A Tattooed Heart (8 page)

Harrie made a face. ‘Don't the sheets get, er, mucky?'

‘No muckier than the sheets in the other rooms. Which is why we've got two coppers in the hotel laundry.'

‘How much do you charge?' Sarah asked, pouring herself more tea. ‘Anyone else want another cup?'

‘Seven pounds an hour.'

‘Bloody hell! That's as much as some folk get paid a year!'

‘Well, not quite. And I bloody well work hard for my sixty per cent, I can assure you.'

‘So it's just for wealthy men, really, isn't it?' Harrie made another face. ‘I have to say, I can't really see the appeal of it.'

‘Not just men,' Friday said. ‘Mistress Ruby at Mrs Thompson's reckons she gets women now and then as well. Only rich ones, though.'

An escalating wail reached them: Charlotte had fallen flat on her face. Harrie crossed the lawn and picked her up, brushing damp leaves off the little girl's pinafore and the knees of her pantaloons.

Sitting down again with Charlotte on her lap, she said, ‘I've done a new series of flash for Leo. Do you want to see them?'

‘Yes, please,' Friday said quickly.

She'd always loved Harrie's tattoo designs, and wore one herself. She already had a peacock, roses and the name of her deceased daughter tattooed on her left arm, a Chinese dragon on her right, a bat with outstretched wings on her right calf (that one was Harrie's), and an enormous phoenix on her back, but felt it was time to get something else.

Blushing, Harrie rang a small silver bell on the tea tray. ‘Look at me,' she said. ‘What a lazy cow I'm turning into.'

When Daisy appeared, Harrie asked her to fetch her book of drawings from the parlour. Daisy trotted off, returning almost immediately.

Harrie moved the tea tray and opened the book on the table. ‘I've been getting interested in birds lately. The garden's full of them. I think it's all the berries. So I thought I might as well do a series. What do you think?'

‘Mama's pitchers,' Charlotte said, planting a grubby finger on the corner of one.

The stylised drawings depicted common local birds such as the crow, pigeon, petrel, sandpiper, cockatoo, gull, parrot, raven and magpie, but Harrie had, as usual, added her own stunningly decorative elements, as well as her little signature bat.

Friday let out a gasp. ‘Ooh, Harrie, they're lovely.'

‘They are,' Sarah agreed.

‘I like how they're a bit fierce, even the pigeon and the cockatoo, but beautiful at the same time,' Friday said. ‘Nowhere near as ghoulish as the ones you were doing a year ago, though I have to say they were bloody spectacular. I really fancy this crow. I might get that on my left calf.'

Sarah said, ‘Haven't you got enough tattoos?'

‘No, and nothing at all on my left leg. When were you thinking of giving them to Leo?'

‘This week,' Harrie said. ‘Tuesday morning, probably.'

‘Good. I'll pop down there and see him on Wednesday. You know, you really are very clever, Harrie.'

Harrie went pink again. Charlotte grizzled to be put down, and ran off into the house.

‘Adam'd like these,' Sarah said. ‘He's keen on birds. Would you be interested in doing a couple of bigger ones I could frame? I'd pay you, of course.'

‘Don't be silly, I'm not a proper artist.'

‘'Course you are. Look at these.' Sarah waved a hand at the flash. ‘Think about it. It'd be your first commission.'

‘Go on, they'd be lovely,' Friday said, sliding her flask out of her reticule and removing the cork with a squeak.

Harrie said, ‘It wouldn't be, not really. Leo's always paid me to draw them. That's a commission, isn't it? And I wouldn't make you pay, anyway. That's not what friends do.' She glanced at Friday. ‘I thought you were supposed to be making an effort to cut down? You told us Mrs Hislop said you had to.'

‘Did I?' Friday wiped her mouth. ‘I don't remember that.'

Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘You told us a couple of weeks ago that Mrs H said she'd fire you if you didn't. No drinking during the day or at work, you said.'

‘I'm not
at
work. It's my day off, today and tomorrow.'

‘I don't think that's quite what she meant, do you?' Harrie asked.

‘How do you know what she meant? You weren't there.' Friday felt her temper beginning to unravel. ‘Anyway, what's it got to do with her?'

‘She's your mistress, remember?' Sarah pointed out.

