The Victim Page 13

  What do you mean, ‘that’s what it is?’, Georgie had shot back. Didn’t anyone believe her? Then again, maybe she’d had her full quota of being believed in life. At the time, all those years ago, she’d been amazed to get away with it. How ironic that after all this time when she’d finally stopped looking over her shoulder, there was now a very real possibility that she might be caught.

  Or was there? After all, there wasn’t the technology then that there was today. Surely there had to be thousands of people like her in the world; each living a different life from the one they were meant to be.

  ‘… be in touch.’

  Georgie suddenly realised they were being dismissed. ‘Is that it?’ she asked her husband as they made their way towards the car, grateful to be out of the official building with its grey walls and doors that – any minute, surely – she might be taken through.

  Sam’s mouth was set. ‘What can they do? You heard them. Fraud – both online and at an ordinary cash machine – is vast. They can’t keep up. That bloke there probably can’t even send emails.’

  She increased her stride to keep with his. ‘Something strange is going on here. Someone knew you were in the hospital and is trying to make trouble for us.’ He turned round to face her. ‘Can you think of any reason why that might be?’

  Don’t blush. Don’t blush. ‘None at all.’

  It was frighteningly easy how quickly the lie slipped out.

  ‘Maybe Charles can get to the bottom of it.’

  He clicked open the door and she slid in, her heart pounding.

  Charles had been their best man in Hong Kong. He was a lawyer – an occupation which had made her feel nervous at the time under the circumstances.

  ‘You’ve told him?’

  ‘Emailed him immediately.’ Sam started the car and slid out past two police cars coming in, one after the other. There was someone in the back of one. A young boy who looked scared witless. That could be her …

  ‘He can see us both in his office tomorrow afternoon. They’ve got a special department for online fraud.’ Sam’s lips tightened. ‘Maybe they’ll do a better job than the police or our banks.’

  Georgie’s heart leapt into her throat. Charles had never liked her. The feeling was reciprocated. ‘You hardly know Sam,’ he’d said rudely when they’d been introduced just before the wedding. ‘You do realise he’s probably on the rebound after his engagement ended.’

  Sam had brushed his friend’s remarks away. ‘He’s not a romantic,’ he had said, drawing her to him. ‘Doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Don’t worry. You’ll warm to him when you know him better.’

  But she hadn’t. Over the years, they had both kept each other at a distance. When Charles had returned to the UK, shortly before them, and finally settled down at forty-three with a woman called Lavinia, Georgie had hoped he might mellow.

  No such luck.

  ‘I’m busy tomorrow,’ she said quietly as they drove through town.

  ‘Busy?’ Sam never took his eyes off the road. But he was doing so now. ‘This isn’t a lunch date, Georgie. This is possibly our only chance of getting our money back. We’re broke. Don’t you see? There was a story about someone like us in the Telegraph only last week. Some poor bloke was defrauded of fifty thousand pounds and the bank wouldn’t cough up. We can’t afford it. The mortgage payment is due in a week’s time.’

  His voice rose in panic. Sam never panicked. It had been one of the things that had drawn her to him. He was older. Settled. Secure in a troubled storm. ‘What are you doing that’s more important than a meeting with Charles, who’s been good enough to free up a slot for us?’

  Think of something. Think of something. The large hospital sign loomed up at them as they took a right, towards their home.

  ‘Lyndsey,’ she began.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That woman whom we met at Pippa’s. She’s got leukaemia.’

  ‘The one you were visiting this morning when the card was used?’

  Her words fell over themselves in her eagerness. ‘Yes. I promised to see her again tomorrow. Visiting time is at 2 p.m.’

  They swung into the driveway. In front of them was her lovely house with its handsome latticed windows and clematis climbing up the right hand side of the front door. Home. A home they could lose if this wasn’t sorted out.

  ‘The appointment with Charles isn’t until 5 p.m.’ Sam turned off the engine and stared at her hard. Something had changed in his eyes. It made her scared. ‘So you can meet me at his office. Can’t you?’

