A Tattooed Heart (24 page)

They'd all come the minute they'd heard. Harrie had sent Robbie around to everyone she could think of who might be able to help, and they'd all come. Sarah and Adam, who'd closed their shop; Friday and Aria (Friday had walked out on a customer); Leo, Walter and Serafina; Nora Barrett; and Matthew and Lucy, who'd both begged off work due to an emergency. Elizabeth Hislop had sent a note offering the services of both herself and Jack Wilton; Lawrence Chandler had done the same, and told James not to return to the surgery until Charlotte had been found.

There were, however, no police.

There was little room left in the parlour, and no seats, despite the chairs having been brought through from the dining room.

Leo said, ‘Friday's idea about Leary taking the wee lass away —'

‘Lucian's
idea,' Friday corrected.

‘Aye, I talked to the harbour master and according to him on Sunday the sixteenth of September at around five o'clock there were only two vessels sailing from Port Jackson.'

‘Excuse my ignorance,' Lucy said. ‘I'm sorry, but where is Port Jackson?'

‘The whole of Sydney Harbour's Port Jackson,' Matthew told her, ‘including Sydney Cove, Farm Cove, Darling Harbour, everywhere.'

‘Oh.' Lucy went pink.

Matthew patted her hand comfortingly.

‘Two vessels,' Leo went on, ‘and they were the
Sheffield
, bound for Portsmouth, and the
Sophia Jane
, a paddlesteamer heading back to Newcastle. Newcastle here, that is, not Newcastle in England. At eight o'clock that night, the
John Tanner
was sailing for Cork, but I think it more likely Leary'd have wanted a five o'clock cast-off. He wouldn't have wanted to hang about with an unhappy two-year-old for three hours. And why would Leary want to go to Cork anyway? He's not Irish. My money would have been on the
Sophia Jane
if things had gone to plan.'

‘Did the
Sophia Jane
leave here today for Newcastle?' James demanded.

‘No, but another paddlesteamer, the
William the Fourth
, did. At midday.'

‘But why would Leary want to take Charlotte to Newcastle?' Harrie wailed. ‘What's in Newcastle? James, why would he take her to Newcastle?' Bursting into tears yet again she reached blindly for his hand. He took it and squeezed, then slipped his free arm around her shuddering shoulders.

‘Is —?' His voice cracking with distress, James cleared his throat and started again. ‘Is the harbour master amenable to a bribe? I can't say I know the man that well.'

‘I do. He's a mate,' Leo said. ‘What do you want of him?'

‘To see a copy of the manifest for the
William the Fourth
. Presumably all captains still have to lodge one when they leave port? We always did when I was at sea.'

‘Far as I know.' Leo rose. ‘I'll go down now and have a yarn with him.'

‘I'll come with you,' Friday said.

‘No, you won't, you're swattled.'

Friday opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again.

‘I'll come,' Sarah said. She stood up, snatched Friday's bottle of gin off her and emptied it out the window. ‘And you can bloody well stop drinking.'

Aghast, Friday exclaimed, ‘Oi! That's all I've got!'

‘Bad luck. Sober up. You, me, Aria and Harrie need to talk when I get back.' Sarah turned to Aria. ‘Make her eat something, will you? Some of that hogget and some bread.
No
more booze.'

And she marched out of the parlour, leaving Leo to trot after her.

Outside on the street, he said, ‘Do I get the impression you're angry?'

‘Of course I'm bloody angry! He took her from right under Harrie's nose! Honestly, she couldn't have watched her any more closely. He must have followed them home from the market, or been waiting at the house or something. God, poor Harrie. Poor James. Did you see the state they're in?'

‘Aye, lass, I saw.'

‘What an absolute prick. When I catch up with him I'll bloody well kill him.'

Leo eyed her uneasily. ‘Sorry, lass, for a minute there I thought you said when
you
catch up with him.'

‘I did. So?'

Leo slowly shook his head, his expression resolute. ‘Sarah, I don't think you understand. Jonah Leary is a
very
nasty piece of work.'

‘Is that so?'

‘No need to be sarcastic. With all due respect, lass, you should probably leave going after Leary to the menfolk. There's a lot at stake.'

