Tell Me Why Page 2

  'Gee!'

  Surprised, she spun around. Half the pub froze.

  'Should you be driving?' Matty pointed to the abandoned beer.

  'I'll take my chances,' Georgie said, then mustered what dignity she could and merged into the commuter exodus on William Street.

  Though tempted to throw the girls into a cell, Franklin left them in the interview room. He found Lunny flicking the tip of his fishing rod towards the window, on a break from the endless paper shuffle.

  'Vinnie doesn't want to make it formal.'

  'Good call.'

  'Won't it smack of favouritism? Plenty of people saw the girls in the truck.'

  Lunny lifted both brows. 'You brought them here?'

  Franklin shrugged, then asked, 'What do you suggest?'

  'What would you do for other kids? Two of them are first-time shoplifters who've never come to our attention before, although they've no doubt caused their parents the usual headaches. And we haven't been able to make anything stick for the other one, so she's officially got a clean slate.' Lunny sipped from his 'World's Greatest Grandpa' mug.

  Instantly, Franklin said, 'Scare them silly with a warning.' The churn rate in his guts slowed a little.

  'Sounds right.' The sergeant jumped up. 'I'll do the honours.'

  Franklin followed Lunny to the cramped interview room and took sentry position in the corner, diagonal to his daughter. The older cop folded his lanky frame behind the plain table and faced the girls. Minutes dragged. The threesome fidgeted.

  Lunny tipped back and crossed his arms. 'I've known you two for years.' He pointed at Lisa and Kat. 'Kat, you've slept in our spare bed more than the grandkids. Lisa, remember you nearly chopped off your finger and I wrapped a tea towel around it and called your mum? And I've seen plenty of you too, Narelle King.'

  Even the incomer, King, was transfixed and Lunny eyed her for a moment. 'I'm not talking about these girls but I advise you to ditch the bad crowd you hang out with.' He leaned forward. 'And grow up.'

  His voice climbed several decibels. 'Do you think the juvenile offender program's not for kids like you? That Daddy-dear' - he glowered at Narelle - 'or your copper-dad' - this was to Kat - 'can keep you out of court, detention centres and away from hardened delinquents if you keep stuffing up?'

  He laid it on thick and reduced the girls to blubbering messes. However, Kat continued to shun her father's gaze.

  The caution complete and trio dispatched outside, Lunny asked, 'What now?'

  Franklin smiled wryly. Once the other families had been informed, police interest in Kat's affair was over but he had to put on his parenting hat for the fallout. 'Oh, we'll deal with it, Kat and me. We always do.'

  In the main office, he spoke with his offsider, Scott Hart. Then he propped against the front counter and stared as the constable ushered the girls through the station. When Kat came abreast, he said in a flat voice, 'Hart will take you home.'

  After the truck engine fired and faded, Lunny called, 'Righto, troop, reinforcements have arrived.' The night shift had straggled in over the past quarter of an hour. 'Pub?'

  'Not for me,' Franklin replied.

  The sarge materialised at the doorway. 'C'mon,' he urged. 'Harty'll join us down there. Slam's on his way.' He referred to Senior Constable Mick Sprague (aka Slam) who'd had a day off. 'C'mon. A quiet one or two -'

  'Nah, boss.' Franklin shook his head, unable to face the inevitable debrief, the pity and then the ribbing.

  He didn't want to talk about it. Not even, or perhaps especially, with his two best mates, Harty and Slam.

  Georgie stuffed up somewhere in her navigations, did a senseless loop through the city and onto Bolte Bridge. Car tyres swished hypnotically on the bitumen. The bridge's blue and white lights were sparklers on a birthday cake. She didn't think it was the alcohol talking, she was sober enough. Either way, set against the cityscape of skyscrapers with their white, blue and red neon advertising signs silhouetted against the moody sky, the vista was dramatic.

  Georgie found space in the traffic. She flattened her foot against the convertible's accelerator. The 1984 Alfa Romeo Spider cost less than a brand new buzz box but looked a million dollars, had capital-A Attitude and lots of go. As it charged forward, she laughed, happy for the first time today.

  She had the soft-top down. Faint odours tickled her nose; the peculiar Yarra River smell of fish and brine combined with rain and local industry smog. The wind in her hair diminished her stress where the beer had failed. Or it could have been because Richmond and Melbourne receded by the second.

