by Lena Dowling
‘But that’s Danny’s room.’
‘Surely he’s not still in there?’
‘Not in body, at least,’ she said, doing her best not match his grin.
‘The room’s haunted?’
‘Well,’ she said slowly. ‘Jammy won’t go in there—she just stands at the door and barks. Animals can sense things.’
‘Dogs have a very acute sense of smell.’
Nellie couldn’t help but laugh then. ‘Danny always was a bit shy of the washbasin. Like anything that was good for him. So you’ll have been over the threshold then?’
Harry laughed. ‘Over it? I’d have smelt the room at a hundred paces purely on the waft from the keyhole.’
Nellie stopped dead then, swallowing her laugh.
‘Are you alright?’
‘I’m fine.’
He frowned, the sideways tilt of his head giving an air of concern.
‘It’s just I never would have believed there was anything or anyone that could make me laugh about that man.’
‘I hear he was a scoundrel.’
Nellie looked away. She wasn’t going to talk about this with Harry. Normally she didn’t mind; she was an open book when it came to her life. There was no point pretending anything else when everyone from the Hawkesbury to Parramatta knew what she’d been. But with Harry it was different. She didn’t want to talk about what it had been like working for Danny.
‘Why did …’ Harry said, and then stopped. He shook his head. ‘Never mind.’
She knew what he’d been going to ask. He was wondering why she’d ever agreed to work for O’Shane in the first place.
She could have told him how she’d been tricked into believing O’Shane’s was a proper boarding house and not a bawdy house. But if she did, he’d think she was still the green flibbertigibbet she had been back then, and not someone with the wit to run a tavern.
Nellie bit her lip.
‘Right,’ Harry said, turning towards the back.’
‘Where are you doing?’
‘I’m going to start clearing out the room.’
‘What, now?’
‘No time like the present.’
***
Until Harry had sat listening to Nellie extoll the virtues of the guesthouse to potential customers all morning, it hadn’t even occurred to him. But it made perfect sense. He couldn’t think why he hadn’t thought of it before.
But he had expected to find the guesthouse encumbered with a suitable tenant, one running it profitably, so his only involvement would be collecting the monthly rent. But Nellie was hardly a suitable tenant. In fact, she was the very opposite of that.
Why on earth had she stayed, he wondered?
If what Somerset and Tristan had said was true then she could have had her pick of men.
But that wasn’t any of his business.
Reaching O’Shane’s old room with his cuff pushed firmly up against his nose, he threw open the shutters to the small window overlooking the yard. With the room illuminated, he was taken aback by the dark furniture, which until then had receded into the shadows. Unlike the rest of the building that was done out with rough-sawn colonial furniture, presumably knocked up by convicts, O’Shane’s chamber had been furnished with a finely turned bedroom suite. The bed, wardrobe, and a set of drawers were part of a matching set of furniture that would have been quite at home in any grand house.
Opening the wardrobe, he found the source of at least some of the stench. Clothes malodorous with stale alcohol, tobacco and the faint whiff of vomit stuffed the cupboard. Harry braved removing his cuff in order to grasp all of the offending items at once, marching through the kitchen to dump them just outside the back door. With the clothes gone, a cache of brandy—decent stuff by the look of it—revealed itself at the back. He uncorked one of the bottles and drew in deeply on the pleasantly sweet grapey scent, and followed that with a taste. Holding the bottle to his nose as a foil for the residual reek of the room, he turned his attention to the chest of drawers. The top drawer held a razor and shaving brush, a comb, a toothbrush, an unmarked tin of powder and a jar containing a collection of low-value coins, buttons, pistol bullets and two marbles.
The next drawer was empty while the second to last gave up all the accoutrements he imagined necessary for smoking opium and some he hadn’t. The bottom drawer rather incongruously held a Bible.
A piece of tissue paper protruding from the book caught his eye and he pulled it out. A crude bookmark made of two pieces of translucent paper with a single shamrock pressed between. Harry set down the brandy momentarily to hold the bookmark to the light, picked up the bottle again, took a swig and let out a sigh.
‘You miss Ireland then.’
Nellie had spoken from the doorway, light from the kitchen window reflected through wayward strands of her hair giving a halo effect, her serviceable brown dress that would have been drab on anyone else a perfect complement to her earth-brown eyes.
Dumbfounded, Harry’s jaw slackened. He would have sworn on pain of death that while he could call forth an Irish accent for comic effect, or for the purposes of embellishing a story, his unconscious accent was pure English. Any vestiges of the Irish accent had been alternately switched and berated out of him by his stepmother and his tutors.
‘There’s a little trace of the old country still in your voice.’
‘You can you hear an accent?’
She laughed. ‘Sure, though I’m probably the only one that can. What part of Ireland are you from?’
‘Your powers of perception can’t determine that as well?’ he joked.
But Nellie regarded him seriously, her features wrinkling in concentration that culminated in the corners of her remarkable eyes. ‘Too much of the accent is gone to be sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say Dublin way.’
‘That’s very impressive. How can you tell?’
Nellie stepped into the room. ‘I don’t know exactly. Same reason I can sing a song in tune without being able to read it off the stave. I hear things other people can’t.’
