The following morning, Denise called and told Georgia there would be an automatic two-week suspension without pay and that an investigation would take place immediately.
‘Listen,’ she said, ‘one way or another, we’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise you, we’ll sort out the truth.’
But there was a slight edge to her voice, and Georgia couldn’t help feeling that Denise might have already made up her mind about what the truth was.
She sent a message to her parents.
Hey Mum and Dad, thank you so much for the generous offer but I can’t come on the holiday to Bali. It’s impossible for me to get the time off work. Thanks again though.
She hated lying to them. She had planned to call and tell them the truth, but after speaking to Denise, she couldn’t do it. Five minutes after she sent the message, her mum tried to call, but Georgia declined it and turned off her phone.
She spent the day sitting in front of Netflix, switching from one show to another, wrapped up in a quilt, pretending to herself that she was off work because she was sick with a cold. In fact, she told herself that so many times that eventually she started to feel like her nose actually was blocked and her throat was scratchy. Every now and then, she shuffled out onto her balcony to smoke a cigarette, but she didn’t enjoy it. As the day finally edged towards evening, she turned her phone back on and discovered voicemails from Amber, Rick and her mum. She deleted them all without listening to them. She wasn’t ready to talk to her mum. And as much as she wanted the reassurance of her friends, there was a tiny part of her deep inside that had begun to question: who could she trust?
When Luke arrived home, she told him she was coming down with a cold, so he made her chicken soup and then ran her a hot bath, and didn’t comment on the fact that she wasn’t sneezing or coughing or feverish. She was grateful.
CHAPTER TWENTY
If she had been asked, Georgia would have said things couldn’t get any worse. But she was wrong. The call came through the following morning, just after Luke had left for work. She almost didn’t answer it, but at the last minute she thought it could be about the investigation, so she picked it up.
The sound of the shaking voice on the other end broke her heart in an instant.
Eileen.
Georgia knew. She knew right away and the tears came even as she asked the question, and prayed and hoped that she was wrong. ‘Eileen, what’s happened?’
‘He’s gone.’
Georgia stopped telling herself she was sick and pulled herself together, showered, dressed and drove straight around to the address Eileen had given her the last time Jerry left the hospital. It was a weatherboard house painted pale blue with neat square garden beds out the front. A slightly rusted metal railing bordered the concrete stairs up to the front door. As Georgia looked up at the house, she found herself imagining Jerry out here painting the walls blue. She saw him kneeling in the garden, trimming his roses. For all she knew, maybe it was Eileen who did all the gardening. Maybe they hired someone to paint the outside of the house. But it was nice to imagine. She wished she’d had the chance to come around for that barbeque that Jerry had suggested.
When she reached the front door, and raised her fist ready to knock, she hesitated for a moment. Who else might be here? Was she going to be intruding on this family’s grief? But Eileen had asked her to come. She couldn’t let her down. She knocked and waited. After thirty seconds, she heard the sound of someone shuffling towards the door, which seemed wrong. Eileen didn’t shuffle. Eileen strode. Eileen walked with purpose, with a bounce in her step.
When the door finally opened, Georgia couldn’t stop her face from reacting. It was like a punch to the gut, the sight of Eileen. Her lightly greying blonde hair that was usually perfectly set was tousled and tangled. The face that was normally made up with a spot of blush — never overdone, always the perfect amount — looked pale and slumped. For a moment Georgia even thought the woman in front of her could have had a stroke. She was ready to spring into nursemode, to start assessing her symptoms, but then Eileen spoke and she realised that wasn’t the case at all. She was simply suffering from a huge loss.
‘Darling,’ she said, ‘thank you for coming.’
Georgia stepped through the door and immediately embraced her. She wanted to convey just how sorry she felt with this one hug, but at the same time it felt like she was hugging a bundle of twigs and that Eileen’s bones might snap, so she let go and stepped back.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m so, so sorry, Eileen. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.’
