A Tattooed Heart

by Deborah Challinor

  She knocked on the mean little door and waited. Eventually, it opened.

  ‘Mrs Hislop,’ Biddy Doyle said as she pulled her shawl across her ample bosom. ‘Fancy seeing you.’

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Doyle. I wanted a word, if you have the time.’

  ‘Is that so? Will you come in?’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’

  Elizabeth stepped inside and glanced around the tiny cottage, which seemed to be bursting with children.

  ‘My grandkids, bless them. Have a seat, take the weight off.’ Biddy indicated a chair at the table. ‘Would you be wanting the Gazette to sit on? I’d hate for your lovely frock to get mucky. Tea?’

  ‘No to the Gazette, thank you, Mrs Doyle. I’m sure everything’s spotless. Yes please to tea.’

  ‘Maureen, be a love and make us a pot, will you?’

  Maureen turned out to be the pretty girl brushing a younger child’s hair near the fire. She rose, spooned leaves into a pot and took a pair of teacups and saucers down from a shelf. The kettle was already over the fire.

  ‘So,’ Biddy said, settling herself opposite Elizabeth. ‘This word you wanted?’

  ‘It’s about Harrie Downey. You’ll recall her as Harrie Clarke, the lass who fell foul of your boy Mick? She married Dr James Downey, you know.’

  ‘Of course I remember Harrie. Lovely colleen. Mick was such a shite, so he was. The shame of it. That boy’ll never learn. I’d heard she got married. Good match, too. Good for her.’

  ‘Yes. Anyway, Harrie and James adopted a child from the Female Orphan School named Charlotte, the daughter of a convict friend of Harrie’s, now passed on. Charlotte’s two and a half years old and a lovely wee thing.’

  ‘Heard that, too,’ Biddy said. ‘And all about Harrie’s brother and sisters coming from England to live with her in that grand big house. I bet she’s got her hands full these days!’

  Maureen set the teapot and cups on the table, together with a wooden platter on which sat a knife, a lump of butter, and half a loaf of barmbrack.

  ‘Baked today,’ Biddy said. ‘My Maureen’s a tidy little cook.’

  ‘No, thank you. I’ve only just had my supper.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ Biddy cut herself a slice, sending fat, juicy raisins and sultanas rolling all over the platter, then plastered it with half an inch of butter.

  Elizabeth’s nostrils twitched. The barmbrack smelt delicious, rich and yeasty. ‘Perhaps just a sliver,’ she said, hacking off a doorstep-sized piece. ‘The thing is, Charlotte was kidnapped this morning.’

  ‘What? Mother of Christ!’ Biddy’s eyes were huge over her slice of bread. She put it down and wiped her mouth. ‘Who by?’

  ‘A cove by the name of Jonah Leary.’

  ‘Extortion?’

  ‘In a way. He thinks Harrie has some information he wants, but she doesn’t. She’s at her wits’ end. So is James, of course.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Biddy poured the tea. ‘But why are you telling me?’

  ‘Leary’s taken Charlotte to Newcastle. Harrie wants to go up there and get her back.’

  ‘Just Harrie? Little, timid Harrie Clarke?’ Biddy looked deeply sceptical.

  ‘I admit I had doubts myself, but Harrie’s not quite the girl she was a year ago. She’s a lot stronger now, and she’ll have her crew with her.’

  ‘Her crew? Joined a gang of criminals, has she?’

  ‘The girls she was transported with. She’s extremely close to them and they’re very capable. And loyal. Have you met Friday Woolfe and Sarah Green? No? You’d definitely remember if you had. There’s also a New Zealander with them, a native girl, very tall and well built, sharp as a blade and thoroughly terrifying when she feels like it. I most certainly wouldn’t want to cross her. I think if anyone can bring the child back, they can.’

  ‘So, back to my question. Why are you telling me?’

  ‘They need a ship.’

  ‘Well, I don’t have one.’

  ‘Your son does.’

  ‘No, he crews on one. There’s quite a difference. Why can’t they go up on the paddlesteamer?’

  ‘They’re all bonded convicts. They can’t leave Sydney, not officially. And they need to go first thing tomorrow, and, more importantly, be in a position to depart Newcastle when it suits them. They’ll probably be in a bit of a hurry.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Biddy stared into her tea. ‘That’s all true, I suppose.’

