Free A Tattooed Heart by Deborah Challinor Page B

previously, Sarah had been prickly towards her, especially about the drinking, and it was wearing very thin. Harrie said it was because Sarah loved and cared about her, but Friday wasn’t so sure of that any more. Sometimes it felt like Sarah was putting the boot in just for the hell of it, and that hurt.
    Daisy brought Charlotte out then for a kiss before her afternoon nap.
    â€˜Bye bye, I not seeping,’ Charlotte said as she planted a sloppy kiss on Friday’s cheek.
    â€˜Good for you,’ Friday said.
    They all waved as Charlotte was carted off.
    â€˜I’m off myself,’ Friday said, standing. ‘Things to do.’
    â€˜Such as?’ Sarah demanded.
    â€˜Just things.’ Like finishing my gin in peace. ‘Thanks for the tea and biscuits, Harrie. Sorry I missed James. Where is he?’
    â€˜He and Matthew have gone to see a man about buying a carriage.’
    â€˜Whatever next?’ Sarah said, but there was no spite to the comment.
    â€˜It wouldn’t really be for us, it’d be for when he gets called out after hours.’
    â€˜What’s wrong with a horse?’ Friday asked.
    â€˜Where would he put the person who comes to fetch him? Behind him, holding on round his waist?’
    â€˜That’s true,’ Friday said. Her face lit up. ‘We could borrow it and go on jaunts. There’re some . . .’ About to say ‘great pubs I know out on the Parramatta Road’, she shut up, having caught Sarah’s disapproving eye.
    â€˜I thought you were leaving.’
    â€˜I am.’
    Harrie waggled her fingers in farewell.
    Friday wandered down Hunter Street taking surreptitious slurps from her flask, then, surprised to find it empty by the timeshe reached Essex Street, detoured slightly and stopped in at the Bird-in-Hand. Feeling sufficiently fortified, she headed home just after sunset. Countless bats passed silently overhead, bound for the fig trees on Bunkers Hill, Windmill Street, and Dawes Point, flying so low she could smell their faintly musky, fermented-fruit odour. She gazed up at them for a while, making herself dizzy.
    At the Siren’s Arms Jimmy was shovelling horse shit off the stable-yard cobbles — a lot of it — so there must be quite a few guests in the hotel tonight. Why horses had to wait to shit in the stable yard when there was plenty of street outside, she didn’t know. She waved and went inside.
    She was a bit mashed, her shoulder hurt, and, even though she was relieved beyond measure to not have to sleep with her customers any more, she felt deflated. Honestly, what was wrong with her?
    And the door to her room was ajar. Shite. She must have forgotten to lock it on her way out.
    She opened it . . . and shrieked.

Chapter Four
    Aria was sitting on the end of the bed.
    She smiled. ‘Good evening, Friday.’
    â€˜Aria?’ Friday rushed towards her, her heart pounding madly, then stopped, wondering if she’d had more to drink than she’d realised (quite possible) and was a bit delirious.
    â€˜Yes, I am really here,’ Aria said, grinning now.
    â€˜Oh,’ Friday said, utterly bereft of words. She put her hands on her cheeks and said ‘Oh’ again.
    Her stupefied daze was broken by the sound of feet pounding along the corridor outside, then Ivy, the hotel housegirl, burst into the room. ‘Miss Friday, are you all right?’
    â€˜What? Yes, I’m fine. I . . . got a shock, that’s all.’
    Ivy’s hands clutched at her apron. ‘I thought it’d be all right to let her come in and wait. I mean, she is your friend, isn’t she?’
    Friday looked at Aria and smiled. ‘Yes, she’s definitely my friend. Sorry you got a fright, Ivy.’
    Ivy nodded uncertainly. Friday closed the door after her and sat on the bed. She and Aria gazed at each other.
    â€˜You smell of gin,’ Aria said.
    â€˜Sorry. God. I’ve looked forward to this for