by Fiona Lowe
‘Four cancellations, Nicki? Have they all come down with the virus?’
‘Um,’ Nicki said as she always did before she spoke. ‘They didn’t say they were sick.’
‘It’s very late notice. They must have given you a reason.’
‘Um, no.’
No? She was used to patients arriving and wanting to tell her why they’d had to reschedule despite the fact that she had little interest in the reason. ‘This is Billawarre. We usually get chapter and verse.’ She tried a light laugh but it sounded strained. ‘They must have told you something.’
There was silence on the line and a moment later Nicki walked into the office and closed the door behind her. ‘Um … I didn’t want to say anything where people could hear,’ she said, wringing her hands nervously. Her head dropped as if she was scared to look at Harriet. ‘I’m really sorry, Ms Chirnwell. They said they wanted to see another surgeon.’
The same pins and needles Harriet had experienced with Perkins returned, only this time with the excruciating pain of a blunt and barbed needle. ‘Did you explain that seeing another surgeon involves them travelling to either Geelong or Ballarat?’
‘Um, yes, but they didn’t want to make another appointment.’ She lifted her head and this time looked at Harriet with pleading eyes. ‘I told them that no matter what your husband’s done, you’re a good surgeon.’
Oh God. She pressed a fist into her diaphragm, pushing against the burning pain that radiated into every corner of her body. Her receptionist had reassured her patients that she was a good surgeon, not that she was a good person. ‘What’s the rest of the week looking like?’
‘Um, well, when I got in this morning the answering machine had six cancellations on it.’
‘And?’
‘Um, the phone’s been ringing all morning.’
Her hand wrapped around the edge of her desk to steady her sagging knees. ‘I need the numbers, Nicki.’
‘Um, please don’t yell.’
‘Just. Tell. Me.’
‘Um, I think it’s close to eighteen who’ve cancelled.’
‘New patients?’
Nicki shook her head. ‘Not all. You’ve only got two people left on Wednesday’s operating list but you know,’ she threw Harriet a look that didn’t quite reach reassuring, ‘Easter’s a busy time for people.’
This morning when she’d got to the hospital she’d been relieved and reassured that despite everything that had happened, her job hadn’t been affected. Perkins’ vitriol and the en masse exodus of patients now cast that conclusion in a harsh and delusional light. The fact that the town hated her so much that people were prepared to cancel long awaited elective surgery slayed her.
James, you bastard! You total fucking arsehole!
Her breathing threatened to match the speed of a very fast train and she worked hard to keep it slow and steady against the violent pull to pant and gasp. ‘I think we both know Easter’s not the issue.’
Nicki bit her lip. ‘Um, did you have any idea that Mr Minchin was using other people’s money?’
Fury blew through Harriet so hot and strong it almost blinded her. She was tempted to fire Nicki on the spot for her total lack of faith but then the icy winds of despair followed. Her receptionist had only voiced the question that everyone in town was asking.
‘I didn’t know anything about it,’ she replied numbly.
But she knew the truth was not enough to save her from a town seeking revenge.
CHAPTER
12
Georgie lay on a rug by the river with shadows and sunshine dancing around her. She stared through the old wooden trestle railway bridge up to an indigo sky, where wispy white clouds scudded past, reminding her of dinghies sailing on a summer sea. A bit closer, the weatherworn beams of the bridge crisscrossed above her and Ben, the grey wood punctuated by the enormous rust-brown bolts and plates that were a testament to the engineering of a past era.
She had to pinch herself that she was finally here and alone with Ben. Back in Melbourne, when she’d originally suggested the bike ride, she’d thought she’d be staying in the guesthouse at Miligili. It was private and self-contained and Harriet and James were always so busy she could come and go as she pleased. Of course, Saturday night had put paid to those plans and she’d moved out to the farm. She loved her nephews to bits but a girl couldn’t even wee without being asked what she was doing. Xara seemed permanently part of her kitchen so it was impossible for Georgie to sneak in and make a picnic lunch without her sister noticing and asking questions. Questions Georgie wasn’t prepared to answer.
