‘I had no idea he had romantic feelings’: How Bryce Courtenay won me over

This story is part of the October 30 edition of Sunday Life.See all 13 stories.

Christine Gee had been Bryce Courtenay’s publicist for 12 years before he professed his love.Credit: Tim Bauer

In September 2005, I was over at Bryce’s for lunch. After we finished eating, he said, with his blue eyes gazing intently into mine, “You know, Christine Gee, you and I would go very well together as a couple, and I want you to think about it.” I was taken aback and felt startled and slightly panic-stricken.

Bryce went on to explain that it was difficult for him to find a partner. I completely understood why he felt safer contemplating a relationship with me – I was someone he had known and trusted for more than a dozen years. We had first met in 1993, and I had gone on to be his publicist for several of his books, starting with The Potato Factory, which was released in 1995.

I hadn’t the faintest idea that Bryce had been harbouring romantic feelings towards me. But then, I was often slow to pick up on this when it came to men. I also wasn’t in any emotional state to contemplate becoming involved with someone else, not even Bryce. The whole idea of getting together with him felt like madness, and I was certain it could never work out.

Bryce added one proviso to his wish that we be together, and that was that I must consider being prepared to leave Sydney. He was making plans to return to his beloved farm in the Yarramalong Valley on the Central Coast. Even though I’d grown up on a farm in north-east Victoria, I loved Sydney and had no illusions about country life.

I drove home to Woollahra and thought well, at least I have the perfect excuse as to why I don’t want to take the next step with Bryce. I did, however, have the distinct feeling he was not going to give up. Bryce had travelled a long and hard road and knew how to get what he wanted.

After a lot of persuasion, some months later I accepted Bryce’s invitation to go to the 2005 Melbourne Cup. He handed me a wad of cash and told me to go out and buy a new dress, shoes and a hat. A few days later, in the early hours of the morning, I stepped into a limousine and we were on our way to Sydney Airport. We wandered into the Qantas lounge, where I noticed a few people were staring at us. They had recognised Bryce and were probably thinking, who is the new woman on Bryce Courtenay’s arm? We returned to Sydney that evening, and I was left in no doubt about Bryce’s feelings.

At the end of November, Bryce drove me up to the Yarramalong Valley to have lunch with friends and we had a peek over the fence at his farm, called Ikhaya lami, which means “my home” in Zulu. He was excited to be returning there soon and to be reunited with Timmy, the kelpie-blue heeler cross he had rescued a year earlier.

Leaving Sydney, we travelled on the F3 freeway, and after an hour and a half, we arrived in the beautiful Yarramalong Valley. We parked at the boundary of his land and I felt apprehensive about leaving the vehicle as it was a boiling-hot day and the grass was nearly up to the car windows. As a country girl who had once been bitten by a snake, I was certain we would come across one.

Within moments of leaving the car, I spotted a diamond python coiled up in the grass. It was at least three metres long and its amethyst-coloured skin was shimmering in the sun. I squeaked with fear while wishing I could find a way to be airborne. Bryce rushed to reassure me: “Don’t worry, darling, it’s just a harmless python. I promise you it’s a pet owned by the family who live up there on the hill.”

We drove to a property belonging to Greg and Lorraine Woon. Bryce had become good friends with them and was dying to introduce me. He reflected on how he came to purchase the land: “I came across the farmer who owned it. I inquired if his land was for sale and he said, ‘This land has been in my family for generations and always will be, so you can bugger off as it ain’t for sale.’ ”

Bryce said he pressed the man to name his price, and even though the figure was high, he whisked out his chequebook and the land was his.

Bryce was in high spirits that day, and as he downed several glasses of wine he enthusiastically described his plans for his six hectares of garden. Since he was a small boy, his dream had been to create a water garden and he had already built a spectacular, Japanese-style waterfall that was the talk of the valley.

“Darling, when you are young you meet someone, jump into bed and fall head over heels in love. When you are older you first fall in like – and then you fall in love.”

I had a knot in my stomach as I knew he was confident I’d soon be joining him. Apart from seeing the snake I had enjoyed our day together, but I was certain it was going to be my last trip to the Yarramalong Valley.

Bryce had other ideas. I could see he was falling in love with me, and the pressure was on. One afternoon, I had a tearful outburst: “I am truly sorry, but I can’t do this any more. You simply have to give me more time.”

He responded, “Darling, when you are young you meet someone, jump into bed and fall head over heels in love. When you are older you first fall in like – and then you fall in love. I promise with all my heart this is exactly what is going to happen with us.”

I was beginning to think he could be right, but wasn’t ready to surrender and continued to hold out.

Unbeknown to me, Bryce had already confided to his best friend, Alex Hamill, that he was smitten, saying, “She’s the one!” In a television interview in 2012 Bryce explained, “[It was a] slow maturation and a huge surprise when she finally liked me beyond friends.” In 2007 he said he thought back to our courtship when he wrote in The Persimmon Tree: “I was in love, head over heels, hopelessly, helplessly in love.”

He continued to shower me with lavish gifts, and I was not used to being indulged in such a way. The money I usually spent was the money I earned by myself, and this had been the case since I left home at 17 to go to university in Canberra. Indeed, Bryce was very proud of my achievements, which included co-founding the adventure travel company Australian Himalayan Expeditions in 1975, and being one of the founding directors of the Australian Himalayan Foundation.

Christine and Bryce on their wedding day in 2011.Credit: Autumn Mooney

Bryce didn’t much like going out to socialise, especially true when he was writing a book. Sometimes, though, he invited me to dinner at his favourite restaurant, Darcy’s in Paddington. I loved our conversations, his brilliant mind, great sense of humour and genuine human warmth – as Bryce wrote in Sylvia, “I told myself that I had found a soul mate who, like myself, loved music and stories.”

He exuded the kind of confidence that made you feel you could do anything you dreamt of. He was incredibly funny too, and would regularly have me in stitches. It was hard to be serious for long, and I noticed I always left his company feeling like a teenager – perhaps even a teenager who was beginning to fall in love?

As the weeks went by, I knew my resolve not to be with Bryce was beginning to dissolve. In the latter part of 2005, I told him I would move up to Yarramalong and see how things worked out. He was over the moon, although I didn’t feel overly optimistic.

On Christmas Day, 2005, we arrived at Bryce’s farm. I had a pile of suitcases, several boxes of books, and a collection of paintings and artefacts from 35 years of travelling. The “we” comprised myself and my cat Cardamon, who was not happy to be confronted by Timmy barking excitedly as he raced out the door to greet us.

I remember standing in the driveway and sobbing my heart out. There I was, in what felt like the middle of nowhere, with my cat, about to move in with a man who was 21 years older than me and with whom I had never spent a night. I was sure as hell it would turn out to be a disaster.

Edited extract from Bryce Courtenay: Storyteller (Penguin Random House) by Christine Courtenay, out November 1.

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