‘Oh, I’ll be okay,’ said Eileen, in a voice that told Georgia she most certainly would not be okay. ‘Come through. Can I make you a cup of something?’
‘Please, no, let me get it.’
Eileen shuffled ahead of her and into a sitting room, where she eased herself down onto an armchair. ‘Oh well . . . yes please, love, that would be nice. The kitchen is through there.’ She gestured towards a doorway and Georgia hesitated.
‘Is there . . . is anyone else here with you?’
Eileen shook her head. ‘No, it’s only me.’
On the last two words, her voice became so small and so very sad that Georgia almost burst into tears right there. She sounded like a very small child who’d misplaced her best friend in the school playground.
Georgia managed to hold back the emotion and nodded and hurried through the doorway. The kitchen reminded her of her own grandmother’s kitchen, back before she’d sold her home and moved into a ‘lifestyle resort’ up in Queensland. Orange laminate benchtops and yellow glass cabinet doors.
She flicked on the kettle and allowed a small sob to sneak out, doing everything she could to keep it as quiet as possible. But that poor woman, all alone and clearly broken. Jerry was her everything. How could this have happened? Dr Kouzeleas had sent him home with assurances that there was nothing, absolutely nothing physically wrong with him, so what had gone wrong?
Georgia searched out the mugs and the teabags. When the tea was made, she carried the two cups back out to the sitting room and found Eileen staring intently at a blank corner of the ceiling.
‘Eileen?’ She spoke softly so as not to startle her, but Eileen still jumped.
‘Love!’ she said. ‘I almost forgot you were here.’
Georgia placed the two cups of tea down on a coffee table.
‘See that cabinet there,’ said Eileen, pointing. ‘There’s a bottle of whiskey on the top shelf. Could you add a small nip to my cuppa for me?’
‘Of course.’
Georgia added a generous splash to Eileen’s cup, hopeful that it might help to jolt her out of this strange demeanour that was so unlike the woman she’d come to know so well.
‘Eileen,’ she said when she was sitting, ‘what on earth happened? I don’t understand. Jerry was fine when he left the hospital last week.’
Eileen nodded. ‘Yes, he was, wasn’t he? And he was fine the next day and the day after that, and then his stomach started to give him trouble again and he . . .’ She stopped and Georgia saw that she was trying to compose herself before she could continue.
‘… and he didn’t want to front up to the hospital again after all those times he’d cried wolf.’ The tears started to fall now and Georgia bit down hard on the inside of her cheek as she tried to stop herself from crying too.
‘He never cried wolf,’ Georgia murmured, wishing desperately that she could change the outcome of this story, but Eileen waved her hand at her.
‘It’s okay, I convinced him we should go and we did. Dr Harris saw him. I think he was a bit cross to see us back, to be honest. He diagnosed Jerry with gallbladder inflammation. He was given antibiotics and sent back home, but . . . it kept getting worse. The problem was, Jerry tried to hide it. Tried to be brave. He said . . .’ Eileen let a small sob escape. ‘When I found out how bad it was . . . he said he didn’t want to embarrass me by going back to the hospital for another fals
e alarm.’
The tears were sliding down Georgia’s face now. She couldn’t help it. ‘Oh Jerry,’ she whispered.
‘It turned out his gallbladder was ruptured and Dr Harris had missed it.’
‘Sepsis?’ Georgia asked quietly.
‘Yes. The paramedics said he was already in septic shock by the time they arrived. They took him back to the hospital, but they couldn’t save him. Every organ had shut down, they said. His heart . . .’ her voice broke, ‘his heart was failing.’
Georgia felt sick. ‘I should have been there,’ she said, fighting to stop the flow of tears. Patients died, it was part of the job. But there were certain times when it just felt too hard.
Eileen shook her head. ‘They all did their best.’
‘Yes but . . . the first time, if I was there the first time, when Dr Harris sent you back home, maybe I could have done something, I could have said something.’
Now it was Eileen reaching for her hand. ‘You mustn’t think like that.’