His voice was gentle, and so, now, was his expression. He was obviously trying to spare her feelings, but Sarah didn't give a bugger.

Poking him in his brawny chest with a sharp finger, she said, ‘I don't think
you
understand, Leo. Charlotte's
ours
. She belongs to me, Harrie and Friday. When Rachel was alive we were a crew, a tight crew, and we vowed to look out for one another, and that included Charlotte. Now she's in terrible trouble and we're not going to just sit back and let someone else dither about having a half-arsed go at rescuing her.' She stood on tip-toes so she could get right in Leo's face. ‘And you've got
no
idea of what we're capable of. Really, Leo, you haven't.'

Leo stuck up a hand, fingers out. ‘One,' he folded down his index finger, ‘I'm not asking you to sit back. Two,' his middle finger this time, ‘no one's dithering about and I can assure you there'll be nothing half arsed about what we do to get her back. And three,' ring finger, ‘I wouldn't be at all surprised by what you're capable of. I really wouldn't. But you're convicts, you can't actually leave Sydney. You just can't do it by yourselves and that's a fact. And I don't want Harrie any more upset than she already is. I don't want her dragged into some terrible bloody confrontation that ends in the wee lass getting hurt or . . . worse. Do you really think she could bear that? Do you
want
her to get sick again?'

‘Of course I don't. But she's a lot stronger than she was.'

‘She is, I'll grant you that, but is she strong enough? And it's not just her. What about Friday?'

Sarah snorted and looked away. Trust him to bring her up. ‘Well, I don't know, do I? I'm not responsible for her.'

‘But you are.' Leo's eyes gleamed shrewdly. ‘You just said you all vowed to look out for one another. You can't just ignore what's happening to her because it doesn't suit. And she'll scupper anything you try to do, you know. She'll get mashed and it won't be four of you, it'll be three of you and one loud, messy, bad-tempered drunk.'

‘Shut up, Leo.' Sarah strode off down the street.

Leo followed her. ‘No, I won't. You know you can't do it by yourselves. Come on, Sarah, be reasonable.'

She turned on him. ‘Why do you have to be such an arsehole?'

‘Years of practice.'

Sarah nearly smiled but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing he'd amused her. She stomped off again, arms swinging, aware that he was right behind her.

Down on the foreshore of Sydney Cove she fell back and let Leo take the lead, as he knew his way to the harbour master's office.

Leo checked his watch. ‘Dinnertime. Hope to Christ he's in. I hear he's building a big new house on Fort Street. He might be there, but I doubt it. He takes his job pretty seriously. Well, he isn't building his house, of course, some poor gang of convicts is.'

‘Nice for some.'

‘You're not doing too badly.'

But Captain Nicholson was in his office: a man getting on in years, greying and possessed of a full beard and heavy moustache. Your standard seadog, Sarah thought.

‘Afternoon, John,' Leo said, shaking hands and introducing Sarah.

‘Good to see you, Leo. Good afternoon, Mrs Green, charmed
to meet you.' Indicating a pair of chairs facing his desk, he added, ‘Please, take a seat. How may I be of assistance?'

‘We're looking for a cove and a wee lass we think might have boarded the
William the Fourth
bound for Newcastle today.'

Captain Nicholson glanced at the handsome clock on his mantel, placed precisely between a boxed chronometer and a sextant, both crafted from gleaming brass. ‘Cast-off at midday?'

‘Aye, that's her. I was wondering if I could have a look at her manifest.'

‘Now, you know manifests aren't for public scrutiny, Leo. Would you have a specific reason for wanting to see it?'

‘The lass doesn't belong to the cove.'

‘Ah. I see. Well, in that case . . .' The captain crossed to a large set of wooden drawers, opened one and withdrew a sheet of paper. Handing it to Leo, he sat at his desk and looked out the window.

Running his blunt finger down the page, Leo said to Sarah, ‘This could be them.'

‘Let me see.' Sarah virtually snatched the paper from his hand. ‘Which ones are you looking at?'

‘“J Bennett and M Bennett (child)”.'

‘Why them? They're others with “child” next to them.'

‘Bennett's the missing brother, and I reckon “J” stands for Jonah and “M” for Malcolm. That was the brother who died in my shop.'

‘I could ask, but I'm not sure I want to know,' John Nicholson said dryly.

