The Victim Page 18

  Fiancée? Georgie nearly opened her mouth to say ‘very funny’ but then saw Sam’s eyes. Don’t say anything, they warned.

  The girl nodded. ‘Very good. Nice to see you again, Mr Hamilton.’

  Then the woman raised her eyebrows. ‘No luggage?’

  The remark was addressed to Georgie. Sam had a neat, small suitcase in expensive brown leather.

  ‘No.’

  This time, her voice came out as a distinct tremble.

  ‘My poor darling didn’t have time to pack.’ Sam’s arm tightened protectively around her. ‘She got caught up in the crowds so we arranged to meet here.’

  The girl nodded, her sharp features softening slightly. ‘It is all very regrettable,’ she murmured. ‘We hope to see you again when the current trouble has died down.’

  At last! She handed them their boarding cards. ‘I don’t need to tell you the way to Security,’ she smiled.

  Clearly Sam was a frequent flyer.

  ‘This way,’ he said. Then he cursed under his breath.

  A bolt of alarm shot through her. There was a problem. Of course there was. This had all been too smooth. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Rufus. Little blighter said he’d be here but he hasn’t turned up. I can’t go without him – Mother would kill me – but I can’t leave you either.’

  ‘I'll be all right.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s time he stood on his own two feet. I’m tired of looking after him …’

  Yet still he stood, scanning the crowds, clearly loath to leave without his brother. This was a good man …

  A sharp, metallic tannoy voice broke through, announcing their flight.

  Sam’s face was distraught. ‘Where is he? Wait there. By the news seller. I’m just going to ask around.’

  Georgie tried to do as she was told, but it was hard. Everyone was pushing and shoving. Behind her, the old woman selling papers was clucking her tongue and staring at her with beady eyes.

  Then Georgie froze. The ex-pat newspaper that the old woman was selling … there were pictures on the front page. Pictures of Joly. Of Vanda. Of Jonathan. And of her … below it was the headline.

  Three Europeans standing trial for drug smuggling. A fourth – a woman – is being sought in connection with the same crime. She is also wanted for suspected murder.’

  Oh my God. That was her. A picture of her laughing on the beach. She remembered Vanda taking it.

  But she hadn’t murdered Georgie. That was the boy. The boy in the woods who had tried to attack her. The boy whom she had stabbed in a desperate attempt to get away.

  Yet she’d had blood on her hands … Blood on her clothes …

  Georgie tried to move away from the newsstand but her legs were like jelly. She couldn’t afford to wait for Sam. She’d have to go. Then she remembered. He had her boarding pass. She couldn’t get on the plane. She was stuck …

  ‘Found him!’ Sam’s voice was both furious and exultant at the same time. He was dragging his young brother much in the way that he had been gripping her earlier.

  ‘I don’t know what the fuss was about.’ Rufus, ever jovial, was laughing. ‘This is just one of this country’s usual silly scares. It will all die down in a moment and …’

  BANG

  For a second, the entire airport stood still. Then someone screamed. Someone shouted. ‘He’s been shot. My God, he’s been shot.’

  ‘Who’s been shot?’ said Georgie in a strangulated voice.

  But no one replied. Instead, Sam grabbed her left hand and Rufus her right. Together they ran through Security. No one bothered to check their bags or their persons. Everyone else was running too. Down a corridor and then another and finally into the opening up the steps into a plane. The air hostesses were clearly fearful. ‘Fasten your seatbelts, please. This aircraft is about to take off.’

  Sam was white-faced. So too were all the passengers around him. Even Rufus was subdued.

  ‘Looks like we just made it.’

  ‘No thanks to you.’ Sam glared at his brother while putting his arm round Georgie. ‘You risked all our lives.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded like small boy.

  Sam nodded, his tone softening. ‘You’re here. That’s what matters.’ Then he reached out and patted his brother’s shoulder.

  Once more, Georgie thought what a good man he was.

  For a minute, Sam looked as though he was going to kiss her. Instead, he squeezed her hand. ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded, still convinced that at any minute someone was going to jump on the plane and haul her off. Someone must have seen that newspaper article. Someone must recognise her.

