Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas. Sandra Marton

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.’

      ‘Why do you think I bought it?’ Nick quipped. ‘Had to do something to stop my right-hand man from spending every summer’s day glued to that TV, when he should be outside working. My motivation was purely selfish, I assure you. And don’t be expecting anything too expensive for Christmas, because I’m flat broke now.’

      ‘Oh, go on with you,’ Flora said laughingly.

      ‘Don’t laugh. I’ve made two dud movies already this year. And I’m damned worried about the one coming out in the NewYear. We’ve had a couple of test audiences view it and they said the ending was way too sad. The director reluctantly agreed to reshoot it with a happy ending, but I’ve decided to go with his original vision. If this one flops, I might have to come to Sarah here for a loan.’

      Sarah was shocked by this news. She knew better than anyone that Nick’s ego would not survive becoming poor again. ‘I can give you as much as you need, come February. And it won’t be a loan, either.’

      ‘Lord, what am I going to do with this girl, Flora? I hope you haven’t made any similar offers to this boyfriend of yours. Don’t ever give a man money, Sarah,’ he told her sternly. ‘It brings out the worst in them.’

      Sarah shook her head at him. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? Derek doesn’t want my money.’

      ‘He will, when he sees how much you’ve got.’

      ‘Not every man is a fortune-hunter, Nick. Now, if you don’t mind, I do not wish to discuss Derek any further. I know there’s no convincing you that no man could possibly love me for myself and not my money, so I’d prefer not to try.’

      ‘Hear hear,’ Flora agreed. ‘I agree with Sarah. Another piece of caramel slice, love?’

      The ringing of Nick’s cellphone was a welcome interruption, not only to his incessant questioning about Derek, but also to her escalating exasperation. Tomorrow was not going to be a pride-saving exercise. It was going to be hell!

      ‘Hi there,’ she heard Nick say in that voice he reserved for girlfriends. ‘Yeah, that’d be great, Chloe. OK. I’ll pick you up tonight at seven. Bye.’

      He clicked off his phone and slipped off the stool. ‘Sorry, folks. Change of plan. Chloe’s had a last-minute invitation to a Christmas Eve party at some bigwig’s place, so I’ll have to dash out and do my present-shopping now. We’ll have to put off that talk till I get back, Sarah.’

      ‘Fine,’ she said, pretending not to care. But she did. She cared a lot. Not about the talk so much but about his going out this afternoon, then going out with Chloe tonight. Pathetic, really. The way she would accept the crumbs of his company.

      ‘Don’t forget I want a new car,’ Sarah called after him as he walked away. ‘A yellow one.’

      Nick stopped walking, then glanced over