The Victim Read online

  ‘There you are.’ Mrs R-R’s voice rang out imperiously down the corridor. ‘Surely you’ve finished your call now. Lyndsey’s waiting to see you. She’s thrilled you made the effort.’ Then her voice dropped. ‘Poor thing. She doesn’t look well. Not good at all.’

  Doesn’t look well. Not good at all.

  Georgie began to shake. Those words were ingrained into her mind. Exactly what Joly had said all those years ago …

  ‘Can you come and look at her?’

  Joly’s whispers pierced the darkness inside the tent.

  ‘I hope you don’t snore,’ snapped Vanda when they went to bed.

  ‘Don’t be difficult,’ said Joly firmly. It was clear that Joly was the leader when it came to general rules. (He’d also let slip that in her case, ‘Vanda’ was short for ‘Vanessa’.)

  In the end, it had been Vanda who snored, which was why Georgie was still awake when Joly’s face slid into view, framed by the moon outside.

  ‘She’s breathing in an odd way and her forehead is hot.’

  No need to ask who ‘she’ was. Georgina not only shared Joly’s tent but she also clearly shared his heart. No wonder. Her friend was utterly gorgeous (it was amazing how a slightly over-large nose and sharper chin on Georgina’s part made all the difference). If it wasn’t for the fact that Georgina was so kind, Georgie might have felt jealous.

  Now, as she padded across the sand towards the blue canvas tent on the other side of the jetty, Georgie began to feel worried. It was true that her friend had looked pale that afternoon. She’d also been sick, although that might have been the fish which hadn’t, in her view, been properly cooked over the fire. That was why she had passed on it.

  But now, as she laid her hand on Georgina’s soft forehead, she felt more concerned. This was definitely a fever. ‘I’ve got some paracetamol in my bag,’ she’d offered.

  Joly had looked so grateful that she thought he was going to hug her. ‘Wonderful. We’ve completely run out and I don’t trust half the stuff round here. You never know what the locals are going to give you.’

  Georgie flew back to her bag and unpacked the first aid kit her mother had given her. ‘This might come in handy if you’re determined to go,’ she’d said gruffly.

  Now, helping her friend to sit up, she gently coaxed the tablets down the girl’s throat. ‘Water,’ she instructed. ‘We need to sponge her face down.’

  They didn’t have much: the bottles were running out – so Joly brought some sea water in a plastic bucket.

  ‘I need to ask you something,’ murmured Georgina.

  ‘Not now,’ said Joly sharply.

  He was right. ‘Get some rest,’ Georgie commanded, feeling strangely in control. ‘You can take over in a bit.’

  Joly lay down beside her and for the next two or three hours, Georgie held a soaked cloth against her friend’s forehead. By the time Joly woke up, Georgina was cooler and her breathing far more even.

  ‘I think she’s over the worst,’ Georgie said, pleased and relieved at the same time.

  ‘You’re a star, you know that?’ and before she knew what was happening, Georgie found herself enveloped in a bear hug. It was only a friendly hug but as it happened, she saw a shadow outside the tent. Jonathan, the boy who had tried to make a pass at her on the first day, peered in.

  ‘So that’s how it is,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Don’t be such a prat, Jonathan,’ said Joly moving swiftly away.

  Georgie felt a pang of loss and also hurt.

  ‘She’s been helping me to nurse Georgina.’

  ‘Is that what you call it?’

  The boy gave them both a dismissive glance before gliding off.

  ‘Watch him,’ said Joly quietly. ‘He’s a bit of a snake. Same story at school. None of us liked him – apart from my gullible little brother who never sees anything bad in anyone – but somehow he managed to tag along.’

  ‘You were all at school together?’ asked Georgie curiously.

  ‘Sure. It was what they call a progressive.’ He laughed. ‘Look where it’s got us. Not a decent A-level, let alone a degree, between us. Still …

  He pointed up to the early morning sun, which was beginning to rise over the water. ‘We’ve got this and that’s far more important than some wanker banker job like my dad had in mind for me.’

  ‘Joly?’ There was a murmur from the sleeping bag. ‘Are you there?’

