She wanted to see Paul, of course, but no one could get on to him. Trying not to think about it, she opened up a gossip mag. ‘How She Drove Her Man Away’ screamed the headline above a photo of a scowling actress. Perfect, Amelia thought, snapping it shut and gingerly leaning her head back against the starched pillow.
Natalie had tidied the flowers and gifts into orderly groups, making the stark hospital room look like a cross between a toy store and a florist. A thin stream of late-afternoon sunlight cut across the floor and, as the door opened, caught on Get Well printed in silver and gold over a great bundle of balloons that seemed to push their way into the room.
Sav, Chrissie and Chelle appeared behind the mardi gras of colour. Their arms were full of boxes of chocolates, flowers and other goodies—Chrissie held up a bag of green grapes. Then Sav let go of the balloon strings and they floated to the ceiling like reverse confetti, bobbing up and down. Their brilliant impact matched Amelia’s smile as she realised that these were the visitors she needed.
‘Helium-filled happiness, Milly!’ squealed Sav while she sashayed past the end of the bed, reaching up to tickle the bottom of the balloons.
‘Ready, aim, fire!’ said Chelle. She pulled a bottle of champagne from under her arm, tore away the foil and aimed it at the ceiling. The cork popped, loud as a shot, and they all laughed.
‘Really, Doctor? Booze?’ said Amelia with a grin, a little shocked.
Chelle held the bottle up for Amelia’s inspection. ‘Nonalcoholic, my friend. A good physician is always prepared.’ She cleared a space on the bedside table and produced four plastic cups from her lab coat pocket.
Chrissie placed a card next to the cups after she’d removed the cheesy badge from its front—it read No. 1 Patient in big cartoon letters. She tried to hand it to Amelia, but Chelle grabbed it, opened out the pin and began poking at the silver balloon above her head. ‘I told you not to buy silver.’
‘You’re a lunatic!’ Sav laughed when the silver ball popped. ‘Don’t you know how to behave in a hospital? I could have you deported, or defrocked or whatever they do to badly behaved young doctors!’
Amelia snorted. ‘Isn’t defrocking what they do to clergy?’ She giggled then gasped, holding her ribs. ‘You’ve got to stop this. Chelle, you said no jokes!’
‘Never fear,’ commanded Chelle, passing Amelia a cup, ‘the doctor is on duty.’ She stopped and grinned. ‘I’m also off duty!’ Then she turned to Chrissie, who had seized the badge and started popping balloons. ‘If you don’t quit doing that, I’ll use you for needle jab practice!’ She took a pillow from the spare bed, giving it to Amelia. ‘Here, hug this. It’ll help.’
Chelle turned back to Chrissie, who scrambled to get away and dropped the badge. Sav snapped it up with a shout of triumph.
The multi-hued orbs bounced in the draft from the air-conditioning, creating a kaleidoscope across the ceiling. Amelia gazed up at them. ‘The balloons are beautiful,’ she said, as her friends collapsed in a giggling heap. ‘Thank you!’ She stopped and put on a sick patient’s voice. ‘But Doctor Chelle, are you sure this is allowed?’
‘Certainly. In fact, it’s compulsory!’ replied Chelle, coming over to sit on the edge of Amelia’s bed. Then she whooped and jumped up as Chrissie released the brakes from the bed and pushed it away.
‘Oh sorry, Doctor,’ said Chrissie, with a complete lack of remorse.
Amelia leaned back and straightened. ‘Oh, stop! I knew you lot couldn’t be trusted. Nurse! Help! You’re killing me. Don’t you know I’ve got cracked ribs?’
Chelle pulled out another pillow from behind Sav, who’d made herself comfortable on the empty bed. ‘Here you go, hold both pillows like you’d hold Paul. They’ll give you support when the pain starts . . . unlike a bloody man!’
Amelia hugged the two pillows close.
‘I don’t think that’s going to be much comfort to her,’ Chrissie interjected.
Chelle laughed again. ‘Hey, Sav, where’s that pin? Chrissie here needs a lesson in discomfort. Don’t make Milly laugh too much. Each time you crack a joke, I’m going to jab you. Milly’s in a lot of pain and I’d hate to let her suffer alone.’
‘You’re a bloody sadist!’ Sav squeaked. She walked over to Amelia, reached down and pinned the badge to her pyjamas. ‘Right, now I think we’re all safe from the maniac medic in our midst.’
