THURSDAY'S ORCHID Read Online Free PDF Page B

transferred to me.
    The rest of it was in assumed names, in accounts for which we could both sign. There were deposits of cash, diamonds , and a small amount of bullion – all in various safety-deposit boxes spread around the world. And our Swiss account was still in a healthy position.
    There was no need to get embroiled in the sorts of deals we had been accustomed to. I intended to indulge myself for a while. I remembered what George had said about all that money not being sufficient to buy Peggy’s health. The time to spend was whilst I was still young enough to enjoy it.
    I lived the carefree life of a playboy for the next two years, with plenty of fast cars and even faster women. There were chartered yachts, deluxe suites, fine wines, and jewellery for my ladies – the best of everything. I went skiing in Switzerland during the season, and cruising on the Mediterranean. The casinos in Monte Carlo and Macau received more than they gave, but what the hell.
    It’s amazing how much money you can burn trying to keep up with the jet-set. I don’t know how much I spent. I didn’t really want to know, for I knew it would frighten me. But none of it was wasted – an investment in the good life. At the end of those two years I was no longer rich. I wasn’t exactly broke; there was still about three hundred thousand locked away in various accounts, together with the bullion. But the bullion was my escape money, untraceable and convertible in any country in the world. I didn’t want to have to dip into that.
    And then I met Nick again.
     
    Nick.
    I hadn’t given him a conscious thought for two or three years, and he had no bearing on my leaving Europe. Maybe fate had a hand, maybe not. I have never been certain whether there is a preordained destiny for us all.
    It was just that it was time to return to Australia and get the feel of a regular life once more, time to seek out old friends and acquaintances, time to find out what was happening, what deals were being set up. It was time to get amongst the action again, time to stir up the brain cells. I had grown fat and lazy, and bored.
    Given time I might have thought of Nick, but he happened anyway.
    For some obscure reason I chose to make Adelaide my point of entry into Australia. I could keep a low profile in South Australia, and quietly settle myself back into the routine of things. It would give me a chance to keep away from the rich living I would fall into if I went back to Queensland.
    I had always been one for the races, at l east ever since George introduced me to the horses, so what more natural thing for me to do on my first day in the city of gardens, a city nestled between the hills and the sea, than to attend a race meeting.
    Adelaide’s Victoria Park track is nowhere near as famous as Melbourne’s Flemington, or Sydney’s Randwick; but on a crisp sunny Saturday afternoon – with the bunting flying, the ladies decked out in their finery and the crowds straining on their toes as the horses surge to the post – fame is of little consequence. The excitement at Victoria Park is just the same, the roar of the crowd just as loud, and the smiles of the bookies probably even wider.
    An Australian race-track has no comparison anywhere. It’s friendly. There’s not the sophistication that exists at the English courses. But there’s more greenery and more fashionable women than you will find on any track in America. And as for the Continent, well I’ll say no more.
    I was enjoying myself. It was good to be back.
    The meeting was all but concluded, with only one more race to be run. I had backed one winner and several losers, which was about my usual pattern. Professional punters study the horses, jockeys, form and courses. Me, I just pick whatever takes my fancy. I always felt that studying the whole thing makes it far too serious and takes all the fun out of winning; even though it might cut down on some of the losses. But it’s the feeling of not being sure,