  Instantly, Joly was by Georgina’s side, kneeling down and murmuring words of endearment. Feeling it was time for her to go, Georgie, both proud of her role and yet also redundant, padded her way across the sand towards the tent. Vanda was still snoring, but Georgie couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she drew out a postcard from her bag – which she’d bought the day before at the local shop – and began writing.

  ‘Dear Lyndsey,

  This is such an adventure that I don’t know where to begin …’

  Lyndsey was sitting up in bed, her face pale. She looked thinner than she’d seemed last week, if that was possible. By her side was the man who had got out of the lift.

  Where was her mother, wondered Georgie fleetingly as she quaked inside. Was her cover going to be blown? What if the father said something? Deny it, said the voice inside her head. Lots of people look alike. They say everyone has a doppelganger somewhere.

  ‘How very kind!’ Her old friend’s eyes fell on her. ‘I can’t believe how nice people are being. It’s not as though you’ve known me for very long.’

  Was that a test? If so, it appeared to be said in a very easy manner. Almost too easy. The words were slightly slurred.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m still a bit woozy after the transfusion.’ Lyndsey’s eyes – surprisingly bright – turned to the drip at her side. There was a clear liquid going through. Glucose, perhaps.

  ‘I’ll feel better soon.’

  ‘How often do you have to have them?’ asked Mrs R-R in a softer voice than Georgie had heard before.

  ‘Depends on my blood count. This hospital seems to be a bit different from my old one.’ Lyndsey began to sound vulnerable. ‘I do wonder if I should have stayed put …’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Her father put a comforting hand on her arm. ‘You’re near me now and besides, the sea air will do you good.’

  Near me? Georgie’s chest began to beat with alarm.

  ‘Sorry, everyone. I forgot to introduce you. This is my dad. He’s one of the reasons we moved here.’

  ‘And your mother …’ began Georgie, unable to help herself. Lyndsey’s parents had been like bread and cheese. It was impossible to imagine them not being together. She had scolded him in a way that a pair of comedians might do on seventies television. It meant love rather than criticism.

  Lyndsey’s voice trembled. ‘Mum passed away last year.’

  Mrs R-R shot her a look as if to say, ‘Why did you ask that?’

  Instantly, Georgie felt bad. It had also been stupid. Now the attention was on her. The father was staring intently. ‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ he asked.

  Georgie tried to look him straight in the face. ‘Maybe we’ve bumped into each other in town. I’m an interior designer.’

  Lyndsey laughed. It was good to see her smile. It reminded her of the old Lyndsey who had painted her nails in hospital. ‘Dad could do with one of those. Get rid of all those sixties and seventies beiges.’

  ‘No.’ Her father wasn’t smiling. ‘I mean from some years ago. You remind me of someone. That old friend of yours, pet. You know. Georgie. ‘

  Lyndsey nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. Uncanny, isn’t it?’ She smiled rather sadly. ‘Georgie was my best friend. She went on a gap year but never came back.’

  ‘Really?’ Mrs R-R’s voice sounded sharp.

  ‘She went travelling. Reckon she ended up in Australia. She was always talking about that.’ Then Lyndsey yawned. ‘You know the strange thing about being ill is that you find yourself thinking a great deal about the past and what might have been.
There’s a nurse on the ward who looks just like one of my old teachers from school. Still gives me the creeps.’

  Mrs R-R smiled. ‘I know what you mean. I disliked school too.’

  That was a revelation. Somehow Georgie had a vision of her companion giving as good as she got in the classroom.

  Lyndsey yawned again. ‘You’re tired.’ Mrs R-R stood up. ‘We’ll give you some time with your father.’

  ‘But you’ve only just arrived.’

  ‘We weren’t even meant to be here. It’s not officially visiting time.’

  ‘I probably got away with it because I’m old,’ said her father. ‘You can get away with a lot when you’re my age.’

  Nice to see he hadn’t changed, though Georgie was still filled with sadness because Lyndsey’s mother had died. It brought back all those feelings which she’d tried to shut out. Not a comfortable feeling. And what about her own mother? Was Lyndsey’s father still in touch with her? How could she ask without it looking suspicious?

