The Silk Thief (26 page)

Aria stood, letting the dress fall, and stepped out of it, snatching from Friday a quick, involuntary gasp. She was absolutely magnificent. Unable to stop staring at her, Friday fumbled at the buttons of her own gown, wriggled out of it, tore her shift off over her head, and stepped naked into Aria’s embrace.

‘You are very, very lovely yourself,’ Aria whispered.

Friday gently pushed Aria onto the bed, then climbed on too, knelt over her and kissed her, her palms grazing the brown nipples. Aria moaned and ran her hand down Friday’s belly and into her pubic hair. Friday felt close to exploding already, and didn’t want to.

She wriggled down the bed and carefully parted the gap in Aria’s drawers, breathing warmth onto the moistness between her legs. She felt Aria grip a fistful of her hair. Flicking out her tongue, she began to lick, exploring the sweet folds and crevasses, finding the spot that made Aria twitch and groan, setting up a rhythm Aria matched with counter-thrusts of her hips. Unwilling to wait —
unable
to wait — Friday pressed herself against Aria’s leg, rubbing in time, feeling her own climax building. She held on until Aria cried out, her back arching off the bed, then let the pleasure burst and ripple through her.

A minute or so later, her head resting on Aria’s thigh, she said when her breath had returned, ‘Sorry. That was a bit greedy. I couldn’t wait.’

‘That is all right. Your elbow is on my hair.’

‘Sorry.’ Friday moved.

Aria sat up. ‘That was extremely nice, thank you. You are very skilled.’

‘I was a bit worried. You know, that girls might do things differently in New Zealand.’

Grinning, Aria said, ‘No, it is more or less the same.’ She cupped Friday’s face with a hand and kissed her lingeringly. ‘But perhaps we are a little different. Shall I show you?’

‘Oh, yes please.’

At midday, Aria looked at the clock again and let out a squawk of alarm. ‘Bugger! I must go. My mother will have everyone out looking for me by now!’ She slid off the bed, scrambled into her drawers, and put on her boots. Stepping into her dress, she held her hair out of the way and asked, ‘Will you close the buttons, please?’

While her fingers were busy, Friday said, ‘When do you go back to New Zealand?’

‘Tomorrow.’

Friday’s heart felt squeezed and for a second she couldn’t breathe, which was silly as she’d known Aria’s visit to Sydney was only for a week or so. ‘So soon?’ she said.

‘I know. I am sorry. You could come to New Zealand to visit me,’ Aria said. ‘Not to my home in the Bay of Islands, my mother would not allow that, but we could meet somewhere else.’

‘I can’t. I’m a convict.’ Tears stung Friday’s eyes. ‘I can’t leave Sydney.’

Aria turned and took Friday’s hands. ‘Then I will see you the next time my mother and father come here for business.’

‘She’s not going to let you come back, though, is she?’ Friday said.

‘But I want to see you again.’

‘And I want to see you.’

‘Then I will try, Friday. I will try as hard as I can.’

Aria glanced at the shingle above the shop door announcing in gold lettering
Adam and Sarah Green Fine Jewellery
, and touched her mother’s arm.

‘This is it,’ she said in Maori.

‘And they have the best prices?’ Mahuika asked.

‘And best quality,’ Aria said, though she didn’t know if that were true or not. Neither did she care. The expedition to buy jewellery was a ruse, but one she knew her mother wouldn’t be able to resist, despite still being angry at her for disappearing this morning. She’d said she’d been bored and had gone for a walk in Hyde Park. Her mother hadn’t believed her, but there was nothing to be done about it by the time she’d returned.

‘Who recommended this jeweller to you?’ Mahuika asked.

‘A lady I met walking in the park. A very fine lady. You would have approved of her, Mother,’ Aria said, getting in a dig at her mother’s snobbery.

Mahuika scowled, but Aria could see she was tempted. No one, in fact, had recommended the shop — Friday had merely mentioned that her friend, Sarah, had been assigned here and had married the jeweller, Adam Green.

They went in. Behind the counter stood the girl whom Aria had seen in the draper’s with Friday — Sarah, presumably. She was small (but almost all Pakeha women were), dark and quite attractive in a sleek sort of way, with clever eyes.

‘Good morning, ladies. How may I help you?’

If she’d recognised her, Aria thought, she wasn’t letting on. Perhaps Friday had told her Mahuika didn’t like her. If so, that would be very useful.

