Legally Addicted - By Lena Dowling Page 0,13

slid her hand into the pocket of her coat, gripping her mobile.

‘Can you spot me a fifty, darling — for old time’s sake?’

‘Ah, maybe, I’m not sure.’ Georgia backed towards the glass swing door that marked the entrance to the shelter, leaning against it until she felt it give against her weight. ‘Oh no, sorry, I forgot. I haven’t got cash,’ she said, bursting through the door into the shelter’s reception area.

For once she was grateful to run into Caro Marsden, who was leaning against the reception desk with stack of papers in her hands. She appeared to be waiting for someone, looking expectant for a moment as Georgia entered the reception area, then disappointed.

Despite taking a couple of deep breaths, the adrenaline the run-in with Jake had sent coursing through Georgia’s veins was still doing its work, her heart thumping out a thrash metal beat, her stomach lurching into her chest. She reached out to grip the reception desk for support.

Caro, who rarely seemed to notice Georgia, looked her up and down, her brows coming together in concern.

‘Are you okay, Georgia? You look very pale.’

Georgia took a deep breath and pretended to smile.

‘I’m fine, Caro. It’s just cold outside, that’s all.’

Caro shot her a look like she didn’t believe her, but thankfully didn’t ask any more questions. After a couple of minutes, when it finally seemed unlikely that Jake was going to follow her inside, Georgia began to relax.

She had been volunteering at the shelter since law school. To begin with, she had done cleaning and helping out in the kitchen, but now, as a trusted volunteer, she covered reception and the often delicate admissions process.

Women tended to arrive at the shelter for three main reasons: poverty, drug addiction, and domestic violence. The Dockton Women’s Shelter welcomed the victims of Sydney’s dark underbelly into a bright and welcoming reception area decorated with pictures painted by the children that passed through the shelter. Georgia studied some of the new paintings. They transported her back to her own visits to the shelter as a child; visits which coincided with her mother neglecting to pay the utilities or running out of money for food.

The shelter had been an oasis of calm, clean efficiency, with enough blankets and sufficient food to eat. Not exactly happy times, but safe times. As a child, being safe, warm, and full was as good as it had ever gotten for Georgia.

‘Bradley, how wonderful to see you again!’ Caro was gushing in the direction of the main entrance where Brad Spencer filled the doorframe. Her voice pulled Georgia back to the present.

Previously almost slumped against the high reception desk, Georgia had now straightened up, but seeing Brad she stiffened further, pulling herself up to her full height.

Brad noticed her straight away.

‘Evening, Georgia.’

‘Hi, Brad.’

What was he doing here? After only having just brought her ragged nerves back under some semblance of control, Brad’s sudden appearance threatened Georgia’s composure. It was bad enough working with him all day, without randomly running into him after hours.

Georgia slapped on a fake smile while she mentally calculated what Brad’s appearance might mean. Was he here to drop something off to his legendary socialite mother who acted as patron to the shelter? Georgia knew all of the other shelter board members, at least by sight, and he wasn’t one of them, so he couldn’t have been there for the board meeting.

‘Evelyn is such a dear friend, and she has done such good work here, Bradley. It’s a relief that there is someone to carry on the Spencer connection with the shelter while your mother is away.’

Caro, whose usual communication style with Georgia ranged from brusque to dismissive, was coming across as saccharine sweet.

So Brad was here for the meeting. Still, the volunteers rarely ran into the board members. They usually dashed in and out for their meetings. It’s not as if they helped out at the coalface, so it wasn’t like she would see much of him. Relieved, Georgia’s faux smile gave way to something slightly more genuine.

‘Yes, welcome to the shelter, Brad,’ she said.

Caro sent a festering look in Georgia’s direction.

‘So, I see you’ve met one of our volunteers already, Bradley. That’s wonderful. Georgia’s one of our best people. There’s nothing like personal experience, is there Georgia? The women really trust you.’

Georgia mentally swore a four-letter oath, inferring hasty and loveless fornication. Caro, the evil cow, was doing her best to ‘out’ her as a Dockton local and one-time client of the shelter,