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ said Lyndsey’s dad, getting up. ‘Just need to find the necessary room. It will give you time to say goodbye to your friends.’

  Mrs R-R brushed Lyndsey’s cheek. Once more, Georgie felt surprise. What a conundrum. Capable of showing emotion one minute and coldness the next. ‘Call if there’s anything we can do.’ Then she glanced at Georgie. ‘See you downstairs. I need to make a call first.’

  Suddenly it was just her and Lyndsey. Georgie felt her heart beating in her throat. Tell her, said a voice. Don’t be mad, said another.

  ‘I do hope you feel better soon,’ she said lamely. ‘Would you like me to bring in a book for you?’

  Lyndsey had been a voracious reader. They both had. The librarian used to approve of them. ‘In again,’ she’d say, pleased, when they went down every Saturday morning to swap their latest Anya Seton or Georgette Heyer for another.

  But the woman in the hospital bed was staring at her. Ignoring her question. This time, she wasn’t smiling. Just looking at her as though she could see right through her. Suddenly she grabbed her waist. Her grip was stronger than she’d thought. The action was so unexpected that Georgie didn’t have time to step away. Horrified, she found her top being pulled above the line of her designer navy culottes. There, starkly obvious, was the long, thin, appendectomy scar.

  ‘I thought so,’ breathed Lyndsey. ‘It is you, isn’t it, Georgie?’

  SEVENTEEN

  A geezer recognised me yesterday. In the post office queue, we were. Both taking a risk, really, considering it was the same one that we did over a few years ago.

  He got caught. I didn’t. Should have been faster on his feet.

  Still, he knew that. It’s the law of the jungle. Every bloke for himself. Everyone knows that. Wasn't my fault that he got four years and I got away. Could easily have been the other way round.

  Even so, I felt my heart beating when he came up to me, swaggering with his hands in his pockets and a mean look on his face.

  ‘You’re doing all right for yourself then,’ he said, eying the gold chain round my neck.

  I stood my ground. Made eye contact. Did the stuff you’re meant to do if you want to look big. ‘Can’t complain,’ I said.

  Then he came real close. Put his mouth against my ear. ‘What did you do with the stuff?’ he hissed.

  ‘What stuff?’ I said, stepping away.

  His face blackened. ‘You know bloody well.’

  I made a sign that we should step outside. Other people in the queue were looking at us suspiciously. I’d only come in to send a parcel. Didn’t need this bother.

  ‘I dropped it,’ I said.

  His eyes turned nasty. Cold and threatening. ‘You don’t expect me to believe that? There was at least a grand in the bag.’

  I thought back to the terrified post office woman who had handed the money over. Sometimes her face haunts me. We didn’t hurt her. Not physically. But she isn’t there any more.

  ‘It’s the truth,’ I said.

  I meant it. I did drop the bag. In the lounge of my mate’s house. It lasted me a few months but I was greedy and spent too much. Then I had to think of other ways of making money. Like this.

  Right now, I had my fists ready. Curled up into a ball in case he got heavy. ‘I’m surprised you have the nerve to come back to the same place,’ he said.

  Me too. But it’s my local, isn’t it? And ’sides, as I said, the girl has gone. The CCTV wasn’t working. It said that in the local paper. And – luck’s usually on my side – there weren’t any witnesses. My mate only got caught because his fingerprints were on the counter and he had previous.

  Right now I shrugged. ‘Better get going,’ I said, trying not to sound scared, ‘or I’ll be late for work.’

  He laughed. A rather nasty short laugh. ‘You’ve got a job?’

  I grinned. ‘The best kind.’ Then I fingered my gold chain meaningfully. ‘The type where I can’t get caught. Not if I’m clever.’

  I turned my back and sauntered off. But his words rang out in the air. ‘Don’t be too cocky, mate. It will get you in the end. It always does.’

  EIGHTEEN

  Georgie stood frozen to the spot.

  ‘I knew it was you at the dinner party,’ said Lyndsey, letting go of her shirt and sinking back into the bed. The previous sudden strength seemed to sap away and she looked drained.

  But at the same time, she looked excited. ‘I always hoped we’d see each other again one day. You were my best friend, Georgie. I’ve never had another one since, you know.’

