A Tattooed Heart (13 page)

His hands full of money, Adam stared down at her. ‘What's got into her?'

Sarah, instantly on the alert, said, ‘Maybe someone's come into the house through the back.'

But Clifford scrambled out from beneath the counter, her paws skidding on the floorboards, raced across to the shop door and scratched wildly, still barking. A moment later someone knocked.

As Sarah slid the bolts across, she realised, with surprisingly mixed feelings, who their visitor might be. Harrie had sent a note that morning inviting her and Adam to a get-together the next evening to meet her brother and sisters, who'd finally arrived — James was
such
a decent man — and mentioning that Walter was also back. She was fond of Walter, though he should have stayed away as Bella would be onto the stupid boy the moment she discovered he'd returned, but she was also very fond of Clifford now. No doubt Walter would want her back.

Pushing Clifford out of the way with her foot, she opened the door. ‘Evening, Leo, Walter. I heard you were back.'

Clifford shot around the door and launched herself at Walter. Grinning madly, he caught her mid-leap and clutched her to his chest, where she wriggled in a fit of ecstasy, yapping madly between licking his face and knocking off his cap.

‘For God's sake, come in before someone sees you,' Sarah snapped, and jerked him inside.

Leo stepped in after him and Sarah relocked the door.

‘You're a bloody little fool, coming back here,' she said.

‘Everyone's saying that,' Walter replied, one arm under Clifford's hindquarters and the other hand holding her face still so he could kiss her wet nose.

‘And they're right. Stop that, will you, and listen to me!' In response to Sarah's voice, Clifford tried to give her cheek a placatory lick, but Sarah pushed her away. ‘Bugger off, you hairy little turncoat. Put her down, Walter, you're mollycoddling her.'

Adam shoved the money from the till into his pocket. ‘Come through to the house. I don't know about you, Leo, but I'd kill for a brandy.'

They all traipsed down the hallway, Clifford tearing backwards and forwards between Walter and Sarah, and took seats at the table in the dining room. While Adam poured drinks, Clifford sat first on Sarah's knee, then Walter's, then, clearly growing increasingly distressed, Sarah's again, until finally she lay on the floor with her legs in the air, whining quietly while she eyed them both.

‘She doesn't know who to go to,' Leo observed.

‘Well, she's Walter's dog,' Sarah said. ‘I was only looking after her because no one else would. You can have her back if you're staying,' she added to Walter. ‘Are you? I really don't think you should.'

Adam said, ‘Hold your horses, Sarah. You're very fond of that dog, though God only knows why.' He turned to Walter. ‘I'm sorry, son, but she is, and she's cared for her very well. It's a bit unfair of you to expect to claim her now you're back.'

Walter nodded. ‘I can see she's been well looked after, Mr Green, and I'm that grateful, Miss Sarah. I am. She's even got quite porky. And I don't expect to claim her. I just wanted to see her.'

‘Oh, take her,' Sarah said, her voice gruff to conceal her sorrow. She really
was
unaccountably fond of the horrible little animal. ‘She's yours and she always will be. Here.' She picked up the dog and plonked her on Walter's lap, where Clifford wriggled delightedly. ‘But you can only have her if you tell me how you're going to stay out of Bella's way. She'll come after you, you know.'

Leo drained his glass. ‘Aye, well, I've been thinking about that.'

‘And?'

‘I've had half an idea.'

‘What?' Sarah demanded.

‘I'll tell you when I've had the other half.'

Matthew hastened along George Street, two bottles of good port tucked under his arm, worried he was going to miss the start of the party. Supper at the Vincents', where he lodged, had been served unusually late, and he'd gulped his mincemeat fritters and now had indigestion.

Ahead in the twilight he spied two figures, one very familiar, marching along with her usual energetic stride, her copper hair sailing out behind her.

‘Friday! I say, Friday. Wait up!'

The pair turned, and Friday waved. He hadn't seen her for over a fortnight and he wondered who her dark-skinned companion was. She was certainly startlingly attractive, very tall and well built with a tattoo on her chin and the most glorious black hair falling in ripples to her waist. He imagined fleetingly what it would be like to run his hands through it.

Catching up, he said, ‘I'm on my way to Harrie's soirée. Are you?'

