Georgie Harvey and John Franklin Collection

Chapter 14

They held hands, waited, overwhelmed by the controlled chaos. Fraught orderlies pushed trolleys. Doctors and nurses rushed past, avoiding anxious loved ones. The business of saving lives was set to constant noise and activity and the omnipresent odour of disinfectant.

They picked at sandwiches on a par with the cardboard pasta in the pub a few days earlier and drank foul coffee from paper cups.

‘It’s all the worry over Susan,’ Michael told Georgie.

She squeezed his hand.

‘I’ve never seen her so worked up. She’s the happiest person I know. She lights up the room, like she used to light up the stage, doesn’t she?’

‘She sure does.’ Georgie swallowed away the sting in her throat.

‘She thinks something awful’s happened to Susan. You will help, won’t you, dear? You’ll find Susan and set Ruby’s mind at rest.’

Michael looked directly at her. A teardrop hovered on each of his red eyelids. He clutched her fingers with physical strength she hadn’t thought he had.

The sting became a spiky lump.

‘Won’t you?’

Georgie gulped.

Then, ‘Of course,’ fell from her mouth.

She mulled over that promise during the next few hours. While she smoked outside with nurses, visitors and patients accompanied by wheelie-drips and as she trawled the corridors for toilets and a cafeteria that might sell better food than the vending machine.

She hoped not to fail. If she believed in God, she would’ve prayed for Ruby to live to see her friend again.

Finally, a doctor introduced himself. He then crouched before Michael.

‘Mr Padley, your wife is in intensive care in a serious but stable condition. She suffered a myocardial infarction. In layman’s terms, she went into cardiac arrest as a result of a blockage in the coronary arteries.’

Michael bobbed his head, skin stretched over his face. He gripped Georgie’s bicep, and she rubbed his knobbly hand to comfort them both.

‘Your wife was unconscious, with no pulse or breathing during transport to the hospital,’ Dr Wilson continued. ‘The paramedics administered a controlled electric shock using a defibrillator machine to re-establish a normal rhythm in Mrs Padley’s heart.’ He paused. ‘I’m trying to keep this simple. Do you follow me so far?’

Michael and Georgie both nodded. Ruby had died but came back following a jump-start.

‘Good, good. Once we got Mrs Padley into intensive care, we were able to treat the symptoms and stabilise her. Over the next few days, we’ll monitor and assess your wife’s condition. In all probability, she will progressively recover and, with medication and rehabilitation, be home again soon.’

Georgie wasn’t certain if the sob came from her or Michael. But they sagged together. Ruby would pull through.

‘Mr Padley, you are welcome to sit with your wife.’ The doctor added, ‘But it’s family only for the interim, I’m afraid.’

Georgie left the hospital after Michael vowed to call if Ruby’s condition changed or if he needed anything. She slumped at the Spider’s wheel, drained and lost. Then she recalled her pledge to Michael and found focus. She would help Ruby by tracking down Susan Pentecoste.

First, she’d finish her review of the album from Abergeldie.

Franklin stepped into the station. Wells seized his arm and propelled him to the truck, firing off a verbal report.

They approached the same ramshackle cottage they’d been called to way too many times. Franklin tensed with each kilometre, worried they’d walk into a b****y murder or murder-suicide. His worst nightmare involved the four kiddies.

But this instance came to little more than highly vocal push-and-shove. They took the husband with them, to go through the motions. No doubt, before the ink dried on the charge sheet and intervention order, the wife would say she didn’t want to go ahead. Then she’d invite the prick back into the home. And so it would go, all over again.

Didn’t she realise that the next fight could be fatal?

As soon as the husband left, a youngster with an overdue project on capital punishment bailed up Franklin at the front counter. Why things became urgent on a Sunday afternoon mystified him.

The kid’s project: matters archaic. His mind leapt to the letters penned by Solomon and churned over the facts while he dealt with a steady stream of customers. He managed one clandestine phone call only to be stymied at the post. The Ballarat Base Hospital registrar wasn’t available until next morning. His other idea couldn’t be handled by phone and would have to wait too.

The shabby station suddenly seemed far too small amid an influx of burly blokes in uniform, with hefty equipment belts and loud voices. The twilight shift had arrived. Sundays were their sole seven-hourer, and it was unheard of for one of the team to stay on after changeover. If you were fortunate to be on day shift, at five o’clock you were out of there.

He shoved off and considered the pub versus a night in with Kat. Neither held appeal. Instead he tapped on a plate glass window and caught the eye of Lewis Davis.

The owner of The Springs Real Estate clutched a mobile in a meaty paw. He beamed and unlocked the front door, still in animated conversation on the phone. As Franklin checked out pics and blurbs for current offerings, amazed at the prices, another person entered.

‘Jennifer.’ His nod was curt.

‘John, hi.’ She hunted for a hole to disappear into.

As Jennifer McGuire pulled out her rent money, Franklin said, ‘I read On the Beat this week.’

On the BeatThe journalist blushed. ‘Oh?’

Before he could rip into her about the inaccurate article, Lewis waved him over.

Still furious, Franklin dropped into the visitor’s chair and blurted out, ‘I’m thinking about selling the house.’