‘Good morning,’ Mahuika said, switching to English. ‘We would like to look at gold. Chains and earrings, I think.’

‘And perhaps some bangles,’ Aria said.

‘Are you considering eighteen or twenty-two carat?’

‘What do you recommend?’ Aria asked.

‘Eighteen carat is more durable than twenty-two. It’s harder and won’t scratch as badly. I’d recommend eighteen carat for a bangle and probably for a neck chain, particularly if you were considering wearing a pendant with it. Twenty-two carat is suitable for earrings, however.’

‘Show us some bangles in eighteen carat, then,’ Mahuika said, ‘wide, not narrow. A selection of long chains also in eighteen carat, and some drop earrings in twenty-two carat. I do not like the short ones that sit close to the ear.’

‘Certainly.’ Sarah opened the hatch in the counter and unlocked a display cabinet containing bangles and bracelets. She removed a tray, relocked the cabinet and moved to the one containing chains.

‘I will take that tray if you like,’ Aria volunteered.

‘Thank you,’ Sarah said.

As Sarah handed it to her, Aria said under her breath, ‘I have something for Friday.’

Sarah gave the smallest of nods and opened the next cabinet.

Soon there were five trays on the counter, and Mahuika, laden with gold, was busy admiring herself in the looking glass.

‘Have you decided on a bangle, Aria?’ she asked, apparently unable to tear her gaze from her own glittering reflection.

Aria made a pretence of dithering. ‘I cannot make up my mind.’ She slid a snake-quick hand into a pocket, passed Sarah a small, cloth-wrapped parcel, and mouthed, ‘Christmas.’ Sarah took it and popped it into a drawer.

Mahuika turned around. ‘I wish to purchase these earrings, and these three chains.’

‘And I would like this,’ Aria said, indicating the first bangle she’d tried on.

As Mahuika counted out her money, Sarah found velvet-covered presentation boxes for the jewellery.

‘Thank you,’ Mahuika said, slipping the boxes into her reticule.

Aria caught Sarah’s gaze and held it briefly. ‘Yes, thank you very much.’

Friday was in a particularly foul mood, and her behaviour was only making Harrie’s headache worse. She and Leo had been working all afternoon on Friday’s phoenix, now half completed, and she’d complained the entire time about not being able to drink. Leo didn’t allow alcohol during a session, and she’d grizzled and sworn and bitched since midday. It was now almost six o’clock and Harrie, close to tears from the exhaustion of bending over Friday’s back and concentrating so hard, felt like slapping her, only she didn’t have the energy. She wished Leo had started her on something smaller, but she would have been too nervous to practise on anyone else but Friday, who of course wanted an enormous tattoo.

The design began on Friday’s shoulders and ended on one thigh. The bird’s outstretched wings spread across Friday’s back, the tip of the left wing touching her left shoulder blade, the head on her right shoulder blade, and the tip of the right wing extending beneath her right arm to brush her breast. The long, full feathers of the tail swept down the left side of her back, flicked out at her waist and curved across her right buttock, the longest tail feather ending at the top of the back of her thigh. Between the bird’s head and left wing hovered Harrie’s trademark bat. The entire outline had been completed, the individual feathers of the body and wings coloured red, green and blue, and now they were colouring the tail feathers orange and red. It would be stunning when it was finished — it was fabulous now — but today Harrie had had enough. Mostly of Friday.

‘I think we’ll call it a day,’ Leo said, looking over Harrie’s shoulder.

‘Thank God,’ Friday grumbled. ‘I’m going to
die
if I don’t get a fucking drink. It
is
my day off, you know.’

‘You didn’t have to lie here all afternoon bitching and moaning,’ Leo said. ‘You could quite easily have gone somewhere else and done that.’

‘No, I couldn’t. I had an appointment here. It’s not
my
fault you’ve got a stupid rule about not drinking.’

The rule never bothered you before, Harrie thought. In fact, Friday usually loved being tattooed. She got so relaxed she might as well be drunk. ‘What
is
the matter?’ she asked as she applied salve to the freshly inked areas. ‘You’ve been really horrible today.’

‘
Nothing’s
the matter.’

Harrie and Leo exchanged exasperated glances.

‘Is it because your friend’s gone back home?’ Harrie said. Sarah had told her Friday had made a new friend, though also that she was worried Friday would be upset now that the girl had returned to New Zealand.