‘So? That doesn't give her the right to tell me what I can and can't drink. It's none of her business. It's none of yours, either.'

‘It is her business if you behave like an arsehole at work.'

‘Who says I do?'

‘Why wouldn't you?' Sarah said. ‘You behave like an arsehole with us when you're drunk, staggering round with your hair all over the place, pissed and swearing like a great stinking foul-mouthed . . . carrot.'

Friday thought that was incredibly rude. ‘Don't you call me a carrot.'

Harrie laughed, but, alarmed that the bickering would get out of hand, said, ‘Stop it, you two. We're just worried about you, Friday.'

‘Well, don't be. I can look after myself.'

‘Like the time you got arrested and ended up in before the magistrate?' Sarah said. ‘Look, why
won't
you stop drinking?'

‘I have. I've cut down a lot,' Friday lied.

‘Or can't you?' Sarah accused. ‘You can't, can you?'

‘Of course I bloody well can.'

‘Then why don't you?' Harrie asked. ‘You'd feel a lot better. And there's your new job. You don't want to lose that, do you?'

‘I won't lose it.'

‘Well, we'll see,' Sarah said.

Friday eyed her resentfully. Ever since she had failed Harrie six months previously, Sarah had been prickly towards her, especially about the drinking, and it was wearing very thin. Harrie said it was because Sarah loved and cared about her, but Friday wasn't so sure of that any more. Sometimes it felt like Sarah was putting the boot in just for the hell of it, and that hurt.

Daisy brought Charlotte out then for a kiss before her afternoon nap.

‘Bye bye, I not seeping,' Charlotte said as she planted a sloppy kiss on Friday's cheek.

‘Good for you,' Friday said.

They all waved as Charlotte was carted off.

‘I'm off myself,' Friday said, standing. ‘Things to do.'

‘Such as?' Sarah demanded.

‘Just things.' Like finishing my gin in peace. ‘Thanks for the tea and biscuits, Harrie. Sorry I missed James. Where is he?'

‘He and Matthew have gone to see a man about buying a carriage.'

‘Whatever next?' Sarah said, but there was no spite to the comment.

‘It wouldn't really be for us, it'd be for when he gets called out after hours.'

‘What's wrong with a horse?' Friday asked.

‘Where would he put the person who comes to fetch him? Behind him, holding on round his waist?'

‘That's true,' Friday said. Her face lit up. ‘We could borrow it and go on jaunts. There're some . . .' About to say ‘great pubs I know out on the Parramatta Road', she shut up, having caught Sarah's disapproving eye.

‘I thought you were leaving.'

‘I am.'

Harrie waggled her fingers in farewell.

Friday wandered down Hunter Street taking surreptitious slurps from her flask, then, surprised to find it empty by the time
she reached Essex Street, detoured slightly and stopped in at the Bird-in-Hand. Feeling sufficiently fortified, she headed home just after sunset. Countless bats passed silently overhead, bound for the fig trees on Bunkers Hill, Windmill Street, and Dawes Point, flying so low she could smell their faintly musky, fermented-fruit odour. She gazed up at them for a while, making herself dizzy.

At the Siren's Arms Jimmy was shovelling horse shit off the stable-yard cobbles — a lot of it — so there must be quite a few guests in the hotel tonight. Why horses had to wait to shit in the stable yard when there was plenty of street outside, she didn't know. She waved and went inside.

She was a bit mashed, her shoulder hurt, and, even though she was relieved beyond measure to not have to sleep with her customers any more, she felt deflated. Honestly, what was wrong with her?

And
the door to her room was ajar. Shite. She must have forgotten to lock it on her way out.

She opened it . . . and shrieked.

Aria was sitting on the end of the bed.

She smiled. ‘Good evening, Friday.'

‘Aria?' Friday rushed towards her, her heart pounding madly, then stopped, wondering if she'd had more to drink than she'd realised (quite possible) and was a bit delirious.

‘Yes, I am really here,' Aria said, grinning now.

‘Oh,' Friday said, utterly bereft of words. She put her hands on her cheeks and said ‘Oh' again.

Her stupefied daze was broken by the sound of feet pounding along the corridor outside, then Ivy, the hotel housegirl, burst into the room. ‘Miss Friday, are you all right?'