  But they were off. Flying up through the clouds. Away from the carnage below. She was safe, Georgie told herself. Then the hostess asked if she would like something to drink. Her eyes rested on Georgie’s for more than was absolutely necessary. She’s recognised me, Georgie told herself, waiting. I’ve had it now.

  Putting her head under the blanket, she pretended to go to sleep; but all the time expecting a hand on her arm. But when, after an hour, nothing had happened, she opened her eyes. The two boys on either side of her were asleep.

  The air hostess walked past and smiled.

  Maybe this time she had done it. It was more than she deserved.

  Then Georgie fell into a deep sleep, in which Sapphire and Emerald and Joly and she were all running along the beach. Georgina – a furious Georgina – was racing behind, barefoot. With a gaping red wound in her chest.

  Earl’s Court wasn’t what she’d thought it was. Central London, to Georgie, had always seemed a smart place to live, compared with Yorkshire. Knightsbridge – where she had been once with Lyndsey’s parents when they had taken her to London for a birthday treat – had always stuck in her mind. How wonderful to live in the capital! A place where everyone dressed beautifully and smelt of perfume counters.

  She’d assumed Earl’s Court would be similar. After all, when she’d gone through it by taxi to the last trade fair, she’d been struck by the handsome, white stucco, Georgian buildings. But now, after hours of browsing estate agents’ windows and finally summing up the courage to go in and talk to them (expecting her husband to be following any minute), she was beginning to wonder if she was in the right place.

  Rents were so expensive!

  ‘You might find something that’s more suited to your budget somewhere like Kilburn,’ murmured a girl who was barely more than Ellie’s age.

  Really? She knew central London rents would be steep but she hadn’t realised they were this much. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit out of touch when it comes to the rentals,’ said Georgie apologetically. ‘We live in the country.’

  The girl looked envious. ‘How lovely. We get a lot of people here looking for second homes so they can stay in London during the week for work. I wish I could escape somewhere rural at the weekend.’

  ‘Actually, this isn’t a second home. It’s …’

  Already she’d said too much. The girl’s face grew curious. She glanced at Georgia’s left hand. Her wedding ring still shone there. Defiantly. Even though it had no right to be there. Her past had caught up with her. Quite how, Georgie didn’t know. But she was certain of one thing. When Sam finished reading her letter, he wouldn’t want her back.

  Drugs were a big no no in his world. He’d been against them, ever since she had first met him And what if he found out she might be wanted for murder?

  Sydney was so hot! She should have been used to the humidity after Bangkok but as she stepped off the plane, it hit her with a force after the air conditioning.

  But that’s where the similarity ended. Instead of being surrounded by the babble of an incomprehensible language, she heard English words. Not English accents, granted. But words which made sense.

  It was all too much. Unable to help herself, she burst into tears. ‘It’s all right,’ said Sam softly. ‘We’re safe now.’

  Rufus held her too. Toge
ther, the three of them clung to each other. They’d been scared too, she realised.

  ‘But what will I do now? I don’t have anywhere to live.’

  Rufus laughed. ‘Me neither. I’m a gap-year student, remember? But don’t worry. Big brother here will sort us out. He always does.’

  ‘The company has a flat,’ began Sam.

  ‘The company always has a flat,’ laughed Rufus. ‘I tell you, Georgie, this brother of mine landed on his feet after uni. More than I will.’

  Sam flushed while looking pleased with himself at the same time. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. All you have to do is knuckle under. I’ve told you before.’

  ‘Hah! Like you knuckled under with that girl from the ping pong bar …’

  ‘SHUT UP!’

  Georgie was taken aback. She’d never heard Sam shout like that before. Rufus clearly felt he’d overstepped the line too. He was mumbling something about not taking any notice of what he’d just said and that he was only being an idiot because he was relieved they’d got here.

  But it worried her, even after they’d got into a taxi and were threading their way through this incredible mixture of old and new buildings that was Sydney.

