Georgie Harvey and John Franklin Collection

Chapter 27

Georgie’s pulse quickened when the Bumblebee sang. She dug out the mobile but didn’t recognise the number. No Ballarat or Daylesford prefix; probably not Margaret Pentecoste or good news on Susan.

Bumblebee ‘Hello?’

‘Georgie?’

‘Georgie?’It was Michael Padley. His voice sounded strained; there was lots of background noise.

‘Michael, is everything all right?’

‘No. It’s Ruby.’

‘No. It’s Ruby.’Georgie sucked in a breath. Felt afraid to ask.

‘She’s…’

‘She’s…’Please, f**k, don’t let it be the worst.

Please, f**k, don’t let it be the worst.‘She had another turn.’ He sounded a thousand miles away.

‘She had another turn.’Had?

Had?Georgie squeezed her eyes, blinking back pools. A lump jammed her throat.

Death had touched Georgie before. She’d found the body of her first cat. Bloodied and broken; killed by a careless driver. Heartbroken and naïve, she’d believed she’d never recover, nor experience worse.

‘Georgie, are you there?’

‘Georgie, are you there?’She couldn’t speak, now lost in the time of her grandmother’s passing, expected and peaceful yet still painful.

Her memories darkened further. She was holding her dad’s hand, overwhelmed when she felt a weak squeeze. She watched him try to speak, then heard the death rattle. A bittersweet moment: at last, release from the tentacles of the brain tumour, while that final goodbye twisted her heart into a corkscrew.

‘Can you come, please?’ Michael’s voice was tiny, bewildered, so sad.

‘Can you come, please?’The corkscrew skewered again. Ruby and Michael were quasi-grandparents. Neglected but brimming with unconditional love. Ruby couldn’t be dead. Last week she’d been excited about a play her friends were about to open and had dyed her hair Siren Red.

Don’t ask me to see Ruby’s body. I’ll scream – right here, on the main street of Daylesford.

Don’t ask me to see Ruby’s body. I’ll scream – right here, on the main street of Daylesford.He said, ‘Are you there?’

‘Are you there?’‘Yes,’ she whispered. She verged on puking, exacerbated by a billow of black diesel fumes from a light truck as it passed.

‘Can you come straight away?’

‘Can you come straight away?’‘Of course, but I’m…’ She stopped before naming her location, the trigger for Ruby’s heart failure. ‘It will take me a while.’

‘Oh.’ Michael sounded hurt. ‘Ruby will –’

‘Oh.’‘Ruby will –’‘You mean she’s –’

‘Back in intensive care. I’m so worried. They won’t let me see her.’

‘Back in intensive care. I’m so worried. They won’t let me see her.’Georgie nearly laughed. Intensive care meant alive. Not well but still kicking.

She sprinted for the Spider, assuring Michael she’d be there soon. But she cringed at the lie. Her return to Melbourne could take up to two hours if she clashed with commuters.

Georgie rummaged for her keys. She upended her bag on the pavement, scattered the contents. Key wedged into ignition, mobile into cradle, she shifted into reverse and noticed a flyer stuffed under her windscreen wiper.

‘Damn it.’

She jumped out, pulled the flyer, dumped it on the passenger seat and gunned the engine.

Take two. She pressed a speed-dial number, reversed, almost collided with a car behind.

The call was answered, and Georgie announced herself. f**k, she went into a queue.

Fuck‘Come on, come on.’

She cursed the operatic on-hold music. Tapped her steering wheel. Floored the car.

‘I think Adam’s finishing off his call,’ his PA said cheerfully. ‘Care to hold a little longer, Georgie?’

‘I think Adam’s finishing off his call,’‘Care to hold a little longer, Georgie?’‘Yes.’ She ground her teeth.

‘George?’

‘George?’Finally.

Finally.‘AJ, I might lose you. Reception’s not great here.’

She filled him in on Michael’s call. ‘I can’t get there for an hour or so.’

She hit a rut at 130 kph. The steering wheel jolted.

‘Where are you?’ he yelled over her curses.

‘Where are you?’‘Just out of Daylesford.’

‘Again? Why?’

‘Again? Why?’‘Not now!’

Three seconds on, she cut his aggrieved silence. ‘AJ, save the bullshit for later. Can you take care of Michael until I get there?’

He promised.

She disconnected. Honked at a slow-moving tractor. She pulled out and passed, narrowly missing an oncoming station wagon. Rammed the accelerator. Demanded that any god listening keep her safe from cops and radars.

Time stretched.

Her hands ached from death-gripping the wheel. Eyeballs stung. Stomach churned.

Still a long way to go.

She raced to the hospital. Every risk worth it. Every minute a waste.

Georgie circled and swooped on a parking space. She dropped her keys while locking the Spider and tripped at the entrance to the Alfred. She located AJ and Michael, her eyes bugging to stop tears.

‘No news,’ AJ said. He hugged her tight.

‘That’s something,’ she replied as they clung together for a moment.

She sat next to Michael. She clasped his gnarled, shaking hand. AJ perched on an identical hard plastic seat on the old man’s other side.

Michael shrank as the minutes ticked. The pain in Georgie’s chest ballooned.

Hours passed.

At 9.05pm, a white-coated woman approached.

‘Mr Padley, I’m Dr Quinter.’

After quick handshakes and introductions all round, the doctor told Michael, ‘Your wife will have to undergo more tests, but she’s stable and out of immediate danger.’

They cheered. Quinter crouched before Michael and took his hands.

‘You’re not going to be much use to Ruby unless you take care of yourself. Why don’t you go home and rest? She’ll sleep through the night and you can see her in the morning.’

Michael argued but eventually allowed Georgie and AJ to lead him from the hospital. They tucked him into their sofa bed and saw him fall into an exhausted, uneasy slumber.

Sleep wouldn’t come to Georgie. She sat by Michael’s bedside until dawn cracked.

The angst returned. The tightness in her chest, the shake in her hands and, of course, the tears, all back.

The angst returned. The tightness in her chest, the shake in her hands and, of course, the tears, all back.In reflection, there was no mystery to why she felt poorly. It came down to The Day looming on the calendar, yet not signifying an end. This onset of frailty was simply a symptom of her sadness. Not just sadness but signs too of her loneliness, anger and, yes, pure unchristian rage at the unknown, although not for retribution. A greater being would delve out justice in due course.

In reflection, there was no mystery to why she felt poorly. It came down to The Day looming on the calendar, yet not signifying an end. This onset of frailty was simply a symptom of her sadness. Not just sadness but signs too of her loneliness, anger and, yes, pure unchristian rage at the unknown, although not for retribution. A greater being would delve out justice in due course.She pushed her hands onto her knees to stop the trembles. Young ones favoured the term closure these days. At first, she’d baulked. Why shut the door on the best part of her life? But lately, she’d tried the word out, when alone or talking to God.

She pushed her hands onto her knees to stop the trembles. Young ones favoured the term closure these days. At first, she’d baulked. Why shut the door on the best part of her life? But lately, she’d tried the word out, when alone or talking to God.closureShe had an idea how to find closure. It was worth trying, for what else could she do?

She had an idea how to find closure. It was worth trying, for what else could she do?What did she have to lose?

What did she have to lose?