Beyond Fear (6 page)

‘Oh my God,’ Louise said again, standing on her toes to reach up and wrap them in a hug. ‘Are you okay? You must be freezing. You’re wet, too. Thank God you’re here.’ She took Corrine’s other arm, talked as she walked them past milling drinkers to the opposite side of the room. ‘Your car’s fine. It’s locked up at the garage. Hannah sorted out the key for the B & B, got directions off the guy in the shop. Bought milk, too. Look, Hannah, they’re here.’

Hannah stood up from a tight group of four chairs around a low table and led Corrine to a seat. Jodie was glad to hand Corrine over, glad Hannah’s attention was focused on Corrine’s sprained ankle. She needed a moment to pull herself together before she could do the fun-girls-away thing. She peeled off her damp coat, hung it over the back of a chair and took a deep breath.

‘Lou, pass my jacket,’ Hannah said. She’d helped Corrine into another seat and was supporting her injured ankle above the low table. One-handed, she took the jacket from Louise, bunched it into a cushion and tucked it under Corrine’s leg. ‘Can you move your toes?’ she asked her.

Jodie watched as Hannah rolled up Corrine’s trouser leg, unzipped the boot, folded back the stiff leather. There was no fuss in the way she did it. She looked like she’d done it a hundred times. She probably had. She’d been a nurse since she left school, had only taken three breaks from the job, one for each child. ‘You’ve got some swelling starting. And a good bruise,’ Hannah said. Without looking up from the ankle, she raised her voice, waved a hand about in the general direction of the chairs. ‘Louise. Anti-inflammatories in my handbag. Side pocket.’

Lou lifted her eyes briefly to Jodie’s. A ‘don’t say anything or I’ll laugh inappropriately’ look. Hannah, bless her, meant well and they had all benefited from her ministrations at one time or another but the occasions tended to take on the tone of an intensive care unit. Jodie figured it was exactly what any of them would want if their life was in Hannah’s hands but when it was all for a cut finger or a bad headache, it just felt like overkill. And after listening to Corrine carry on about the stupidity of walking about in the dark, seeing Hannah treating the sprained ankle as a major trauma was like salt in the wound.

Thank God for Lou’s sense of humour. She’d dragged Hannah’s big, brown leather satchel onto her lap, unlatched a side pocket the size of a briefcase and was looking back at Jodie with a mischievous grin. She pulled out scissors, a roll of tape, rubber gloves, an eyebath, gauze bandages, a syringe, lining them up on the low table like evidence. ‘You’ve got half a hospital in here, Hannah.’

‘It’s just the basics.’

Lou pulled out a disposable scalpel. ‘For open-heart surgery maybe. Hey, you got any of those electric paddles for jump-starting the heart? I’ve always wanted to say, “Clear!” Maybe Corrine can go into cardiac arrest for us.’

‘Louise, I’m in
pain
here,’ Corrine said.

‘Can we focus on the anti-inflammatories, do you think?’ Hannah said.

Lou looked at Jodie, pulled her mouth down, an ‘oops, too far’, and Jodie felt the tension in her own mouth soften. Lou found a packet, slapped it onto Hannah’s upturned palm like a nurse on a TV hospital drama, said, ‘Anti-inflammatories, Doctor.’

Hannah cracked a smile then. So did Louise. So did Jodie, at last.

Corrine said, ‘I need some water.’

Hannah found a bottle of water in her satchel and as she passed it to Corrine looked at Jodie as though she was seeing her for the first time. ‘I think Jodie could do with something a little stronger. Lou, you want to get those drinks now?’

‘Excellent idea.’ Lou took her handbag and headed into the crowd.

Jodie saw the intent as Hannah moved towards her – she was the next patient in line. But she wasn’t looking for TLC, she just needed some time and space. And a stiff drink. She made herself smile, tried to look what she didn’t feel – calm, relaxed, up for a good ole time. It mustn’t have worked because Hannah stepped around the low table, put the back of her hand against Jodie’s cheek.

‘You’re freezing.’ Hannah dropped the hand to Jodie’s shoulder, gave it a brisk rub. ‘You’re shaking, you’re so cold. Sit down.’

‘No, I’m okay.’ Jodie was still standing behind her seat, not ready yet to sink into a comfy chair. The darts competition was winding up for another round and the crowd and its sudden, rowdy cheers made her feel the need to be ready to move.

