Medea's Curse Read Free Page B

woman—sometimes agitated,
sometimes calmer. No more fragmented than her other patients with borderline personality
disorder. Wadhwa might need Georgia to have D.I.D., and so might her lawyer. It didn’t
mean she had it.
    ‘There are events I don’t remember very well.’
    ‘Tell me about those.’
    ‘I’ve told you before. When the ambulance and police first arrived.’
    A time when memory impairment was to be expected. ‘What about sleep walking? Ever
find yourself somewhere and not recall how you got there?’
    ‘Would you count the time when I drank most of a bottle of vodka?’
    No, Natalie wouldn’t. It had been in response to stress and was not repeated. Wadhwa
was an idiot.
    ‘Tell me about your mother.’
    ‘I was two when she went to prison. I don’t remember her.’
    ‘But you’ve thought a lot about her.’
    ‘Of course. She was the sort of mother I wasn’t going to be.’
    ‘What about your aunt? The one who raised you. What sort of mother was she?’
    ‘She prided herself on being tough.’
    Natalie was aware that she was seeing an act and was conscious of how gullible psychiatrists
could be, how ready to believe what they were told. It was a reasonable starting
point—if you weren’t working with criminals. Georgia had a lot at stake. Everything
in this interaction was admissible in court.
    ‘So what sort of mother were you, Georgia?’
    ‘Caring, devoted.’ She paused. ‘Not perfect. My children were good kids, but they
got sick. Have you ever looked after children, Dr King? Being woken up every night
for a week at a time. Hourly at times. I think I did quite well under the circumstances.’
    Georgia looked down. Probably not wanting to appear confrontational. She might be
using the conversation as practice for the bail hearing. She had been denied bail
the first time because she was pregnant and the unborn child was deemed to be at
risk from a woman facing three murder charges—all her own children. The fourth child,
a girl, had been born in custody.
    ‘What about your youngest child? Do you miss her?’
    Georgia looked up, ice-blue eyes unwavering. ‘Three of my children died tragically,
doctor. Then Miranda was taken from me. She was taken from me in the labour ward.
What do you think?’
    It was a good question: one Natalie wished she had an answer to.
    She brought the interview to a close and watched Georgia leave, watched her turn
in the doorway to look back and smile before closing the door softly. A half-smile
that Natalie was left to wonder about: carefully staged or secretive? Or merely friendly
and hopeful; nothing that would be pondered on, had it been given by anyone else?
    The interview had been inconclusive. Natalie understood this woman no better than
she had at the start. She couldn’t tell whether she had been talking to Wadhwa’s
fragmented, disorganised soul or a cold-hearted monster.

Chapter 4
    What the hell had possessed her, agreeing to have dinner with Liam O’Shea?
    She read the online newspaper stories about Liam’s case to pass time before they
were due to meet. She was irritable and it didn’t help that she knew why. She didn’t
do dinner dates; particularly with married men she fancied fucking. She had caved
in instantly, and why? Because of an Irish accent and blue eyes?
    Vow number one: no matter what, she was not bringing him home after their dinner
meeting. He was already too cocksure and there was far too much of a payback element
involved.
    She couldn’t even console herself that the evening would be worthwhile because of
what Liam ostensibly wanted to discuss. She wanted desperately to know more about
Travis and the little blonde girl, and to help Amber, but she had to leave it alone,
or there’d be hell to pay with Declan, her supervisor.
    Vow number two: she’d help him as far as she could over dinner. For Chloe and Amber’s
sake. Then no more Liam and no more involvement with Amber’s ex-husband Travis.
    The internet search didn’t