Matrimonial Causes Read Online Free Page A

saucer chair.
    â€˜You look terrible. What happened?’
    I told her. Give Cyn her due, she had a vivid imagination. I could see her visualising the scene.
    â€˜Jesus,’ she said. ‘You could have been shot.’
    â€˜He wasn’t after me.’
    She stood behind my chair and massaged my neck. ‘Have a shave and a shower. I’ll make you an omelette.’
    A shave and shower at that time of night meant I’d be doing more than eating an omelette before Thursday was done.

4
    In the morning, over herb tea and muesli for her, coffee, toast and Drum for me, Cyn told me about the job she had lined up in Cairns.
    â€˜Townhouses alongside canals,’ she said. ‘A real challenge.’
    â€˜Like building Venice. Are the houses actually in the canals or what?’
    â€˜Cliff, don’t be a smartarse. It’s interesting and it’s only six weeks this time.’
    â€˜Go with my blessing,’ I said. ‘Maybe you can get us one of the townhouses as part of your fee. They gave my mum a flat in the block they built when they knocked down our semi in Maroubra.’
    â€˜Your semi and ten like it. All undistinguished.’
    â€˜She died two years later.’
    â€˜Cliff, she was sixty-eight and she’d smoked thirty a day for fifty years.’
    â€˜True, but I still blame the architects.’
    Our fights could build out of exchanges like this. Cyn was a lower North Shore girl, a doctor’s daughter who’d kicked over the traces but still trusted bank managers and private school principals in her heart. But there was no fight in either of us today. The memory of the night’s love-making was too strong and the thought of a six-week parting made us both a bit clingy. She was flying north in twenty-four hours. She went to her office to finalise the details and I went to mine, hoping for a little quiet summons-serving or money-minding. I anticipated a call from Alistair Menzies’ office requesting a refund—not an auspicious start on my new career path.
    The morning passed slowly and when the phone rang I was thinking about money. The Asahi Pentax was a robust camera but I’d thrown it strongly and, although it had ended up on the grass, I wasn’t sure that it hadn’t landed somewhere harder first. There was likely to be some damage. Tricky case to argue as a legitimate expense, but it was worth a try. However, the voice that came on the line wasn’t that of Mrs Collins, the dragon-lady.
    â€˜Mr Hardy, this is Virginia Shaw.’
    No flies on Cliff. ‘Would that be Miss Shaw of the Lapstone Apartments, Rose Bay?’
    â€˜That’s right.’
    â€˜You had a very nasty experience, Miss Shaw. I’m sorry.’
    â€˜I did and I would like to speak to you about that.’
    â€˜I suppose you know why I was there. I don’t quite see …’
    â€˜That doesn’t matter. I don’t care about that. I saw what you did.’
    â€˜I didn’t do anything.’
    â€˜You yelled. You threw something and hit him.You frightened him and you ran towards him. That was very brave of you.’
    â€˜I was just surprised, Miss Shaw. Just reacting instinctively. I might’ve jumped behind a tree next.’
    Her voice was low and controlled, like that of a dynamic actress playing a reined-in part. Ava Gardner, say. ‘I don’t think so.’
    â€˜Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re all right,’ I said. ‘I hope the police didn’t give you too hard a time.’
    â€˜Mr Hardy,’ she said. ‘I want to see you. I was told you are a private detective. I want to engage you. I’m very, very afraid.’
    Conflict of interest didn’t cross my mind. Mrs Meadowbank didn’t need a divorce anymore. I drove to Rose Bay and parked pretty close to where I’d been just twelve hours before. Everything looked unnaturally clean in the street. A water wagon and the