‘That’s quite a gift,’ Harry had always admired those with musical talent, like Emily Mallard and his sisters who were all accomplished on the piano. ‘What did your family do?’ he asked.
‘They’re farmers.’
‘And your people?’
‘My father has a few acres.’
‘How many?’
‘Probably not the number you would think,’ he said carefully.
‘You didn’t answer me question.’
Harry tensed. ‘The question?’ he said, wondering if she had guessed his background.
‘Do you miss Ireland?’ she said, allaying any fear he’d been exposed.
Harry took another slug of brandy then pointed to the bed. ‘Can you take an end?’
‘An end of what?’
‘The mattress.’
‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘Get it outside then dispatch it from there. That and the clothes seem largely responsible for the stink.’
‘What will you do with them?’
‘I thought incineration the most obvious solution.’
‘Someone will be glad of the clothes once they’ve been through a decent wash, and they’ll bring in a pretty penny.’
‘Those,’ Harry said, unable to disguise his disgust. ‘They’re only fit for the ragman.’ He doubted soap and water would be able to restore them to anything faintly wearable.
‘You’d be surprised. Material of all kinds is a hideous price out here. Any decent fabric has a value.’
He should have guessed. It was yet another example of a simple fact of life being turned on its head in the colony. Nothing could be taken for granted as being the same as it was at home.
‘If you can find a way to put them to good use, by all means, be my guest,’ he said. Nellie grasped the end of the mattress, pulling it towards her, while he grasped hold of the other end.
‘What are you doing?’ A man
he guessed was Pike from Nellie’s description called from the doorway.
Nellie released the mattress, letting the end of the bed take the weight, and swivelled around. ‘Helping Harry get this reeky fleabag out into the yard.’
‘And then what?’
‘I thought to burn it,’ Harry said.
‘Here, hand that over to me, Nell, or you’ll hurt yourself.’
Until then, Harry would probably have said it was impossible to tell if a one-eyed man was glaring or not, but Pike’s single eye was trained on him with an intensity that left him in no doubt of the man’s opinion of him.
‘You disapprove?’ Harry said, once they had pulled the mattress out of the chamber and cleared a path through the kitchen into the yard.
‘Are you asking about burning the mattress or turning this place back into a swill-hall?’ Pike said, abruptly dropping his end on the ground.
Harry let go as well, letting the mattress fall onto the dirt. ‘You have doubts about Nellie’s plan to rescue the premises?’
‘It’s not the plan. It’s Nellie I’m afraid for.’
The thought had crossed his mind that with the place running as a tavern again, the temptation might be too much. ‘You think she’ll succumb to pressure to go back to her former profession?’
‘No sir. She’d die before she did that, and that worries me a great deal more.’
‘If it’s Nellie’s security you’re worried about, you’re here, and from now on I’ll be living here to protect her from any unsavoury elements.’
Pike raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re moving in?’
‘For the time being.’
Pike rattled out a disgruntled breath.
‘That gives you no comfort?’ he said, annoyed. He might not have had Pike’s girth, but his height and stature rivalled that of the other man; in an altercation, what he lacked in weight he would make up for in lightness on his feet.
‘Nothing about this pleases me. But I don’t suppose there’s anything to be done about it. Nellie tells me you own the place fair and square.’ Pike reached down, punching a gnarled fist into the mattress, leaving a dent that didn’t rebound. ‘Just leave this here and I’ll put together a bonfire to set it on. Burning O’Shane’s bed is something to celebrate at least.’
A celebration.
While he didn’t much care if Pike liked him or not, Harry wanted the man onside. Finding a replacement muscleman who was at once gruesome and intimidating as well as loyal, and if his instincts were right, trustworthy, wouldn’t be an easy task.
‘If you save the first spark until the sun fades, then I’ll see about some refreshments.’
Chapter 10
Nellie wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Harry coming to live with them. She didn’t want him breathing down her neck for one, and for another he had a way of making her feel off balance. But he was sorting out Danny’s things, which was a help, since it was something she’d been putting off. It had been easier to shut the door and forget about it.
She took down her cape from one of the pegs Pikelet had put in to hold their coats. If she were to take Jammy with her, she’d need a way to keep him hidden.
‘Bit warm for a cape, isn’t it?’ Pike said, appearing in the kitchen from outside where he had lugged the mattress with Harry.
Nellie shrugged with fake nonchalance. ‘There’s a bit of a chill.’
Pike narrowed his good eye at her. ‘If you say so.’
‘Jammy, come,’ Nellie called for the dog and tied the strings on her cape as she walked into the dining room and out the main door before Pike could ask any more questions.
She left through the front door as she would have if she were heading to Government House, but as soon as she and Jammy were out of sight of the guesthouse, she doubled back around in the direction of the garrison.
Pike wouldn’t like it, but if she went through Anthony Tompkins to get it, she could be sure her rum was legal, and there was also the problem of money. As Harry had pointed out, she didn’t have any and Tompkins was the only one who gave credit. She shivered at the thought of having to go anywhere near him, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Though the sun was shining, there was a breeze coming up from the cove so it hadn’t been a complete lie, what she had said to Pikelet.