She’d all but given up on being able to get away when Xara had hung up the phone three nights ago with a stunned expression on her face. ‘Mum says Harriet’s arrived at Glenora with three suitcases. She’s moved into her old room and Charlie’s sleeping in mine.’
‘Seriously?’ Georgie hadn’t believed it. It was a well-known, if unspoken, truth that Edwina and Harriet had a familial-duty relationship rather than a close and affectionate one. Come to think of it, none of them had ever really turned to their mother in a crisis. When Eliza had died, Georgie had gotten the distinct feeling that Edwina had needed and wanted her support to get through the funeral. She’d tried telling herself that her perceptions were off-kilter. That a mother with a grieving daughter was hardly going to lean on her for comfort, but despite the logic she hadn’t been able to shift the feeling. It lingered still, a nub of resentment that heated and cooled at different times but never totally vanished. Of course Georgie hadn’t been able to give any solace to Edwina—it had been all she could do to get through the day and the weeks that followed.
Harriet’s support for her had been as expected—brisk and no nonsense. If the problem wasn’t something that could be surgically removed, got rid of and forgotten then Harriet struggled to provide empathy. Their father had been exactly the same. Xara had been the one with the closest understanding of what Georgie was going through and she’d turned to her in the early days, leaning heavily. She’d also painted, knitted, sewed, scrapbooked, quilted, mucked about with clay and even toyed with glass art. Anything to keep herself occupied and her hands busy and full so they didn’t ache with the same emptiness that filled her heart.
‘Harriet’s at Mum’s … I didn’t see that happening.’ Xara had opened a bottle of sauv blanc and poured two glasses. ‘I mean, maybe if Dad was still alive, but …’ She’d handed Georgie a glass and taken a sip from her own. ‘If anyone should be leaving Miligili,’ she’d said grimly, ‘it’s James.’
‘It’s probably just until the media attention dies down,’ Georgie had mused. ‘Surely their interest in this as a news story will only last one more twenty-four-hour cycle.’
‘If that were the situation, she’d have packed an overnight bag—not three suitcases.’
‘Maybe she didn’t want Charlie to be alone.’
Xara had tilted her head slightly and raised her eyebrows, implying that Charlotte was often in the care of Edwina, Georgie or herself.
‘Okay.’ Georgie had dragged her finger through the condensation around the base of her wine glass. ‘Perhaps Harry didn’t want to be alone. I mean, she must be devastated. If you believe the news, it’s not looking good.’
‘What’s not looking good?’ Steve had asked, ambling back into the room after putting Tasha to bed.
Georgie both admired and envied Xara and Steve’s marriage. Although Harriet always talked about how she and James were a team, even before James’s fall from grace, Georgie had always seen more evidence of true teamwork between Xara and Steve. Right from the start, Steve had taken on the role of putting Tasha to bed to give Xara a break. It was now such an entrenched tradition that if he was out for some reason and unable to do bath and story time, Tasha stacked on a tantrum.
‘The ever-increasing number of people saying James owes them money,’ Xara had said, holding up her full wine glass to Steve in a gesture of enquiry.
He’d shake
n his head and cracked open a can of beer instead. ‘I’ve been fielding phone calls all day. I tell you, it wouldn’t take much for this to turn into a lynch mob.’
‘Harriet’s gone to Mum’s.’
‘Shit. I didn’t see that coming.’
‘No. It means she believes James is guilty, otherwise I can’t imagine she’d have left the house.’
‘Or him,’ Steve had said tersely. The fact that he didn’t refer to James by name spoke volumes.
Georgie had still been trying to wrap her head around the fact that Harriet, Edwina and Charlotte were together under the same roof when her thoughts had shot sideways to her mother’s friend, Doug. Harriet probably didn’t want Georgie’s support but with Harriet in the house, her mother might just need it. Perhaps she should move into Glenora too.
You’d have more freedom to come and go at Glenora. Freedom to secretly see Ben. She and Xara had spoken at the same time.