‘Did you buy out the entire florist?’ asked Amelia, hugging the pillow tighter.
‘Every last blossom,’ confirmed Chrissie, grinning wickedly. ‘Except a few wilting chrysanthemums in a jam jar.’ She leaned forward. ‘Your future sister-in-law arrived to order for the engagement party.’
‘Why would you order flowers for an engagement party?’ Sav asked scornfully. ‘You’d have to sell the top paddock to pay for enough to fill the footy club.’
‘I wouldn’t want flash flowers,’ said Chelle, dreamily. ‘Gum leaves and native bushes would be enough for me.’
‘Dani doesn’t do things by halves,’ Amelia said, drawing a slow, steady breath.
‘Ooh, yeah, we know. And if we didn’t, one look at her left hand would set us straight quick smart.’ Chelle surveyed the three boxes of chocolate, chose the Cadbury Roses and cracked the plastic seal. She took her sweet time selecting a chocolate before she offered them around. ‘Dani was carrying on about being on a wedding-dress diet. Maybe we could send her some chockies to help out.’
‘You guys are really down on her! Has she done something I don’t know about?’ Amelia asked.
‘Nah. Just being her usual endearing self,’ Chrissie said.
Amelia shook her head, giving a wry smile.
There was a gentle knock on the door and a nurse pushed a trolley in. ‘Oh, you’ve got visitors. How lovely. I just have to check everything, though—sorry to intrude.’ She reached down and took the medical chart from the end of the bed, then realised Chelle was sitting in front of her. ‘Oh, hello there, Doctor.’
‘I’m not here,’ Chelle answered in a sing-song voice. ‘I’m off duty.’ She turned her attention back to the chocolates.
The girls quietened, making their way through the Roses, while Amelia’s vitals were recorded and her medication swallowed down.
‘And what have you had to drink today?’ asked the nurse.
‘Lots of water,’ Amelia answered, ‘and a little bit of this fizzy grape juice.’
The nurse’s face stiffened until she saw Non-Alcoholic emblazoned on the bottle. ‘And your bowels? Have they opened?’ She smiled apologetically.
Amelia glowed a bright red and nodded, before asking, ‘Would you like a chocolate?’
‘Oh, thank you so much! A nurse’s main food groups are cold coffee and stolen chocolates. Sugar and caffeine see us through.’ She grabbed a fistful from the box and stuffed them into the pocket of her uniform. ‘Let me know if you need anything,’ she said while backing her trolley out of the room.
Amelia noticed Chelle scanning her medical chart. ‘Am I gonna make it, Doc?’
‘Certainly. Don’t even know why you’re still in bed—malingerer!’ Chelle hooked the chart back onto the foot of the bed. ‘I reckon you can get out of here tomorrow morning, first thing.’
‘Thank God!’ said Amelia, relief swelling in her chest until she realised she sounded ungrateful. ‘Not that it’s been too bad in here. Mum brought me apricot chicken at lunch and you guys have completely outdone yourselves.’
‘Best of all, we brought some fruit to make sure your bowels keep opening,’ said Chelle with a grin, waving the bag of grapes.
‘How’s Paul going?’ Sav asked, looking a bit more serious.
‘How would I know?’ Amelia muttered into her glass. She wished the wine was the real stuff, so it would warm her all the way to her stomach and chase out the cold feeling that settled there when she thought about Paul. ‘The thing is, I haven’t clapped eyes on the bugger since he left for Adelaide first thing on Saturday. He was meant to be back in town this morning. And he isn�
��t answering his phone.’ Amelia gripped her cup so tightly, she felt the plastic crunch a little.
‘Loosen your grasp there, honey,’ said Chrissie.
‘How weird,’ Chelle put in. ‘Doesn’t seem like Paul.’
‘Who knows . . . maybe he’s been held up. Maybe he forgot to take his phone off silent.’ Amelia knew she looked as miserable as she felt, but at least it was a bit of a relief to have got the news off her chest.
Chelle squeezed her arm and they all gave her sympathetic looks.
‘Let’s not dwell on the mysteries of men,’ Sav said brightly. ‘Tell me some gossip! What about you, Chrissie? How’s Will?’
Chrissie folded her arms. ‘Well now, that would have to be the shortest relationship in the history of dating. Now-you-see-me, now-you-don’t.’