‘Wouldn't miss it,' Friday said. ‘Me and Sarah knew the kids were coming for ages but we had to keep it a secret.'

‘So did I,' Matthew said. ‘Tricky, wasn't it?'

Friday looked vaguely put out. ‘Really? I thought only me and Sarah knew. Anyway, this is my friend, Aria Te Kainga-mataa. Aria, this is Matthew Cutler.'

He shook Aria's hand. She gave him a stunning smile but gripped his hand so firmly he nearly winced.

‘I am very pleased to meet you, Mr Cutler.'

‘Bugger Mister, call him Matthew,' Friday said. ‘He doesn't mind about manners. We're mates.' Raising her eyebrows coyly, she added, ‘Aria's staying with me.'

‘Bunking in with you at the Siren's Arms? That sounds jolly.'

‘I'll say. She's my lover.' Friday grinned, and exchanged a look with Aria that Matthew could only describe as naked lust.

‘Oh.
Oh.'
He felt his face flush violently. It had never occurred to him that Friday might be
that
stripe of girl. Not that he knew much about the subject. He'd always assumed she didn't have a companion because of what she did for a living.

Friday burst out laughing. ‘You should see your face, Matthew. Stand still a minute while I fry an egg on it.'

‘Yes, well, I . . . possibly. I beg your pardon, Miss Te, er . . .' Oh God, now he'd forgotten her name.
And
she was smirking at him.

‘It is Aria, and it is of no matter,' she said. ‘I am not offended.'

Casting wildly about for a less awkward subject, Matthew adjusted the bottles under his arm. ‘How's work?'

Friday started walking again. ‘Good, actually. I've got a new job. Mrs H has opened a flogging room and I'm the dominatrix.'

Oh God. ‘And, er, that suits you?'

‘Hell yes. It's
far
better than spending eight hours a day on my back getting fucked to a fare-thee-well.'

Matthew actually did wince then, and Aria burst into the dirtiest laugh he'd ever heard — not, he suspected, at Friday's comment, but at his obvious discomfort. Startled, he glanced at her and felt himself blushing again, even though, frankly, he found her terrifying.

‘And the money's just as good,' Friday went on. ‘Better, in fact. I'm dying to meet Harrie's brother and sisters. Poor little sods. They never came to Newgate. Their mother wouldn't let them. Or maybe it was Harrie. I can't remember. Isn't James a sweetie for bringing them over?'

‘Er, yes.' Matthew would never have described James as a ‘sweetie', but he did know the man would crawl a mile over broken glass to make Harrie happy. ‘Actually, I've already met them, when they arrived. They seemed . . . really quite appealing.' Well, perhaps not the boy. To be honest, he'd been too busy ogling Lucy Christian to pay much attention to the children. ‘They travelled
with a chaperone, a Miss Christian. She's a school teacher, and very charming she is, too.'

‘Ooh eh, you could be in there if you play your cards right, Matthew me lad,' Friday said, and elbowed him so vigorously he staggered onto the road.

Righting himself, he said, ‘That's right, that lad Walter, the ship's boy from the
Isla?
He got off the ship, too.'

‘What?' Friday exclaimed.

Matthew nodded. ‘Harrie tore a strip off him, though I didn't really follow why. I didn't realise they knew each other that well. What's the matter?'

‘Shit, shit, shit!'

‘What is it?' Aria asked sharply.

‘Walter's back. Clifford's master.'

‘Ah.'

Watching the exchange with growing unease, Matthew said, ‘What's going on? What's wrong?'

Friday shook her head. ‘Can't tell you, sorry.'

Matthew felt an unexpected surge of anger rise up inside him, its ferocity more than a little startling. ‘Why the hell not? Do you know something, Friday? I'm sick and tired of being taken for granted. Oh, look, here comes good old Matthew, he won't mind doing whatever we ask. You know, I've been doing your banking for ages — hundreds and hundreds of pounds, an
extraordinary
amount — and not once have you taken me into your confidence. And James — James bored me to tears for
years
blathering on about his love for Harrie, whom
I
loved, too. It was torture and I couldn't say a thing. I've clowned around pretending to be some yokel called Lucas Carew, and as for Sally Minto! I had to propose to her to find out she'd been shagging the bloody flour boy
and
was expecting his child! For God's
sake
!' He glanced at Aria, having momentarily forgotten she was there. ‘I do beg your pardon. Please forgive me.'

