‘What are those?’ she asked.

  ‘The black specimens? Striking, aren’t they? They’re huia birds, native to New Zealand. Curiously, they mate for life. Very highly prized by the Maoris, too. They view them as sacred. Only those of high rank are entitled to wear the feathers or skins. I’m told they’re occasionally given as tokens of esteem, respect and love.’

  Friday felt a warm glow spread though her chest, and a burst of goodwill towards Mr Meriwether. She decided she didn’t mind keeping him company, as long as he was paying for her time — which he was, and very handsomely, too.

  At five minutes to four he withdrew his watch and said wistfully, ‘Oh dear, I see my treat is coming to an end. But what a delightful way to finish the year. Thank you, Miss Friday. I trust you will be back soon?’

  ‘When would you like to see me?’

  ‘In a fortnight? I’ll send word.’

  ‘As long as you give me plenty of notice. I’m usually quite booked up.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt you are.’ Mr Meriwether took her hand and kissed it. ‘Will you forgive me for not seeing you to the door? I’m afraid I’m feeling a little, er, battered.’

  ‘I can see myself out,’ Friday said, standing. ‘Have a nice New Year, Mr Meriwether.’

  ‘A happy New Year to you, too.’

  Closing the front door behind her, she hurried down the path, pleased to see Jack waiting on the street in the gig. She slid her case under the seat, hoisted her skirts and climbed up, settling herself beside him.

  ‘How’d it go?’ he asked.

  ‘Bloody hard work, actually. Afternoon tea was nice.’

  ‘Mrs H says to remind you you’ve got a customer at half past four.’

  Friday hadn’t forgotten. ‘Well, get a move on then.’

  But something caught her eye as they neared Bella Shand’s establishment, farther south on Princes Street — Bella’s distinctive midnight-blue curricle emerging from the carriageway at the side of her house.

  Friday grabbed Jack’s arm. ‘Stop!’

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘Just do it, Jack.’

  Sighing heavily, he did.

  Friday squinted to pick out the driver of the curricle, who appeared to be wearing a dress. It looked like — it was! Louisa Coutts. Louisa drove the curricle onto the street and parked in front of the house. A moment later, Bella appeared from the shadows, her hand at her brow as though shielding her eyes from the sun. And she was carrying a cane. She crossed the shallow verandah running along the rear of the house, which faced the street, descended the three steps, and walked unhurriedly to the curricle. She wasn’t limping, merely using the cane a little for support. She seemed perhaps a hint slower than usual, but alert as ever, her back straight and her head held high. Friday’s heart sank.

  Louisa jumped down from the curricle and helped Bella to climb up onto the seat.

  ‘Go,’ Friday urged Jack. ‘I want to see her up close.’

  Jack flicked the reins and the gig moved parallel to Bella’s vehicle. Friday leant out past Jack and stared. Slowly, so slowly, Bella turned her head. She wore a hat with a brim that cast a shadow across her features, but Friday could still see her face. She was as thin as usual, her nose as prominent as a shark’s fin, but, disappointingly, there was no evidence in her features of some terrible, life-sapping disease. Her eyes remained twin pools of glittering jet, rimmed, as usual, with the kohl she favoured, and full of her sharp, detestable intelligence. The ringlets of her wig gleamed in stark contrast with her white-powdered skin, and long, heavy gold earrings visibly stretched her earlobes. Friday noted with satisfaction that neither the slash of red lip rouge nor the deep purple of Bella’s expensive dress and matching silk scarf at her throat complemented her pale complexion. But then, she never seemed to wear colours that suited her.

  Bella sneered, her curled upper lip revealing yellowing teeth and, Friday was sure, a new gap at the side. Good job.

  ‘Slag,’ Bella mouthed.

  ‘Bitch,’ Friday responded, and raised two fingers.

  Knowing Friday, and what would surely happen next, Jack gripped the reins and urged his horses forwards. Mrs H would kill him if he didn’t get Friday back to the brothel on time, or if he delivered her late and with a black eye.