‘Come on, you should try and warm up.’ Hannah took her by the arm and pulled.

The unexpected force made Jodie resist. She snatched her arm away then felt petty for it, moved around the chair, did what she was told anyway and sat.

With the same efficiency she’d used on Corrine, Hannah began a vigorous massage of Jodie’s upper arms. The closeness was claustrophobic, the pressure like bindings. She pushed Hannah’s hands away. ‘No, I’m okay.’

Hannah moved to the low table and sat knee-to-knee with her, took both her hands and rubbed them between her own.

‘No, Hannah. I’m
okay
.’ Jodie tried to pull away. Hannah held on with her nurse’s grip.

‘Hannah!’ Christ, if Hannah had any idea what had turned her blood to ice, she wouldn’t be confining her hands like that. But she didn’t know any of it, Jodie reminded herself. Give her a break. Take a breath. ‘Hannah,’ she managed more evenly. ‘It’s okay. I’m fine.’

Hannah let go with a pointed sigh, used both hands to tuck her hair behind her ears before taking the woollen scarf from around her own neck. ‘Put this on then. You might not
feel
cold but believe me, you are.’ She held it out, insistence on her pursed lips.

Stubbornness burned in the back of Jodie’s throat. Hannah was a force of nature, the kind of friend every working mother needed as proof a woman could divide herself a hundred ways and survive. She had an unflagging conviction in whatever she did, totally there for family and friends and patients. But the conviction made Jodie want to beat her about the head sometimes. Hannah never backed down easily and Jodie hated to be pushed.

Two ways to go, Jodie. Tell the truth or take the scarf. Did she want to sit here in the pub and say, ‘Actually, Hannah, it’s not the cold, it’s something else entirely’? Because once she explained the flashback, she’d have to explain the rest and . . . She closed her eyes, felt that cold, ugly memory snake up her spine. Christ, Jodie, it was just a damn scarf and Hannah was only trying to help. She opened her eyes, took the scarf, smiled. ‘Thanks, I’m sure it’s just what I need.’

‘So, guys,’ Lou raised her voice. She was back with the drinks, looking between Hannah and Jodie. ‘Now that’s all sorted, what the hell happened out there?’

Jodie shrugged, glanced over at Corrine.

‘We-ell,’ she groaned theatrically. ‘We were in pitch darkness and Jodie decided to pack-march me down the road with all the luggage. Then I fell over, as you do when you’re made to stumble around in the dark in four-inch heels. God, I was in agony . . .’

Jodie took a large mouthful of the bourbon and Coke Lou had bought her and tuned out as Corrine told her version of the story. The pub was all but full now, mostly men, mostly turned towards the back of the room where the darts were being played. She looked at faces, avoided eye contact, checked her watch. God, how much longer? She was trying to relax. She was. But she was pretty sure there wasn’t enough bourbon in her glass to numb the tension in her gut.

‘Oh my God, Corrine,’ Lou’s playful voice cut into the story. ‘It sounds dreadful. Are you sure you just twisted an ankle? It sounds like you ripped off a limb.’

Even anxious, Jodie had to smile. She watched Lou’s grin spread to Hannah, saw Corrine close her mouth and think about it. She must have decided it wasn’t worth taking offence because a second later, she laughed. Started them all laughing. ‘Okay, okay. Don’t think you’re going to be using those electric paddles on me any time soon, Louise.’

‘Party pooper.’

‘How about being nice for a change and getting me another drink?’

‘Already?’

‘The first one didn’t count. It was just to warm me up.’

‘Oh, sure,’ Lou said and stood up.

‘No,’ Jodie said. ‘The car will be here any minute now. We should be ready to go.’

‘We don’t have to go straightaway,’ Hannah said. ‘I want to see what all the excitement is over the darts.’

‘Yeah, there’s way too much cheering going on for just tossing pointy things at a corkboard,’ said Louise.

Jodie looked at the crowd. Large, brawny country men, drinking beer, jeering and cheering. No need to spoil the fun just because she was a mess. She drained her glass, stood up. ‘Okay, you check out the darts and I’ll go wait for the car.’

Louise caught Jodie’s hand as she passed her. ‘You all right?’