‘Do you think I should—’
‘Do you think you could—’
They’d both laughed and Xara continued, ‘Go to Glenora and keep an eye on things?’
Georgie had arrived on her mother’s doorstep on Monday morning with her travel bag slung on her shoulder. ‘Sharing a room with Tashie is like sleeping with a steam train. Got room for one more, Mum?’
Edwina’s eyes had widened with surprise along with something that may have been relief, resignation or a combination of the two. She quickly covered it with a smile. ‘Of course, darling. Come in.’
It seemed to Georgie that the four women were living very different lives under Glenora’s roof and all of them were keeping their own counsel. She got up early on Tuesday, after Harriet had left on her run but before her mother and Charlotte had surfaced. She used the quiet time to talk to Ben. The rest of the day was spent being available if, when and where she was needed. Edwina did all her usual things around the house and garden, but there was no denying her distracted air. More than once, Georgie overheard her talking on her phone in the pergola. She assumed it was to Doug, otherwise why not chat inside the house?
Harriet lurched between needing company and totally rejecting it. She came home from work drawn, white and unusually quiet. The only time she showed any signs of her normal self was when they watched a reality television show. No one needed Gogglebox when they had Harriet. Charlotte slept in each day, arriving in the kitchen around eleven looking like she still needed sleep. Georgie tried to engage her but it was hard work.
Yesterday, she’d taken her out to the farm and together they’d helped the twins and Tasha decorate Easter eggs. Amid the mess of bowls of food colouring, wax, wet newspaper and drying eggs, Charlotte had lost her pensive look. When the boys had declared they preferred eating chocolate eggs to painting real ones, she’d chased them around the home paddock, shrieking and laughing like she always did when she was on holidays. Georgie had watched the chase and the subsequent tickle fest and let out a long breath. She knew it didn’t change the fact that Charlotte’s life was in upheaval but sometimes it was good to be able to forget even if it was only for an hour or two.
That’s what today’s bike ride was all about for her.
And Ben? No, she hoped Ben wasn’t about forgetting. She hoped and wished that everything to do with Ben was all about moving forward.
Full of the chicken, chive, mustard and mayonnaise sandwiches she’d made for their picnic lunch, she raised her arm toward the bridge. ‘Isn’t it spectacular?’
‘Very.’ Ben propped himself up on an elbow and smiled down at her while his fingertips swiped a few stray strands of hair away from her cheeks. ‘Beautiful, in fact.’
A shot of pleasure whipped her from head to toe. ‘You planning on seducing me with some of that Italian charm that runs in your veins?’
‘Is it working?’
She laughed, loving the way his warm caramel eyes gazed down at her. It was as if he was memorising her. ‘I guess you’ll have to keep going to find out.’
‘Let me see,’ he said, a mischievous light flaring in his eyes. ‘I’ve already told you how fabulous your legs look in these cycling knicks.’ He ran the pad of his finger slowly along the outside of her thigh until it rested on her hipbone. It was the lightest of touches and yet it exerted pressure a thousand times more intense. The best type of shiver wound through her.
‘That’s cheating, although repeat compliments aren’t totally out of the question.’
‘Good, because you’re gorgeous and every part of you is totally distracting me and frying my brain.’ He leaned down, his hair tickling her skin as he nuzzled her neck. Starting in the hollow at the base of her throat, he pressed a series of soft and gentle kisses against her skin until he reached her earlobe.
Everything inside her slackened with a sigh of relaxed bliss. Lying in the sunshine, momentarily letting go of everything that bound her to her life and being worshipped by a tide of kisses, was heaven. She could stay here forever and never move. Ben’s tongue flicked her earlobe and then traced the curve of her ear. Her body jerked as an electric current of need rocked her. She rolled into him, suddenly frantic to touch him. He pressed his lips against hers before gliding the tip of his tongue along the seams of hers, requesting entry.
