Authors: Deborah Challinor
Friday felt guilt and embarrassment prickle her face. ‘Did she?’
‘Yes, she did. So leave her be.’
‘But what if it isn’t that?’ Friday said. ‘What if she is, well, unhinged?’
The inevitable happened and Angus scratched Lewis, who shrieked like a teakettle. Nora picked him up and joggled him. ‘Then we’ll deal with that if we have to. I’m going upstairs. I want to hear what’s happened to Sarah’s man.’
And she turned and went inside, leaving Friday standing on the steps feeling stupid and as though in some really mean way she’d let Harrie down.
Instead of crumbling further beneath the weight of more awful news, Harrie felt galvanised by a sense of injustice she’d not experienced in many months — not, in fact, since she’d realised Gabriel Keegan was going to get away with what he’d done to Rachel. Adam Green was a decent man, and Sarah’s husband now, and if Sarah said he’d been falsely accused of a crime, then Harrie believed her. If Adam went to gaol Sarah would suffer, too, and Harrie had had enough of her friends suffering. She could not stand aside, mired in her own misery and mental confusion, and simply watch something terrible happen. Last time, with Rachel, she’d not been vigilant enough: perhaps this time she could do better.
She desperately wanted to talk to Rachel about it — Rachel would know what to do — but that night she didn’t appear. Harrie sat up until five o’clock in the morning, her head nodding and her eyelids leaden, but the rocking chair in the corner remained resolutely empty and still.
Angus, back from a successful night’s hunting, pushed open Harrie’s bedroom door, padded in on silent paws and hopped up onto the bed, where he collapsed, stretching himself out.
Harrie eyed him distastefully and murmured, ‘You’re a mucky cat, you are.’
She fetched a cloth, quietly pushing the door closed on the way, and wiped the bright blood off Angus’s whiskers. He tossed his furry black and white head from side to side like a recalcitrant infant, his top lip caught on a yellowing fang, but eventually succumbed.
‘I don’t think she’s coming, Angus.’
He blinked at her.
‘Perhaps she wants me to make up my own mind.’ Harrie folded the cloth so the blood smears were hidden. ‘And I can, you know. I’m not as silly and as mad as everyone thinks.’
Angus sat up and proceeded to clean his backside.
Harrie sighed. ‘I’m so tired of this, Angus. I’m so tired of being frightened and worried and angry.’ She gently tugged Angus’s tail. ‘But I’m glad in a way this has happened to Sarah. I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but at least we’re all together again. She’s going to need Friday and me.’
The lamp flickered and Harrie glanced hopefully at the rocking chair. Nothing. Disappointment sour in her belly, she climbed under the bed covers, doused the lamp and lay in the darkness. But still she couldn’t sleep, though Angus did, emitting a whistling snore, his legs twitching as he chased rats, bandicoots and other tasty treats through his dreams. After a while the sky outside her window lightened almost imperceptibly, and she got up again to watch the sun rise.
Bats streamed overhead, just a few outriders at first, then a long, tapering cloud. A lone bat broke away from the column and swooped down towards Harrie’s small window, its translucent wings slicing through the heavy dawn air, so close she leant out to touch it.
‘Hello, you,’ Harrie whispered.
With Nora’s blessing, Harrie went around to Sarah’s house as often as possible to keep her company. Adam, now in Sydney Gaol, had been denied bail, and Sarah had not been permitted to see him and was consequently in a complete state, oscillating between fury and despair. Bernard Cole took time off from running his own business to come in and help Sarah with the shop, but she was terrified the Principal Superintendent of Convicts would be notified of what had happened and send her back to the Factory.
Harrie and Bernard were both in attendance the day Jared Gellar arrived. He swept in, setting the bell over the door jangling madly, greeted Bernard jovially and barged past him into the workshop.
‘Sarah, my
dear
! Such a dreadful state of affairs!’
Instantly irritated, Sarah barely glanced up from the ring she was polishing. ‘Mr Gellar.’
‘Jared, what are you doing here?’ Bernard asked, trotting in after him.
Jared ignored him. ‘You must call me Jared, Sarah. We are, after all, to be business partners from now on.’
Sarah turned to Bernard and then Harrie, as though they might know what he was wittering on about. Obviously, they didn’t. ‘Are we?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Jared declared. ‘I’ve just come from the gaol. Adam has asked me to step into the breach while he’s, well, indisposed, and naturally I’ve agreed. It’s the least I can do to help out a friend.’
