Cold Justice (4 page)

In the plant room, Georgie was arranging her uniform on the clothesline screwed to the wall. She took the towel from Freya and added it. ‘Chuck that in the bin,’ she said, nodding at the boot.

Freya dropped it in, a hollow thud that matched how she felt.

‘I’d better call Control,’ she said.

‘Don’t want a cuppa first?’

Freya shook her head and started towards the ambulance.

‘Hang on,’ Georgie said. ‘I want to ask you something.’

Oh crap.

‘I’d better call.’ Freya reached across the driver’s seat and picked up the microphone. There was always a heap of work waiting so they should get a job immediately and Georgie’s question would hopefully be forgotten. ‘Thirty-three to Control.’

‘Stand by, please, Thirty-three.’

Georgie leaned in the passenger door, her arms folded on the seat. ‘Hey –’

Freya interrupted before she could say anything more. ‘The cops want to put you up for a bravery award.’

‘They should give it to that guy who went in the first time,’ Georgie said. ‘Anyway, I wasn’t really thinking. It was more stupid than brave.’

‘While I just froze.’

‘You had the portable.’

‘It would’ve taken me two seconds to get it off.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Georgie said. ‘The woman’s okay.’

‘I’m supposed to be your assessor. I’m supposed to be, like, the senior person.’ The one who led the way. Freya felt small and inconsequential.

‘This doesn’t change anything,’ Georgie said.

Freya raised the mike. ‘Thirty-three.’

‘Thirty-three, as I said, stand by.’

He sounded cranky. She shouldn’t call again. She shot Georgie a glance, saw the question building on her face, and started speaking again. ‘I saw you leap out of the truck before, at the Quay. You frightened the hell out of me. I was coming back from the wharf and I saw you fly out and I thought, oh crap, she
does
have pulmonary oedema. She
is
putting foam on my nice clean ambulance floor.’

‘I thought I saw someone I knew,’ Georgie said. ‘Freya, why –’

‘Like a friend, you mean?’

‘Freya, listen.’

‘Who was it?’ Freya started to sweat, knowing what was coming.

‘Freya,’ Georgie said, ‘why did you leave school without saying goodbye?’

Don’t panic, stay calm, just give her the answer you’ve practised.

‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘Just slipped your mind, did it?’

‘It’s not like it seems.’

‘I thought you’d been murdered.’

Freya couldn’t stop the laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ Georgie’s face was red. ‘What did you think I would think? One day you’re there and the next you’re not. I called your house and for the first two days the phone rang out, then it was disconnected. I went round there every day after school and banged on your door and got no answer, and finally one of your neighbours saw me trying to look in your side window and told me she’d seen removalists there days before and that the real estate agent had started bringing possible new tenants through. Nobody could tell me where you’d gone and I cried myself to sleep for
weeks.
’

‘I laughed because the murder was the reason that we went,’ Freya said.
Stay calm. Hold her gaze. She can’t tell how much of this is a lie.
‘Mum and Dad lost it completely. Overnight they decided we were going – they found a house in Orange, got me into Oaktree College with my cousin. I woke up one morning and they were packing around me. They wouldn’t let me out of their sight even to come and say goodbye.’

‘You never even wrote.’

‘It was too hard! I knew what you’d be feeling because I felt it too. Plus you know I was never good at English composition. I just couldn’t find the words. In the end it was easier not to try.’

‘Except for that birthday card,’ Georgie said. ‘To Georgie, happy birthday, from Freya. That’s real communication, that is.’

‘I was young and stupid and I thought something was better than nothing.’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘I figured that out after I sent it,’ Freya said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Georgie blinked back tears. ‘You hurt me.’

‘I know,’ Freya said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Georgie looked down at the seat.

‘I’ve been wanting to find you for a while,’ Freya lied. ‘I looked for you on Facebook and MySpace and Friends Reunited. I had an email drafted up to explain it all. I didn’t know if I’d ever find you and I felt bad that maybe I’d never get to clear it up.’

‘I don’t use any of that stuff.’

‘And how lucky that we meet up now.’ Freya wondered if Georgie was buying any of this. ‘Actually, not lucky. It’s more like we were meant to find each other and sort this out.’

‘You think?’

‘Thirty-three,’ Control called.

‘I do think,’ Freya said.
Look me in the eye, show me you believe me!
‘Don’t you?’

Georgie climbed into her seat and clipped in her seatbelt. ‘Better answer him.’

