Chapter 33

Rachel was out when I returned to the Hyatt. I disgorged paper onto the table in our room and attempted to organize it. By the time my new spouse returned, I had come to the conclusion that only the most recent summary and the document bequeathing everything to her were of any importance. But a lot of explanation was going to be needed.

She took one look at the papers and said: "I'm not reading all that!"

"Neither am I. I was trying to sort it all. There's little information, but a lot of background. Take off your shoes and we can begin."

"Could you just tell me the bottom line?"

"Easily. We're well-off."

"And?"

"That's the bottom line. The rest is history."

"Okay. I'll play your game. How 'well' is well-off?"

"About two million. Maybe a bit more."

"Is that a joke?"

"No. We really need to talk. And one of these papers is for you." I handed it to her.

"What time is it?"

"1600."

"Fine. Take up to two hours today. If necessary, another installment tomorrow."

"You should be able to get it in under two hours. But we're still going to have to talk."

"Okay, but first I want to change my shirt."

I composed my thoughts. "Do you remember Rob?"

"Weena's dad, your grandfather?"

"Yes. Well, when he died he left everything to me and Sarah, with my dad as our trustee. Part of that is what we're living on in Sydney." I could see that she wanted to say something, so I held up my hand. "And you recall Charlie, the Yank cowboy?"

"Yes."

"Well, when Charlie died eleven years ago, he bequeathed almost everything to me and Sarah, too. That's what I learned about today. That's what most of those papers concern. It's another $800,000."

Rachel just gaped at me. She still hadn't read the paper I'd handed to her.

"Now, you've got to realize that I don't really have the money. Dad's in charge until I'm 21. And I think Sarah'll have to wait nearly three more years. Actually, I'm not sure that she knows yet. But dad – uh – released Charlie's bequest to me today. I'll receive Rob's in the spring. And though we're spending dosh, the principal's earning at the same time. About $200 a day, as near as I can tell. But I see two really important things."

"What?"

"We can't let the dosh go to our heads and we'll have to think seriously about the future."

"I'm not even telling my folks. I wouldn't know how to tell them."

"You're a princess who kissed the frog – me!"

"Right."

"Now. That piece of paper. It's the reason you should push me in front of a bus. If anything happens to me, everything's yours."

"Bonkers. I won't push. We just won't worry. Want to celebrate our good fortune before we go out?"

We did.

"Can we do some unnecessary shopping today?" Rachel asked in the morning.

"Of course. But what for?"

"If we've a bit more dosh available, I want to get our families more gifts."

"Have you any idea what?"

"I saw book that your dad might like. It's the text of Cornford's Microcosmographia Academica with a commentary. As he's now an academic, it would be funny."

"Neat. I think I might find something for him, too. But what about your folks and Al and Sarah?"

"And your mum. I've got funny ideas for the mums."

"Okay, tell me."

"No. I'll show you at a shop."

"Very well."

We walked over to Hay Street. There were several bookstores along there, but we'd go to Dymock's first. While there we separated, I looked at science and mathematics, thinking of Al, but also my dad.

I found a new book on River Conservation and Management by Philip Boon and Paul Raven that I thought might interest Charles – or wasn't that the sort of thing one got one's father-in-law? I saw a section of locally published books and walked over to it. There was a copy of Murder on the Rabbit-Proof Fence by Terry Walker. It was about Upfield and a real murder. It was 20 years old, but I knew dad didn't own it. But I still had no notion as to Al. Then I saw The Fractalist – the autobiography of Mandelbrot. Even I'd heard about him.

I looked around, but there was Rachel coming towards me carrying two books.

"Look!" she said, holding out two copies of The Good Granny Guide.

"That's very nasty."

"Yes, but funny. They'll both get all excited and I'll bring them down saying I'll give them three or four years to learn the stuff." She was laughing.

"Okay, it's your neck. Look what I've found." I showed her the Upfield.

"Is that enough for your dad?"

"It's not the size or cost that counts. And this for your brother."

"Hmmm. Who's Mandelbrot?"

"A famous mathematician. He died a year or two ago."

"And Sarah?"

"No notion. A scarf? Not a gift card or a certificate. Do you know what kind of music she likes?"

"She loved the Gilbert and Sullivan they went to."

"Which?"

"I don't know."

"That's not helpful. Do they have DVDs here?"

"I'll ask." I asked a clerk.

"Next door, mate. JB's."

I thanked him, we gathered our collection and went to a register.

"Could we pay for these and leave them here?" Rachel asked. "We need to go to JB's."