  But instead of berating him as they tore off down the street, the horses’ hooves scattering gravel, Friday sat beside him, deep in thought.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘She might not be dying, Jack, but her teeth are falling out and she’s using a cane. I suppose that’s better than nothing.’

  ‘Is it?’ He had no idea what she was talking about.

  ‘Yes. It is.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  January 1832, Sydney Town

  Harrie saw him coming and tried to get away by weaving through the crowd in the market shed and ducking out the door at the far end, but she wasn’t fast enough. He caught up with her just as she got outside, and grabbed hold of her basket, almost tugging it from her grasp. She thought of screaming at the top of her voice in the hope that folk would think she was being assaulted, which in a way she was, but was loath to draw so much attention to herself.

  ‘Wait, stop,’ he said. ‘I want to talk to you.’

  She stood perfectly still, eyes cast down, hoping that if she said nothing, eventually he would go away. This had been a mistake, coming to the market by herself — a terrible one — just as James said it would be.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ Jonah Leary said loudly, as though she were deaf or slow. ‘It’s Mary, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, Harrie. Please let go of my basket.’

  He did. ‘That’s a strange name for a girl.’

  ‘Please go away.’ Bands of panic tightened around Harrie’s chest. ‘I don’t know anything about another tattoo, and neither does Leo. So leave me alone. Leave us both alone.’

  Leary nodded gravely, giving every indication of seriously considering her request, then leant towards her, as though he were about to share a confidence. Harrie stepped back; if he was, she didn’t want to hear it. ‘Granted, I might have made a mistake about the second tattoo,’ he said. ‘It turns out me brother, Bennett that is, could be here in Sydney after all. Hale and hearty, I mean. And if he is, me other brother Malcolm wouldn’t have had bits of him tanned or floating in a jar, would he?’ He smiled. ‘So, I’ll ask you this. Do you know Bennett Leary?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘You’ve never heard of someone with a map tattooed on his back?’

  ‘Only your brother, Malcolm.’ Oh, why will he not believe me? Harrie thought. Could he not see she was telling the truth?

  ‘Then ask everyone you can think of. You work for a tattooist. I’m betting someone with an eye for tattoos will have seen or heard of him.’

  Harrie looked wildly around. No one was watching them. The way Leary was standing now, one hand casually on his hip, hat dangling from his fingers, a smile on his face, was giving the impression that they were having a nice, friendly conversation in the sunshine. But they weren’t. Couldn’t anyone see?

  Summoning all her courage, and praying her voice wouldn’t wobble, she said, ‘No, I won’t. It’s nothing to do with us. He’s your brother. You find him.’

  Slowly, Leary shook his head, though his smile never slipped. ‘Oh dear, what a shame. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this. I’m that sorry.’ But he didn’t sound sorry, not at all.

  Harrie’s legs suddenly didn’t want to support her. ‘Do what?’

  ‘That little girl you’re so fond of in the orphanage. Charlotte? I know how upset you’d be if something bad happened to her.’ He paused for a second, watching her, then added, ‘You would be, wouldn’t you? Very upset.’

  Harrie’s heartbeat roared in her ears and her throat was suddenly as dry as old bones. ‘How do you know about Charlotte?’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s surprising what five shillings will buy.’

  Not Mrs Duff, surely? Harrie thought, horrified. ‘Please, don’t hurt her. She’s only a baby.’

  Leary put his hat back on. ‘I won’t have to, will I, if you find out where me brother is.’

  ‘But I told you, I don’t know him! I don’t even know where to start!’

  The smile finally left Leary’s face. ‘Then talk to your boss. He’s not stupid.’

  He walked off, leaving Harrie staring at the ground, her fists clenched, hot tears welling in her eyes. He’d threatened Charlotte, and she didn’t know what to do. And he’d implied that she was stupid. She wasn’t stupid.

  Was she?

  Forgetting about the shopping, and convinced that Leary was following her, Harrie went straight down to Leo’s and told him what had happened.

  Furious, Leo said, ‘But how did he find out about Charlotte in the first place?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Did he follow you out to Parramatta, do you think?’

  ‘No, I would have known. Surely?’

