’t have to go back to New York immediately.’

‘Is Hollywood calling?’

‘Actually I was thinking of staying here,’ he said quietly, taking hold of her fingers. He turned to look at her and she felt a rush of emotion so strong she was glad she was sitting down.

Was this love? she asked herself. Proper grown-up love, complete with responsibilities and difficulties. For a split second she vaguely thought of Alex Doyle, but she could barely recall his face.

‘I’m behind on the new novel and there are too many distractions in New York, so I’m postponing my flight home. For a few weeks at least.’

‘So I’m not a distraction?’ she chided.

‘I didn’t mean that.’ He took a sip of champagne and she watched his lips touch the rim of the glass. ‘When are you going back to England?’

‘I thought I’d try and stay out here for a while longer.’

‘I thought your visa was for a year.’

‘I can fly out and come back again.’

He looked at her eyes, dark and creamy. ‘Like fly to New York.’ ‘If the offer’s open.’

Suddenly he looked awkward.‘You know I can’t make any promises about what happens next, but if you do go back to London, it’s just a seven-hour flight to JFK.’

‘Round the corner, then.’

‘It’s better than Australia.’

She turn to face him and looked directly in his eyes.

‘I think I’m pregnant,’ she said, unable to keep it inside her any longer.

The words seemed to hang in the air between them.

‘Are you sure?’ he said, his voice calm and measured. Grace felt a pang of disappointment and pushed it aside. What had she expected? ‘Oh darling, that’s wonderful!’?

‘I did a test,’ she said quietly.

He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Fuck.’

Grace gave a little bitter laugh.‘It’s not exactly what I had planned either, Gabe.’

He glanced back and touched her leg. ‘Sorry, sorry, I’m not thinking straight, I didn’t mean how it sounded. It’s just it’s all a bit of a shock.’

‘For me too, Gabe. I wasn’t even sure I should tell you, what with you going back to New York, even if you are staying in Port Douglas a bit longer.’

‘Have you made a doctor’s appointment?’

Grace shook her head. ‘I only did the pregnancy test before I came out.’

‘So it’s not definite?’

‘I suppose not.’

He glanced down at her stomach, as if he expected her to have a bump there already. ‘I’m surprised you came to the party,’ he said.

‘Caro forced me. Besides, I couldn’t miss out on seeing David Robb’s teeth close up, could I?’

He gave a little laugh, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

‘You’re right, I should go,’ replied Grace.

He took her elbow. ‘Don’t be stupid. I’m coming with you. We can go to the doctor together in the morning.’

‘But it’s your wrap party.’

‘I’ve been to enough parties,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the house.

When Grace woke, sunlight was streaming through the louvred windows and Gabe’s side of the bed was empty. Panicking, she turned over, her fingers finding a note on the pillow.

‘Breakfast with the producer. Can we go to the doctor’s this afternoon? Gabriel. PS Caro’s left for the boat already. She says she’ll make your excuses.’

Great,
she thought, wondering if he had legged it out of the country.

Determined not to sit in the house moping, she called the doctor’s, who could only see her at 5 p.m. anyway. Throwing on a tracksuit, she went to the grocery store on Macrossan Street, filling up her basket with healthy things. At the chemist she bought another pregnancy test, running through the process the second she returned home, chewing her nails on the edge of the bath as she waited for the pink line to appear. ‘No question now,’ she said as she buried it at the bottom of the trash can.

When Gabriel got back to the cottage at midday, Grace was busy in the kitchen making a chicken salad. He came up behind her and embraced her awkwardly.

‘How are you feeling?’

She forced a smile. ‘I’m pregnant, not ill, Gabe.’

She brought two plates across to the table and sat down.

‘So what did the producer want?’ she asked as they began to eat.

His face became animated. ‘Apparently the studio want to green-light
Beachcombers
. They bought the options a couple of years ago but the studio head loves the rushes to
Cast No Shadows
and want to get something else into production.’

Grace put down her fork. ‘Oh Gabe, that’s fantastic.’

They smiled at each other, both pretending that this strained normality was real, that they were just a couple discussing Gabriel’s day at work. Finally Gabriel cracked, pushing his plate away and burying his head in his hands.

‘I’m sorry, Grace,’ he said, rubbing his palms into his eyes. ‘I’ve been terrible, haven’t I? I just don’t know how to ... it’s all just such a surprise.’

She reached out and touched his hand gently. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I’m a twenty-two-year-old Brit on a gap year in Australia. This time yesterday my biggest concern was whether Caro would ever buy a pint of milk for the house. And now I’m having a baby.’

He nodded, looking up at her. ‘Do you want to keep it?’

She had expected it of course, but still she didn’t want to answer the question. She wanted him to come around the table and hold her, reassure her, tell her it was all OK, whatever happened. She didn’t want to make life-changing choices sitting at her kitchen table, looking down at chicken wings.

‘Well, what do you think?’ she said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, but she still needed to ask.

His dark eyes darted away. ‘You might not be pregnant. Let’s discuss it after the doctor’s.’

‘I’ve done two tests, Gabe . . .’

‘This is the biggest decision we will make in our lives,’ he said irritably. ‘We can’t just discuss it like we’re deciding where to go out for dinner.’

‘And the one thing we can’t do is pretend it’s not happening.’

She broke off as the phone began to ring in the next room.

‘Are you going to answer that?’ he asked flatly.

Glaring at him, she walked through to pick up the receiver, then put her head round the door to call Gabe.

‘It’s for you,’ she said, holding it out to him.

He looked as puzzled as she was. Gabriel lived in a luxurious hotel suite; that was where he did his business and he’d never received a call at Grace’s before.

Grace retreated back into the kitchen, but she could hear Gabriel speaking rapidly in his native tongue, too fast to keep up with her schoolgirl Spanish, but she could tell it was serious. For several minutes he was silent, then he marched back into the kitchen and snatched up the keys to his jeep.

‘Gabe, what is it?’ she asked. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Out!’ he shouted. ‘I need to . . . I’ve got to . . .’

He paced around the room, his fist gripping the car keys so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. She went across and wrapped her arms around him, but he wriggled from her grip.

‘Please, Grace, don’t,’ he said.

‘Gabriel, what’s wrong? Can’t you tell me?’

Finally he looked at her, and Grace didn’t know when she had ever seen anyone look so sad.

‘It’s my brother. He’s dead.’

‘Honey,’ she whispered, moving towards him, but he just backed up against the door and threw it open. ‘Gabriel!’ she pleaded. ‘Don’t go, not in this state.’

‘I just need to be alone,’ he called over his shoulder. Running out on to the drive behind him, she caught a shower of dust as he gunned the jeep away.

The hours ticked slowly by. Four o’clock. Five o’clock. Her doctor’s appointment was missed. She would go there tomorrow. She stayed in the kitchen preparing supper, cleaning, reading, anything to take her mind off where he was. Every ten minutes she put her nose to the window, staring out on to the street, hoping that the silver jeep would come rolling up the drive again. But as the sun set, the streets grew dark and there was still no sign of him. Tiredness engulfed her again, so she crawled on to the sofa and pulled a blanket on top of her.

When she opened her eyes, Gabriel was sitting on the floor next to her, gently stroking her hair, his face wet with tears, his breath stale from alcohol. She pulled him up on to the sofa and they held each other for a while.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said quietly. Despite the hours she’d had to rehearse what she should say, everything else seemed to escape her.

‘He was shot dead coming out of a restaurant,’ said Gabriel, his voice barely a whisper. ‘He’d just been meeting friends . . .’