Matilda's Last Waltz Read Online Free PDF Page A

Arrogance was in their blood.
    â€˜Stop messing with that,’ he rasped. ‘I want my dinner.’
    He felt a squirm of pleasure as she fumbled and almost dropped the precious bag of salt she’d been so carefully tucking into an old tea tin. He slammed a fist on the table for added effect, then laughed as she scurried to ladle the stew into a chipped bowl and spilled some of it on the floor.
    â€˜Now you’ll have to clean it again, won’t you?’ he said nastily.
    Matilda brought the bowl of stew to the table and placed it in front of him. Her chin was high and there was colour in her cheeks, but he noticed her self-possession hadn’t given her strength enough to look him in the eye.
    Mervyn grasped her skinny wrist as he saw Bluey skulk across the kitchen floor and lap at the spilled dinner. ‘What’s that bloody animal doing in here? I told you not to let it into the house.’
    Matilda looked at him finally. She couldn’t quite hide the fear in her eyes. ‘He must have followed you in. He wasn’t here before.’ Her voice was calm, but there was an underlying tremor that betrayed that calm for the sham it really was.
    Mervyn kept hold of her as he kicked out, missing the dog by inches as it scurried away. ‘Good thing you ain’t a dog, Matilda. Or you’d have a boot up yer arse as well,’ he murmured, releasing her. He was tired of the game, and the smell of the stew was giving his hunger an edge.
    He dug a spoon into the mixture and ladled it into his mouth. Fresh damper bread mopped up the gravy. He’d been eating for a while when he noticed she had not joined him at the table.
    â€˜I’m not hungry,’ she said quietly. ‘I ate earlier.’
    Mervyn mopped up the last of the gravy, then leaned back in his chair and jingled the coins in his pocket as he studied his daughter. Her figure was slender but had lost the coltish awkwardness of childhood, and where once there had been a soft roundness to the chin and cheeks, there was now a firmness in the adult planes. The sun had darkened her skin, bringing out the freckles and the blue of her eyes, and her long, wild hair had been partially tamed and fastened on top of her head. He noticed how strands of it had escaped and were coiled around her face, caressing her neck.
    He was jolted by what he saw. This was no weak, malleable child he could, bully into submission but a woman. A woman with the same implacable presence as her mother. He would have to change tactics and fast. If she found herself a husband then Churinga would be lost to him forever.
    â€˜Exactly how old are you?’ he asked finally.
    Matilda’s gaze was direct and challenging. ‘I’m fourteen today.’
    Mervyn let his gaze drift over her. ‘Almost a woman,’ he murmured appreciatively.
    â€˜I grew up a long time ago,’ she said acidly as she approached the table. ‘The chooks need feeding and I haven’t seen to the dogs yet. If you’re finished, I’ll clear away.’
    He caught her hand as she reached for his bowl. ‘Why don’t you and me have a drink to celebrate your birthday? It’s about time we got to know each other better. ‘Specially now yer ma ain’t here.’
    Matilda pulled away and hurried to the door. ‘I’ve work to do.’
    The screen door slammed behind her and he listened to her light tread across the verandah and down the steps. Deep in thought as he reached for the whisky bottle.
    *   *   *
    Matilda’s pulse raced as she crossed the yard with the swill bucket. There was a change in Dad that scared her far more than his temper, and yet she couldn’t put that change into words. It was something in his eyes and in his manner. Nothing tangible but there all the same, and she had the feeling this new threat was far more dangerous than anything he could do with his fists.
    She reached the dog pens and