Free Matilda's Last Waltz by Tamara McKinley Page A

has wiped out the mortgage, the partnership reverts to you and Diane, and as for where he found the capital to play the markets, that can be explained by the properties he bought and sold so astutely.’
    Jenny thought of the long list of properties she’d been given. Apparently Peter had bought property all along the northern coast during the plunge in market values. Done them up and sold them on as the price index rose – and she’d had no idea. ‘But he had to have had money to do that in the first place,’ she protested.
    Wainwright nodded and returned to the folder. ‘He took out a substantial loan on your house at Palm Beach to buy the first few properties, then when he sold them, he used the profit to buy the rest.’
    She thought of the large sum in her bank account, the years of scraping and penny pinching to pay the bills. ‘He never told me any of this,’ she murmured.
    â€˜I expect he didn’t want to worry you with the financial side of things,’ said the lawyer with a patronising smile.
    She eyed him coldly and changed the subject. ‘What’s all this about my birthday?’
    John Wainwright shuffled through the papers on his desk and picked up another folder. ‘This was Peter’s special bequest – just for you. He wanted to present it on your birthday but…’
    She leaned forward. Impatience and dread were a strange cocktail. ‘What is it?’
    â€˜It’s the deeds to a sheep station,’ he said, opening the folder.
    His words stunned her and she sank back into the chair. ‘I think you’d better explain,’ she said finally.
    â€˜The station was abandoned by the owners several years ago. Your husband saw his chance to fulfil a dream I believe you both shared, and took it.’ He smiled. ‘Peter was very excited about it. It was to be a surprise for your twenty-fifth birthday. I helped with the paperwork and so on, and worked out an agreement for the manager to remain on the property and look after it until you and Peter took possession.’
    Jenny was lost in speculation as her mind struggled to take it all in. The ticking of the clock filled the silence as she marshalled her thoughts into some kind of order. Things were beginning to fall into place. Peter had told her her next birthday would be one she’d never forget. He had presented her with the locket she always wore on their last Christmas together and hinted it was connected to the forthcoming surprise but he had refused to divulge the secret of the locket, or the plans he’d obviously been making. But this? This was beyond her wildest dreams. Almost impossible to digest.
    â€˜Why didn’t you tell me about it when you first read the will?’
    â€˜Because your husband’s express instructions were not to reveal anything until your twenty-fifth birthday,’ he said soberly. ‘And Wainwright, Dobbs and Steel take a pride in maintaining our clients’ wishes.’
    Jenny lapsed into silence. It had all come too late. There was no way she could live out their dream – not on her own. But her curiosity was piqued.
    â€˜Tell me about this place, John. Where is it?’
    â€˜It’s in the north-west corner of New South Wales. Or “back of Bourke”, as you Australians put it. About as far into the outback as one can get. The name of the property is Churinga, which I’m reliably informed is Aboriginal for “sacred charm or amulet”.’
    â€˜So how did he find this place? What was it that made him buy it? How come this Churinga was so special?’
    He eyed her for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, Jenny had the impression he wasn’t telling her everything. ‘Churinga happened to be in our firm’s portfolio of properties. The original owners left it to us to keep it going until we deemed it proper to pass it on. Peter happened to be in the right place at the right