Medea's Curse (28 page)

When he entered her, she had the clear thought that this was the best sex she had
ever had. As an image of Eoin tumbled through her mind, she wondered if she would
always be doomed to want men that she had to let go of. Her own repetition-compulsion.

Bob was predictably put out when Tom brought him home late on Sunday. She spent an
hour chasing him around the garage and putting up with him asking how she felt.

When she finally had him clipped to his perch she looked at the time. Nine p.m.

‘Declan, I’m really sorry to disturb you.’

‘Not at all, my dear. Are you all right?’

‘I was wondering if I could run something past you.’

There was a pause. ‘I was just about to have a tipple at my local. Would you like
to join me?’

The bar was close to Declan’s home office in Northcote. Before leaving her warehouse
she paused to reflect on the feeling that she was being watched, but standing in
the shadows scanning the rooftops and doorways revealed nothing apart from a stray
cat.

The barman pulled a cap off a craft beer and directed her out the back.

‘So, tell all,’ Declan said.

‘Jesus, how long have you got?’ Natalie smiled. ‘The main thing I actually can’t
tell you about, so we’ll do a hypothetical, okay?’

Declan nodded.

‘Let’s say I have a patient who knew about a crime. The person who committed it has
done the same thing again, but isn’t currently a danger to anyone.’

Declan wasn’t about to give anything away, hard as she was looking for it.

‘My patient refuses to go to the police and refuses to let me tell them. I have
another
patient who may go to gaol, and this information could make all the difference.’

Declan nodded. ‘I see your dilemma. Though of course it isn’t a dilemma at all, or
at least not yours.’

Natalie looked at him hopefully.

‘Imagine you were only seeing patient A, the one with the information and knew nothing
about patient B. What would you do?’

‘Same as I am now. Try to convince her to go to the police.’ She bit her lip. ‘But
not too hard because if this comes out it will be detrimental for her.’

‘So you have your answer.’

‘But—’

‘There is no “but”. Your duty to patient B is the same, with complete disregard to
the information you have from patient A. Chinese walls.’

‘What if someone else worked it out and—’

‘You are in dangerous territory,’ said Declan with a firmness that was unusual for
him. ‘If you are in any way involved, however peripherally, you have a legal and
moral obligation to patient A. It is not your information. She trusted you. Break
that trust and you break her, your relationship with her, and any good so far achieved.’
He added, patting her hand, ‘Natalie, you are not God. We can only be what we are.’

Natalie didn’t think she was God, but she was more than just a psychiatrist. Every
other part of her was screaming at the injustice.

‘Okay,’ she said, knowing he was right, but wondering how to reconcile the part of
her that wanted to see Travis brought to account.

‘Is there more you want to talk about?’ asked Declan.

Natalie shook her head. ‘No, thanks. It’ll wait until Tuesday.’

She rode home knowing he was worried about her.

On the door of her warehouse was another red envelope, with another USB. While she
was able to reassure herself that the locks were keeping the stalker out, the content
rocked her. And gave her cause to completely rethink just who her stalker might be.

Chapter 24

Jessie was in the waiting room: good. Sunglasses on: not so good. She followed Natalie
into the office, sat in the upright chair and said nothing.

‘How was the funeral?’ Natalie asked. Might as well deal with the elephant in the
room.

‘How do you reckon?’

‘Funerals are for the living. So it depends what you and the others there were looking
for.’

‘They were there.’

‘They?’

‘The bitch—my stepmother, with my half-sister. And Jay. The bitch only came because
she thinks she’ll get money.’

‘Is there any money?’

‘Not that I know of. She was so sweet it made me want to puke. At least I had someone
with me.’

Jessie had said she didn’t do ‘alone’; like many people with borderline personality
styles she mostly felt empty and the feeling of abandonment was accentuated when
she was by herself.

‘How was your half-sister?’

‘She’s a brat. Nine going on eighteen.’

‘Jay?’

‘He’s doing good.’

‘Have you talked much with him since your father died?’

‘A bit. At the funeral Kyle was with me. We all talked. He filmed it, the funeral.
Said he’d send me a copy.’

‘Kyle is a friend?’

‘From school,’ said Jessie. She went into a long and confusing explanation of how
she’d run into Kyle again.

