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had. She also rarely ate out, or went out. If there were no further unexpected expenses—like having to pay for Timmy to have his tonsils out—she would be debt free by Christmas and able to finally start up her travel fund.

      Abby had always wanted to see the world, dreams of one day travelling overseas sustaining her when she’d been an unhappy teenager. Okay, so those dreams had been replaced by other dreams when she’d married Wayne, her focus changing to creating a happy family life, the sort of family life that neither she nor Wayne had ever had.

      But those dreams had failed to eventuate…

      Abby swallowed hard for a few moments, pushing the awful memories aside and forcing herself to focus on dreams which were achievable. And which might make her forget. They did say time healed all wounds. Time, and hopefully travel.

      Her dream holiday would encompass at least six months, seeing Europe, Asia and the Americas. There were so many places on her USA bucket list. Niagara Falls. The Grand Canyon. New York.

      Which meant of course that one day she’d have to quit her job as Jake’s housekeeper.

      Megan thought she was crazy to contemplate giving up her cushy job to go tripping around the world.

      But Abby didn’t agree. She needed to have a dream which looked forward and not back. If she wanted to travel, then she would travel. And to hell with her job as Jake Sanderson’s housekeeper. He’d survive without her, and she’d certainly survive without him.

      Shortly before nine-thirty, Abby turned into the street which led to Jake’s house. The road sloped gently down to the water, and the ferry terminal, most of the houses two-storey terraces which dated back to the early twentieth century. All of them had been renovated at some stage, Balmain being a very desirable address these days, a far cry from its working-class roots.

      Jake’s house had once been a large corner shop which someone had bought and turned into a house, extending it up and out. Jake had bought it a few years ago. It had come fully furnished in the Balinese style and with everything else he wanted, including a no-lawn backyard, a lap pool with a relaxing water feature and an en suite guest bedroom downstairs.

      Apparently, at the time of his purchase, he’d been suffering from some leg injury incurred whilst working overseas and hadn’t been capable of climbing stairs for a while. He’d told her all this on the day he’d given her the job, when he’d shown her through the place and explained what he expected her to do. Frankly, he’d spoken to her more that day than in the subsequent twelve months.

      Megan was always asking Abby questions about her oh, so famous and handsome bachelor boss, not quite believing her sister when Abby said she still knew next to nothing about him other than the basics, which was that he’d once been a famous documentary maker and was now an equally famous television show host. She had recently learnt that he had a favourite uncle named Craig who was a fairly famous foreign correspondent. Abby only knew this because the man himself had recently come to stay for a while after he’d suffered a skiing mishap.

      Megan probably knew a lot more about Abby’s boss since she avidly watched his programme every day. It was called Australia at Noon, a live one-and-a-half-hour programme which focused on celebrity interviews and current affairs, with a bit of variety thrown in—a tried and true formula whose success depended on the popularity of its host. Which Jake Sanderson was. Very.

      Abby did turn his show on occasionally during her lunch break but found she wasn’t as entranced by it—or by its handsome host—as her sister. She found it hard to match his charming television persona with the rather abrupt man who rarely said more than two words to her on the rare occasions their paths crossed.

      Not that she cared, as long as he kept on employing her and paying her till her travel fund was full.

      This last thought popped into Abby’s mind shortly after she let herself into the house and saw what was written in capital letters on the whiteboard in the utility room, where her boss wrote down things he wanted her to do, or buy. He never texted her, seeming to prefer this rather impersonal method of communication.

       Will be home around three.

       Need to talk to you about something.

       Jake

      Abby’s stomach flipped over, her immediate thought being that she’d done something wrong and he was going to fire her. But then common sense kicked in, Abby reasoning it might be nothing more important than his wanting to show her something which needed doing.

      Yes, that was probably it. No need to panic.

      But a sense of panic still hovered as time ticked slowly away that day. Meanwhile, Abby worked like a demon so that by the time three o’clock came around every room and surface in Jake’s house was clean and shining. All the pictures and side tables had been dusted. The washing had been done and dried, the master bed remade with clean sheets and fresh towels hung in the main bathroom. Even the courtyard had been swept, and a few of the pavers scrubbed where some red wine had been spilled. She hadn’t had a break, eating her lunch on the go.

      At ten to three Abby removed her cleaning gloves and tidied her hair, brushing it before putting it back up into her usual ponytail. She always wore jeans and trainers to work, with a T-shirt in the warm weather and a sweater in the cold. Today’s jeans were old and faded and a bit loose. Her black T-shirt was slightly too big for her as well. She’d lost weight lately, courtesy of her banning chocolate and ice cream from her diet.

      Abby sighed at her reflection in the laundry mirror. She wished she looked better. She would have taken more trouble with her appearance this morning if she’d known she was going to have a meeting with her boss. But how could she have known? She hadn’t seen him for weeks. Still, she really should go out and buy herself a few new things. Jeans and T-shirts didn’t cost much at Kmart.

      Three o’clock came and went without any sign of Jake. After ten minutes she wondered if she should text him. She did have his phone number but he’d made it clear from the start that she wasn’t to bother him that way, except in an emergency.

      Him being late was hardly an emergency. Still, if he hadn’t arrived by three-thirty she would text him. Meanwhile, she hurried to the kitchen and put on the kettle.

       CHAPTER TWO

      JAKE STEPPED OUT onto the deck of the ferry and scooped in several deep breaths. His stomach was still tied up in knots. He’d done his best with his show today, but his mind hadn’t been on the job. Not that he cared. Frankly, he wouldn’t care if he never did another show. Andrew had stood in for him as host last Friday and the ratings were just fine. No one was indispensable in the entertainment game.

      Jake contemplated letting Andrew take over for a week or two whilst he took a well-needed break. He’d jump at the chance, ambitious young buck that he was. Alternately, he might sell the show lock, stock and barrel and do something else with his life. Harvest Productions had been sniffing around for ages. If he could talk Sebastian into making him a half decent offer, he just might take him up on it.

      Though maybe not…

      Jake ran his fingers through his hair in total frustration. Damn it. He hadn’t felt this indecisive in years. Of course he knew the reason. He just didn’t like facing it. Sighing, he made his way over to the railing and stood there, staring out at the water.

      Sydney Harbour on a clear calm day in spring was a sight to behold. But Jake wasn’t in the mood for admiring his surroundings. Or even noticing them.

      Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the grief which he’d had to put on hold today whilst he did the show, and which he’d been struggling to contain for several days.

      Jake still could not believe that his uncle was actually dead. Not even the funeral last Friday had made it real. He could not picture Craig in that coffin. Could not conceive of the fact that

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