  She loved autumn. Her mum, Livia, reckoned it was because she associated it with her May birthday. But for Georgie it embodied vivid colours of dying foliage, memories of when she'd kicked up piles of crunchy leaves that Livia had raked for the compost bin and faced into bracing winds.

  The West Gate exit loomed, breaking into her reverie. She swerved across two lanes and cut in front of a black BMW. Its driver blasted her. She shrugged him off. Not long after, she took the Ring Road, then merged onto Western Freeway. Now she was on track.

  Georgie settled into the leather seat. It had been ages since she'd escaped the city. It would be fun to blow the webs off the Spider, even if the trip proved a wash-out. She expected to find Ruby Padley's pal tucked up in bed in a sensible white cotton nightie. Maybe she'd be knitting blanket squares or occupied with some such older lady pastime. In all probability nothing sinister had prevented her from ringing her buddy on Sunday as promised; simply forgetfulness or a crazy social life at the senior citizens' centre.

  She thought back to yesterday.

  Ruby's screen door had banged and rebounded. She'd beelined across the paving, calling out, 'Oh, love!'

  Georgie had squinted in the morning glare and sneaked a glance at her wrist. She was late.

  'Taking your car out?' Ruby asked.

  The Spider lived in the pensioners' rear yard. Georgie and AJ had moved into their single-fronted Victorian cottage three years ago. Richmond had all the conveniences and diversity they wanted but couldn't afford to buy on her spasmodic income and his newbie solicitor wage, so they'd signed the lease on the unrenovated cottage, then fought over which car to house in their tiny courtyard. Two Taureans under one roof makes for Mexican standoffs and this occasion was no exception. Georgie eventually capitulated but only because her neighbours insisted she park the Italian convertible behind their home rather than on the narrow Miller Street roadway. The Padleys neither drove nor owned a vehicle. More to the point, they loved to see their young neighbours, no matter the reason or brevity of the visit.

  Georgie had nodded, then frowned. A grin typically split Ruby's plump face, yet it was blotched and tear-streaked now.

  When she'd asked, 'What's wrong?' and patted Ruby's arm, the woman had blubbered about her friend, a strange phone call and Daylesford. Way too hard on top of a caffeine deficit; Georgie's brain pounded.

  It didn't matter that the Padleys seldom asked favours or that they'd do anything for Georgie and AJ. All she could think was: I'm late for coffee with Bron.

  Face it; she was a bitch before her first mug of strong, black coffee of the day.

  Now, Georgie's cheeks flushed. Well, gutless wonder, guess you'd better start mending bridges. As she sped along the freeway, she activated her portable Bluetooth on the sun visor and clicked the mobile into its hands-free cradle. These necessary evils were the only blights to the car's original interior. She didn't even have a dash-mount satnav.

  She dialled. Eight hollow rings. Nine. Michael Padley answered. Georgie explained that she was en route to Daylesford. She heard his walking stick tap as he shuffled across the wooden floorboards. He called out to his wife and his shuffle-tap combination took him out of range.

  Georgie played one-handed air guitar, then flicked the radio's volume down as Ruby picked up the receiver with a clunk.

  'Oh, Georgie, love. Michael said you're in Daylesford!'

  'Not quite.'

>   'You're a good girl. I knew you'd do the right thing.'

  I'm glad you did. Georgie's stomach tightened. With that endorsement from Ruby, she'd have to go through the motions until Susan turned up.

  She launched with, 'What made you worried about your friend? This Susan Prenticast?'

  'Pentecoste!'

  Georgie heard her neighbour plop onto the chair in the Padleys' hallway.

  Sombre, Ruby said, 'It was my turn to call. We take it in turns.'

  She hesitated, so Georgie urged her on.

  'I rang Saturday afternoon at our usual time and Susan seemed, I don't know, distant? She was so…flat. Normally she chats away. But…well, she didn't even ask about Michael's health!'

  'Uh-huh. You told me yesterday that the call was cut short? What happened?'

  'Oh, well that's the thing.' The older woman's voice cracked. She cleared her throat and continued. 'There was a noise in the background and Susan suddenly said she had to go.'

  'What sort of noise?'

  'I'm not sure. A sort of scratch or thump and then she called off.'