Friday stared at him, astonished. ‘Sorry, Matthew. I just didn't realise.'

‘No, you didn't, did you? You
don't
. You really can be a bit selfish, you know.'

Matthew watched indignation, then reluctant realisation, then peevish discomfort flicker across her face.

She began, ‘It's just that —' Then she stopped, put her hands on her hips and sighed heavily. ‘Shit. You're right. I'm sorry. Look, if I tell you, you have to keep it to yourself, all right? You
have
to. And you especially can't tell James.'

Affronted, Matthew said, ‘Do I look like a tattle-tale? But why especially not James?'

‘Because he'll have a fit. You remember when Amos Furniss was murdered? In the old burial ground?'

Matthew nodded. It had been all over the papers.

‘Well, Walter did it.'

Shocked rigid, Matthew said, ‘But he's just a boy!'

‘I know, but he had his reasons.'

‘Hold on, wasn't there a confession printed in the paper? Some lover of Furniss's? I read it myself. Isn't the case closed?'

‘We've got no idea who sent that to the police. And the case
is
closed, but Furniss's boss knows that Walter's the real killer, and we're worried she'll come after him. That's why we sent him back to England.'

‘Slow down. Who's “she”? And who's “we”?'

Friday sighed again. ‘“She” is Bella Shand. Jackson as was, from the
Isla
. Do you remember her?'

‘How could I not?' Matthew said, recalling the woman's little performance a few days earlier.

‘And “we” is me, Sarah and Harrie.'

‘But . . . what have you three got to do with Walter?'

‘We're very fond of him.'

Matthew noted Friday was avoiding his eye. ‘You're doing it again. There's more to it than that, isn't there?'

Friday glanced at Aria, who shrugged. ‘It was our fault Walter was in the old burial ground. Sort of. He'd followed me there. I was meeting Furniss.'

‘What for?'

Wincing, Friday said, ‘You're not to tell this to
anyone
, all right? I was giving him some money.'

‘Ah.' Several things had suddenly become a lot clearer to Matthew. ‘Who was blackmailing you? Him or Bella?'

‘Bella
is.
'

‘Why?'

‘Look, stop interrogating me,' Friday snapped. ‘You're starting to get up my nose.'

Matthew decided he might just about have pushed his luck far enough. ‘Just one more question. Is it only you she's blackmailing, or all of you?'

‘All of us.'

‘God,' he said after a moment. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?'

‘Yes. Forget everything I've just told you and let's hurry up and get to this party. I'm gagging for a drink.'

Harrie had invited Nora and George Barrett and their four children — baby Lewis, Sam, Abigail and horrible Hannah (as Friday called her). Lewis and Sam were only little, but Hannah and Abigail were seven and nine respectively, and might find playmates in Anna and Sophie. Also present were James's business partner Dr Lawrence Chandler and his wife Eloise, Matthew, Friday and Aria, Sarah and Adam, and Leo and his companion Serafina Fortune who, with Walter and Clifford, didn't arrive until after dark. With Sophie, Anna and Robbie, plus Lucy Christian, Daisy and Isaac Longbone, the party was really quite jovial.

Abigail made friends with Sophie and Anna immediately, though Hannah got off to a bad start by telling them she knew for a fact that Harrie loved her more than she did them, which made Anna cry and Sophie slap Hannah across the side of the head. This gave Hannah a colossal shock as she was usually the one doing the slapping, especially after her mother told her she had to apologise to Anna, which seemed a terrible injustice given
she
was the one who'd been belted.

So she mumbled, ‘Sorry for making you bawl.'

Nora said, ‘No, Hannah, that's not good enough.'

Hannah tried again. ‘I'm sorry for being mean, Anna.' And she was, now. Things had all gone very wrong.

‘That's all right,' Anna said. ‘We can share Harrie, can't we?'

Which made all the women in the room and a couple of the men go ‘Aaaah.'

‘Of course you can,' Harrie said. ‘And Sophie, it's probably not a good idea to show your anger by hitting people. Not any more.'

‘Works for me,' Friday said, raising her glass of brandy in a sloppy toast to herself.