‘What? Yes, I'm fine. I . . . got a shock, that's all.'

Ivy's hands clutched at her apron. ‘I thought it'd be all right to let her come in and wait. I mean, she is your friend, isn't she?'

Friday looked at Aria and smiled. ‘Yes, she's definitely my friend. Sorry you got a fright, Ivy.'

Ivy nodded uncertainly. Friday closed the door after her and sat on the bed. She and Aria gazed at each other.

‘You smell of gin,' Aria said.

‘Sorry. God. I've looked forward to this for such a long time.'

‘So have I.'

‘Are you here with your family?'

‘No. I have run away.'

Friday's heart gave an almighty lurch. ‘From New Zealand?'

‘Yes, from Aotearoa, from my family, and from my betrothed, Te Paenga. I was to marry him this month, but I cannot. I cannot marry a man with ugly feet. I cannot marry a
man
at all.' Aria took Friday's hand. ‘I wish to be with you, Friday.'

Friday gave a strangled sob of shock and elation that came out sounding like ‘A-
hump
!' and felt silly. She cleared her throat. ‘You ran away to be with
me
?'

‘Yes. I could not be without you any longer.'

Friday raised Aria's fingers to her lips and kissed them. ‘But you didn't write to me. You didn't answer any of my letters.'

‘You did not send me any.'

‘I did so! I sent dozens.'

Aria's face creased in a frown, momentarily lending her beautiful features a faintly malevolent air. She gently detached her hand from Friday's. ‘I did not receive them. Also, I sent many to you. I gave them to my servant to deliver to Paihia to ships sailing for Sydney.'

‘Well, I never got them. Your mother, do you think?'

Aria nodded. ‘She has always interfered. Did you receive my gift at Christmas?'

‘I did and it was lovely! That and the letter are all I've had to keep me going. Otherwise I would have thought . . .' Friday knew that without those, her belief in Aria's love for her would have faltered months ago. Aria though had had nothing, but had still forsaken everything to come to Sydney to be with her. ‘Do you have somewhere to stay? Because you could live here, with me.'

‘Here, in your room?'

Friday nodded.

‘What might people say?'

‘Who cares what they say? Mrs H knows about us, and it's her hotel, and everyone else can go to hell. They probably won't even notice.'

Aria's eyebrows went up. ‘I thought you Pakeha do not approve of those who love their own kind?'

‘We don't, if it's men. They get sent to gaol and sometimes even the gallows if they're caught. But women going with women isn't against the law. We just become lovers or live together. Well, that's what happens with girls like me. I don't know what ladies do. The same, I expect.'

Aria glanced around the room. ‘I would love to live here with you, Friday, though I think we will need a bigger bed.'

Utterly delighted, Friday said, ‘We'll buy one tomorrow.'

‘But I will not work here. I am not a prostitute.'

‘Oh, no, that's not what I meant!' Friday was shocked that Aria would even think she'd have to work for her keep. ‘I've got enough money for both of us. Anyway I'm not doing that any more. I've got a new job. I'm a dominatrix now.'

‘Pardon me?

‘A dominatrix. I, er, whip people.'

‘For money?'

‘Loads of it.'

‘Men, do you mean?'

Friday nodded again. ‘They like it.'

‘How bizarre. Although,' Aria said, ‘there are some men at home I would have liked to have whipped. Extremely hard.'

‘It's not that sort of whipping. This is . . . measured. I don't do it to hurt them. Well, not badly.'

‘And you do not have to go with men at all any more?'

‘No. Great, isn't it?'

‘It is. I understand that prostitution is your trade, but it is demeaning and I would
really
rather not share you with anyone. I am not accustomed to sharing.'

‘Well, now you don't have to.' Friday gazed at Aria, smiling, happy and suddenly without a care in the world. ‘Oh, look, I'm so
rude. I'll ring for some tea.' She gave the bell-pull a tug. ‘When did you get here?'

‘An hour ago. I came on an American whaling ship. Not my first choice but I was not in a position to be picky.'

Friday's smile disappeared. ‘Did the crew give you trouble?'