  ‘Mick does owe Harrie, after all,’ Elizabeth said. ‘What he did to her was disgraceful. I’m sure you’ll agree.’

  ‘Oh, I do that.’

  ‘Surely the least he could do is ask Captain, er . . . ?’

  ‘Farrell. Rian Farrell.’

  ‘He could ask Captain Farrell if he’ll at least consider taking the girls. Perhaps you could be on hand when he does. There’d be money in it for Farrell, and there’s a business proposition in it for you, too, if all goes well, though the particulars may take me a month or so to arrange.’

  ‘For me? Why me?’

  ‘For brokering the deal.’

  ‘What sort of proposition?’

  ‘One I think you’ll find will very much benefit your family.’

  Biddy rolled her eyes. ‘For the love of God, Mrs Hislop, will you get to the point?’

  ‘I’m considering investing in property in the Rocks area, but I’d really prefer to remain a silent partner. I’m too busy as it is with my brothel and hotel to do anything more than put up the money. Well, a good percentage of it. I’m looking for a partner who can make a financial contribution herself, but who would also perhaps be prepared to oversee the properties. I’m thinking possibly of houses to rent out, but of a reasonable standard, nothing you wouldn’t put your dog in.’

  Biddy said, ‘Like this place, you mean?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to. Tell me, does Leo Dundas know about this?’

  Elizabeth frowned. ‘Leo? About Charlotte being kidnapped? Do you know Leo?’

  ‘I do, as it happens. I mean more specifically about Harrie and her mates going after . . . What did you say the cove’s name was?’

  ‘Jonah Leary. Yes, he knows about the kidnap, but I doubt Harrie’s said anything to him about Newcastle. They’re planning to go without telling anyone, except me, of course. James would be beside himself and would most certainly stop Harrie, and I doubt Sarah’s husband would allow her to go either. Not that she’d listen to him.’

  ‘Pity. Leo might have been quite useful,’ Biddy said.

  Elizabeth wondered what she meant. ‘Possibly, but it’s out of the question. He’d be as against Harrie going as James.’

  Biddy eyed her. ‘One more question. Why are you doing this, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘Surely you don’t need me to answer that when the life of a baby girl hangs in the balance?’

  ‘And? There’s more, I can see it in your eyes.’

  ‘Because I’m very fond of Harrie. And James.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘That’s three questions.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  Biddy bloody Doyle was starting to get annoying now. ‘And because Friday Woolfe is very fond of Harrie, and I’m extremely fond of Friday. If Harrie hurts, so does Friday, and Friday can’t afford any more knocks.’ Why on earth did I just tell her that? Elizabeth wondered. ‘Now you tell me, if you do help these girls, what’s your reason for doing it? My offer?’

  ‘It’s certainly tempting, but no. There’s the kiddie, of course. Who wouldn’t help if they could? But this family owes Harrie Clarke, and we always pay our debts, one way or another.’ Biddy drummed her fingers on the table, apparently thinking. ‘I’ll get back to you tonight, though it might be very late. I’ll come down to Argyle Street.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  By the time Biddy tracked them down in the Lord Nelson on Phillip Street it was almost eleven o’clock. Seventeen pubs she’d traipsed through before she found the
m, and with the thought of potentially having to look in another ninety-odd before she did, her mood was filthy. Truly, was there another town on earth that had more establishments dedicated to the jar than Sydney?

  From the doorway she spied her son at a table with Rian Farrell and the rest of his motley crew, drinking up and having a lovely time. There was Pierre, the little lad from Louisiana with the face like a monkey; and Jon Sharkey, the nasty English tar; the redskin boy Running Hawk; Te Kanene, the New Zealander Biddy wouldn’t trust as far as she could hoick a lump of phlegm; and Gideon, the mountainous black lad with the beautiful English voice Rian had rescued from Africa. Elbowing her way towards them, she grabbed Mick’s ear and hauled him to his feet. This, after all, was essentially his fault.

  ‘Ow, Ma, stop it, that hurts!’

  ‘It’s supposed to. I want to talk to you. Outside.’

  Hauling him out through the door to a chorus of amused hoots and cheers, she sat him on the pub steps and loomed over him, fanning away the brandy fumes wafting up into her face.