Sarah’s heart plummeted. ‘But …’ She turned to Bernard. ‘Did you know about this?’
He shook his head, clearly as surprised as she was.
‘Why are you allowed to see Adam and I’m not?’ she said to Jared. ‘I’m his wife.’
‘I gather there may be concern in some quarters that you yourself may have been involved in the matter of the received goods.’
‘There
were
no received goods!’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘That brooch was planted. Do you think he did it? Because if you do, you can just bugger off!’
‘Sarah, sweetie, settle down,’ Harrie soothed. ‘He’s only saying what he’s heard. Aren’t you, Mr Gellar?’ she added sharply.
‘Well, he can bloody well say it somewhere else.’
‘Of course I don’t believe he did it,’ Jared insisted. ‘And yes, I
am
only passing on what I’ve heard. But I do believe that’s the reason you’ve not been permitted to speak with him — so you can’t connive regarding the matter of his defence.’
‘Then why can’t
I
get in to see him?’ Bernard asked. ‘I’ve tried and I’m not allowed, either.’
Jared shrugged. ‘You’d have to speak to the chief constable about that.’
‘I have.’
‘Anyway,’ Jared said, ‘Adam has asked me to take over for him here, to keep the business going. If worse comes to worst and he’s sent to gaol for any length of time —’
‘He won’t be,’ Sarah said quickly.
‘But if he is, I’ve agreed to take you on as an assignee so you can stay here, in your home.’
‘But wouldn’t that mean
you’d
have to live here, too? In this house?’ Sarah asked. What a hideous thought.
‘Yes, actually, it would.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said flatly. ‘Adam would never have agreed to that.’ He knew Jared Gellar gave her the shits.
‘I can assure you he has agreed,’ Jared said smoothly. ‘I realise this is not an ideal state of affairs, Sarah, and of course you’re
distressed by what has happened. I do understand that. So are we all. But this really is the best solution.’
‘Did he give you a letter for me?’ Sarah demanded.
‘No.’
‘Well, in that case, I’ll only believe it if I hear it from Adam myself.’
Jared looked to Bernard for help, but Bernard, his arms tightly crossed, was staring intently at the floor.
‘But you’re not permitted to see Adam,’ Jared said. He sounded exasperated now, and Sarah was glad.
‘I haven’t seen him
yet
,’ she replied. ‘But I’ll make bloody sure I do.’
Jared said, ‘I’ve a few things to attend to, and a trunk to pack, but I’ll be back this evening. I trust there will be a room prepared for me?’
‘I’ll do that,’ Harrie volunteered.
Jared nodded. ‘Thank you. Good day, ladies, Bernard.’
After he’d departed Bernard, Harrie and Sarah stared at one another.
‘Tosser,’ Sarah muttered.
‘That was a shock,’ Bernard said.
Sarah asked, ‘Bernard, can you hold the fort? I’m going down to the gaol. Harrie, I think we’re going to need Friday.’
Sydney Gaol was small, given the town’s population, and severely overcrowded. Sanitation was appalling, security lax, and trade on the black market thrived. Bordered by George, Harrington and Essex streets and Essex Lane, the gaol covered a full block and consisted of an exercise yard and various sandstone buildings, the whole surrounded by a high stone wall. It wasn’t high enough, however, to conceal the gallows that loomed permanently in the yard and attracted huge crowds on Gallows Hill above the gaol on hanging days. Then, Essex and Harrington streets thronged with
onlookers keen to watch the spectacle of those convicted in the colony of serious crimes drop to their deaths, their necks snapped or, on a particularly entertaining day, strangle as the result of a badly positioned noose. Hawkers did a brisk trade in oysters and baked potatoes, the police turned a blind eye as tankards of ale were passed through pub windows, and small children rode on their fathers’ shoulders for a better view.
Within the gaol walls were two prison dormitories in the style of army barracks, one for men and the other for women and their children, most of whom slept on wooden barracks beds on the ground, plus separate apartments for debtors and six secure cells for the condemned. The remaining buildings in the compound accommodated the soldiers who staffed the gaol and a handful of administrators. Sarah knew —
everyone
in Sydney Town knew — living conditions inside the gaol were atrocious, but she tried not to think about this as she furiously rattled the bars of the entrance gate on George Street.
‘Hey! You! Open up!’ she shouted at the lone redcoat leaning against a sandstone wall.