‘So Kyle is the ex-boyfriend of your high-school girlfriend?’

‘Yeah, and a mate of Jay’s when they were at school, not so much since. When I ran
away I stayed with him a while. He used to kind of look after me. Before Hannah.’

‘You’re seeing him again?’

Jessie shrugged. ‘A bit. He brings me here sometimes.’

Ponytail man. ‘Does Hannah know?’

‘No, but it’s not like she’s here helping is it?’

‘Be careful,’ Natalie said, pretty sure that Jessie wouldn’t be. At least she wasn’t
asking for the computer back.

The next patient cancelled. Natalie found her mind drifting. Drifting, she told herself,
not racing.
She hadn’t had much sleep the previous night. When she had fallen asleep,
she had jerked awake after only minutes, heart racing, sure she was being watched.
Not paranoid.
This was real. The USB from the last envelope left on her door was
still in her laptop on the bedroom floor. This wasn’t someone having a lark. It wasn’t
a patient acting impulsively.

She needed to keep both well and alert, so she had reduced her dose of quetiapine
to 200mg. A little less than usual, but it had been enough in the past.

She pulled her mind back to the present and opened the
drawer in her desk. No computer.
Shit. The break-in. Or did Beverley have it? She couldn’t recall.

‘Did you ever copy the files on that computer?’

Beverley pushed her shoulders back. ‘I’ve been very busy.’

‘Could you do it today?’

Beverley made huffing sounds as she opened her drawer and retrieved Jessie’s computer.

This was one of Georgia’s well-dressed ‘I’m like any normal housewife’ days. Unprompted,
she started talking about Miranda, her fourth and only surviving child, currently
in Paul’s care.

‘We weren’t going to have any more. I knew we should have waited, but I wasn’t getting
any younger and already had to have extra tests because of my age. Paul wasn’t happy.
He was irritable; I felt it came between us, that pregnancy. He fussed over me a
lot but he also stopped having sex with me.’

‘Why?’

‘He said he didn’t want anything to go wrong. He spent his time on the computer.’

‘Doing?’

‘What do you think?’

Natalie felt mildly irritated. Georgia was making her work for it—and it felt deliberate.
Was this Natalie’s countertransference again, driven by Natalie’s issues with her
own mother, or some sounder instinct? She couldn’t decide. ‘I’d rather know what
you think—or know.’

‘It was just the usual porn.’

‘The “usual” porn?’

‘Yes.’ Georgia’s eyes were disconcertingly like her mother’s.

‘There are different types of porn. What did Paul like?’

Georgia shrugged.

‘Women with big breasts? Violence? Bodily functions?’

‘Paul wasn’t a breast man. He liked women skinny. There might have been young girls,
I really just didn’t pay much attention.’

Natalie leaned back in her chair. As a therapist she should ask
how do you feel about
that?
Or even
you seem to want to deny Paul’s use of porn affected you?
Had they
been together in this dance longer, she might even have risked an interpretation:
you seem angry.
But the connection wasn’t there. Georgia was not ready to expose
her vulnerability. If she wanted to blame Paul then Natalie might as well try and
work out how much blame he deserved. At least that was how she would explain her
interrogation to Declan.

‘What about that bunny sign he does on his cards? How long have you guys been doing
that?’

‘Ages,’ said Georgia. She frowned. ‘Actually I’m not sure. A few years maybe.’

‘When you were arrested, did anyone look at his computer?’

Georgia shook her head.

‘So when and how did he find out about the Facebook page?’

‘No one believes me when I tell the truth.’

‘Try me.’

‘He always knew.’

‘Okay,’ said Natalie. ‘Take me through this. He always knew what?’

‘He told me I should put the kids’ pictures on Facebook. When Olivia was alive. I
put up Genevieve too. She was still our little girl, part of our family.’

‘This wasn’t just photos.’

‘I know.’ Georgia played with the wedding ring she still wore. ‘But those things…well
he thought them too. We’d laugh about it, how hard it was sometimes. It didn’t mean
we didn’t love our children. Surely all parents get frustrated with sleepless nights,
the never-ending needs.’ She grimaced. ‘The nappies. The milk and vomit smell.’