  ‘What have I done?’ he grumbled, rubbing his ear.

  ‘’Tisn’t what you’ve done, it’s what you’re going to do.’

  He squinted up at her. ‘Eh?’

  ‘Harrie Clarke,’ she said.

  ‘Oh God, not again.’ Groaning, he put his hands over his face.

  Mick had been at sea for almost fourteen months. When he and the crew of Rian Farrell’s schooner Katipo had weighed anchor in Sydney Cove the week before and Mick had come bounding down Cumberland Street and into his mother’s house, Biddy had knocked seven bells out of him for what he’d done to Harrie. He’d had no idea, having left Sydney only days after his one evening with her, and neither would he have particularly cared if he had. She was sweet, but just another girl in a port, and he’d had hundreds. He couldn’t even remember their time together — as usual he’d been drunk.

  But that had been ages back. He was nineteen now, and in his opinion a lot more mature, and when his mother had told him — in quite unnecessary detail — about the trials the girl had suffered getting rid of his baby, he’d actually felt the tiniest bit guilty and had offered to apologise to her. His mother had thumped him again and told him not to be so stupid — Harrie Clarke didn’t want to see his cheeky bloody face and be reminded of the horrors he’d inflicted on her. Which had piqued him; he was sure she must have enjoyed some of it (apart from the getting rid of the baby bit) because he’d been told by no end of women he was pretty good between the sheets. And anyway, his mother said, she had a husband now, so leave the poor girl alone and don’t cause trouble. He’d felt all right about it then — he’d offered to apologise so that was enough — and happily forgotten about it.

  ‘No, not another lecture,’ Biddy said. ‘The girl needs a favour. A big one, and you owe her.’

  ‘I do not.’

  Biddy gave him a good kick in the shin. She loved her devastatingly beautiful, irresponsible son, but despaired of him ever developing a sound moral compass, and this time she couldn’t even ask Leo, his father, for help. ‘You fecking well do. She needs to go to Newcastle. I want you to ask Rian to take her and three of her women friends up there. On the Katipo. Tomorrow.’

  His sore ear forgotten, Mick said incredulously, ‘You are joking, Ma.’

  ‘There’ll be money in it.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Rian never takes passengers, and especially not women on some shopping trip.’

  ‘’Tisn’t a shopping trip. Harrie’s daughter’s been kidnapped.’

  ‘Shite, really?’ Mick frowned. ‘She didn’t say she had a daughter.’

  ‘What would you know? You couldn’t even remember her name.’

  Mick shook his head. ‘Sorry, Ma. No point even asking. There’ll be coastal traders going up to Newcastle, and isn’t there a paddlesteamer? Can’t she get on one of them?’

  Biddy hauled him off the step. ‘Right, you selfish little shite, if you won’t ask Rian, I will.’

  Marching him back inside the pub, Biddy propelled him across to the crew’s table, then made him sit down.

  ‘Evening, Captain,’ she said, wedging her large bum next to Rian Farrell’s narrow one. ‘Good night for it.’

  ‘That depends, Mrs Doyle,’ Rian said, eyeing her with amusement. ‘Mick in trouble again?’

  ‘Mick’s always in trouble. There’s something he wants to ask you.’

  Everyone looked at Mick. He screwed up his handsome face as though expecting to be struck — hard — at any moment, but said nothing.

  Biddy urged tersely, ‘Come on, son, speak up.’

  Nothing.

  ‘Cat’s got his tongue.’ Biddy rolled her eyes. ‘Pity it didn’t get other bits of him as well.’

  The crew roared, Gideon banging the table so hard that a tankard fell over.

  ‘Mick?’ Rian prompted.

  ‘I, um, I were wondering, that is —’ Mick broke off to gulp half a glass of brandy. His eyes watering, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘The thing is, there’s this girl . . .’

  The rest was lost in hoots and shouts of knowing derision from the crew and a mad drumming on the table top.

  Rian held up a hand. ‘Let him finish, lads.’

  ‘The thing is, well —’

  ‘Oh, shut it, Mick,’ Biddy snapped. Turning to Rian, she said, ‘Just before you last put to sea, Mick got a girl in trouble. A very nice girl, so she is. She might not thank me for discussing her personal business but there’s no way round it. She nearly died trying to sort herself out, and in my book that means the Doyle family owes her.’

