The Guardian's Forbidden Mistress

In the beginning, when he’d launched himself into the business world, she’d admired his ambition. But success had made Nick greedy for the good life, feeding on hedonistic pleasures that were as fleeting as they were shallow. Other than the holiday house on Happy Island, he owned a penthouse on the Gold Coast and a chalet in the southern snowfields. When he wasn’t working at making more money, he flitted from one to the other, always accompanied by his latest lady-love.

Whoops, no. Amend that to latest playmate. Love was never part of Nick’s lifestyle.

Her father had always said how proud of Nick he was. He’d lauded Nick’s work ethics, his intellect and his entrepreneurial vision.

Sarah could see that, professionally, there was much to be proud of. But surely her father would have been disappointed, if he’d been alive today, at the way Nick conducted his personal life. There was something reprehensible about a man whose girlfriends never lasted longer than six months, and who boasted that he would never marry.

No, that was unfair. Nick had never boasted about his inability to fall in love. He’d merely stated it as a fact.

Sarah had to concede that at least Nick was honest in his relationships. She felt positive he never spun any of his girlfriends a line of bull. They’d always known that their role in his life was strictly sexual and definitely temporary.

‘Glad to see you’re still capable of enjoying your food.’

Nick’s droll remark jolted Sarah out of her reverie, her stomach contracting in horror once she realised she’d consumed a second piece of caramel slice without being aware of it.

She kept her cool, however, determined not to let Nick needle her further.

‘Who could resist Flora’s caramel slice?’ she tossed at him airily. ‘Next Christmas we’ll get back to having a smaller Christmas lunch, Flora, and you can cook whatever you like.’

‘You won’t keep your father’s tradition going?’ Nick asked in a challenging voice.

‘Is that what you think you’ve been doing, Nick?’ she countered. ‘When Dad was alive, Christmas lunch was a gathering of true friends, not a collection of business acquaintances.’

‘Is that so? I think perhaps you’re mistaken about that. Most of your father’s so-called friends were business contacts.’

Nick was right, of course. But people had still liked her father for himself, not just for what they could get out of him. At least, she liked to think so.

But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d seen him through rose-coloured glasses. Maybe, underneath his bonhomie, he’d been as hard and cynical as Nick.

No, that wasn’t true. He’d been a kind and generous man.

Not a brilliant dad, though. During her years at boarding-school he’d often made excuses for not being able to come to school functions, all of those excuses related to work. Then, when she came home for school holidays, she’d largely been left to her own devices.

If she was strictly honest, things hadn’t been much better when her mother was still alive. A dedicated career woman, Jess Steinway had been totally unprepared for the sacrifices motherhood entailed upon the arrival of an unexpected baby at forty. Sarah had been raised by a succession of impersonal nannies till she went to kindergarten, after which Flora had taken over as carer before and after school. But Flora, warm and chatty though she was, had mostly been too busy with the house to do much more than feed Sarah and make sure she did her homework.

No one had spent quality time with her, or played with her, till Nick had come along.

She turned her head to look at him, a wave of sadness washing through her. Oh, how she wished he was still their chauffeur, and she the little girl who could love him without reservation.

Tears pricked at her eyes, right at that moment when Nick’s head turned her way. She quickly blinked them away, but not before she glimpsed regret in his.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t mean any disrespect for your father. He was a good man and a very generous one. Christmas was his favourite time of year. Did you know that every Christmas he gave huge donations to the various charities round Sydney for the homeless? Because of him, they always had a proper Christmas dinner. And no one, especially the children, went without a present.’

Sarah frowned. ‘I didn’t know that.’ she knew about his good work with young prisoners. And he’d given lots of money to cancer research and cancer support groups. There were a few hospital wings named after him, too. But he’d never mentioned his Christmas donations. ‘I hope his estate is continuing with that tradition, Nick. Do you know if it is?’

‘It wasn’t written into his will, so I do it in his name every year.’

‘You?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised. I am capable of generous gestures, you know. I’m not totally selfish.’

‘I…I never said you were.’

‘But you think it. And, generally speaking, you’d be right.’

‘Don’t be so modest, Nick,’ Flora piped up. ‘You should see the huge plasma television Nick bought Jim and me a few weeks ago, for no reason at all except that he thought we’d like it. It has surround sound and its own built-in DVD. You can tape any number of shows and watch them later, when you have time. Jim’s in seventh heaven, watching cricket and tennis at all hours of the day and night.’

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