  'So, Susan could have made the noise? She could've just stood up quickly and knocked something over. It's probably nothing to worry about.'

  'Well, I suppose.' Ruby sounded doubtful. 'But either way she promised to call the next day. It was her turn then.'

  'And she didn't call back, Sunday or since?'

  'That's right, love. I've tried all week and haven't been able to…'

  Ruby honked her nose. Was she crying? Georgie wished she could hug her.

  Ruby cleared her throat again. 'I haven't reached her all week.'

  'And that's unusual?'

  'Yes! Well, she goes away for a few days now and then. But to promise to do something and not do it, well, Susan just doesn't do that. We go back to when we were young tykes and never, ever, have I known her to do that. Not even after the fire.' Georgie started to ask what she meant but Ruby's next words floored her. 'So I know something awful's happened to her!'

  Concern crackled through the invisible telephone connection and hung in the air.

  Georgie shifted her butt on the seat.

  Ominous words or sensationalism of an older lady? She was contemplating which, when Michael called out to Ruby and her neighbour left her hanging.

  Several minutes later, Ruby said, 'I'm back. Sorry about that, love.' She sighed. 'Poor Michael, it's no fun getting old.'

  Georgie wrinkled her nose and flipped the subject. 'How did you and Susan become friends?' She drove one-handed and noted details on a pad.

  'We were both born and bred on farms in Wychitella, near Wedderburn. Do you know it?'

  'It's between Bendigo and Mildura?'

  'Close enough.' Ruby laughed. 'Well anyway, Susan has four years on me and when I was just a tiny thing' - Georgie grinned, unconvinced the large woman had ever been petite - 'she read books to me. You'd have liked her books, being a writer and all. Back then she loved old-fashioned romances and poetry.'

  Georgie read contemporary crime novels, mostly.

  'I didn't understand the half of it but it was dreamy.' Ruby drifted. 'Perhaps that's why I turned to theatre.'

  'On the subject of Susan,' Georgie prompted, not unkindly.

  'Yes, yes, of course. Well, we shared a love of reading. And I can't remember which of us taught the other to dance but we often partnered up in a paddock, sprucing our moves and singing.' Ruby sniggered. 'Actually, she was tone deaf but made a good chorus line.' She shrieked, 'Eik. We didn't see eye to eye on farming though. She was happiest mucking in with the men to get the job done, whereas I couldn't wait to escape. Would you believe that at nineteen my friend met her Roland at a church dance, fell in love and within a few months they were talking marriage?'

  Talking marriage at nineteen? Georgie winced.

  Ruby shrieked again. 'Shock horror. I had my sights set on fun finding Mr Absolutely Fabulous, or many variations of Tall, Dark and Handsome; and she settled for marriage with a grazier.' She squelched with her mouth. 'Mind you, Roly was rather a dashing fellow - for a farmer.'

  Georgie waggled her head.

  Perhaps sensing impatient vibes, Ruby picked up the pace. 'Well, within two years, they were hitched and I'd hit the highway; seventeen, been kissed and moved to Melbourne. After that, I went back to Wychitella a couple of times to see my parents and never stepped foot in the place again after they died.'

  Get to the point. 'But what happened to Susan? And her Roly?'

  'Well.' Ruby thought for a moment. 'They started out in a cramped bedroom in his parents' homestead and then moved to their first property in Nhill.'

  Why a young couple would choose Nhill blew Georgie's mind, having passed through it on the way to Adelaide as a kid. She could only recall a budget motel and a roadhouse that served watery scrambled eggs. She cringed at the thought of living in the place.

  The older woman's pitch deepened. 'About then, Susan had to have an emergency hysterectomy.' She paused. 'Devastating their grand plans for a horde of children.'

  Over their years as neighbours, Ruby made no secret of two things. She regretted not trying her luck on Broadway and couldn't be happier that she'd never had kids, not even step-kids via her twilight marriage to Michael.

  When she repeated 'A horde of children', the words shuddered.

  Georgie wondered how she'd feel if kids didn't eventuate - relief or regret? Whatever; it was irrelevant to Susan's welfare or whereabouts and she shook her head, annoyed with her own digression.

