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Wednesday and everyone knows all the gallery openings are on Tuesday night, so of course I’m going to be a little bit hung-over . . . Mind you, I suppose it was a bit cheeky to use the managing director’s office.”
    â€œI love being suspended,” said another fellow with a shaved head and a large stud through his lower lip, and everyone laughed.
    Amid all the fun, another of Antony’s plates appeared and came round to me. It was like playing pass the parcel, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to wet the end of my forefinger, dab it in the powder and rub it on my gums. It tasted really nasty, but soon after I got that tickly feeling again and everything seemed funnier than ever. The effect of the pot had completely gone and Antony passed me glass after glass of champagne, which I swilled happily.
    This cheerful little group, ensconced on silver bean bags and cushions in what I realised was a dressing room for the photographic studio, never stopped talking and laughing. The faces changed constantly as people came and went, with new arrivals greeted like they’d just returned from an Antarctic expedition. Eventually I realised that Antony had disappeared, but I was having such a good time with all my fabulous new friends I didn’t mind. And the champagne and the plate just kept coming round and round.
    Eventually a familiar face appeared. It was Billy Ryan.
    â€œBilly darling!” I cried out, forgetting that I’d been offended by his behaviour, because I was so thrilled to be able to greet someone myself. Especially someone so ridiculously good looking. “Come and sit with me,” I said, patting the bean bag next to me.
    He looked a bit surprised at the warmth of my welcome, but came over anyway.
    â€œHaving fun?” I asked, beaming at him.
    â€œNot bad at all, er, Jodie . . .”
    â€œGeorgia. Georgia Abbott. But you can call me Georgie.” I thought this was very funny and for some reason I’d started laughing like Antony. HA HA HA HA HA.
    â€œSo tell me, Georgie,” said Billy. “How do you come to be at this party and how come I’ve never met you in Sydney before?” He looked around the room. “We seem to know a lot of the same people.”
    â€œActually, I don’t know any of these people. I don’t even know you. HA HA HA. I’ve only lived in Sydney for two weeks. I came out here to work on Glow magazine.”
    â€œAh, Glow. ” He nodded. “Do you know the beauty editor there, Debbie Brent? She’s my cousin. My mother is her father’s sister.”
    â€œNo! But that’s amazing. Of course I know her. She’s gorgeous. I mean she’s a lovely person. I really like Debbie. Yes, I really like her. Is your mother very beautiful? Debbie is unbelievably beautiful. She looks so beautiful every day, you never know what she’s going to turn up in and she always looks gorgeous. I’ve heard her father is gorgeous too. Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous, all those Brents, I’ve heard, and you’re half Brent so you must be half gorgeous, HA HA HA.”
    Oh, I thought I was hilarious. Billy didn’t seem to mind—he was smiling indulgently. He shook his head as the plate came round and I took just another little dip—oops, on it goes—and passed it round. Billy seemed a bit distracted.
    â€œRory!” he suddenly shouted, “Roar!” and did one of those piercing whistles through his teeth that only Real Men can do. The tall fellow I’d seen him with earlier popped his head round the door.
    â€œBills, mate,” he said. “What are you doing?”
    â€œJust chatting to my new friend Georgie here. Come and say hello.”
    Rory came over and shook my hand. He had lovely pale blue eyes.
    â€œRory Stewart, g’day,” he said, doffing his hat. I noticed that although he had very black eyebrows, his hair was silver all over. He wasn’t