‘Thirty-three, are you on the air or not?’

‘Thirty-three,’ Freya answered.

‘At last. Go to Macquarie Street, please, for a woman ill on the steps of the State Library.’

‘Thirty-three on way.’

Freya rehooked the mike and got behind the wheel. She pulled out of the station, pressed the button to close the roller door, and flicked on the lights and siren.

‘Know the city much?’ she asked.

Georgie shook her head.

‘It’s a rats’ nest.’ She was still sweating and could feel herself wanting to babble. Georgie was silent in her corner. Silent and disbelieving? She tried not to think about it too much. ‘So anyway, I meant to say earlier that Ken suggested I drive, for the start of things at least.’

‘It’d be good for me to learn sometime.’

‘It’s what Ken suggested.’

Georgie shrugged.

Freya felt antsy and blasted the horn at a man who bolted across the street in front of them. ‘Suicidal moron.’

When she screeched to a stop outside the library, a woman lying on the steps smiled and raised a hand.

‘Hilary,’ Freya said. ‘Frequent flyer. There’s nothing wrong with her. Nothing detox wouldn’t fix, anyway.’

Georgie got out without speaking. Freya turned the engine off and worried about whether Georgie believed her and what it might mean if she didn’t.

Georgie walked to the library steps, still considering Freya’s story of why she’d disappeared from school. ‘You rang?’ she said to the woman.

‘I’m sick, love,’ the woman croaked. She looked to be in her fifties, her skin tanned and leathery, her blue jeans more brown with grime. Her feet were bare and swollen, the skin around her nails chapped and inflamed. She coughed and spat a plug of yellow phlegm on the footpath. ‘I’m so sick.’

‘Sick in what way?’ Georgie asked.

The woman reached out. ‘Help me up, love.’

Georgie saw the filth under the fingernails and caked in the lines of her palms.

Freya stood beside Georgie, hands on her hips. ‘Don’t let her touch you. When the cops pick her up, she wipes her shit all over the inside of the paddy wagon.’

‘Coppers.’ The woman snorted. ‘Say anything.’

Georgie said, ‘Do you need to go to hospital?’

‘No, she doesn’t,’ Freya said.

Hilary slumped back down on the steps. ‘I am sooo sick.’

‘Sick how?’ Georgie said again.

‘Just sick! Look at me! I’m probably dying.’

‘She’s pissed and she’s a pain in the arse,’ Freya said. ‘She does this all the time. When we do take her in, the nurses throw her in the waiting room and she walks out three seconds later.’

‘Sooo sick,’ Hilary moaned.

Freya nudged Georgie and started back to the ambulance. ‘Come on.’

Georgie looked at Hilary. She did stink of wine. Back at home, Georgie knew the equivalent locals well enough to know when they were just bunging it on. But she was on assessment here. Then again, Freya was her assessor and pissing her off was not a good idea.

‘I have a pain in me chest,’ Hilary said.

‘Don’t try that one,’ Freya said.

‘I do, I really do. Ooh, it’s right here.’ She clapped a hand to the centre of her chest.

‘For Christ’s sake.’

Georgie rubbed her forehead. ‘What’s it feel like?’

‘Like an elephant standin’ there.’

‘What a crock,’ Freya said.

‘Does it hurt when you breathe?’

‘No, it just feels kinda tight.’

Georgie looked at Freya. You couldn’t listen to a patient say that, even a pissed frequent flyer, and not treat and transport. She went to the ambulance and got the Oxy-Viva.

Freya said, ‘It’s bullshit.’

‘She’s got the symptoms.’ Georgie fitted an oxygen mask to Hilary’s face.

‘The fake symptoms.’ Freya stood in front of Hilary. ‘After a meal, are you? A shower? Think we’re going to waste our time and effort and the taxpayer’s money going through all the rigmarole of a chest pain when you just want a lift to lunch? Jesus, you smell.’

‘So sick,’ Hilary said through the mask.

Georgie crouched and wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around Hilary’s arm. Her body odour made her eyes water. ‘Mind bringing the monitor?’

‘It’s bullshit.’ Freya folded her arms.

Georgie looked up at her. ‘I would like the monitor, please.’

Hilary laid her cold, filthy fingers on Georgie’s arm. ‘You’re such a dear.’

‘She’s faking.’

‘I’m still going to treat her.’