  'It was years later,' Ruby continued, 'that they moved to Abergeldie in Hepburn and she's lived there alone since she lost Roly.' She exhaled loudly. 'You know, it really was such a - oh, Michael, what're doing to yourself? Hang on, Georgie.'

  Although her friend couldn't see her, Georgie nodded. While Ruby scolded her husband in the background, her thoughts drifted to Hepburn, one of the tiny townships bordering Daylesford in Victoria's popular mineral springs region. Aside from the historic bathhouse and a multitude of spa and massage establishments, she'd found the area had good bookshops and was arty, foodie and pretty with rolling countryside and a couple of lakes. It made for a great weekend getaway and while she couldn't imagine living there herself, she'd take it over Nhill or Wychitella.

  Several minutes later, there was a thud of the receiver and Ruby said, 'Where were we?'

  'Hepburn; and the fact that you and Susan have known each other for, what, over forty years?'

  'Darling,' Ruby replied in a Grande Dame voice, 'it's impolite to discuss a lady's age, indirectly or not.' She returned to her normal tone. 'Actually, more like fifty or thereabouts.'

  'And how often would you have seen each other since you left home?'

  'Our face-to-face contact? Rare as hen's teeth, particularly since she lost Roly.'

  'Yet you've stayed friends?'

  The actress echoed Georgie's wonder. 'Amazing, isn't it? I love Susan but I detest the country and she feels the same but the other way round. We've turned out to be chalk and cheese but our phone calls are gold. Isn't it just the way? The one time I'd love to go see my old friend, Michael's health isn't up to it. It'd take us a train, bus and cab to reach Abergeldie. And even I'm conscious of my age all of a sudden.'

  It all translated to: one - they didn't have mutual pals; two - Ruby was clueless about Susan's other close mates and failed to recall the names of her friend's siblings; and three - their regular telephone calls tended to dwell on their meagre common ground of distant childhood and ageing woes.

  As Georgie hooked left onto the Daylesford turnoff, the call dropped out, cutting off whatever Ruby was about to add. Georgie shrugged. They'd covered all the important details.

  She grinned over produce for roadside sale by the old honesty system as she sped past humble farmhouses. 'Great Poo' and the misspelt 'Cheep Honey' were her favourite signs. The thought that the produce and cash would be pinched in a shot in Melbourne made her smile widen.

  Soon the
landscape changed and timber cottages hung on a hill, vying for views of the lake or over the village. The row of flashier B&Bs and guest houses adjacent to the water was a magnet for visitors every weekend.

  As she climbed Vincent Street, the 'for sale' sign on a bungalow caught her eye, followed by the backdrop of Wombat Hill with its huge old trees and competing church spires. When houses gave way to shopfronts, she turned her gaze forward again.

  A minute later she entered the main drag of town: one block edged by historic buildings on both sides between the two roundabouts. A horn honked, drawing her attention to the throng of slick machines, hoon mobiles and older-model modest sedans and utilities that reflected the mix of Melburnian escapees, local youths and their more sedate elders; everyone in a hurry to check into accommodation, pick up takeaway, select a pub.

  Georgie was up for the latter as soon as she found a motel. She'd thrown a change of clothes into the boot that morning in anticipation of celebratory clubbing. Huh! Definitely a jeans and boots girl, rather than stilettos and skirt, she couldn't wait to rip off the bloody pantihose.

  The extended sunlight of daylight saving aided her search for lodgings with a vacancy, without a two-night minimum tariff and well away from where she'd previously stayed with AJ.

  The motel was inexpensive by Daylesford weekend standards, while exorbitant on a value-for-money scale. But she wasn't there for a holiday; it would do. It was a place to shower - though she wished she'd brought a pair of thongs, as things that belonged on a Petri dish bloomed on the floor - and kip for the night. Its flimsy curtains were shot with moth holes but she didn't care as she stripped off the conservative court attire and donned jeans and a new camisole she'd bought at an end-of-summer sale.

  With a few bars of service on her phone, she tried Susan Pentecoste's number. It rang out.

  Perched on the end of the bed, with its much stained, burnt orange bedspread and springs that sagged to the floor, she considered the mobile phone. Then her thumbnails tapped the keys. She paused and hit send. Waited for the confirmation beep and sighed. She'd bought breathing space between her and AJ but it would soon come to a showdown and a decision about their relationship, even if that decision wasn't what he wanted.