‘You finished the renos?’

‘Don’t think I’ll ever be finished,’ he admitted. ‘Plus, I hate the kitchen.’ That put it mildly. He wanted to vomit when he walked into the room.

‘Didn’t you and Donna do that up together?’

‘That’s why. It’s Donna all over. Especially the pink walls.’

The older man gazed at him sympathetically. He tucked in his five chins and pursed soft red lips. Then he blinked. Whatever he was about to say made him uncomfortable.

‘Is it really the pink walls, or is there more to this sudden interest in selling?’

Franklin snorted, pissed off and embarrassed. He disguised it with an awkward laugh. Had the other man sensed his desperate f*****g struggle with fear of change and the need for it, while somehow surviving his daughter’s teens?

Georgie flicked over the pages of the album. She imagined Susan clipping each piece. She pictured wrinkled hands, perhaps with the odd liver spot and slight tremble, as they aligned the entries under the album’s plastic sleeves and smoothed out air bubbles.

Did she talk to her dead husband as she documented another fragment of their life?

Was it a therapeutic or torturous pastime?

Georgie found where she’d left off and continued. Unlike the earlier pages, the cuttings in this section hadn’t yellowed. Their sources ranged from the Advocate—the local newspaper—to the Melbourne dailies.

Advocate—She noted that the first article dated back six days short of five years. Handwritten in the margin was ‘Herald Sun. Monday 19th March.’

Herald SunMAN MISSING AFTER FARM FIRE

MAN MISSING AFTER FARM FIRERespected farmer and local personality Roland Pentecoste, aged 58, is missing after a suspicious fire engulfed his property on the outskirts of Hepburn last night.

Respected farmer and local personality Roland Pentecoste, aged 58, is missing after a suspicious fire engulfed his property on the outskirts of Hepburn last night.His wife, Susan Pentecoste, aged 54, was airlifted to Alfred Hospital in Melbourne, suffering serious burns and smoke inhalation.

His wife, Susan Pentecoste, aged 54, was airlifted to Alfred Hospital in Melbourne, suffering serious burns and smoke inhalation.She remains comatose and in a critical condition.

She remains comatose and in a critical condition.Police and emergency services were called to the scene in central Victoria at around one o’clock this morning.

Police and emergency services were called to the scene in central Victoria at around one o’clock this morning.Crews struggled to control the blaze, believed to have started in the hay shed, with their efforts hampered by strong winds and perilously dry conditions.

Crews struggled to control the blaze, believed to have started in the hay shed, with their efforts hampered by strong winds and perilously dry conditions.Police have been unable to locate Mr Pentecoste; however, when arson squad detectives and chemists arrive at the scene later today, they will significantly extend the search.

Police have been unable to locate Mr Pentecoste; however, when arson squad detectives and chemists arrive at the scene later today, they will significantly extend the search.A Country Fire Authority spokesperson stated that the incident is being treated as suspicious and a crime scene has been declared.

A Country Fire Authority spokesperson stated that the incident is being treated as suspicious and a crime scene has been declared.The inferno destroyed several outbuildings, along with vehicles and machinery.

The inferno destroyed several outbuildings, along with vehicles and machinery.The property’s residence, its crops and livestock, all escaped major damage despite intense wind shifts.

The property’s residence, its crops and livestock, all escaped major damage despite intense wind shifts.Five CFA trucks, twenty-eight fire fighters and other volunteers from the townships of Daylesford and Hepburn Springs attended the scene, many of them friends and associates of Mr and Mrs Pentecoste, who are longstanding members of the small rural community.

Five CFA trucks, twenty-eight fire fighters and other volunteers from the townships of Daylesford and Hepburn Springs attended the scene, many of them friends and associates of Mr and Mrs Pentecoste, who are longstanding members of the small rural community.‘b****y hell!’ Georgie was gobsmacked. She reread the article as she recollected snippets of Ruby’s voice and grew increasingly horrified.

Not even after the fire, she’d said. Then, She’s lived there alone since she lost Roly. Her friend’s dramatic breath, before saying, You know, it really was such a –

Not even after the fireShe’s lived there alone since she lost Roly.You know, it really was such a –And when Georgie took the Daylesford turnoff, Ruby had tried to tell her something about Roly, too, but she’d missed the significance each time, with each interruption, and now she couldn’t ask her friend about it.

But the successive headlines were a story in themselves:

WIFE REMAINS IN COMA. MAN’S BODY NOT RECOVERED

WIFE REMAINS IN COMA. MAN’S BODY NOT RECOVEREDHUSBAND NOT ARSONIST, WIFE SAYS

HUSBAND NOT ARSONIST, WIFE SAYS‘ROLY DID NOT TRY TO KILL ME’ (Exclusive with wife in missing body mystery)

‘ROLY DID NOT TRY TO KILL MEROLAND PENTECOSTE STILL MISSING (Police have no leads)

ROLAND PENTECOSTE STILL MISSING COMMUNITY DIVIDED OVER ABERGELDIE INCIDENT

COMMUNITY DIVIDED OVER ABERGELDIE INCIDENTTOWN MEMORIAL: ANNIVERSARY OF ROLAND PENTECOSTE’S DISAPPEARANCE

TOWN MEMORIAL: ANNIVERSARY OF ROLAND PENTECOSTE’S DISAPPEARANCEREWARD FOR MISSING BODY MYSTERY

REWARD FOR MISSING BODY MYSTERYWHERE IS ROLAND PENTECOSTE? (Three years on) – This one had Matty’s byline!