Freya didn’t move. Anger swelled Georgie’s throat. Protocol dictated that the treating officer of the shift was boss and the driving officer fetched whatever equipment they wanted. This was like being at Woolford again, the night she’d asked Ross to bring in the stretcher for a patient and twenty minutes later went out to find him having a smoke. ‘Idiot doesn’t need the stretcher,’ he’d grunted, and got into the driver’s seat.

It was impossible to work like that, and in an instant she saw the assessment ending that afternoon, the rubberstamp hearing tomorrow, the devastation of being unemployed the day after. Was this Freya’s aim? She’d said they were meant to work together to clear up the mess of their past, but maybe it was to continue Georgie’s shafting in the present.

But then Freya turned on her heel and went to the ambulance and Georgie heard the clunks of her pulling the stretcher out. Not what she’d asked for, but something nevertheless.

She smiled at Hilary. ‘Once I get you in the ambulance I’ll do a tracing of your heart, and give you some medication, and we’ll see if we can’t get that pain to go away.’

‘You are a sweetie. Let me give you a kiss.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘No, no, come here.’ The cold fingers tightened on her arm.

‘Really. It’s okay. You don’t need to.’

Georgie struggled to see the dial on the sphygmo while keeping out of Hilary’s reach, but her hairy chin loomed and Georgie caught a faceful of her breath and almost gagged.

‘I want to, darl.’ Hilary tried to pull her close, her grip surprisingly strong. ‘It’s like a little present.’

Georgie resisted. ‘We’re not allowed to accept gifts.’

‘Just a little kissy-kiss.’

Hilary yanked her arm. Georgie pulled away and lost her balance and sat backwards on the footpath.

‘You don’t want to kiss me?’

‘I have a husband,’ Georgie said.

‘Fuck husbands.’ Hilary hawked and spat on the footpath by Georgie’s boot. ‘And fuck you too if you don’t want to kiss me. Bitch.’ She tried to slap her.

Georgie dodged her hand. ‘Calm down.’

Hilary leapt to her feet. ‘Bitch!’

‘Hey –’ Georgie said, but Hilary took off. The sphygmo was torn from Georgie’s hands and the oxygen tubing stretched out to its full length and the Oxy-Viva tipped over, then the mask snapped from Hilary’s face. The tubing tangled around her bare feet for a second then she was clear and running down the footpath.

Georgie was on her feet. ‘Jesus.’

‘Told you she’s nuts,’ Freya said.

‘She’s still got the cuff on.’

Freya folded her arms. ‘She can’t be very fast; she’s just a poor old thing with chest pain.’

Georgie started to run. Hilary’s small headstart seemed to grow larger with each new pedestrian who looked their way; and when people started to laugh, anger and hurt fuelled Georgie’s legs.

What did I ever do to you? I was nice, I was looking after you. And then you go and do this.

She got Hilary before she reached the road, grabbing her arm in a grip so hard she shocked herself.

‘Ow.’

Georgie tore the cuff from her arm. ‘If you still want to go to hospital I’ll call the police to take you.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Gladly.’

She walked back to the ambulance, her face hot, aware of Hilary’s stink on the cuff. Freya had put the stretcher away and was collecting up the Oxy-Viva.

‘This needs a wash,’ Georgie said.

‘I bet.’

Freya took the clean cuff from inside the ambulance and put it in the Viva. Georgie threw the soiled cuff on the passenger side floor, stripped off her gloves and washed her hands with Hexol, then got in and did up her seatbelt.

Freya slid behind the wheel but didn’t start the engine. ‘I didn’t know she was going to try to hit you.’

Georgie kicked the sphygmo cuff out from under her boots.

‘And I do get it,’ Freya said. ‘You’re on assessment, you want to do everything right.’

‘I believed her,’ Georgie said.

‘I know you did.’ Freya glanced in the side mirror. ‘Here she comes again.’

Georgie looked out to see Hilary reseat herself on the steps and flip them the bird with one filthy finger. ‘Nice.’

‘Isn’t it.’ Freya fired up the engine. ‘What a job. We train all these years, study till our eyes practically fall out, practise intubating and cannulating and all sorts of stuff so we can save people’s lives, and then we get people like her and the crazy at the wharf.’

‘Shield of protection, that’s us.’ Georgie picked up the radio. ‘Thirty-three’s clear at the scene. Ambulance not required.’

‘Thanks, Thirty-three,’ Control said. ‘Head for Mascot. Got an air ambulance transfer from there to the North Shore, elderly male for rehab.’

‘Copy,’ Georgie said.