  That night, Georgie didn’t sleep a wink. What would the children say when they found out? She couldn’t even begin to think how Sam would react. There had to be a way round this. There simply had to be. Eventually, she fell into a light sleep from which she was woken by the alarm clock. For a brief moment, she recalled her dream. Joly had been running with her in his arms along the beach. No one was behind them, yet there was this awful sense of urgency.

  Looking across to Sam’s side of the bed, she saw it was empty. Instinctively, she swung her legs over the edge and made for the window. His car was gone.

  Never, in their entire married life, could she recall Sam going to work without kissing her goodbye. Georgie’s chest tightened with tension. She needed to talk to someone. But her usual friends – Pippa or Jo – simply wouldn’t understand.

  There was only one person who might. Someone whom she’d promised to return to.

  Lyndsey was asleep when she arrived. Her father was sitting by her side, watching her. Georgie felt a jolt of jealousy. If she’d had a father, would he have done the same? She was pretty certain her mother wouldn’t have. If that had been different, Georgie would have come out to face the music.

  You can go a lot further in life if your parents love you.

  ‘She had the transfusion,’ said the old man, as though they’d been talking just now. ‘Given her a better colour, don’t you think?’

  He spoke as if needing reassurance.

  Georgie nodded, keen to please, even though she couldn’t see much of a difference herself. ‘They can do so much nowadays.’

  He nodded eagerly. ‘That’s what I keep saying.’

  ‘No, Dad. It’s what I keep telling you.’

  Both turned to the woman in the bed. ‘You weren’t asleep at all?’

  ‘Sort of, Dad. Just drifting in and out.’ Then her eyes fell on Georgie. ‘You came then?’

  The pleasure in her voice was unmistakeable.

  ‘Of course. I promised.’

  Georgie became uncomfortably aware that the man’s eyes were firmly on her. ‘Can’t get over how similar you are to this girl we used to know. Georgie. Georgie Smith.’

  It was no good. She couldn’t stop the blush which was spreading over her face. ‘Lots of people look like other people,’ cut in Lyndsey. ‘Remember how everyone said you resembled that comedian. What was his name?’

  ‘So you’re saying I’m fat and bald?’

  They both burst out laughing. Once more, Georgie felt a pang of jealousy. Her friend was dying. Yet she and her dad could still share a joke.

  ‘Dad,’ said Lyndsey in a more serious voice now. ‘Do you mind getting me a magazine from the shop downstairs?’

  He grinned. ‘I can take a hint. You two want a bit of girl time together. That’s all right. I’ll get myself a cup of tea from the canteen while I’m at it.’

  He rested his eyes on Georgie, shook his head as though he was disagreeing with himself, and then bustled out.

  ‘He knows,’ said Georgie, trembling.

  ‘Suspects, not knows,’ corrected her friend, reaching out for her hand. ‘Not surprising, really. You haven’t changed much.’ Lyndsey reached out for her hand. ‘I can’t tell you how comforting it is for me. It’s almost worth being here.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Georgie took her friend’s other hand too. It was cold. ‘Something weird is happening. I don’t understand it.’

  Quickly
she explained about the credit card frauds and the missing car which had turned up again. ‘The last withdrawal was done in the hospital when I was here by someone who looked exactly like me.’

  Lyndsey frowned and Georgie wondered if she’d been selfish in bothering such an ill woman. ‘You’re not,’ she said as if reading her mind. Lyndsey had always been good at that. ‘It’s a distraction. I reckon Sam is right. Someone is after you, trying to cause trouble. An aggrieved client, perhaps?’

  ‘I’ve considered that but I’ve never had any complaints.’

  ‘What about the past?’

  Lyndsey was expressing exactly what she’d feared herself. Surely it had to be more than a coincidence? ‘You’ve turned up out of the blue,’ Georgie said slowly.

  ‘You don’t think it’s anything to do with me?’ Her friend’s eyes widened.

  ‘No but … well it is odd, you’ve got to admit.’

  She’d hurt her. Georgie could see that. But it had to be said.

  ‘You were going to tell me what happened.’ Lyndsey sounded accusing. ‘You’d promised. You were going to tell me what happened after Georgina – the real one – went missing.’

