Come the Fear

by Chris Nickson

  Mary smiled, the brightness in her eyes as well as her mouth.

  ‘Maybe she’ll want to talk when we’re back,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry too much if she doesn’t,’ he warned, and held her close. ‘Things will work out one way or another.’

  ‘I know. But since Rose, I worry about her so much. She’s all we’ve got.’

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘That girl’s got enough spirit for five people.’

  They walked out past Burmantofts, out by the road to York where riders and carts were still travelling in the fading light. They let the peace of the countryside envelop them, moving without words, just the touch of hands between them, allowing contentment to slowly seep in. The rain had passed and the air was still; no gust of wind, sounds faint in the distance, a hawk hanging magnificently above the horizon and swooping down.

  Full dark had arrived by the time they returned, the moonlight peeking through scudding clouds. There was no light in Emily’s window; the girl must already be sleeping. They stayed quiet in the house, eating hot pottage in the kitchen before climbing silently up the stairs to bed.

  ‘I’ll talk to Rob in the morning,’ he promised.

  Ten

  Lister made his first circuit of the city as darkness came, walking with two of the men. His thoughts roiled and tumbled, troubled by everything his father had said and the way Emily had acted when he’d told her. He was damned if he’d lose her just to please some notion of society that his father possessed; he’d tried to explain that but she’d been too upset and angry to listen. He kept his hand firm on the cudgel, eager to use it at the least provocation. But everything was quiet, all the inns and alehouses subdued as men eked out their money until payday, stretching out their ale or gin over an hour or more, their faces as sullen as their spirits.

  When they were done he wandered away, heading down to the river. The fires were burning on the bank and as he approached he could make out the shapes and empty faces of the folk gathered around them, cooking some food or simply taking in the heat. Eyes glanced up at him with suspicion and wariness before turning swiftly away again, bodies moving back slightly.

  He stood silent until Gordonson came over, his withered arm gathered at his side, a smile on his face.

  ‘Mr Lister,’ he said, as if he had no cares in the world, ‘I was hoping you’d come back. Susan’s been waiting for you. Come on, come on, I’ll show you to her.’

  The girl was sitting outside the light from the blaze, her back resting against a tree, her hair pulled neatly under a cap and her skirt gathered primly around her ankles. He could hardly make out her face but she seemed young, her body barely developed.

  ‘Susan,’ Gordon said gently, ‘this is Mr Lister. He wants to talk to you about Lucy. You can trust him.’

  Rob sat down by her, giving a smile to try to put her at her ease. He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate.

  ‘You knew Lucy?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, and he waited in vain for more.

  ‘You know she’s dead?’

  Susan turned to face him. ‘Dead?’ she asked, as if it was a new word she’d never heard before.

  ‘Someone killed her,’ he told her softly. ‘We’re trying to find who did it. You might be able to help me. Will you do that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded. In a flicker of light from the fire he could make out the start of silent tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘Dead,’ she said again.

  ‘How long was she here?’ He watched as her fingers nervously plucked at the grass. Her answer didn’t come quickly.

  ‘Nigh on seven days, I think.’

  ‘Did you become friends?’

  ‘Aye,’ Susan said after a moment. ‘I liked her. People thought she was strange, because of . . .’ She raised a hand to her lip and he nodded. ‘But she were nice. We used to hold each other to stay warm when we slept.’

  He took a piece of mutton pie he’d saved from his dinner and passed it to her. Her eyes widened for a moment, then she reached out and snatched it.

  ‘Did she say why she came here?’

  ‘She’d told me she tried whoring but there were no one who wanted her. When she didn’t bring in any money, the man who’d been looking after her hit her and made her go out again the next day, even though she didn’t want to. So she didn’t go back. She just walked around Leeds until it got dark. Then she saw the fires and came down here.’

  ‘What did she do during the day when she was here?’

  ‘We’d walk and try to find things people had thrown away. Old food, all sorts. Lucy even found an old dress once, but it wa’nt much and it was too big for her.’

  ‘Did she talk much?’

  ‘Nay, mister, not a lot,’ Susan said, wiping awkwardly at her eyes. ‘It were her mouth, you see. It made the words funny so she didn’t really like to say a lot.’

  ‘When she did, what did she talk about?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered with a small shrug of her shoulders.

  ‘Her family? A boy she liked?’