But Georgia couldn’t be sure there wasn’t a hint of resentment in her voice. She had a feeling that deep down, Eileen agreed. She agreed that if Georgia had been there she could have done something. She could have stopped Dr Harris from sending them away. She could have suggested more tests. What would Eileen think if she knew that the reason Georgia wasn’t there was because she’d been suspended, accused of stealing drugs?
Georgia stayed until a next-door neighbour let herself in and promised Georgia she would take good care of Eileen.
As she was saying goodbye, Eileen suddenly pulled away. ‘Hold on, I have something for you,’ she said.
Georgia waited at the front door and after a minute, Eileen returned and pressed the citrine stone into her hand.
‘He was holding this, you know? When he . . . when he . . . left. He had it right there in his hand and his fingers kept turning it over and over . . .’ Her voice petered away.
Georgia found that she couldn’t speak. Instead she gave Eileen another hug and turned and quickly walked away.
In her car, she sobbed. But after a solid five minutes of crying, she realised something. She wasn’t just sad, she was angry. She was furious. Because if she’d been at the hospital as she should have, there was every chance that Jerry would still be alive. And the only reason she wasn’t there was because someone had set her up.
And who was the most likely person to set her up?
Cadence.
Who else had it in for her bad enough that they’d want to destroy her life? Who else had proven she was crazy enough, determined enough to do something like this?
Enough.
She’d stalked her and she’d frightened her.
She’d broken into her home.
And now not even the police had made her stop.
Fuck it. Georgia was going to go and see her again, and this time she wasn’t going to run away: she was going to stand her ground and make her stop.
*
This time she made it all the way up to Cadence’s apartment. There was no panicking in the lift, no backing away into a corner. She stormed down the hallway and when she reached the door, she only paused to take one deep breath before she lifted her fist and pounded against it.
There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of movement from inside, then silence again.
Georgia waited. Nothing.
She banged the side of her fist against the door again, then called out. ‘Cadence, I know you’re in there. Open up. NOW.’
Another scurrying of movement, then a voice, smaller than expected. She’d assumed that Cadence would start shouting back at her, maybe scream abuse, maybe tell her to fuck off. Instead the voice called out, ‘Who is it, please?’
Georgia almost laughed at the sweet, polite voice. ‘Who is it? You’re fucking joking, right? Who the fuck do you think it is? Let me in. I want to talk with you.’
‘Umm, I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are and I . . . I don’t really want to let you in. Maybe you have the wrong apartment?’
‘Cadence! I know it’s you! And I also know you told Luke you were going to stop, but you haven’t, have you? So now you need to let me in and we need to sort this shit out.’
There was another pause. When Cadence spoke again, it sounded as though she was closer, right there on the other side of the door.
‘You know Luke?’ she asked.
Now Georgia did laugh. ‘Um, yeah, I know Luke. Just open the door so we can stop shouting through the bloody thing.’
‘Luke’s not home right now.’
‘Very funny. Of course he’s not. Open. The. Door.’
She heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and then the door began to open slowly. As soon as it was ajar, Georgia placed her palm against it and pushed hard, forcing it all the way open before striding inside, shoving past Cadence as she did. Cadence stumbled backwards, a bewildered look on her face. And something else . . . fear? Did Cadence look afraid of her? Well, she bloody well should. Georgia was about to come down hard on this horrible woman. She probably knew her time was up. No more hiding behind nasty notes or messages. She was going to have to face Georgia and accept responsibility for everything she’d been doing.
Still . . . it put Georgia slightly on the wrong foot. This wasn’t at all what she was expecting. She’d thought Cadence would be ready for a fight, ready to yell and swear and tell her to give her boyfriend back. She’d thought she might even get physical. That she might lunge at her, try to hurt her, pull her hair, something like that. Georgia had been imagining how it all might go on the drive over here. Planning how she would block any kind of physical attack from Cadence if she came at her. She vaguely remembered a few moves from a self-defence video she’d seen on YouTube once. Besides, she was fuelled with anger, adrenalin was going to see her through this time.
