Georgie rubbed her arms, trying to get warm.
Coming back’s a b***h.
Coming back’s a bitch.She lowered her gaze. It’d started drizzling a short while ago. Soft, persistent droplets blurred the inscription. She knelt and trailed her fingertips over the grooves of the epitaph engraved into marble. Her heart twisted with each word. She teared up.
She lost track of time. She might’ve been there ten minutes or thirty. When she rose, tangled wet hair draped her collarbone, and her joints were stiff.
Her whispered ‘I gave my evidence at the committal hearing’ was muffled by the breeze. Louder, she said, ‘Why couldn’t that have been enough?’
A cockatoo screeched as if jeering her.
‘Did I really have to come back?’
Abergeldie, Daylesford, and these graves…she’d revisited them all, but it left
