CHAPTER 16

Sunday 4 April

'Get up.'

The mattress bounced. Her stomach dropped.

'Come on.' AJ prodded her leg.

'I can't, I'm dying,' she muttered, motionless bar her mouth.

He scoffed.

She moaned, head imploding. 'Go away.'

TV and radio clamoured in competition with AJ.

'And turn off the damn noise.'

'No sympathy.' He prodded harder. 'It's self-inflicted.'

Georgie remembered downing quite a few beers at the wake, plus a number of scotches and glasses of red wine. Between that and the painkillers… He could be right, she may have overdone things.

You think?

She jumped to the present. Swallowed, nauseated. It was insensitive and brainless to put a hangover and death in the same category - even the worst hangover in history.

Hangovers and death. Stale and foul. In her mind, time transferred to the cellar. To her fall. To the discovery of the dead Pentecostes. She flinched, forced her thoughts forward but ended up back at the wake. And faced with a living nightmare.

Oh, shit.

Across the Noonan's lounge room: Franklin and AJ in debate.

Georgie fell out of bed and blindly bolted to the toilet. She heaved the contents of her stomach into the bowl. She stared at the vicious mixture. Vomited again until her throat burned and the liquid turned black.

'You finished in there?' AJ called, all too noisy and cheerful.

Georgie saw his high spirits as a good omen and brightened. He couldn't know about her and Franklin.

Could he?

She flushed the loo and leaned on the cistern. That bloody kiss. While their lips locked, pain didn't exist. When Franklin pulled away, it returned, merged with erotic volts. Desire and pain were powerful antagonistic forces; an apple that tasted sweet and sour in the same mouthful.

Her stomach turned and hurled up more bile until nothing remained. She shuffled into the bathroom. After glowering into the mirror for a few moments, she brushed her teeth, gargled and stood under the shower rose with forehead pressed onto the wall.

Just as well he didn't see me cry as he left. I don't even know why I cried.

I mean, the guy's a bloody good kisser but a dickhead more often than not.

She rotated and water pummelled her front.

How did life become so fucking complicated?

AJ gagged for marriage and a man she scarcely liked filled her thoughts. It wasn't fair to AJ and she ought to cut him loose.

'You want some help with the soap? Must be tricky with the freaky-beak and bandages.'

She slit an eye and saw AJ perched on the vanity. She ignored him.

'George, I've been thinking.'

She faced away. A deep and meaningful was the last thing she needed.

With a wrench of the hot tap, she growled, 'I'm not in the mood.'

The water steamed. It blotched her skin.

Unperturbed, he said, 'Do you think Susan and Roly are together now?'

'Yeah, sure. In the ground -'

'I don't mean physically -'

'Where worms and bugs will eat them -'

'Cut it out.'

Georgie twisted the taps and stood dripping. She swiped vapour off the screen and regarded him through the circle. 'You know I don't believe in that after-life crap.'

'But some of us do, George.'

She towelled off. Where was this conversation going?

'Maybe Susan's glad she doesn't have to be alone any longer.'

Georgie stopped mid-rub. 'You don't seriously believe she's glad she was murdered?'

He flushed. 'Well -'

'I mean, how ridiculous,' Georgie lashed out. 'Who the hell understands what Susan went through? All I know is how bad I felt - especially for those first few days in hospital - and I got off lightly in comparison. She was tortured, knee-capped and left in a cellar with her husband's corpse, copped hypothermia and finally suffered a stroke. Do you think she's planning to write thank-you notes in the near future?'

Angry and horrified, she wanted to hurt him for making her think about Susan. Not that many minutes in the day passed without her mind fixated on the woman's horrific death or illicit fantasies featuring Franklin. Or without her wishing she'd met the farmer in life and that she'd never encountered the copper.

AJ's voice quaked as he said, 'I don't know why I bother.'

He slammed the bathroom door.

A moment later, he rattled the lead and exited with Molly. Georgie sank to the floor and accidentally bumped her hand on the tiles.

'Fucking, bloody, shit.'

The damaged nerves convulsed. Her eyes brimmed and gave way to tears. She vented emotional and physical pain in deep racking sobs that hurt her body, fuelling the hysterics in a cruel catch-22.

Three weeks ago, Georgie had starred in her worst nightmare. Or so she'd thought. The encounter with Magistrate Narkin and conflict with AJ turned out to be tame appetisers for events to follow - with the extra complication of a certain man.

And what a complication. Something that would have been laughable: her falling for a country cop, an older guy with a kid to boot. Huh.

She tried to convince herself that Franklin hadn't revealed their kiss to AJ. Why would he? It couldn't have meant much to him. So, they were in the clear. Just as well, because she couldn't envisage life without AJ.

Yet Franklin clouded their relationship. All because of one damn kiss and the danger that had acted as a powerful aphrodisiac.

Georgie dressed while she listened for AJ's return. She couldn't secure her bra one-handed, so went bare. Had trouble raking her hair, so left it in a bird's nest.

Restless and waiting, she caught Susan and Roly's borrowed wedding photo in her peripheral vision. She'd found the Pentecostes, yet unearthed nothing but pain. Miserable, she turned the photo face down.

Sometimes winning is still losing.