Another thing — Cadence was smaller than she remembered. In the lift that day, it had felt as though she was looming over her. But instead she was quite petite with limp blonde hair that rested on her shoulders. She wasn’t the perfectly made-up Barbie doll she’d imagined.
Her eyes were sharp though, and they flittered across Georgia as though they were taking each and every part of her in. It made Georgia want to pull her coat tighter around herself. She was waiting for Cadence to stop playing dumb and admit that she knew exactly who Georgia was. But for some reason she was still staring blankly at her as though she was a complete stranger.
Georgia looked around at the apartment. It was a similar size to her own, but a lot older. The mottled brown carpet was coarse and hardwearing. The walls were yellowed and the features were distinctively seventies. The furniture had a bit of a seventies feel to it as well, but in a cooler way. There was a large brown leather couch that took up half the room, with a shag-pile rug in front of it and a funky wicker armchair in the corner.
She realised that Cadence was still staring at her, waiting for her to speak first.
‘Cadence, I know that you know who I am, and I’m here to tell you enough is enough. This has to stop.’
‘But . . . but I honestly don’t know who you are.’
Was she being deliberately obtuse? Or did she think she needed to play this game because she didn’t want to get herself into trouble by making any kind of admission?
‘Cadence, seriously, you can drop the act. I know you’ve been stalking us ever since we got together, but you’ve taken it too far now. A man is dead.’
Cadence’s mouth dropped open. ‘What? What are you . . . who? Who’s dead? What do you mean?’
‘One of my patients at the hospital. If I’d been there, I could have done something . . . I could have helped, I could have . . .’ Shit. The tears were threatening to come back.
Georgia looked up at the ceiling and took in a deep breath. You will not cry in front of her, you will not, you will not. You’re not sad, you’re angry. You’re furious. Pull it together.
She locked eyes with Cadence. ‘Look, th
e point is, if you hadn’t set me up with those drugs, I would have been there and things would be different.’
Cadence was shaking her head. ‘But I genuinely don’t know you! I don’t! Did I meet you through Luke at some point? I mean, you do look a tiny bit familiar but . . .’ Cadence suddenly snapped her fingers. ‘That’s where I’ve seen you! You were in the lift with me, I was meant to be going downstairs to check the mail, but I . . . I had an . . . an episode. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you that day, but I think maybe it was a bad reaction to these tablets I’m on. I suddenly couldn’t bring myself to go downstairs and I panicked.’
‘What? That’s not what happened. You weren’t scared, you were . . . God, I don’t know, you were deranged, you were trying to intimidate me. But that’s not the point. The point is, that’s not how you know me. You know me because I’m Luke’s girlfriend. You know this. And ever since you broke up with Luke you’ve been making his life hell, and mine as well.’
Now Cadence’s face was more perplexed than ever. ‘What do you mean you’re Luke’s girlfriend? Wait, do you have the wrong place? Are you talking about a different Luke? This doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Of course I’m in the right place,’ said Georgia, feeling frustrated. ‘You’re Cadence, yes? And Luke Kauffman is your ex-boyfriend.’
‘Yes, I’m Cadence. But Luke isn’t my ex. He’s still very much my boyfriend.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Georgia was stunned into silence. But then she composed herself and spoke again, keeping her voice gentle, her words careful. Remember who you’re dealing with here, Georgia. She’s clearly got issues. The best thing to do was to treat her like she was a child. Like a toddler who’d had her favourite toy taken away.
‘No, you and Luke broke up six months ago. Don’t worry, we didn’t get together until after that. You’d already split when I met him. But it’s definitely over between you. That’s why he moved out.’
Cadence took a step back away from Georgia. ‘Look, I don’t know who you are. But can you please stop saying that? That’s an awful thing to say. To come into my home and tell me my boyfriend isn’t my boyfriend. Why are you doing this?’
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