‘What? You guys looked good together,’ Amelia said. ‘He seemed so into you!’
‘Yeah,’ chimed in Chelle, ‘when I saw you two having dinner at the pub, it was like no one else existed!’
‘I thought so too, but he stopped returning my calls just after the rodeo. No sorry, no sod off, just haven’t heard from him. His mum does all their shopping, and I can’t exactly ask her about it.’ Chrissie sighed. ‘It’s so frustrating! Anyway—’ she swirled the liquid around in her glass ‘—you win some, you lose some.’
‘Good Lord, look at us!’ Chelle giggled. ‘Hopeless in love. Only one out of four can maintain a healthy relationship.’
Sav crossed her legs primly, as though teaching a pre-primary class, then said, ‘I think I should buy us all vibrators.’ The girls shrieked with laughter while Sav held up her hands in a What? gesture. ‘It would save a lot of heartache, don’t you think?’
‘What do you mean, “us”?’ Chrissie asked. ‘Aren’t you getting seen to?’
Sav blushed. ‘Some nights Dean’s too tired.’
That set off another round of giggles and innuendo-laden comments.
‘So,’ Amelia began tentatively, when they’d all calmed down, ‘what’s being said around town about the robbery?’
There was the briefest of pauses before the three started to talk at once:
‘I’ve not heard anything.’
‘Nada, as far as I know.’
‘Nothing.’
They were so obviously lying that fear rose up inside Amelia. She wasn’t angry with them, though—just touched that her friends wanted to protect her. ‘I can tell you’re hiding something,’ she said. ‘Whatever it is, I want to know.’
They exchanged glances, then Sav opened her mouth. ‘Okay. Well, you know what Torrica can be like. Sally, that genius from the bakery, is positive you’ve taken the money and hidden it somewhere. Tasered yourself, no less, ’cause you had to make it realistic.’
Chrissie rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, and Deb at the bank is doing her usual “I-know-everything-but-I’m-sworn-to-secrecy” act, which is a sure sign she knows nothing.’
‘Some idiots,’ said Sav, ‘say your family’s going bankrupt and—’
‘Of course, we put whoever we hear saying that sort of shit right in their place,’ Chelle said, and the others nodded firmly. ‘No one’s really taking it seriously, Milly, so don’t let it get you down.’
But the aftertaste of the chocolates and grape juice had turned to bitter acid at the back of Amelia’s throat. She set her plastic cup down. ‘I’m sorry, guys. I need a bit of time alone.’
Chapter 17
Amelia got out of the passenger’s seat and breathed in the fresh, clean air. True to her word, Chelle had released her into this fine Tuesday morning, and Amelia was so grateful to no longer be smelling hospital-grade disinfectant. Her father at her elbow, she slowly walked down the garden path, up the stairs and into the kitchen. Natalie was cooking lunch, fussing over a salad.
‘You right, love?’ John asked as he hovered by Amelia’s side.
‘I’m fine, I think. It’s just so good to be home.’ She sank into the kitchen chair that Natalie pulled out for her.
‘And it’s good to have you home,’ her dad said, his hand on her shoulder.
‘Where’s Graham?’ she asked.
‘You should be able to see out there.’ John pointed at the window.
Over near the shed, Amelia’s brother was attaching the sheep feeder to the ute. Once it was secure, he drove over to the auger and backed under it, before getting out to start the engine. She watched as the grain flowed into the feeder, filling it up until Graham shut off the engine and climbed back into the ute. Soon he’d be driving out into the paddock, with the sheep running behind and bleating madly, in search of the grain they knew would be coming.
‘Pretty dry, Dad,’ Amelia said when Graham took off, dust flicking up from his wheels.
‘Yeah.’ John sat down and accepted the food-laden plate Natalie handed him. Before he tucked in, he said, ‘Can you put the radio on, Nat? Just want to hear the weather report on the Country Hour.’
Sitting in the sunshine that streamed through the window, Amelia closed her eyes and let the sounds of home wash over her: the click of her father’s knife and fork against the plate; her mother doing the dishes; the radio announcer talking up a cold front due to hit sometime next week. They were all comforting noises, ones that Amelia needed around her right now. She needed to feel safe. More snippets of the attack had been coming back. Last night she’d dreamed of fingers running down her neck to tug her shirt collar, and a low male voice making threats. Before she woke up she’d felt her shirt pop open, her heart thumping.