  ‘She said she used to be a maid in one of them big houses.’

  ‘She was,’ he told her.

  ‘But they said she had to go because she were going to have a baby.’

  ‘They did. But did she tell you why she didn’t go home? Her mother loved her, she’d have taken her in.’

  Susan shook her head. ‘All she said was that she couldn’t go back there because he’d find her there.’

  ‘Did she say who’d find her?’

  ‘No, mister. She never did.’

  ‘Why did she leave here?’ Lister wondered. ‘Did she tell you she was going, or where?’

  ‘We went out like we always did when she was here,’ the girl began, ‘and she said she had summat she needed to do. Wandered off merry as you please and never came back. If I’d known . . .’ Even in the dull light her could see the tears forming again and she lowered her head.

  ‘You don’t know where she might have gone?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head adamantly. ‘She never said owt. I kept looking for her after but she never came back. People leave all the time here.’

  He looked around. It was company, it was safety, but it was a hard, hard life out in the open.

  ‘How did you end up here?’ he asked and he looked at him, surprise in her eyes at his interest.

  ‘Me parents died, so me brother was looking after me. We’d been sleeping out past Town End until some men come and . . .’ She let her words tail away for a moment. ‘Then we come down here when he heard about it. A few days later he said he was going to ’list for a sailor. Said at least he’d eat and he might make his fortune. Promised he’d come back then and look after me. He will, won’t he, mister?’

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ he assured her, although he knew the chances were slim. In this life you had to look out for yourself first. He stood, took some coins from the pocket of his breeches and handed them to her.

  ‘Thank you, mister.’

  ‘Thank you, Susan. How old are you?’

  ‘Fourteen,’ she said.

  The night had ended but day hadn’t yet arrived; the sky was the flat colour of old pewter as he walked up Briggate. A thin layer of mist lay over the river like magic. Behind the high walls of the grand houses he could hear the first servants at work, drawing water and lighting fires.

  At the jail, Lister was sitting at the desk, quill scratching on paper to write up his brief nightly report as the Constable arrived.

  He looked tired, Nottingham thought, not just in his face and eyes but in his soul.

  ‘Did you see the girl last night?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Anything worthwhile?’ Nottingham sat and Lister pushed a hand through his thick hair.

  ‘Not really. Lucy told her she couldn’t go home because he’d find her there, but still no mention of who he is. She was with the riverbank people for a week, then she just left. She was out
with the girl I talked to, said she had something to do and never came back. Didn’t talk much, evidently.’ He paused. ‘One more thing, boss.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘That pimp Lucy had claimed she’d been beaten by someone who didn’t pay, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. His sisters said the same. Why?’

  ‘The girl said Lucy told her the pimp had beaten her when she didn’t make any money. She’d have no reason to lie.’

  ‘True,’ Nottingham agreed.

  ‘And it would explain why she ran off.’

  Nottingham sat and thought.

  ‘I think I’ll go and see Joshua Davidson again today.’ He gave a dark smile. ‘Let’s see if he remembers the truth this time.’

  ‘But it doesn’t help us find out what happened to Lucy.’

  ‘No.’ The Constable gave a deep sigh. ‘We’ll get there, don’t worry.’

  Sedgwick arrived, his face creased in a smile.

  ‘You look happy,’ Nottingham said.

  ‘Isabell only woke twice, James has been behaving and I slept,’ he announced proudly.

  ‘Anything from any of the Cates men?’

  ‘They didn’t have her, I’ll wager on that. None of them liked her, I doubt they’d have touched her with someone else’s pizzle. You might be getting a complaint about me from the father, though,’ he warned. ‘He didn’t seem too happy at my questions.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it if it happens,’ the Constable told him. ‘We still need to know who she was scared of seeing if she went home. Any ideas?’

  ‘Her brother?’ Lister suggested.

  ‘I don’t see why she’d be scared of him,’ Nottingham answered. ‘He’s her family and her mother said he looked after her. You said he seemed insistent on finding her himself, John.’

  ‘He was,’ the deputy agreed slowly. ‘He’s an odd one, though. Might be worth talking to his girl when he’s not around.’

  ‘You’d better do that, then. I’m going to see our friend Davidson and then keep on the thief taker business. Anything from the men who’ve been watching him?’

  ‘Nothing unusual,’ Lister said.

