Free A Tattooed Heart by Deborah Challinor Page A

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.’
    â€˜They are,’ Sarah agreed.
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜No, and nothing at all on my left leg. When were you thinking of giving them to Leo?’
    â€˜This week,’ Harrie said. ‘Tuesday morning, probably.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly, I’m not a proper artist.’
    â€˜â€™Course you are. Look at these.’ Sarah waved a hand at the flash. ‘Think about it. It’d be your first commission.’
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜I’m not at work. It’s my day off, today and tomorrow.’
    â€˜I don’t think that’s quite what she meant, do you?’ Harrie asked.
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜She’s your mistress, remember?’ Sarah pointed out.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜It is her business if you behave like an arsehole at work.’
    â€˜Who says I do?’
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜Well, don’t be. I can look after myself.’
    â€˜Like the time you got arrested and ended up in before the magistrate?’ Sarah said. ‘Look, why won’t you stop drinking?’
    â€˜I have. I’ve cut down a lot,’ Friday lied.
    â€˜Or can’t you?’ Sarah accused. ‘You can’t, can you?’
    â€˜Of course I bloody well can.’
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜I won’t lose it.’
    â€˜Well, we’ll see,’ Sarah said.
    Friday eyed her resentfully. Ever since she had failed Harrie six months