  The real one. Georgie flinched. For so many years, she’d seen herself as the real one. But now she was beginning to crawl back into her old skin. The young scared girl who knew she’d done something wrong. And who was about to do something so much worse.

  They searched all day, going deep into the uninhabited parts beyond the small town. The heat was unbearable.

  ‘If she’s out here, how’s she going to survive without water?’ Joly kept saying.

  ‘Maybe she had the foresight to take some with her after she spotted Lady Godiva here,’ Vanda said sharply.

  Georgie said nothing. It wasn’t fair of them to blame her alone. Joly had made the first move. He’d kissed her first! Yet is seemed churlish to try and defend herself when Georgie was missing. Maybe later when they’d found her.

  They had to find her. The other option was too awful.

  ‘Perhaps she went over there,’ said Jonathan, gesturing to the shrubland on the other side of the point.

  ‘She wouldn’t,’ cut in Vanda sharply. ‘Georgie might be a bit naïve at times – yes, she is, Joly, don’t deny it – but she’s scared of snakes.’

  Georgie shivered. One of the first things they’d told her was to avoid that part of the island. Even the locals didn’t go there.

  ‘Well, I’m not checking,’ said Jonathan staunchly. ‘Friendship only goes so far.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Georgie heard herself offer.

  ‘No.’ Joly laid a hand on her arm.

  ‘Why not?’ Jonathan glared at her. ‘If it wasn’t for her, Georgina would still be with us.’

  ‘It was me too,’ said Joly quietly.

  ‘Thank you,’ she muttered but he didn’t seem to hear. Still none of them moved. She had to do something. Jonathan was right. She’d helped to do this, even if she wasn’t fully responsible. Twigs snapped below her feet as she crossed the bridge. Once she looked behind her in the hope that Joly was following. But he wasn’t.

  Something moved in the dry grass beside her. There was a flash of green and then a quicker flash of red. Georgie suppressed a little scream. You mustn’t disturb snakes, she’d heard one of the locals saying. If you did, they’d pounce.

  On and on. Through miles (or so it seemed) of scrubland and dry grass with twigs that snapped. Please don’t let there be anything nasty lurking underfoot, she prayed. Another quick look back through the hazy sun. The others were way back now. Waiting where she’d left them. If Georgie knew that Joly hadn’t had the courage to join her, would she still care for him?

  Another snapping of twigs. Another glimpse of red. Through the trees this time. But it wasn’t moving. What had Georgina been wearing that morning? Her blue sarong? No. She’d lent that to Georgie last week. Lent it to her new friend who’d repaid her by sleeping with her man.

  Ever since Georgina had put her head through the tent that morning, Georgie had tried to blank the scene out of her head. But now she saw it. All too clearly. Georgina. In a short, red sundress. Red with spots that she’d bought in the market only yesterday.

  The red patch over there had white spots.

  Leaving the path – something else the locals had warned her against – she crunched over the dry scrubland towards it. Something hissed. There was a snake in the grass, eyeing her. What did it matter?

  Running now, she threw herself onto the ground beside her friend. Georgina’s must be sunbathing. Why else were her pale blue eyes wide open, looking up into the hot, burning sky?

  On her leg, there was a drizzle of blood as if coming from a small puncture.

  Another hiss. The snake had been joined by another.

  ‘Go on then,’ said Georgie chokingly. ‘Take me too. I don’t care. Not any more.’

  Then she saw it. A stain. A dark red stain oozing onto the ground. Shaking, she heaved her friend over and screamed. There was a deep wound, wide and raw like a cut in a slab of meat. It wasn’t just a snake bite that had done for her friend. There was a terrible wound too.

  At the same time, she caught sight of something in the woods. A dark figure running. He must have been there all the time, Georgie realised as she began to race after him. ‘Stop! Stop!

  Then he turned. There was a flash of light. Light from the sun reflecting on the blade which he was brandishing.

  There was no time to be scared. Grabbing his arm, she wrested it away from her, using a strength she hadn’t known she’d possessed. There. She had the knife now. No, he was pulling it from her. But if she bent his arm like this, she could …

  It was his turn to scream now. A horrible, high-pitched, agonising scream. She’d cut him! She’d scored his cheek. Then he ran. Clutching his face and leaving her behind with the knife.