  Leo frowned. Over the past four or five months, there’d been times when Harrie wouldn’t have known who was in the room with her, but he didn’t say as much. ‘And he suggested that something bad would happen to her if you don’t track down this Bennett?’

  Blowing her nose on one of Leo’s enormous handkerchiefs, Harrie nodded. ‘He’ll do it, too. I know he will. Look how little he cared about his other brother.’

  ‘Aye, lass, I hate to say it, but I think you might be right.’ Leo patted her shoulder in a manner he hoped would be comforting. ‘I also think it might be time to tell that man of yours about everything that’s been going on.’

  Harrie froze. ‘Everything?’

  God, Leo thought, she looked so frightened. But then, Jonah Leary was a bloody frightening cove. ‘What harm can it do? This business with Leary isn’t your fault. Tell James what’s happened. He might be able to help.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. And neither will you until you talk to him about it.’

  Leo splayed his hands and looked down at the words HOLD and FAST tattooed across his fingers. He did know how James could help; it was obvious to everyone — including, no doubt, James — except for Harrie herself. Poor, sad, unwell, stubborn and bloody exasperating little Harrie.

  Deliberately changing the subject, Harrie said, ‘What if we do find Bennett Leary? We can’t tell his brother. We don’t even know where he’s staying.’

  ‘Yes, we do. The George Inn, on Market Street.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Leo tapped his nose. ‘Anyway, we are not looking for Bennett bloody Leary.’

  ‘We have to! Char—’

  ‘No, you won’t be doing anything. I’ll do a bit of asking around. Go and talk to your man.’

  ‘He’s not my man.’

  Leo sighed. ‘Harrie, why are you making this so hard for yourself? Talk to him, go on. Be a good lass.’

  But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Harrie thought. I’m not good.

  Leo had deliberated all day over what he was about to do. If it turned to shit, there could be bloody serious consequences, but if it worked, his plan could go a long way towards getting rid of Leary.

  Turning off George Street into Market, he pulled his hat lower onto his forehead against the stiff but warm evening breeze gusting up the hill from Darling Harbour, bringing with it dust and grit from the street and the smell of the sea, cesspits, and a nearby tannery. The sun had only just dropped behind the hills on the far side of the harbour, forcing him to squint against the line of liquid flame burning along the horizon, until a bullock team hauling a precariously overloaded wagon crested the hill rising from Market Wharf and blocked the fiery glare. The skinny little bullocky, arse off the seat and his whip cracking like a musket going off, shouted and swore, urging the beasts over the summit, breath shooting from flaring nostrils as though they were a team of lumpy, misshapen, shitting dragons.

  Leo watched from the footway, unconsciously leaning with the bullocks, urging the loaded wagon up and over until at last they made it, to cheers and applause from the open windows of the George Inn at his back. He turned and went in.

  The publican confirmed that Jonah Leary had been renting a room upstairs for the past week and had just paid for another, and no, he didn’t know if he was in or not. Leo thanked him, had a quick look around the public room to see if he could spot Leary among the drinkers, couldn’t, and made his way up to the first floor.

  Clearly the publican was the parsimonious type, Leo thought, as although sconces were attached to the walls, the candles themselves were missing. He walked to the end of the corridor, his boots making a hell of a noise on the uncarpeted floorboards. Which was fine — he had no intention, after all, of sneaking up on Leary.

  Reaching the farthest door, he knocked purposefully.

  ‘Who is it?’ a voice called.

  ‘Leo Dundas.’

  The door opened slightly; Jonah Leary peered out. ‘Have you found him?’

  ‘No. But I’ve been thinking about how you could get a heads up on whether you will find him.’

  Scowling, Leary opened the door another few inches, keeping, Leo noticed, his boot firmly wedged behind it. ‘What?’

  ‘I know a woman who reads the cards. She has a very good reputation. She can tell you what your future holds, and maybe even where your brother is. She can at least tell you whether he’s definitely here.’ Leo spread his hands and shrugged. ‘I mean, he might not be. He might be in Van Diemen’s Land. You don’t know. There’s no point any of us looking for him if he isn’t in Sydney, is there?’

