Kathryn Fox - Without Consent

The second book in the Dr Anya Crichton series, 2007

Temporarily blinded by the flashing bulbs, Geoffrey Willard stepped through the gate. Immediately, the onslaught began.

Over here, a man called.

No, this way, cried another.

Geoff! Whats it like to be free?

A microphone lurched forward and grazed his chin. The impact caught him off balance.

Do you think youre rehabilitated?

Cameras click-clicked.

Mate, look this way! Show us those baby blues.

Sunny, over here!

Geoffrey instinctively shielded his eyes, the ones that caused inmates to nickname him Sundance, after Robert Redford, only before he turned old and wrinkly. With his forefinger, he touched a bit of newly shaved scalp and took half a pace backward, wishing he could retreat to the safety of prison.

More flashes exploded in the twilight. Not knowing which way to turn, he hid his face with his knapsack. What felt like a fist plunged into his side. As he pulled away with the pain, someone shoved from the other side.

The prison guard held out a baton and opened a narrow pathway. Come on, back off. Give the guy a break.

Yeah, like he did for Eileen Randall?

Geoff tensed his considerable shoulders and clenched his fists.

Everyone settle down, the officer warned. We dont want anyone getting hurt.

More cameras fired and someone lunged forward and yanked at his pocket, almost pulling the trousers down in the process. He didnt even see her face, just a mop of dark shiny hair. Shielding his eyes from a spotlight coming from where they were headed, he called out, Someone make them go away.

Well take it from here, boomed a deep voice. Cars waiting. Geoffrey saw two men in suits holding back the throng. They looked like cops.

I didnt do anything, he said.

This is for your own protection, the deep voice growled. This man sounded even angrier than the others.

Suddenly, Geoff felt a whack on his back and stumbled, landing with a thud on both knees. A boot quickly caught his right thigh. The tattered knapsack fell just out of reach.

Bodies and legs surged forward. He could barely breathe.

Bring back the death penalty! a woman screamed, and a cheer went out.

Hands dragged him to his feet and forced him, limping, to a white sedan. The door opened from inside and Geoffrey felt a sweaty weight on his crown, shoving him into the back seat. The bag of special belongings followed. The door slammed and he felt safe-like a fish in its bowl. Not safe enough, though, to show his face.

Stay down, the huge man beside him growled through closed teeth and swiftly clipped Geoff on the right ear. And put this on.

A black cap struck his face.

The front doors slammed and the car screeched away before anyone had time to put on a seatbelt.

Its our job to take you to a safe house, the ear-clipper said.

Are you taking me to see Mum? Geoffs ear burned with pain as he put on the baseball cap.

The press found out where your Mummy Dearest lived and beat the community into a frenzy. Seems no one wants you in their neighborhood.

Is my mum okay?

Fellas, Mummas boy is all upset, the driver sniped.

Geoffrey plucked at his trousers, provided by the social worker for his first day of freedom. They were far too loose around the waist and thighs. Stop making fun of me! Stop it! He covered his ears, and started humming.

The suit in the front passenger seat turned around, red-faced. Listen you motherfucker! His nostrils got bigger and a thin top lip disappeared. If it were up to me, Id have let that mob tear you to shreds. Now, shut the fuck up!

Geoffrey kept his ears covered but stopped humming. He didnt like these men. They were assholes.

Reporters two cars back, the driver announced. White van and a blue hatchback. Hang on.

The car braked at an amber light then sped through it, turning with a skid into a side street. Geoffrey sat in silence as the car weaved through traffic, like something out of a TV cop show. He didnt recognize this area with tall buildings and people everywhere. It was nothing like the old home in Fishermans Bay. No sand, no water and no trees. This place sucks.

He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and fumbled for the lighter.

Not in here, you dont. The hand next to him snatched and crushed the last of Geoffreys nicotine supply. Looks like we lost them, the man added, peering out the back.

The car felt hot and stuffy, like solitary confinement, but Geoff didnt dare open the window. He thought about his mother. She hadnt made the trip to visit last week. Shed said she was getting things ready. He began to grind his thumb along the palm of his other hand, over and over again.

He wasnt supposed to get out until tomorrow, but this afternoon an officer had ordered him to get his things and see the social worker. No one ever explained why. He didnt even get to say goodbye to his friends, the blokes whod kept an eye out for him for so long. His thumb moved faster and deeper. Who were all those people outside the prison and why were they all so angry? It was just like in Fishermans Bay before he went to jail, only he had known most of them back then.

After a long time, the car slowed outside a row of weatherboard houses. They drove past then did a U-turn and parked in the driveway of a gray house with a dead lawn at the front. A lady with streaky brown hair in a long ponytail came out and opened the car door.

Hello, Geoffrey, Im June Bonython, a friend of your mums. Best not be seen hanging around out here too long.

The woman sounded kind-nothing like the dickhead police.

Shes waiting inside.

Geoffrey clutched his canvas knapsack and scrambled out of the car. Both legs cramped but he couldnt wait to get away from his captors. The woman put her hand gently on his back and looked around as they went inside. She made him a bit nervous.

The pair entered, and to Geoffs relief he saw his mum stand up, straighten out her crisp floral apron and walk slowly toward him. She looked old, really old, and shuffled more than before. Different from how she did when she came to visit. But, he thought, she usually sat down in the prison courtyard and didnt leave until hed been taken back to the unit.

He didnt know what to say so he removed his cap, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Lillians arms remained rigid by her side.

Ill pop the kettle on, then, she said, breaking the embrace with a pat on Geoffreys arm. And youll be growing that hair right back.

Out of the kitchen stepped Nick Hudson, Lillians brothers son. With a giant grin, he made up for his aunts coldness.

Welcome home, mate! Two muscled arms grabbed the newcomer, slapping his sides with considerable force. Youve been working out a fair bit by the looks of it. Check out those lats!

Geoff hugged his favorite cousin and hung on tightly.

Id have put up balloons but I ran out of time, Nick said, letting go. You still like balloons, dont you, Geoff?

Geoffrey nodded, unsure whether anyone would make fun of him if he admitted it. So he chose the moment to announce, They call me Sunny.

Everyone stayed quiet, as if something were going to happen. Geoffrey replaced the cap and studied the floral carpet, worn thin to brown strands in front of the lounge. He always noticed floors. They were more interesting than lots of people, and no one bothered him whenever he looked down. Not watching had saved his life at least once in jail.