Sliding off the tattoo bench, Friday tugged down her shift and closed the waistband on her skirt. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What else did she say?’

‘Nothing. Just that. Oh! I just realised,’ Harrie said. ‘Was it that girl, Aria? The one who came here?’

‘Yes, it was,’ Friday muttered. Ferreting around in her reticule for a hip flask of gin, she waved it at Leo. ‘Can I drink
now
?’

‘You can do what you like now Harrie’s finished.’

‘Friday?’ Harrie persisted. ‘Is that why you’re upset?’

‘It might be.’ Friday took an enormous swig and let out a reverberating burp. ‘Well, I’m off to the pub. Me and Molly are getting on the jar.’

‘Good,’ Leo said to her retreating back. ‘And don’t come back until you’re in a better mood.’

In response, Friday slammed the door.

Harrie said, ‘She didn’t even say thank you.’

Leo shrugged. ‘I’m glad to see the back of her. Foul-tempered witch.’

‘It’s really not like her to be so horrible. Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with her,’ Harrie said as she went to fetch fresh cloths to clean her needles.

‘I think I might,’ Leo muttered. When Harrie returned he asked, ‘How’s the new lass working out at the Barretts’?’

‘Good. Her name’s Emma and she’s nice and very efficient, though I think Hannah’s trying her nerves a little. But Hannah tries everyone’s nerves.’

‘Assigned?’

‘No, she immigrated here. She only arrived last month.’

‘And Nora’s managed to convince George the lass’s pay’s coming out of my purse, not hers?’

Harrie nodded. ‘We had to tell Emma she’s to pretend you’re paying her once a week, but I don’t think she cares as long as she gets her money. Mr Barrett keeps going on about what a clever deal Mrs Barrett did getting you to jemmy open your purse.’ Harrie made an apologetic face. ‘I’m very sorry, but he keeps saying you must be more stupid than you look.’

Leo laughed. ‘
I’m
stupid?’

Friday and Molly had been in the Fortune of War since seven o’clock and were both swattled. Friday had already thrown up once when she went outside for a wee — not because she’d drunk herself ill, but due to the sheer amount of ale and gin sloshing around in her belly. It had all rushed up and out when she’d bent over to lift her skirts before she’d squatted. How bloody annoying, and what a waste of money. But she had plenty of it in a little cloth purse shoved down the front of her bodice, so she soon filled up again, this time on gin and brandy, never mind the ale. She should have remembered that ale never sat too well in her stomach.

The pub was small and crowded, with only one great table down the middle of the room, low stools and narrow ledges lining the two longest walls, and the serving counter at the far end. The windows were wide open in an attempt to let muggy, rain-tainted evening air into the stuffy interior. In a corner a trio of musicians jammed onto a tiny platform were bashing out tunes on a battered old military snare drum, a fiddle and a wooden flute. There was a severe shortage of seats, and for that reason Friday and Molly began the evening carrying their stools up to the counter so as not to lose them, but the drunker they got, the more complicated this became until eventually they ended up sitting on people’s laps.

For the first time in the days since Aria had gone back to New Zealand, Friday felt the painful ache in her chest subside a little. She knew she’d been mean to Harrie and Leo this afternoon, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she’d opened her mouth, no matter what she’d intended to say, something nasty had come out. If Leo had let her drink, it mightn’t have been so bad, but he hadn’t. Even the lovely needles, normally so soothing, hadn’t helped.

God almighty, what was she going to do? Getting mashed out of her head tonight was one thing, but even she knew she couldn’t stay drunk forever. Well, not this drunk. How was she going to live from day to day not knowing whether she’d ever see Aria again?

The smelly, grope-handed cove whose knee she was sitting on shouted in her ear to shift her arse — he had to go out the back to pump ship. Hoping he’d lose his way and drown in the cesspit, Friday waved Molly over and they both squeezed into his space on the bench. Having grown sick of the inconvenience of traipsing up and down to the counter, they’d both bought bottles of spirits — gin for Friday and brandy for Molly. The bottles were now half empty. Friday’s face and mouth were growing numb, and she was fast reaching the point at which she knew she would switch from being an amiable drunk to a deeply unpleasant one.

And, frankly, she was quite looking forward to it. She could do with a bloody good fight.

Molly said, ‘Christ, it’s hot. I’m seeing double. Are you?’

‘Dunno.’ Friday closed one eye then opened it again. ‘Nearly.’

‘Maybe we should have had some supper.’