Page 84 of The Vet from Snowy River
‘How’re you feeling?’ Sue said, as she thrust open the door and marched in to the front row of seats.
‘Sick. And like I’ve had about three minutes’ sleep.’
‘That’s the spirit. Vera, work with me here. I’m going to ask you again: how are you feeling?’
She closed her eyes as she sat down. She had this. ‘Okay. I’m appalled by the charges I’ve been called here to face. I have acted as any concerned and caring citizen would have acted, and I confirm my plea is not guilty.’
Sue pursed her lips, then gave a nod of her sleek-haired, impeccably made-up head. ‘You’ll do. Try not to fall apart when you’re called. A tear or two, no problem. But you’re a professional journalist who makes informed decisions, that’s our strategy, and we don’t want to puncture it by having you show them otherwise.’
‘Got it. Two tears total.’
‘Snarky, I like it. Better that than being too emotional.Bepissed off. It’ll keep you strong. Remember that when they ask you to stand.’
Vera shut her eyes. ‘Has Aaron turned up? What about Chris Sykes? I’ve been too chicken to look behind me.’
Sue started sliding notebooks and folders out of her attaché case. ‘Both here. Your ex-boyfriend’s standing up the back with a shiny blue suit and a fresh haircut by the looks. Going for clean-cut.’
‘Clean as the devil’s doormat,’ Vera muttered.
‘Now, where is Sykes?’ Sue twisted in her seat. ‘Oh yeah, nice play, he’s taken a seat in the row right behind us. Mr Confidence. There’s a lawyer sitting beside him with a nose like a fox. I’ve not run up against him before, but he’s got a reputation.’
‘Philanthropist? Ladies’ man? Bingo addict?’
‘Not that sort of reputation, no. Don’t worry, I’ll break him like a twig. Forget him—we’re here to play our game, so let’s not worry about theirs.’
‘I wish I had your confidence.’
‘Girlfriend, everyone wishes they had my confidence.’
The clerk of the court sounded a bell and an older woman with no-nonsense glasses and a forehead that looked well-practised in frowning walked into the court through an inner door.
‘Carmel Grant,’ whispered Sue in her ear. ‘Smart, fair, and doesn’t take any crap.’
‘All rise.’
Vera stood. So she was to look like a professional journalist, was she? She wasn’t one. Not anymore. Not since that rat she’d thought she was in love with fired her. But she could remember what it felt like to be confident and eager, full of questions and the resolve to find answers. She could fake professional journalist if she had to.
She breathed in, slowly, then let out a long breath. Perhaps Sue’s confidence was cloaked about her as surely as her perfume and cigarette smoke was.
As the magistrate dealt with a few other cases, the words just buzzed in Vera’s ears. Aaron was here, in the same room as her, for the first time since … when? Had it really been eleven months since this whole thing began?
She closed her eyes and was right there, back in his bed, reliving the moment when her world was ripped out from under her …
It had been early morning, on a fine spring Sunday with the hint of summer in the breeze.
‘I’m popping in to see Jill this morning, Aaron,’ she’d said as they lay in bed. He was lying against a pillow, his chest bare, but his funky reading glasses perched on his nose while he scrolled through his phone.
‘I was wondering if you fancied having lunch later? Maybe a picnic down at Googong?’ She pulled his glasses away from his nose so he wouldn’t miss the saucy look she was giving him. ‘I’ve bought myself a new bikini that I am pretty sure you are going to want to see.’
‘Um-hmm,’ he said.
His phone was more interesting than the promise of a bikini? She must be losing her mojo. Perhaps an update on her investigation would spark his interest?
‘Hopefully there’ll be someone who doesn’t hate me on duty. Some of the staff were pretty cheesed off after my first opinion piece was published. I don’t think they understood it wasn’t them I was angry with. It was the system. A casual workforce, no continuity of care … I mean, it’s just so poorly managed.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Be interesting to see if they’ve read today’s article yet.’
‘Yeah, er … Vera, look, I didn’t want to get into this now, but I’d better tell you—’
She’d cut him off, too wrapped up in her own thoughts and agenda. ‘Speaking of, what time does your Sunday paper come?’