  ‘Maybe I can find a hostel to stay in,’ she ventured.

  ‘Nonsense. You can stay in the company flat,’ said Sam. ‘My brother will stay with me until he’s ready to move on.’

  ‘Is that a hint?’

  ‘I promised Mum I’d keep an eye on you.’

  Rufus snorted. ‘I’m not going to get into trouble like those idiots in the paper.’

  Georgie’s chest tightened. ‘Rufus was at school with one of them, you know,’ added Sam. ‘Jonathan, he was called. Stupid idiot. He deserves to be put inside for years. There’s no excuse for drugs. Never has been and never will.’

  Rufus raided his eyebrows. ‘My brother can be very conservative. I hope you’re prepared for that.’

  He spoke as though their relationship was a given arrangement. All she could do was smile nervously.

  ‘What about you, Georgie?’ added Rufus. ‘Where did you go to school?’

  Her background was clearly so different from theirs that she felt inferior. ‘A girls’ grammar.’

  ‘Clever,’ said Rufus admiringly. ‘I was only able to get into a minor public school. My brother of course, went to one of the biggies. He was at …’

  ‘Rufus,’ Sam groaned, ‘please.’

  ‘All right, all right. I’ll shut up. Looks like the taxi’s stopping anyway.’

  ‘You go on, Rufus.’ Sam’s voice was commanding. ‘I'll get Georgie sorted. Help her settle down and show here what’s what.’

  They climbed up to a first-floor apartment, and as coming in, Georgie felt as though she’d stepped into another world. There was an oatmeal sofa, a huge double bed, a bathroom with clean, white, fluffy towels, and a kitchen.

  ‘I’m worried you’ll be a bit lonely,’ said Sam after he’d shown her how the shower taps worked. Slightly unnecessary in her view but he insisted.

  ‘I’ll be fine. All I need to do is get a job to pay for the rent and then …

  ‘There’s no rent. I’m allowed to let clients and friends stay here.’ Sam bit his lip. ‘As for the job, you might find that harder than you realise. You’ll need work permits. That sort of thing.’

  Georgie thought of Georgina’s driving licence and passport. Would those be enough to apply?

  ‘There is another option.’ Sam was moving closer. ‘I know we haven’t known each other very long but I’m drawn to you, Georgie. And I suspect, if that doesn’t sound forward, that you might feel the same about me. You could be my girlfriend. Let me look after you. Don’t say no. Just think about it.’

  Isn’t it too soon after your broken engagement, she wanted to say. It was certainly too soon for her, after Joly.

  But before she could say anything, a startled Georgie found herself being wrapped in Sam’s arms. His kiss wasn’t like Joly’s. Nothing like it. But it was safe. And besides, Joly was lost to her. For ever.

  All she had left of that life was her memories. And Georgina’s precious shell, now hidden in a small box under her side of the bed.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Georgie said to the girl, trying to imagine what the flat would look like with new curtains.

  ‘Really?’ The girl looked troubled. ‘It’s very small and there’s a bit of damp on the ceiling. I’ll try and get the landlord to fix it but …’

  ‘I can afford it,’ said Georgie firmly. And that’s what matters. After that, I’ll need to find a job.’

  The girl hesitated. ‘My mother found herself in your situation,’ she said kindly. ‘It was after my dad left. Actually, I did wonder whether you have any office experience. My boss is looking for someone to help out in the office. Not terribly demanding, I’m afraid. Just answering the phone and doing some paperwork.’

  She was an interior designer, Georgie reminded herself. A woman who’d been successfully running her own business. A vision of Mrs R-R’s house came back to her. The decorators would be hard at work now on her plans.

  But how could she do that now, in London, without her contacts? And more importantly, how could she return to Sam? He knew now that she had been living a lie for the last twenty odd years. She hadn’t been Georgina Peverington-Smith at all. She’d been plain Georgie Smith. Drug dealer – well, accomplice – on the run. Suspected murderer.

  ‘Answer the phone?’ she repeated, wondering how she’d managed to fall on her feet so easily. It was all too reminiscent of Bangkok, and look how that had turned out. ‘I can do that. And I’m used to paperwork. Thanks. I’d love to apply for the job.’

