A Nanny Named Nick

‘God knows. A week. A month. A year. Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘Hell, Dave, don’t ask me. I go with the flow.’

‘I’ll bet it was a woman,’ Dave muttered.

Nick’s normally carefree face froze, his dark eyes piercing Dave with a dagger-like glare. ‘What in hell are you on about?’

Dave was taken aback. This was a side of Nick he’d never seen before. The sudden switch of mood from easygoing to coldly aggressive was quite startling. Everything about the man had changed in an instant. His whole demeanour from his body language to his voice, which had dropped to a gravelly growl.

‘Nothing to get het up about,’ Dave hurried to reassure him. ‘I was just hazarding a guess to the reason for the swift exit from Sydney last time. I thought maybe one of your women might have tried to put the hard word on you for some kind of commitment.’

Nick visibly relaxed, immediately back to being the old familiar Nick again, his very engaging smile carrying a degree of amusement. ‘One of my women, Dave?’ He leaned back in the chair and took another deeply satisfying swallow of beer. ‘You make it sound like I have a harem.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Not at all. I’m a one-at-a-time kind of guy.’

‘Yeah, right, Nick. One night at a time, don’t you mean? I’ve never seen you with the same woman in here two times in a row.’

Nick shrugged. ‘Variety is the spice of life, you know.’

‘Lucky devil. Still, if I looked like you I’d probably be the same. Though to be honest I think I prefer my own quiet and largely celibate lifestyle. Women are nothing but trouble. So you didn’t do a flit because some lovesick dolly-bird was putting the pressure on you for baby bootees and wedding bells?’

‘Heavens, no. I never get tangled up with that type of female. Lord preserve me. It was a lady, though,’ he admitted, ‘who brought me back to Sydney.’

‘Really? I’m all ears. She must be something to bring you back for a second serve.’

Nick laughed. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

‘I’d believe anything about you.’

‘She’s a nun.’

‘A nun,’ Dave repeated, shaking his head. ‘Good God, Nick, aren’t there plenty of available women in the world without you hitting on some poor naive creature in a convent?’

Nick laughed. ‘Sister Augustine is rising eighty.’

‘Oh. In that case, perhaps she’s just safe.’

‘She practically raised me.’

‘No kidding? Do tell.’

‘Not much to tell. Her order used to run an orphanage and kids’ home in Strathfield. I was dumped on their doorstep one day thirty-five years ago when I was a few weeks old, with a note saying my name was Nick. The nuns, and especially Sister Augustine, brought me up. They gave me the surname of Joseph.’

“Why weren’t you adopted out if you were so young?’

‘I was supposed to be, but the story goes that every time a couple wanted me, they would take tea with Sister Augustine, after which they would suddenly change their minds and choose another baby. Lord knows what she told them. Maybe that I was mentally deficient, or something equally deflecting. She’s always claimed she never said anything detrimental at all. She claims it was God’s will that I stayed with them. Anyway, by the time I was around two the nuns stopped showing me to prospective parents and I was safe to be spoilt rotten by them all.’

‘See? You had women falling in love with you even back then.’

Nick smiled. It was a soft, sweet smile, giving Dave a glimpse of yet another side to Nick. His sensitive side. ‘I think they were just lonely,’ he said. ‘Especially Sister Augustine. Her maternal instinct was probably starving for someone of her own to mother. Which reminds me, Dave—did I do the trick last year for that couple who couldn’t have a child? Is there some bouncing baby boy or cute little girl to gladden that poor woman’s unhappy heart?’

Dave was taken aback at Nick’s bringing up this subject. After his abrupt disappearance, Dave had never imagined Nick would return, let alone ask about the outcome of his generous act eighteen months before.

Dave wasn’t sure what to say. He’d lied to Nick about who it was who’d wanted a sperm donor back then because he hadn’t thought Nick would be too wrapped in helping a single woman wanting a baby, let alone Dave’s own sister. So Dave had invented an infertile married couple—friends of friends—who were having trouble getting a decent donor from traditional sources.

The temptation to lie again was strong.

Dave pondered his dilemma before rushing into an answer. It didn’t seem likely that Nick would ever meet Linda and son. No doubt he’d take off again soon. But, given the slight possibility of an accidental meeting, he could not risk Nick knowing he’d fathered a child somewhere. Nick might take one look at Linda’s boy and jump to the right conclusion. Then there would be hell to pay.

‘Er ... I’m sorry, but no, it didn’t take,’ he lied again. ‘The woman in question was not all that young, you know, so maybe it was all for the best.’

Nick nodded slowly. ‘You’re probably right. Actually, I did find it a little unnerving later to think I had a child somewhere whom I would never know—and who would never know me in return.’

A mental picture of Linda’s incredibly beautiful baby boy popped into Dave’s mind. Rory was Nick’s offspring through and through: jet-black curls covered his head and his wide dark eyes were bright with intelligence. At nine months old he was already crawling, and even pulling himself up onto furniture. His legs were long and his body strong.

Just like Nick’s.

Whilst sentiment whispered to Dave that it was a pity Nick would never know Rory and vice versa, common sense demanded he keep father and son apart. Linda would kill him, for one thing. She’d demanded everyone’s identities be kept secret all round. No doubt she wanted to live the fantasy that Rory was Gordon’s child.

To be honest, Rory looked nothing like Gordon despite Linda’s lover also having been tall, dark and handsome. Gordon had been more of a pretty boy, with an elegant frame. Linda’s baby was the spitting image of his real father, whose body was all macho muscle and his facial features chiselled in granite. One look at sire and son together and anyone without preconceived ideas might put two and two together—and get big trouble!

No, Nick could never be told the truth, Dave reaffirmed to himself. There was no reason to feel so guilty about it, either. What Nick didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. If Nick had wanted to be a father for real he could have been one by now. He could have married as well.

Dave looked over at his handsome and highly intelligent friend, and wondered why he hadn’t. What was it that had set him upon a rolling stone, swinging bachelor lifestyle? Had something happened in his past to turn him off the idea of family and commitment?

Could be, Dave supposed. There were a lot of emotionally damaged people out there these days.

Nevertheless, Nick didn’t look at all emotionally damaged as he sat there, sipping a beer, his long legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. He looked happy with himself, and totally relaxed.

Dave sought a more simple explanation for his friend’s rather selfish choice of lifestyle. Maybe that unusual upbringing by nuns hadn’t given Nick the example of a normal family life which would make him want it for himself. He’d admitted being spoiled to death. Perhaps he’d grown up never having to satisfy anyone’s needs but his own.

Still, that was only speculation.

‘Nick?’

Nick took the beer away from his lips and placed it on the table. ‘Yep?’ he replied equably.

‘How come you’ve never married and had kids?’

Was he wrong or did Nick stiffen again, showing another glimpse of that briefly uptight creature Dave had spotted a while ago?

‘Why do you ask?’ came Nick’s curt enquiry.

‘Just curious. You’re a good-looking guy. And you’re certainly not gay, from what I’ve observed at first hand. Most straight men get married at some time or other.’