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more.’
    I bloody do, she thought.
    ‘What were you doing down there?’
    ‘Did you not wait to find out?’ she asked, and immediately berated herself for being sarcastic. Adam had been home from the penitentiary at Port Macquarie less than a month, and already she’d forgotten the desperate vows she’d made to God never to be rude, unpleasant or unkind to him — or anyone — ever again, if only he was returned to her. But, of course, she didn’t believe in God.
    ‘I saw you were safe,’ he said. ‘I decided I could wait until you got in.’
    Sarah dithered, furiously trying to concoct a suitable story.
    ‘I’m prepared to sit here all night until you tell me,’ he added. ‘And after that, you can explain to me why there’s a smelly little dog asleep in our parlour.’
    Clifford was asleep. Cheeky tyke.
    Sarah sat on the sofa. ‘Leo Dundas’s boy got himself into a bit of trouble the other night.’
    ‘The lad who was ship’s boy on your transport? William, isn’t it?’
    ‘Walter.’ Adam had only met him once.
    ‘Nothing serious, I hope.’
    ‘It was, actually. The cove found murdered in the old burial ground on Monday morning? Amos Furniss? That was Walter’s handiwork.’
    ‘But he’s just a boy.’ Adam was stunned.
    ‘He was even more of a boy when Furniss was getting stuck into him on the Isla .’
    ‘Really? My God. And that’s why he killed him? In revenge?’
    ‘Yes, and bloody well warranted it was, too, in my opinion. But he and Clifford were seen leaving the burial ground.’
    ‘Who’s Clifford?’
    Sarah pointed at the hearthrug. ‘Her. Walter left for England tonight. He tried to sneak her onto the ship, but she was chucked off. I don’t know why she chose me to follow home. I don’t even like dogs.’
    ‘Why is she called Clifford? That’s a man’s name.’
    ‘Don’t ask me.’
    Adam stared at Clifford for a moment. ‘But what were Walter and Furniss doing in the burial ground in the first place? And why did you and Friday and Harrie have to see Walter off? Why couldn’t Leo Dundas do it?’
    ‘We didn’t have to, we wanted to. We were fond of him. And Leo was there. You must have just missed him.’
    Adam’s eyes narrowed and he slowly shook his head. ‘No, this just doesn’t feel right to me. You’re talking about helping a murderer flee the colony. That was an awful risk for girls in your position to take.’
    ‘What position?’
    ‘For God’s sake, Sarah, you’re convicts. Imagine if you’d been caught! So come on, tell me. Why?’
    ‘Why what?’
    ‘Sarah! Don’t treat me as though I’m an idiot. Did you owe the boy something? Was that it?’
    Sarah swallowed. Sometimes she wished her beautiful, talented, passionate husband wasn’t quite so clever.
    ‘Well?’ Adam demanded. ‘Did you?’
    ‘No! We didn’t. Stop interrogating me.’
    ‘So what was it, then?’
    She was overwhelmed then with a desire to tell him everything, about Keegan, Bella and the blackmail — the lot. It would be such a relief. He’d know what to do. He could talk to his charmingly crooked friend, Bernard Cole, who’d lived in Sydney for ages and knew certain useful people who did all manner of work if the price was right, and perhaps even come up with a plan that would get rid of Bella forever.
    She began, ‘Friday was in the burial ground on Sunday night —’
    His face blanching suddenly in the firelight, Adam exclaimed, ‘My God, are you saying Friday murdered Furniss? Sarah!’
    ‘No, I’m not . Christ, Adam. It was Walter. Walter killed him.’
    Sarah watched him blow out a shaky sigh of relief and slump back on the sofa, and her heart thumped with sick dread. She’d come so close. If he was that horrified by the idea of Friday committing murder, what would he think if she confessed to it?
    Adam took another, rather large, sip of his brandy. ‘So what was Friday doing there?’
    Sarah tried to change the subject. ‘Do you really think she’s capable of