WHERE IS ROLAND PENTECOSTE?LET ME BURY MY HUSBAND (Wife pleads for information)

LET ME BURY MY HUSBANDGeorgie’s fatigue had vanished. But tension coiled her muscles.

She jolted when her mobile rang. She jumped to numb feet and reached for her handbag. Her hands shook when she saw an unfamiliar number and feared the worst for Ruby.

Wrong number.

Wrong number.Georgie blew out a breath and flicked the mobile to silent but vibrating, sorely tempted to take the landline off its hook. But she couldn’t in case Michael called. She picked up the album.

Much later, she pushed it aside and gazed into the middle distance. The lines above her nose deepened.

Letters from Jack alluded to danger associated with what happened to Roly and a potential lovelorn stalker situation.

what happened to RolyAnd a series of articles featured AWOL Roly and his wife’s near death.

How did these explain Susan’s movements?

The apprehension that had washed over Georgie at the Wombat Arms two days ago struck again. And with it came a stab of guilt which made her gasp. She’d initially dodged Ruby’s call to find Susan and then treated her as an annoyance.

It was partly her fault that her big-hearted neighbour lay in ICU.

Franklin pulled a photocopied page from his jeans pocket. He stared, laughed quietly.

Amazing what a ceasefire with the kid does for my attitude.

Amazing what a ceasefire with the kid does for my attitude.Maybe he didn’t have all life’s answers worked out yet, but he knew this case was under his skin. And while one part of him dutifully hoped it wouldn’t spiral from sick notes into violence, the other wished it wouldn’t fizzle out.

He processed what he knew so far.

Solomon was the author of poison-pen letters targeted at two young mothers. Was Solomon the writer’s real name or pseudonym? Surely, it had to be the second.

The women became friends after the birth of their children, on the same day, at the same hospital, four weeks ago. Was Ballarat Base Hospital the link?

Apart from the timing and location of the births, the Daylesford women were both unmarried, which formed another common denominator. Yet, Tayla lived with her parents, Lauren with her long-term de facto.

Franklin reread Tayla’s letter for the umpteenth time.

Your illegitimate child has been Born outside the sanctity of marriage and against the Values of our society. Only virtuous women deserve children. The Bible says the LORD hates the ways of evil people. You and your bastard walk the Road of Death unless you beg His forgiveness and atone for your sins.

Your illegitimate child has been Born outside the sanctity of marriage and against the Values of our society. Only virtuous women deserve children. The Bible says the LORD hates the ways of evil people. You and your bastard walk the Road of Death unless you beg His forgiveness and atone for your sins.Solomon

SolomonThe words were an island on the A4 sheet, large margins its sea. The irregular capitals screamed judgmentally. Everything about the letter seemed deliberate—from the precise word spacing and calligraphic script, to the single underline below the signature—and totally wacko.

What did Solomon imply about walking the road of death?

She had numerous acquaintances and a select group of good friends. They were those who stood by her no matter what, who even after a long interval picked up right where they’d left off, and who corresponded for years before meeting again only to nearly fall over backwards because their friend had changed. They’d grown old, lost their hair or developed a pot belly – or in her case, become more weather-beaten on top of the scars. Nonetheless, they were the same people under the skin and on paper; just the outer wrapping altered.

She had numerous acquaintances and a select group of good friends. They were those who stood by her no matter what, who even after a long interval picked up right where they’d left off, and who corresponded for years before meeting again only to nearly fall over backwards because their friend had changed. They’d grown old, lost their hair or developed a pot belly – or in her case, become more weather-beaten on top of the scars. Nonetheless, they were the same people under the skin and on paper; just the outer wrapping altered.All that aside, she was pleased to have made a new friend. They’d met a few days ago but instantly connected; perhaps because they were very different, yet also alike in many ways. She longed to see her again and felt infused with a vigour that had been lacking in a while, along with less pain in her chest. Now, when she held her hands on a horizontal plane, they barely trembled.

All that aside, she was pleased to have made a new friend. They’d met a few days ago but instantly connected; perhaps because they were very different, yet also alike in many ways. She longed to see her again and felt infused with a vigour that had been lacking in a while, along with less pain in her chest. Now, when she held her hands on a horizontal plane, they barely trembled.She dropped her hands and looked into the horizon. Her lips puckered.

She dropped her hands and looked into the horizon. Her lips puckered.There was an era when she wouldn’t have questioned her impression of a person. She would have trusted her instincts and believed the goodness in the smiling eyes and kind words.

There was an era when she wouldn’t have questioned her impression of a person. She would have trusted her instincts and believed the goodness in the smiling eyes and kind words.But she was a different woman these days.

But she was a different woman these days.