She opened her mouth and welcomed him. He tasted of chicken, sunshine, sweat and something she was learning to recognise as quintessentially Ben. His tongue played her mouth like a virtuoso—as sure as if he remembered exactly what she enjoyed best. Ribbons of sensations streamed in her veins, spinning and twisting together until they surged and sparked lust, need, joy and—despite her self-protective mantra that sex was just sex—hope.
Without any conscious input, her body responded in an age-old way. Her hips rose, her legs entwined around his pulling his hips into her, and her hands buried themselves in his thick curly hair. She rolled again until she lay over him and her mouth melded with his, taking what he offered and giving in return.
Ben’s hands reached under her top, deliciously kneading her spine one vertebrae at a time until they reached her bra clasp. His fingers fumbled twice and then she felt the elastic slacken. Tingling and aching for his touch, her breasts tumbled against his chest. This time he rolled on the rug, tucking her under him.
‘God, you’re wonderful.’ His mouth sought the prize his hands had released and his tongue worked its magic, her body and mind thrumming to life. She felt alive in a way she didn’t remember forgetting.
The sound of children’s piping voices drifted toward them on the autumnal zephyr and Ben abruptly rolled away from her, his chest heaving. For a moment she felt the cool breeze on her hot and sweating skin before he sat up and gently pulled down her top. ‘Sorry. That got a bit out of control.’
She sat up too, disappointment rolling through her alongside common-sense relief. ‘Don’t be sorry.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Hey, I’m only sorry we’re not somewhere more private. I suppose us getting a room at the motel is out of the question?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I went to school with Tanya and Jeff.’
‘Does that matter?’
‘Last week, no. This week, there’s enough Chirnwell gossip circulating in town without me adding to the whirlpool.’
He nodded glumly and pulled her in close. ‘I guess we’re stuck pretending we’re teenagers and sticking to hand holding, earnest talking and chaste kisses.’
‘Earnest talking and chaste kisses?’ She gave him a gentle nudge. ‘What sort of teenager were you?’
‘Slow,’ he said with a grin. ‘I spent hours listening to a variety of teenage girls telling me how much they hated some guy. All of them eventually ended up having sex with said guy.’
‘You were a boy best friend?’ she asked, surprised. ‘I would have pegged you as a cool jock.’
‘Obviously that’s me now.’ He flashed her that beguiling half boy, half man smile she loved so much. ‘I was a late bloomer. I lost my virginity on my twentieth birthday when I was seduced
by an older and more experienced woman.’
‘That all sounds very Mrs Robinson.’
‘Thankfully, not even close. She was twenty-one and I met her at my impromptu birthday party—’
‘Let me guess. Three blokes sharing a house so you got a slab and some pizza and called it a party.’
‘Were you there?’ He shot her a wink and her stomach swooped and fizzed. ‘I didn’t know Jade but she arrived at the party with a group of friends. As the night wore on there was the inevitable drunken teasing from my mates about how I hadn’t been laid. Somehow, I found myself in my bedroom with Jade and she offered to rectify the situation.’
‘And being a gentleman, you couldn’t refuse her.’
He laughed. ‘Pretty much. It was both momentous and forgettable all at the same time. I never saw her again and I was faced with having to have a barrage of STD checks. Lesson learned.’ He reached into a pannier and pulled out a thermos. ‘What about you?’
‘Similar drunken situation only it involved a black tie ball, an expensive university college single bed and a condom.’
‘Wise woman.’
‘I was eighteen and he was twenty-one. It happened two more times. The sex I mean, not the ball. Then he met a girl with a better pedigree than me and that was that.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘We’ve just traded first sexual encounter stories. Does this mean we’re officially dating?’
‘Yes, please.’
CHAPTER
13
Edwina watched the twins charging around Glenora’s garden. She tried not to flinch as their feet strayed from the path and hovered far too close to the last crop of this season’s strawberries.
‘You’re cold,’ she called out in a rescue mission of diversion. ‘Ice cold.’
‘Told you.’ Hugh grabbed Ollie’s arm and they spun around, plunging back onto the path. ‘What about now?’
‘Warmer.’