Aria reached into her reticule on the floor and produced a wickedly sharp stiletto knife. ‘Not after the first day, no. There were men from the islands aboard, too. Near enough to kin. I was safe.'

‘Do you think your mother and father will come after you?'

‘Without doubt. My betrothal to Te Paenga would have had political benefit to my hapu. They will not give up such an advantage without a fight.'

‘Really? Shit.' That was something Friday could do without. ‘Oh! That reminds me.'

But she was interrupted by Ivy at the door. ‘You rang?'

‘I did, but first, Ivy, I want you to properly meet my friend Aria, who'll be staying with me. Aria's a New Zealand princess.'

Awestruck, Ivy bobbed a curtsy. ‘Good evening, Princess Aria.'

Aria stood, towering over the housegirl, and shook her hand, startling her. ‘Good evening, Ivy. You have such lovely hair. Also, I think we shall say “Miss”, not “Princess”.'

Friday thought that was very kind, and perceptive, as Ivy was quite plain but did have nice, shiny brown hair, and was proud of it. Aria would have a friend for life now.

‘Thank you, Miss Aria,' Ivy said, going scarlet and curtsying again.

‘Can you bring us a pot of tea and something to eat, Ivy? Aria's just got off a ship and she's probably starving. So am I, actually.'

‘But it's after ten o'clock.' Ivy looked faintly distraught. ‘The girls will have finished in the kitchen.'

‘Well, pinch us something. Cold meat and pickles? A bit of bread? Go on, there's a good girl,' Friday said, knowing that Ivy
would go to the ends of the earth and back to make her happy. She was very loyal, Ivy. She turned to Aria. ‘And while we're waiting, we might hop over to the brothel and I'll introduce you to Mrs H. She'd love to meet you.'

She'd rather stay here and take Aria's clothes off, but they'd only be interrupted. She caught the look in Aria's eye and saw she was thinking the same thing, and they shared a long, slow smile.

When Ivy had gone, Aria said, ‘Tell me what you were going to say before we were interrupted.'

‘Oh, right. Your Uncle Whiro's head? You know how you said you wanted solid evidence that Bella Shand was behind the theft before you did anything about it? Well, I think we've got it.'

Aria was suddenly very tense. ‘Show me.'

‘Well, when I say we've got it, I mean I know where we can get it. I've got this customer called Lucian Meriwether, who I see privately 'cos he bribed a magistrate called Clement Bloodworth to get me off an assault charge. Anyway, Bloodworth told Lucian he has a letter saying Bella was behind the importing of a shipment of heads into the colony at around the time your uncle's head was stolen.'

‘Are the upoko tuhi here?' Aria's eyes were full of hope. And something else that Friday found rather disquieting.

‘I don't know. Maybe,' she said carefully. ‘I've heard a lot of them get sent to England.'

‘How do we get this letter? I have to see it.'

‘You know Sarah in the jewellery shop, the girl you gave my Christmas present to?'

‘Small, dark hair, clever?'

‘That's her. Well, she's a thief. A bloody good one. There isn't a lock or a safe she can't crack.'

‘Crack?'

‘Break into. And she also breaks into people's houses.'

‘Ah,' Aria said.
‘She
can get the letter. How much will I have to pay her?'

‘Nothing, because what you need for your revenge thing —'

‘Utu.'

‘Yeah, that's also what we need to stop Bella blackmailing us.'

‘Then why has Sarah not stolen the letter already?'

‘She's waiting for the right opportunity. Bloodworth's house is always overflowing with people. But when the time comes, she'll be in there like a rat up a drainpipe.'

‘Then we must think of a way to empty Bloodworth's house.'

‘That's easier said than done.'

‘In Aotearoa we would simply launch a raid.'

‘Well, yes, but we're in Sydney Town.'

‘This is true,' Aria said ruefully.

‘Shall we go and say hello to Mrs H? Just for a minute?'

On the way downstairs they met Ivy coming up with tea, buttered bread and two wedges of chicken pie.

‘Miss Friday, your tea. It'll get cold.'

‘Thanks, love, we won't be long.'

‘And I would very much like a bath,' Aria said. ‘Could that be arranged please, Ivy? I have not had a proper wash in twelve days.'

‘Poo!' Friday said.

Ivy nodded and trudged off.