‘Yep, ’course. Just don’t want to keep Matt What’s-His-Name waiting. Go cheer for blue, or whatever you do with darts,’ she said, backing into the crowd, and into a drinker. Beer slopped over her shoulder. She jumped and turned.

He was late twenties maybe, blond crew cut, weirdly pale eyes. ‘Hey, they don’t give beer away here, you know,’ he said, giving her a pub-friendly grin.

‘Sorry. I . . . sorry.’

He moved towards her, a kind of swagger. ‘I’ll forgive you if you buy me another one.’

Jodie looked around for a quick exit. For all she knew, he might be Bald Hill’s Mr Nice Guy but her heart was hammering in her throat and she’d had enough of the pub. ‘Good try but I can live without forgiveness.’

She shouldered her way past other drinkers, pushed open the glass door then pulled up short in the foyer when a bunch of new arrivals blocked the street entrance. Another crowd of strangers. She looked the other way, saw an arrow to the ladies and followed it.

The small bathroom was empty so she leaned against the basin, taking long, deep breaths, waiting for her legs to stop shaking. What the hell are you doing, Jodie? One, out-of-the-blue flashback and she was falling to pieces, back to a place she’d left behind a gazillion years ago. She rubbed both hands over her short-cropped hair, dragged them over her face. Okay, Jodie, this is getting you nowhere. Remember – you don’t have to be in any situation that freaks you out. Calm down, get out of the pub and wait for the others outside. Matt What’s-His-Name would be there any minute.

She sluiced water over her face, used a paper towel to dry off and straightened her hair in the mirror. Okay, go. She walked back into the corridor, was halfway to the front entrance when the man from the bar stepped into her path.

‘I’m still waiting for my beer,’ he drawled.

He was a solid mass in front of her. Half a head taller and in the confines of the narrow corridor, he seemed just about as wide. He wore a red-checked flannel shirt that clung to broad, beefy shoulders and arms. And he was looking at her with a leery smile. Jodie’s heart pounded.

As he moved towards her, she turned, hoping to dodge past and keep going for the front door, but he blocked her, stepped closer, still smiling like it was a great lark. She backed up, felt the wall against her shoulders, wondered how hard she could jam her knee into his groin with the wall so close behind her.

‘Get two beers,’ he said. ‘One for each of us. We can have a drink. Get to know each other before we go to my place.’

Dear God, he was hitting on her. Jodie tried to keep her face from screwing up in disgust. ‘That’s not going to happen.’ She pushed off the wall, attempted to shove past him. It was like trying to move concrete.

He put a hand on the wall beside her and grinned. She smelled beer on his breath, BO on his shirt, there was a dark splotch on his collar, a rusty smear on his throat. ‘I know your type,’ he said. ‘Practically drag me out of the pub then you want to talk before you fuck my brains out.’

She swallowed hard. Her chest heaved in and out. Fear flared into anger. ‘Get away from me.’ She braced her arms against the wall, lifted a foot and jammed it down hard on his shin. As he recoiled, she slammed flat hands into his gut. He let out an ‘oof’, stumbled back – more from the surprise of her attack than her strength but it had the desired effect.

She watched him as she turned, saw him start to straighten, eyes narrowed at her. She pushed away from the wall, ready to run, and slammed into another male body – tall, hard and oozing aggression.

6

‘She’s not interested.’ Matt planted himself in front of Kane Anderson, giving him nowhere to go in the narrow corridor but backwards. Jodie looked like she could handle herself but as far as Matt was concerned, no woman was safe with Kane Anderson.

Matt had wondered when their paths would cross. He’d been back in town for eight weeks – it was a small town, you ran into everyone eventually – but he’d only seen Kane from a distance until now. It didn’t matter. Matt knew where Anderson had been, he’d made a point over the last seven years of keeping track. Getting promoted to Homicide in Sydney hadn’t prevented that. Or leaving the blood and brutality of the city five years later to join the Detectives unit in Newcastle. He wasn’t the only cop who kept an eye on the ones who got away.

Kane was bulkier than the last time Matt had faced off with him. He must have put in some hard physical work, probably spent his two years in prison lifting weights instead of getting an education. He was still shorter, though, and Matt stood close enough to make sure he appreciated that fact. He looked down into Anderson’s eyes, saw the flicker of recognition in the cold, callous pale blue – and regretted again that he hadn’t been the one to arrest Kane, that he hadn’t been locked up for life.