  No hoots or cheers now.

  ‘Not the charming little mademoiselle with the name of the boy?’ Pierre asked, crestfallen.

  ‘Harrie,’ Running Hawk murmured.

  Disgusted, Pierre exclaimed, ‘You are the arsehole, Mick.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know?’ Mick argued. ‘We sailed straight after. I couldn’t have done anything.’

  ‘You did not have to give her so many of the drinks that she fell down! You could have been the gentleman and left her alone!’

  Rian’s grey eyes had narrowed and all signs of amusement had left his face. ‘Pierre’s right, Mick. You are an arsehole.’ To Biddy, he said, ‘What about this girl?’

  She took a deep breath, knowing that this was probably her only chance. ‘She’s married now and has an adopted daughter. The child’s been kidnapped and taken to Newcastle. Harrie needs to get there as soon as possible. She needs a ship, so she does.’

  ‘And you think I should take her?’

  ‘Can’t think of anyone better.’ And Biddy couldn’t.

  ‘What’s wrong with the steamer service?’

  Feck the bloody paddlesteamer, Biddy thought. How many times do I have to say this? ‘She’s a bonded convict and so are two of her friends. They’re not supposed to leave the district. There’ll be four of them altogether, all colleens.’ Helping herself to Gideon’s ale, she said, ‘You don’t mind, do you, dear?’

  He pushed a tumbler towards her, his teeth gleaming in the biggest, whitest smile she’d ever seen.

  ‘No,’ Rian said flatly. ‘I’m not taking four females on my ship. It’s out of the question.’

  ‘Is that so? Why not? I have to say I’m disappointed in you, Captain.’

  ‘No room, haven’t got time, women are bad luck at sea, they’ll only get in the way, and I don’t want them mixing with my crew.’ Rian paused, then frowned. ‘This is that little lass, five feet-ish, chestnut hair, a bit quiet and shy?’ He looked at Mick for confirmation, who shrugged, embarrassed, because he couldn’t really remember, which only made Rian scowl outright.

  ‘That’s her,’ Biddy said.

  ‘How the hell’s she going to chase down a kidnapper and wrestle a child off him?’

  ‘Apparently her mates are a very capable lot. Their agent called them a “crew”.’

  ‘Their agent?’

  ‘The woman who talked t
o me on their behalf. ’Tis a very complicated situation, so it is.’

  ‘Do you mean crew as in “canting crew”? That’s all I need, a ship swarming with criminal types.’

  ‘Captain, this whole colony’s swarming with criminal types, or hadn’t you noticed? Anyway, that’s rich coming from you, so it is, a man who so frequently, and dare I say quite happily, hoists his sails on the wrong side of the law.’

  Hawk asked, ‘How old is the child?’

  ‘Two and a half years. Just a baby.’

  ‘Baisage,’ Pierre swore, and shook his head in dismay

  Hawk said dispassionately. ‘Who has taken her?’

  Biddy explained. Rian said nothing, his arms crossed, head bowed.

  ‘They need to go tomorrow,’ Biddy added, ‘and there’ll be a fee in it for you, to be agreed.’

  At last Rian said, ‘I don’t understand why these women are running around rescuing this child. What about this Harrie girl’s husband? And surely she knows other men who can help. Or he must. What is he, a labourer or something?’

  ‘He’s a doctor, an ex-naval surgeon, but that’s by the by. She doesn’t want him involved, and don’t ask me why. She won’t be telling him she’s off to Newcastle. I gather the other married girl in the crew will be going behind her husband’s back, too.’

  The crew exchanged ‘what is the world coming to?’ looks.

  Rian said, ‘If I take them, I can’t be responsible for their safety.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Though Biddy knew he’d bend over backwards to ensure the girls came to no harm, because he was a gentleman.

  ‘And we can’t leave tomorrow.’ Rian raised his brows at Hawk. ‘Can we?’

  Hawk shook his head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We tore a jib coming through the Heads and won’t have it back until tomorrow evening. I don’t like leaving port at night when the weather’s closing in unless I absolutely have to, and it looks like it is closing in, which means waiting for the tide at a little past midday on Thursday.’