Friday led Aria along the alleyway from the Siren's Arms and through the gate into the brothel's backyard, where Connie and Lou, both rostered on for the evening shift, loitered on the steps while Connie had a quick puff on her pipe. They stared openly as Friday and Aria approached out of the darkness.

Grinning broadly, Friday said, ‘Girls, this is my friend Aria, from New Zealand. She'll be staying with us. With me. Aria, this is Connie and Lou.'

‘Loulou Lacroix,' Lou corrected.

‘I am very pleased to meet you,' Aria said, shaking hands.

Connie remarked, ‘You're a big one, aren't you?'

‘Actually, I am quite small compared to my sisters. Also, you should see my brothers,' Aria said.

‘God, I'd love to.'

Friday said proudly, ‘I'm taking her to meet Mrs H.'

As the back door closed behind them, Connie remarked, ‘Fancy that. Mind you, I did wonder if she was one for the girls.'

Lou shrugged. ‘No skin off our noses, is it?'

‘'Spose not. Her, er, friend's gorgeous.'

‘Her lover,' Lou corrected. ‘Why don't you just say it? And yes, she is.'

Elizabeth was, after all Friday's months of drunken whingeing, very pleased to meet Aria. ‘My dear, I'm delighted. Friday has been missing you terribly. She told me you're lovely, but the word really doesn't do you justice. And this is just stunning.' She tapped her chin, indicating the intricate tattoo Aria wore.

‘Thank you, Mrs Hislop. I am very pleased to meet you.'

‘I've asked Aria to stay with me,' Friday said. ‘That's all right, isn't it?'

‘It is. Perhaps now you might stop in at night more often,' Elizabeth replied pointedly. ‘Unless, that is, Aria enjoys being out and about after dark herself.'

Aria said, ‘If by that you are asking do I drink, Mrs Hislop, no, I do not.'

‘Wise girl.' Elizabeth looked happy. ‘Wouldn't it be nice, Friday, if some of Aria's abstemious behaviour rubbed off on you? But of course, now that you have your heart's desire, you don't need to drink, do you?'

‘No, actually, I don't.'

And right then, Friday truly believed it. She felt happier and more carefree than she had in many months — perhaps even since she'd been transported. She didn't need gin any more: she had Aria. And she had Harrie and Sarah and other friends, and a good new
job and plenty of money. Yes, there was still Bella the Bitch, but there might even be a way to fight her now, too. Bugger the booze!

Desperate to be alone with Aria, she said, ‘Let's go, I'm starving and our tea will be getting cold.'

As they left holding hands — rather sweetly, Elizabeth thought — she gazed after them. Off for a tumble, that was obvious. She'd seen the looks passing between them. She really was thrilled for Friday, and hoped that Aria's return would be her saving grace, but she could foresee problems on the horizon. For a start, just on the domestic front, Ivy was not going to be their personal servant. Ivy adored Friday but she was a bonded convict assigned to Elizabeth as a housegirl and she had a job to do, which did not include waiting on those two girls all hours of the day and night.

For another start, Elizabeth knew very well the heady, all-consuming heights of new love; she might be old now but could still remember with heart-racing, belly-flipping clarity the almost rabid passion she and Gil had shared during their first year together. They'd fucked like rabbits and she'd thought of nothing else but him. She had no doubt that Friday and Aria would be the same, and worried that Friday's infatuation would distract her from her work. Flogging was a job requiring considerable mental concentration and physical skill. She'd have to have a quiet word, possibly with Aria rather than Friday. Aria — hopefully — would understand that Friday had to work; not just because she was employed by Elizabeth, but to help keep her sober.

Her third concern worried her most. Aria, she knew, had been raised as royalty and no doubt expected, and was accustomed to usually getting, her own way. Friday, although born into a life far removed from Aria's, also did exactly as she liked, and to hell with everyone else. Elizabeth could foresee some dreadful clashes, especially after the heat of their new love mellowed. And those first, searing flames of passion always did die down, leaving
lovers to face the stark truth of each other — faults, failings and unpleasant habits included. Aria and Friday clearly both had forceful personalities, and Elizabeth had no desire to see the first floor of the Siren's Arms become a battleground. In fact, she couldn't allow it.