Matilda's Last Waltz by Tamara McKinley

when I’m not wanted, so I’ll say ta-ta.’
    Diane watched him flounce into the back room then turned to Jenny and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She was cold to the touch and trembling, but her eyes were fever bright.
    â€˜You’ll never guess what’s happened,’ she stammered breathlessly.
    Diane put a warning finger to her lips. ‘Walls have ears, darling.’
    They both turned as Andy emerged from the back room, his jacket slung over his shoulders. The pink shirt and flared trousers were as immaculate as ever, the gold medallion glinting against his perfectly tanned chest, but his eyes were narrow with curiosity.
    â€˜Goodbye, Andy,’ the two women chorused.
    With a disdainful lift of his chin, he slammed the gallery doors and ran down the steps into the street. Diane looked at Jenny and giggled. ‘God, he’s irritating! Worse than having a maiden aunt around the place.’
    â€˜As neither of us has a maiden aunt, I wouldn’t know,’ said Jenny impatiently. ‘Diane, we have to talk. I’ve got some very big decisions to make.’
    Diane frowned as Jenny pulled what looked like a legal document from her shoulder bag. ‘Pete’s will? I thought that had all been dealt with?’
    â€˜So did I, but things have changed.’
    Diane led her into the back room and poured them both a glass of wine. She lit a cigarette and plumped down on one of the vast floor cushions she’d brought back from Morocco. ‘What’s upset you, Jen? He hasn’t left you in debt, has he?’
    Diane’s thoughts raced. Knowing Peter, that was the last thing he would have done. She’d never known a man so organised, but there was no telling what could happen when the solicitors and tax men got hold of things, and she knew things had been very tight financially.
    Jenny shook her head and smiled. She took the portfolio, the deeds and the will from her shoulder bag. ‘Read those, Diane. Then we can talk.’
    Diane shoved back her long sleeves and skimmed over the first few paragraphs of the will. They were legal mumbo-jumbo and not designed to be understood by anyone. When the full impact of what she was reading began to sink in, she remained open-mouthed until the end.
    Jenny silently passed over the portfolio, and Diane, who’d learned a thing or two from an old boyfriend about the stock market, was impressed by the investments. ‘I wish I’d known Pete was into all this – I could have done with a few tips. There’s some good stuff here.’
    â€˜I didn’t know you played the market. Since when?’
    Diane looked up, the cigarette burning away between her fingers. ‘Since I sold my first sculpture. My boyfriend at the time was working in the city. I thought you knew?’
    Jenny shook her head. ‘Strange, isn’t it? You think you know everything about a person, then something happens and all sorts of things emerge.’
    â€˜I don’t tell you the dirty details of my sex life either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have one or that I’ve anything to hide.’ Diane was cross with herself, and with Jenny. There was absolutely no reason why she should feel guilty but she did – and it bothered her.
    Jenny reached over and took the cigarette from her fingers and stubbed it out. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything, Di. Just stating a fact. I had no idea you and Pete played the markets. No idea we were worth so much. And that’s what worries me. How could he have been so secretive when I told him everything? Whey did we live on the breadline when there was money in the bank?’
    Diane had no answers. She’d liked Pete Saunders because he obviously adored Jenny and little Ben. He’d also been faithful, unlike that bastard David who’d had the morals of a rat. But there had always been a sense of detachment about Peter, she acknowledged silently. A barrier she