Beneath the shop rental documents, she found another rental agreement for an address in Hobart, and sweat pricked her armpits. Kurt must have access to another property he’d kept secret from her. Was that where he stayed when he went to the city? He’d always said he rented a room in a cheap hotel. She thought of Wendy’s comments, months ago, about Kurt keeping everything for himself. All these documents were in his name, Kurt Muller—no mention of his sister Mikaela.

She returned the file to the drawer and removed another folder that contained printed banking statements. She could see the monthly rent going out to both properties, and also regular payments to their suppliers, like Coca-Cola and the supermarket in Hobart where Kurt made purchases for the shop. She could see his weekly cash deposits from the till, and the cash card and EFTPOS income. But there was also a significant monthly deposit coming in from another bank: two thousand dollars a month. Miki was perplexed. After the fire, when Kurt had taken out the lease on this shop, he’d said there was nothing left over. So where was this extra money coming from? It must be tied up with his business interests in Hobart—and perhaps this second rental property was part of that too. Miki felt a twinge of annoyance. Wasn’t it time Kurt started sharing information about these things with her? Wasn’t she entitled to know?

Agitated and uneasy, she flicked through the rest of the cabinet, but there was nothing of interest. More receipts for items purchased. Warranties and instruction manuals for appliances.

Then she searched each drawer for her books—but they weren’t there. Neither was Father’s black leather folder.

Carefully, Miki replaced everything and locked the cabinet. She needed time to think and work out what to do. She needed to get outside in the air.

In the kitchen, she tugged the nail from the sill and opened the window, then lowered the milk crate and leaped out into the lane where the spring wind whipped her ponytail and the air smelled of cut grass.

Wound tight, she tramped the side streets, stewing over Kurt’s files. He’d always said he had her best interests at heart, but the evidence indicated she didn’t figure in his intentions at all. She should have seen it before. The new ute and boat were recent examples of his self-indulgence, while he’d never bought anything for her. And the farm she’d dreamed of—the replacement for their loss—was never going to happen. She was an irrelevant bystander. An unpaid worker in his shop, with no rights. She was powerless.