A walk in the sunshine had been a rare treat when Danny was alive and only allowed when he was there to supervise. Nellie still got a thrill to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. Better still, now she could walk where she liked with no one saying where she could go, how long she could stay and who she was allowed to talk to.
When Danny was alive, he had never allowed any pets. Colleen had tried to make friends with the cockatoos, but when they had started ripping at the window frame like the little feathered delinquents they were, Danny had gone spare and put a stop to it.
Growing up on a farm, she had always been surrounded by animals so having Jammy was a real joy even if she was slowing her down, hiving off investigating every interesting scent. Children they passed always wanted to pet Jammy, with their mothers hanging back far enough that they wouldn’t be at any risk of having to exchange so much as a, ‘How do you do,’ with her or be confused for being acquainted.
But today there were no children, and too soon she arrived at the garrison.
At the sentry box, she rapped her on the huge wooden gate. Her hand stung but the doors were solid and she would have to bruise her knuckles if she wanted to be heard.
A hatch scraped open.
‘Nellie Malone to see Captain Anthony Tompkins.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, but if he’s here I reckon he’ll see me.’
The soldier’s eyes swept down to her feet and up again. He gave her a sly smile.
‘Aye, I reckon he will, but there’s no dogs allowed inside.’
‘Up, up,’ She bent to let Jammy jump into her arms. ‘Jammy hide,’ she said, and Jammy crawled up under the cape.
‘Mind you keep the mutt hidden—and if it does anything, you’re picking it up. If the Captain steps in any of its business, I’ll be for the lash.’
‘What do you say now, Jammy, to the nice soldier?’
Jammy barked out a noise that sounded a lot like ‘Thank you’, and the soldier’s mouth dropped open.
‘Did it just?’
Nellie laughed. Jammy was full of tricks. Pikelet had spent hours teaching her.
The gate opened.
‘You know the way, miss?’
She didn’t answer, making her way to Tompkins’s office, weaving her way through the barrels and larger tools to the alcove at the back where Tompkins had his desk. Most of the stores were down at the Commissariat but the most valuable stuff he kept inside the garrison where he could put a guard on it. Or so he said.
‘Nell Belle,’ Tompkins said, lounging back in his chair, cleaning the underside of his nails with his penknife.
She hated being called that, but she bit her tongue. And she’d bite it till it bled if she had to. She had to get that rum or her plan was sunk before it even got started.
‘What an unexpected but pleasant surprise,’ Tompkins said, sounding genuinely delighted to see her.
Nellie tried to make out a smile while she told him what she’d come for. It never paid to let Tompkins see any nerves. He was like a dog that way. He could smell fear.
‘Well, if you were to scratch my back, I could see my way clear to arranging for the rum. And while the Governor’s put the kibosh on credit, with a word in the right ear …’
Jammy wriggled in her arms and she couldn’t stop him popping his head out from under her cape.
Nellie drew in a breath but Tompkins only threw his head back and laughed, showing off his Adam’s apple. He had one of those ones that stuck out, jiggling up and down while he talked. Watching it made her feel sick.
‘I can’t pretend.’
‘Forgive me if I beg to differ, but you can pretend. Very convincing
ly, as I recall,’ he said, laughing again as if he’d made a great joke.
Nellie looked down at the flagstones that had been laid badly, all up and down with gaps in between, holding Jammy close.
‘Christ—you’re still that same girl. After all those years lying on your back.’
Nellie swallowed hard against the tightening in her throat. Jammy whined.
‘Can’t you keep that mongrel quiet.’
She stroked Jammy between the ears, hoping he’d settle.
‘Have it your way then, but credit will be ten per cent.’
‘Ten per cent!’
‘Calculated monthly.’
‘That’s daylight robbery.’
‘For a mutually beneficial exchange of goods for services rendered, I could see my way clear to facilitating a discount with the Deputy Commissary General.’
‘You know I’m out of the trade.’
‘Lucky for you, or I’d be offended.’ He pulled a flask from a drawer and gestured in her direction. ‘You’ll take a test of the merchandise?’
Nellie shook her head.
‘Since when did you ever turn down a drink? Most times you didn’t even wait to be offered. You’d drain a man’s glass the moment he turned his back.’
She hadn’t drunk a drop in months. She hadn’t needed to. Nellie shrugged. ‘I lost the taste for it.’
He uncorked the flask and tilted his head back to take in the largest possible amount into his mouth. ‘So when do you want your rum delivered?’ he said, after lowering his arm from swiping it across his mouth.
‘I’ll send for it once I know I’ve got me licence,’ she said, not looking forward to having to pick her moment for telling Pikelet what she had done.
‘That one-eyed monster is still hanging around, is he?’
‘He works for me.’
Tompkins sneered. ‘Living off the sniff of your cunt more like. Sad bastard, what woman would ever look at him?’
Nellie jumped. Jammy snarled out a deep feral growl that was so low-pitched it felt like it had come from inside her.
She agreed with Jammy. Pikelet was a beautiful gentle soul. One day someone was going to see past his gruesome face and fall in love with what was underneath.