‘Georgia, there was a lot more on your Facebook page than normal frustrations. What
was written suggested a deep anger.’

‘That’s just it. I wrote it down to get rid of those angry feelings. So when I was
with them I could be the mother I wanted to be. Not cold and unfeeling like Virginia,
or murderous like my mother. It was because I didn’t want to be them.’

For the first time in all of their sessions, Georgia was showing something close
to anger.

I know she is innocent,
Lee had said. Georgia’s eyes were focused like her mother’s
had been, her jaw firm. Jacqueline Barrett thought there was doubt; maybe Georgia
had been unlucky, with SIDS in two children and asthma in the third. So Olivia had
a bruise; she’d hardly be the first two-year-old to have one. Experts had been wrong
before and statistics could be manipulated in court like anything else.

‘I was in prison when Miranda was born,’ said Georgia, ‘or at least when I went into
labour. Paul met me at the hospital and stayed with me.’ Her voice choked and Natalie
realised she was crying. ‘He said sorry.’

Sorry for what? Natalie tried to put herself in Paul’s shoes but there were too many
unknowns. Perhaps he encouraged her to write on Facebook but was horrified when he
read it. He might be feeling guilty for not supporting her
enough and for his own
failure to protect his children. All she could be sure of was that his emotions were
likely to be complicated and full of contradictions. Perhaps he was still unsure,
but was cutting himself off to survive emotionally, for Miranda’s sake.

‘As soon as they cut the umbilical cord, the nurse handed Miranda to him,’ said Georgia.
‘I haven’t seen either of them since.’

‘Has he told you how she’s doing? Does he put her photos on Facebook?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps it’s better she never knows me. At least until…this is all
sorted.’

Georgia hadn’t wanted to meet Lee as an adult.

‘Do you worry about Miranda?’

‘Oh no, I’m sure Paul will look after her. As long as she’s amusing.’

Amusing.

‘You used that word before; what does it mean?’

‘Nothing really. Just that Paul likes to be amused. I always had to keep him happy.’

‘I don’t think that’s a role for a one-year-old,’ said Natalie.

‘No, no, I suppose not.’ Georgia looked flustered. Natalie bided her time. She’d
seen Georgia like this before, just prior to dissociating. On that occasion, Georgia
had been looking at a photo of Olivia. Was that what destabilised her? Things that
took her back to her own childhood vulnerability?

‘It’s hard when you’re little,’ said Natalie slowly, visualising the picture Lee
had painted for her. ‘Hard when someone you love is also scary. Terrifying even.’

The steeliness disappeared from Georgia’s gaze.

‘I’m a good girl.’

Natalie nearly dropped her notes. The voice was not Georgia’s. Or rather, it was
a childlike version.

‘Yes, Georgia, you are a good girl. Who are you a good girl for?’

‘Daddy loves me.’

‘Yes he does,’ said Natalie wishing she could get to her iPhone and record this.
Her bag was in the drawer and it would create too much noise. ‘Tell me about your
daddy, Georgia.’

‘I’m his special little girl,’ said Georgia in a singsong voice. She giggled. ‘
Round
and round the garden, like a teddy bear, one step, two step
…’ The giggles exploded.

‘Where are you, Georgia?’ asked Natalie. Was the Daddy she was referring to her biological
father Cliff? Her uncle, Vernon? Or even Paul? ‘On Daddy’s knee? In bed?’ When Georgia
just kept giggling Natalie added, ‘In the bath?’

The giggling stopped. Georgia looked confused and started shaking. She looked around
her and grabbed her bag, which tipped, spilling out the contents: an array of lipsticks,
coins from the purse that had burst open, tampons, a small pink rabbit, several envelopes
and a mobile phone. Georgia grabbed the rabbit, but it was the envelope on top that
drew Natalie’s attention.

As quickly as Georgia had regressed, she returned to her normal self. She looked
at the mess on the floor and asked: ‘Did I do that?’ Then she leaned forward and
began to scoop her things into her handbag.

When she had finished, Natalie looked into the eyes of the ostentatiously overbright
coping housewife.

‘Do you recall what just happened?’

‘When?’

‘Just then. Georgia, where did the rabbit come from?’

Georgia looked down into her hand at the fluffy figure. ‘This? Just something I bought.’