  Quickly. Quickly before he returned. Georgie raced back to Georgina’s body. Maybe she wasn’t dead, after all. Maybe …

  ‘What have you done?’

  Joly’s voice roared out in pain. His eyes went from Georgina’s limp body to the knife in her hand and then back to Georgina’s body again.

  ‘It wasn’t me!’

  Surely he must believe her?

  ‘It was a boy. He tried to stab me too. He …’

  But he wasn’t listening. Instead, Joly was scooping Georgina up with a low moan. ‘Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.’

  She had to run to keep up with him, race along behind as he made for the bridge.

  Tears blurred her eyes, making it difficult to see. Vanda’s face and Jonathan’s dimly came into view.

  ‘Is she all right?’

  Exhausted, she fell on the dusty ground. No one wanted to know if she was all right, despite the blood on her hands and clothes. Instead, they were crowded round the beautiful blonde girl on the ground.

  Joly had his mouth over hers, pushing her chest up and down, despite the terrible gash.

  ‘It’s no good. Don’t you see that?’ Vanda’s voice was full of scorn. ‘She’s gone.’

  Then she raised her face. Never had she seen anyone so devil-like. ‘You killed her. You killed her.’

  ‘No. It wasn’t me. It was someone else. I –’

  But Vanda was lunging at her, as if ready to tear her apart. Jonathan simply watched, his thin lips twisted into what might or might not have been a smile. Joly was oblivious to everything, merely whispering into Georgina’s ear.

  Birds were screaming overhead. Swirling. Swooping. They knew something had happened. In the distance, was the sound of an elephant roar.

  She must go! That much was clear. Gather her stuff and go home. Back to her friend Lyndsey. Find a job. She didn’t belong here. Not with these people.

  ‘Fuck.’

  For a minute, Georgie thought Joly was referring to Vanda’s question. Then she followed his gaze. A group of police, batons swinging at their sides, were marching towards them from the far end of the
beach.

  ‘Quick. Hide the stuff.’

  She stood stock still as everyone sprang to. Bags of white powder suddenly appeared from Jonathan and Joly’s tents.

  ‘Chuck them in the sea.’

  ‘No. It’s a waste.’

  Vanda stared at her. ‘Give them to her. She can take the blame for the drugs.’

  So that’s what the white stuff was. ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Isn’t it? She murdered Georgina. They’ll get her anyway. She needs to pay for this.’

  Joly’s eyes fell on her doubtfully.

  ‘I didn’t …’ Georgie could hardly get the words out for terror. ‘I told you. It was the boy. He tried to get me too.’

  Vanda’s eyes swept her slim frame sceptically. ‘So you fought him off, did you?’

  Yes. But how to explain that she’d been given an inner strength?

  The police were getting closer. Georgie’s heart began to beat faster. Twenty years. That’s what a French student had got last month for drug dealing. Or so rumour had it.

  ‘Stop arguing,’ yelled Jonathan. ‘Run.’

  No one needed to be told twice. Georgie dived into her tent and grabbed her rucksack. Where was her passport? Shit. It must have fallen out of her pocket in Joly’s tent. Quickly, she rushed in to grab it.

  ‘Run. Run separately,’ said Joly outside. Crawling under the back of the tent, she headed for the hills. On the other side, she knew, was the harbour. If she was quick, she might just get a boat.

  Yes. A fishing boat was about to cast off. Georgie recognised him as one of the local fisherman who often gave them a ride to get provisions.

  It wasn’t until she was safely on the other side – where were the others? – that she put her passport safely away in her rucksack. There was a piece of paper sticking out. As she took it out, the page fell open.

  Georgina Fenella Venetia Peverington-Smith.

  Georgie froze. She’d taken her friend’s passport by mistake.

  But there was something else in her rucksack too. Something hard at the bottom.

  The shell. The one that Georgina had given her.

  ‘A sign of our friendship,’ she had said. Maybe this was a sign that Georgina understood; that she knew why Georgie had had to run. Perhaps the shell was her friend’s way of saying she would always be there still.