‘Best you don't. No other ships have sailed since midday?'

‘No, although two are due to leave on the outgoing tide late this afternoon at around six o'clock. As you know, the paddlesteamers don't need the tide.'

‘Do you have the manifests?'

‘Too early. You know what folk are like. Always embarking at the last possible minute. One isn't a passenger ship anyway,
that's the —' the captain reached for a ledger and opened it ‘—
Trident II
. She's cargo only. Wool. And the other's only carrying six passengers, all cabin.' He looked up. ‘Can your man afford a cabin?'

Casually leaning forwards, her elbows on her knees, Sarah had a good stare at a ledger open on the desk listing vessels, together with their captains, currently at anchor in Sydney Harbour.

‘Unlikely,' Leo replied. ‘Though you never know. Where's she bound?'

‘Woolwich.'

Leo and Sarah glanced at each other. ‘He won't want to go to Woolwich,' Sarah said. ‘What would be the point? He's convinced his brother's here.'

‘Aye.' Leo passed the copy of the manifest back to John Nicholson. ‘It's the
William the Fourth
, I'm sure. Thanks, John. I owe you one.'

‘Anything I can do to help. Within reason, of course.'

‘Much obliged.'

On the way back to Harrie and James's, Leo said, ‘Port Nicholson in New Zealand's named after John, you know.'

What a useless piece of information, Sarah thought. ‘Does that sort of thing impress you?'

‘Not in itself, but he was, and still is, a first-rate mariner. I admire the man. Does
nothing
impress you? Your life must feel very mediocre some days.'

Mediocre? That stung. ‘No, my life does
not
feel mediocre. I love my job, and my husband, and my friends. Even Friday. I'm perfectly aware that I've far more than a lot of women.' You rude bugger.

‘Well, then, smile.'

‘Not while that prick's got Charlotte.'

‘Fair comment. When we get back to Harrie's we need to talk about a handful of us heading up to Newcastle, though Christ
knows why he's taken the wee lass up there. I'll go, obviously, and James, and maybe Matthew. Would Adam be keen? He looks handy.'

Sarah only grunted: she couldn't answer for Adam.

Anyway, she had other ideas.

They arrived back just as Serafina was laying out her cards on a side table in the parlour.

‘Serafina's doing a reading for Charlotte. To try and see, you know, what might happen,' Harrie said, her voice heavy with meaning.

To find out where she is, Sarah thought.

James looked deeply disapproving. ‘I really don't think we've time for party tricks.' He was the only one not gazing spellbound at Serafina's pale, slim hands as she turned over the tarot cards.

‘Your idea?' Sarah asked Harrie.

Harrie nodded.

The cards now laid out in a spread of five, Serafina stared down at them for a moment, then said, ‘I need something of Charlotte's. Something she values.'

‘Her doll,' Harrie said eagerly. ‘The one Friday gave her. She loves that. Daisy, do you know where it is?'

Daisy shot off to fetch it.

‘Can you see anything yet?' Friday asked, hanging over the table.

Waving her hand in front of her face, Serafina said, ‘Only a cloud of gin fumes.'

‘Sorry.' Friday sat back.

‘I've never had my cards read,' Nora said. ‘I'm too frightened to.'

Lucy said, ‘I did, at home once. There was a woman at a fair last year, a gypsy, charging thruppence a reading.'

‘And did she tell you you'd marry a prince and live a life of riches beyond your wildest dreams?' James asked.

‘No, she said I'd travel to lands that were upside down and marry a man with ink on his hands.'

Sarah smiled to herself as Matthew surreptitiously inspected his hands, his face lighting up at the discovery of a smudge of Indian ink on the outer aspect of his right little finger.

‘Had she been drinking?' Nora asked.

‘Probably.'

Daisy returned with the doll, now somewhat worse for wear. Some of the varnish had chipped off its hair, a wooden arm was loose, and the lace was unravelling from its lovely silk evening gown — all injuries caused by love.

Serafina took it and laid it in her lap, one hand on the doll's belly. She closed her eyes for a moment. Harrie, Friday, Sarah and Leo all knew she was seeing, but the others were oblivious. Then she opened her eyes, laid two more cards on the spread for show, and spoke.