He looked around as though she were perhaps addressing someone else.
‘No, you! Let me in!’
The soldier swallowed the last of the bread roll he was eating, hitched his musket higher on his shoulder and sauntered across to the gate. Friday and Sarah saw he was barely a man, the sprinkle of mild spots on his cheeks testimony to his youth.
‘What?’
‘Open the gate, please,’ Sarah said, doing her best now to control her temper. ‘I’d like to visit my husband.’
‘Who’s that, then?’ the soldier asked, eyeing Friday.
‘Mr Adam Green.’
The boy consulted a creased piece of paper he dug out of his pocket. ‘No. Permission denied.’
‘Why?’ Sarah demanded. ‘I know for a fact he’s been allowed other visitors.’
‘Because it says on this piece of paper. No visitors.’ The soldier poked at a lump of bread stuck between his front teeth. His eyes slid once again towards Friday, who was ostentatiously adjusting her low-cut bodice.
‘Will you take a bribe?’ Sarah said.
‘What’s on offer?’
Friday stepped up to the gate, reached through the bars and ran her hand down the front of the boy’s breeches. ‘Anything you fancy.’
He swallowed audibly. ‘Fifteen minutes,’ he said to Sarah, producing a key and letting them in, then relocking the gate behind them.
He led them swiftly across the compound to a barracks building, said, ‘Wait here,’ and disappeared inside.
He was back a minute later. To Sarah he said, ‘Go inside, turn left, there’s a little chamber. He’s in there. Like I said, fifteen minutes, that’s all.’
Another soldier passed, giving them a hard look, and the boy saluted smartly.
They weren’t the only civilians in the gaol compound, Sarah noticed; two men in good black coats — solicitors, perhaps, or even barristers? — were leaving the barracks building, a pair of coves were unloading bulging sacks from a dray in the yard and a workman was hammering noisily away at something on the gallows. She could also hear plenty of noise from the cells and the larger barracks — shouts of men and women, screams, and, incongruously, laughter.
‘Well?’ the young soldier said to Friday.
‘Well, yourself,’ she said back, winking at Sarah. ‘Come on then, find us a corner. I’m not getting my dress dirty, but.’
The boy reddened, unsure of himself now, and clumsily took her elbow.
Sarah didn’t wait to see where they went. She ducked into the barracks building, reeling at the indescribable stink — easily as foul as Newgate Gaol had been — and slipped into the small, plain room on the left. A high barred window let in a miserable spill of light, illuminating initials and words scratched into the sandstone walls. The place stank of urine.
Adam sat at a rickety table. He looked exhausted and unshaven, and she could smell his body odour from the doorway. To her horror, his ankles were encased in irons linked by a heavy chain. At the sight of her he lurched up, tipping his chair over, and embraced her.
‘Sarah, oh God, Sarah!’
‘They wouldn’t let me in to see you!’ she said, her face squashed against his bristly neck. ‘We had to bribe our way in.’
He stood back, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Christ, you look tired. Are you all right? Who’s we?’
‘Me and Friday. She’s, er, entertaining one of the guards.’
Adam snorted. Sarah laughed a little, too, but it was a brittle sound. She was tense and frightened, and so, obviously, was he.
‘We haven’t got long. Jared Gellar turned up. He said you’ve asked him to take over the business while you’re in here. And take over me! As my master!’
Adam cupped her cheek with a grubby hand. ‘You can’t stay there by yourself. You won’t be allowed. And I need you to do something for me, Sarah.’
They sat down, holding hands across the table.
‘Could Bernard not have stepped in?’ Sarah asked.
‘I couldn’t get hold of him. I did send messages, through my barrister.’
‘He never got them. And he isn’t allowed past the gate, either. He’s tried.’
They stared at each other, eyes full of fear.
Adam said, ‘Christ, do the police know what we’ve been up to? Are they watching Bernard, do you think?’
‘But wouldn’t
I
have been arrested, too, if that were the case? And Bernard, by now?’
‘I would have thought so. Perhaps it’s just me. God, I hope so.’ Adam released Sarah’s hands and rubbed his face.
‘But why Gellar?’ she asked. ‘You know I can’t stand him.’
Adam gazed down at the scarred table top, then let out a huge sigh full of regret. ‘I didn’t
ask
him to take over the business, Sarah. He came here this morning to tell me he
will
be taking over.’