  Me too, she almost whispered. Me too.

  Suddenly, to Georgie’s horror, Lyndsey’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Why did you just go off like that? Why didn’t you stay in touch? I mean, I know things were bad with your mother but you could have lived with us in the holidays. You had a university place, Georgie. Such a waste to give it up like that!’

  Still she couldn’t say anything. If she did, she’d be admitting the truth. The longer she stayed silent, the longer she had to make something up.

  But it wouldn’t come. Hadn’t she prepared herself for a moment like this for the last twenty or so years? Hadn’t she prepared alibis and excuses and stories to ‘prove’ that she couldn’t possibly be the old Georgie Smith?

  Yet now the moment had come – the moment of reckoning – Georgie felt terribly tired. Tired of living a lie. In one way, Lyndsey’s recognition was a huge relief.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she said, looking around to make sure that Mrs R-R or Lyndsey’s father weren’t on their way back to the ward. ‘It happened like this …’

  After Georgina got better, she was really grateful and told everyone that Georgie had ‘saved her bacon’. Joly was all over her too; constantly putting his long, tanned arms around her and telling her she was ‘incredible’.

  Both Vanda and Jonathan hated this and made constant snide comments. ‘It was only a mild fever. What’s all the fuss about?’ Seeing this, Georgina showered Georgie with even more ‘favours’ to prove her gratitude. She insisted on giving her clothes and, on one occasion, spent hours braiding her hair.

  Her keenness to touch her as she did this – stroking her cheek almost lovingly – made Georgie feel really uncomfortable. Not only that, but she kept going on about secrets.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t have any?’

  Georgie laughed to try and defuse the situation. ‘Quite sure.’

  She waited for her friend to express disapproval but this time, she seemed pleased. ‘Good. Every girl needs her secrets, you know. It makes her more mysterious.’

  Such inconsistent behaviour clearly made her even more attractive in Joly’s eyes. Often, she would see Georgina pushing him away or telling him he was a ‘complete prat’ in a loud voice. Then, minutes later, she’d be standing on tiptoes to cup his face with her hands and pull his mouth down on hers in front of everyone. He didn’t need a second bidding.

  ‘This attention-seeking is
nothing new, you know,’ Vanda would say, observing her confusion. ‘The trouble with Georgina is that she doesn’t know what she’s thinking herself. Never did. Even when her parents were alive. That girl’s got past issues, if you ask me. Goodness knows what.’

  How unkind! Yet it only served to affirm in Georgie’s mind that Vanda wasn’t very nice.

  Often she thought of her old friend Lyndsey at home – with her mischievous grin and ‘carrot top’, wishing she was here with her. When Georgina wasn’t being weird, she was really lovely. But, despite their tempestuous relationship, she was always with Joly. Often, at night, she would hear the two of them in his tent making strange noises: low moanings that would escalate into cries that worried her until she heard them ending in terms of endearment which left her in no doubt about what they had been doing.

  It made Georgie feel desperately lonely.

  Once, she caught Vanda sitting upright, listening too. ‘Jealous?’ she demanded with that sharp look of hers.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Louisa was jealous too. That’s why she did it.’

  ‘Did what?’

  But Vanda just turned away. More worryingly, Georgie knew that this spiteful girl had seen through her. She knew Georgie fancied Joly. But who wouldn’t? Just as well that she was realistic enough to know that he would never be in her league.

  Even so, he punctuated her dreams. One morning, she woke up early, bolt upright, certain that he was kissing her. To her disappointment – and also relief – there was no one in the tent apart from Vanda, who was snoring away as usual.

  It wouldn’t be right, she told herself, for Joly to kiss her. That wouldn’t be fair on Georgina. But it was so hard when he kept putting his arm around her in a friendly fashion, not to imagine what might happen if she’d been born in the other girl’s place.

  Feeling restless, she slipped into her shorts and T-shirt and went for a walk along the beach. It was all so beautiful! Even after over a month, she had to keep pinching herself to check she was really here. White sand that felt so soft against her feet. An azure sea that stretched on for ever. What else could she want?