  THIRTY-THREE

  Once, when I was in an open prison, they allowed me out into town for a day. It’s meant to help you get readjusted to life on the outside when you’re finally released. I thought it would be wonderful.

  But it wasn’t.

  I’d walk down the street expecting someone to tap me on the shoulder any minute and haul me back.

  The noise of the traffic made my head ache. You couldn’t hear them from inside the prison. So I went into a pub for some peace and quiet.

  That was worse. Everyone looked at me as I sat at the bar, nursing a pint.

  After a bit, they stopped staring and began talking about themselves. Might as well have been talking in a foreign language. They talked so fast about things I hadn’t heard of. Stuff that had happened in the news. Celebrities I didn’t recognise.

  Just when I’d decided to go, this girl came up to me. ‘Hi,’ she said.

  She was big. Blonde. Busty with a T-shirt that was a definite ‘hello’. Before I knew it, I’d found my tongue again. In more than one sense. By then, we’d found our way to the playing field at the back of the pub.

  Shit. Was that the time? If I didn’t rush, I’d miss curfew and then all my privileges. That meant losing my next day out for starters.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask for my number?’ she said, disappointedly.

  I felt bad for her. She was nice. Really. Not just the physical bit if you know what I mean. But the talking.

  ‘Your number?’ I repeated, feeling stupid.

  Maybe I should have told her the truth there and then. That I was going back Inside where you had to queue up for hours to use the phone and where no one could ring you. I also had the distinct feeling that she might not want to date a con.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ I sat, pulling up my trousers. ‘Maybe this time next month. OK?’

  I carried the pain on her face with me; all through the next four weeks. It’s exhausting, pretending to be someone else. Maybe I should just come clean with her after all.

  When I made my way to the pub on my next day out, she was there all right. With another bloke.

  ‘Hi,’ I said.

  But she carried on talking to him at the bar as if I didn’t exist.

  Don’t blame her, really.

  I’d probably do the same.


  See? We have feelings too. So don’t think we’re totally heartless. We’re just doing our job. Like you.

  It’s just that the rules are different.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  She needed to work. This was driving her mad! To begin with, it had been all right. The relief of being safe in Australia – so far – was so great that Georgie would have gratefully accepted a small poky room to have lived in.

  But the flat was amazing. So was Sam. He insisted on buying her clothes; stocking the fridge; suggesting places for her to visit while he was working; and taking her out to dinner where he would quiz her about her day.

  At first, this was a novelty. ‘The aquarium was amazing,’ she enthused and Sam grinned with pleasure, rather like an indulgent parent who had given a child a present.

  On another day, she went on a ferry to Manley, where she sat on the beach surrounded by families having picnics and waited for someone to arrest her. No one did. She returned to the flat with a growing sense of confidence. Maybe it would be all right after all.

  Quite often, Rufus came round. Together they would explore the city. Darling Harbour was another of her favourites. She loved just looking at the water and imagining what it would be like to get on one of those beautiful boats and sail off into the sunset.

  Away from the constant fear of being caught.

  ‘I couldn’t live here,’ said Rufus suddenly during one of their trips – this time to the zoo where they watched a mother kangaroo carrying her ‘joey’ with fascination.

  ‘Really?’ She was still staring at the baby. Cocooned in its mother’s body, it looked so safe.

  Rufus gave her a sharp look. ‘Could you?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I thought you said you had a uni place to go back to?’

  ‘I deferred it.’

  The lie came out smoothly. Much easier than admitting she hadn’t contacted them and that her place would now have been taken by someone else.

  ‘What are you going to do then?’

  They were walking on now. Heading for a cafe – she was dying for something cold to drink! Later, Rufus promised, they’d do a tour of the Royal Opera House – such an extraordinary roof! – where it would be cooler inside. It was so hot, even after Bangkok. This was a different type of heat: one that was dry. So dry that there were fires, apparently, raging through the Blue Mountains a few miles from here.