Amelia shuddered and opened her eyes, looking outside again as the dogs barked. A cloud of dust was swirling up the driveway like a cyclone, and her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the vehicle that caused it.
‘Paul,’ she said softly.
The ute pulled up in a mixture of spitting gravel and skids, and her fiancé almost fell in his hurry to get out of the cab.
‘Milly!’ he yelled, covering the path in three steps.
John opened the door to let him in. ‘It’s all right, son, she’s okay,’ he said, but Amelia suspected that Paul didn’t hear a word.
He made a beeline for her chair and grabbed her hand as he sank to his knees in front of her. ‘Babe, are you okay? Bloody hell, look at you.’
‘Where’ve you been?’ she asked, pulling her hand away. ‘We’ve been trying to contact you.’
‘Held up in Adelaide, trying to sort all this stuff out with the lawyers. I’m sorry, I left the charger at home so my phone’s been dead. Never even really thought to look at it—you know I don’t use it too much.’
Amelia took a deep breath and slowly went over the details of her attack, with Natalie and John chiming in with their own commentary. Paul listened, his face tightening.
‘Oh babe, I’m so sorry. If I’d known I would’ve been here.’ He reached forward and took her hand again, gentler now. This time she let him hold on. Tentatively, he reached up to run his fingers down her cheek, which was turning from purple to a browny yellow. His blue eyes hardened and narrowed. ‘Who did this to you?’
John shook his head and sighed. ‘If we knew that, the bastards would be locked away by now.’
‘Well, they’d better not come across me,’ Paul swore. ‘I’ll kill ’em.’
That sent a thrill through Amelia. ‘How did you hear?’ she asked.
‘Soon as I got into town this morning, I called in to the store to grab some dog food on the way home. Chrissie told me, then I came straight out here.’
Amelia smiled. ‘Can’t beat the grapevine.’
‘Not in Torrica anyway. So what’s the doctor saying? What about the cops?’
Amelia filled him in on what Chelle had said—that she was healing nicely and soon the bruises would be gone and her ribs wouldn’t ache when she laughed. ‘As for the cops, I haven’t really heard anything. I spoke to the two local guys on Sunday when I was pretty out of it, and yesterday I was interviewed by the detective who’s come in from Adelaide to do
a rural crime talk, but that was it. I don’t know if there’s been any progress. I wasn’t very helpful. Couldn’t remember much.’
‘Can you now?’ Paul asked, stroking her arm.
‘Bits and pieces. Last night I remembered that a man pulled my shirt open—’
‘What?’ Paul exploded, jumping to his feet.
‘No, no!’ Amelia shook her head and held up her hands. ‘Just at the neck. Nothing happened, but I could just remember him doing it and—’ she paused, trying to think ‘—I reckon he said something, but I can’t remember what.’
Paul sat back on his heels and shook his head.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, Paul?’ Amelia’s mum asked.
‘Huh? Oh, no thanks.’
‘Here comes Graham,’ Amelia said as her brother’s ute drove into sight, the sheep feeder bumping along behind.
Paul put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘I should be off, but I don’t want to leave you.’
‘I’ll be fine. Now I know you’re back. Just come and visit me soon.’
He bent down and kissed her softly.
Amelia looked at her brother as he came in from the paddock, and took a sharp breath. Graham was dishevelled and unshaven, and his eyes were bloodshot. She realised her mum was staring at him too, her hand hovering over the board where she’d been chopping carrots. What was going on?
‘Get the sheep fed, son?’ John looked over the edge of the Stock Journal.
‘Yep, all done.’ Although he gave Amelia a look of concern, Graham didn’t say anything before he went off to the bathroom to wash his hands.
‘Tea?’ called Natalie, putting the kettle on for about the eleventh time.
Amelia smiled. ‘A cup of tea will fix everything.’
‘Yes thanks, Mum,’ Graham called from the hallway. When he returned, he sat across from Amelia. ‘So how are you?’ he asked softly.
‘Getting better. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed tonight, away from all those bloody beeping monitors!’
‘Does it hurt?’
‘My ribs still do, but everything else is settling down. The burns are a bit itchy, which means they’re healing, according to Chelle. So I’m on the up and up.’
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