  Leary gave him a long, suspicious look. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Serafina Fortune. You’ve heard of her?’

  Leary nodded and asked, as though sensing a trap or a swindle, ‘How well do you know her?’

  ‘She reads the cards for me every six months or so,’ Leo said truthfully, but not quite answering the question — Serafina did poke around in his future now and then, though of course he saw her a lot more frequently than every six months. Anyway there was no trap. He hadn’t spoken to her at all about Leary. Either the cove’s brother was in Sydney or he wasn’t, and if he was, hopefully Serafina, with her fey and alarming gift, would be able to discover where, then Leary would leave him and Harrie alone.

  ‘Where is she, this Fortune woman?’

  ‘Essex Street.’

  Leary shut the door. Five minutes passed and Leo thought his plan had failed before it had even got under way. He swore under his breath and turned to leave, but then Leary emerged from his room dressed for the street.

  ‘We’ll go now.’

  Disconcerted, Leo said, ‘You don’t have an appointment. It’s after hours.’ Serafina was likely to tell him to fuck off if she wasn’t in the mood for reading the cards without warning.

  Leary dug in his pocket and flapped a ten-shilling note in Leo’s face. ‘I don’t need an appointment.’

  Arrogant prick, Leo thought. ‘I should warn you, I gather she’s not known for her good temper.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ Leary said, and strode off down the corridor.

  Leary said little as they walked down to Essex Street, except to recount the experience of an acquaintance, a convict with a ticket of leave, who had engaged Serafina Fortune’s services to find out whether he would marry a woman over whom he was lovesick — Leary’s sneering interpretation of the situation — and whom he’d been avidly courting. Serafina had apparently read the man’s cards and told him he had a choice; he could either forget about the woman, or marry her and live under a long shadow of misery. The man had dumped his sweetheart, which had been fortunate as she’d been carrying some other cove’s brat. That was how he’d learnt of Serafina Fortune’s talents.

  Hoping that Serafina was in a reasonable mood, because quite often she wasn’t, Leo knocked on the blue-painted door of her cottage. She took so long to open it that he thought for a minute she might be out, despite the light in the window. When she did, he shook his head once, almost imperceptibly, as she gazed at them in silence, hoping to convey via the tiny movement that she was not to let on how well they knew each other, and fairly confident that she’d understand. Perhaps she was expecting them anyway. Who knew, with her?

  ‘Good evening, Miss Fortune,’ he said. ‘We’re sorry to disturb you. This is Mr Leary. He’d like a reading, if it’s not too much trouble.’

  ‘Mr Dundas,’ Serafina said, her expression inscrutable. She turned her attention to Leary, taking her time assessing him. ‘Mr Leary. The fee is six shillings after hours without an appointment.’

  Leo bit his lip. She never charged more than four.

  ‘Six! Christ,’ Leary said.

  ‘If that’s beyond your means …’ Serafina stepped back, her hand on the door.

  Leary said, ‘No, wait, I’ll pay. But I’ll expect me money’s worth.’

  ‘Oh,’ Serafina said, ‘I’m sure you’ll get that.’

  Inside she sat him down at the oval table, turned up the lamp positioned in the centre, and opened the wooden box that held her cards. While Leo made himself comfortable at the far end of the table, she took her money tin out of the box, unlocked it and looked at Leary expectantly. ‘Fee in advance, if you don’t mind.’

  With obvious reluctance, Leary gave her his ten-shilling note. She placed it in the tin, handed him four shillings in change, and locked it again.

  ‘Do you have a specific set of cards you prefer?’ she asked.

  ‘Dunno. Never done this before,’ Leary said. ‘I’ve heard about you, though. I’m looking for —’

  ‘Hush!’ Serafina raised a long-fingered hand. ‘Please say nothing about yourself or what you seek, Mr Leary. The cards will do that.’

  Leary sat back in his chair hard enough to make the legs scrape on the floor, and folded his arms belligerently across his chest.

  Serafina took a pack of cards from the box and shuffled them expertly. Then she set them before Leary, asked him to touch the pile, shuffled again, cut the deck and laid out five in the shape of a cross.