Free In the Mouth of the Tiger by Lynette Silver Page A

wouldn’t care to join us? We’ll be going on to the Australia for a drink before I take them to their digs.’
    I didn’t answer immediately but got up, licking my fingers. ‘I really would like to join you,’ I said. ‘But I can’t this afternoon. I’m fighting a bunch of lawyers who want to take my inheritance off me.’
    He stared at me for a second, shocked. Wondering if I was joking.
    â€˜I might not be able to stop them,’ I went on. ‘But I’ll draw blood trying!’
    â€˜Good for you,’ he said, looking at me closely. Then, deciding there must have been some truth in what I was saying, he touched me companionably on the shoulder. ‘I really mean that. The very best of luck.’
    I gave what I hoped was a plucky grin.
    â€˜By the way,’ he said, shoving out a hand, ‘my name is Tim. Tim Featherstone. I’m with Dunlops. They’re trying to turn me into an Assistant Manager for one of their estates up in Selangor.’
    I took Tim’s hand. ‘Norma Roberts,’ I said, then wondered why on earth I’d said that. It was probably the unreality of everything that had happened to me that day. I felt as if I was playing a role in a play rather than living real life. A brave little English girl all alone in a foreign country, fighting the bad guys who held all the cards.
    â€˜One day,’ Tim said determinedly, ‘you won’t be able to say you have something important to do, and you will simply have to accept one of my invitations.’
    â€˜One day,’ I smiled coolly, still playing my role.
    At two o’clock precisely I was shown into Dr Mahmood’s cluttered office.
    I told Dr Mahmood everything, including the proposal to invest the proceeds from the sale of Burnbrae in a hairdressing salon in KL, and then handed over the copy of the deed of trust. I did not want to waste his valuabletime. ‘I don’t want to sell Burnbrae, or to own a hairdressing salon,’ I said unemotionally, ‘but I rather think there is little anyone can do.’
    Dr Mahmood read the trust deed carefully, then took his glasses off and placed them on his desk. ‘You are quite correct, Miss Roberts,’ he said. ‘There is little I or anyone else can do. This deed gives the trustee great powers, including the power to draw down funds for any purpose – including investment in a business – if he believes that is in your interests. If we challenge the proposal all we would do would be to waste what funds there are in the trust.’
    â€˜Do you think Mr Mayhew is being fair to me?’ I asked. ‘I’d just like your personal opinion.’
    Dr Mahmood frowned thoughtfully. ‘To be frank, Miss Roberts, I think that the proposed arrangements may be in your best interests. A few thousand dollars in trust investments is not going to keep you at school, but the proposed hairdressing business will at least give you a job and some income.’
    â€˜I rather think that is what a court would say,’ I said, rather pleased at my apparent dispassion. Now that I had lost the battle, I felt it important that nobody should know the hurt I felt at losing Burnbrae.
    â€˜Mr Mayhew has told me that my fees for seeing you are to be met from the estate,’ Dr Mahmood said. ‘It will be a trivial amount, I assure you.’ He handed me back the deed. ‘So I think perhaps our business is concluded?’
    â€˜There is one other thing,’ I said quietly. I fumbled in my purse and extracted the ten-dollar note Tanya had thrust into my hand as lunch money. ‘I would like you to use this to pay for Rajeev’s bail.’
    Dr Mahmood looked at me for a moment, then shook his head with a smile. ‘That is a fine gesture, Miss Roberts. I will inform Rajeev of your offer. But others have already paid for his bail. He would be . . .’ his eyes crinkled with thought ‘... he