  ‘Keep someone on him,’ he ordered. ‘And make sure he doesn’t know he’s being followed.’

  They started to leave but the Constable said, ‘Rob, can you stay for a minute?’

  Nottingham watched the others exchange glances then Lister sat down again as Sedgwick walked out.

  ‘Emily was upset last night, and she won’t say why,’ he said plainly, and stared at the younger man. ‘I was wondering what you knew about it.’

  ‘Boss . . .’ Rob began, then the words wouldn’t come to his mouth. He pushed his head down to the desk and raised it again. ‘It’s my father.’

  ‘What about him?’

  Nottingham could see the reluctance in the youngster’s face. He waited, giving him time to frame his thoughts.

  ‘He doesn’t want me to marry Emily.’

  ‘Oh?’ he asked, trying to keep the surprise from his voice. ‘I didn’t know you two had even talked about it. Emily hasn’t said anything.’

  ‘We haven’t. But we love each other.’

  ‘I think all of Leeds knows that by now, lad,’ Nottingham said kindly and watched Lister blush. ‘So why doesn’t he want you to marry her? Is she too young?’

  Rob shook his head. ‘It’s not that.’ He paused, then blurted it out quickly. ‘He said . . . he said your family wasn’t good enough. I’m sorry, boss.’

  ‘I see,’ the Constable said slowly.

  ‘I told Emily and I tried to explain that what he wants won’t stop me. But I don’t know how much of it she really heard.’

  ‘Now she’s angry at you?’

  Lister nodded.

  ‘She’ll come around. Meet her after school,’ he advised. ‘Talk to her again. You know what she can be like. You need to make sure she understands.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ He hesitated. ‘And I’m sorry about my father.’

  ‘I’m not going to blame you for what your father believes,’ Nottingham said with a small smile, making sure that none of what he was feeling crept into his tone. ‘It’s understandable, I suppose. After all, I’m the son of a whore, that’s true enough, and I’m proud of her. There are plenty of people in this city who’ve never forgotten that. Your father’s just one of them.’

  ‘But it’s not right,’ Lister insisted.

  ‘You and I both know that, but you can’t change the way people think. I’m used to it by now.’

  ‘What do I do?’ Rob asked helplessly. ‘I think he’s wrong.’

  Nottingham sighed and pushed the fringe off his forehead.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘He’s your father and I know you don’t want to cross him. But sometimes you have to do what you think in your heart is the right thing. Don’t go marrying Emily just to spite him, though. If the pair of you really want to, that’s one thing, and my wife and I will give our blessing—’ Lister’s eyes lit up briefly. ‘But remember, you stand to lose a great deal with him if you do that.’

  ‘I know. That’s what I was trying to tell Emily yesterday.’

  ‘Then my advice is don’t give up until you make her see it. She can be stubborn, though.’ He winked. ‘No idea where she gets that from. Now, you go home and sleep.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ He stood, then stopped. ‘And thank you for not being angry about it.’

  The Constable shook his head gently and Rob left. Alone, Nottingham could think, the fury simmering inside him. He’d always seen James Lister as a fair man and taken pleasure in his company. He’d never given a sign of what he truly believed. He felt betrayed, cut by the words. Still at least Lister had had the grace to hide his knife when they’d met. It had been years since he’d heard anyone say his family wasn’t good enough; he’d believed those days were done. He’d loved his mother and hated the man who’d fathered him. His father had thrown them out and taken everything, left them to rot, to starve, to die without thought, care or regret. His mother had done what she could so they’d live. He still felt proud to have come from her.

  If the words had been about him, they’d have hurt. But they were being visited on his daughter and that was what caught on his heart and made him bitter and angry.

  He could go and see Lister’s father, of course, but what good would that do? Nothing he could say would change the man’s views; hard experience had taught him that. All he could see in the future was heartbreak for Rob or for Emily, and he’d do everything he could to protect his daughter.

  But the one thing he couldn’t save her from was love, the thing that was supposed to bring her the greatest joy. He gave a long sigh. None of this would be resolved today. Rob was going to have to make some choices and whatever his decision it would be painful.

  Now he was in the right mind to see Joshua Davidson again.

  Eleven

  He brought his fist down hard on the door, feeling it shake in its frame. No one stirred in the house, the shutters closed, no puddle of night soil in front of the step. He banged again, hitting the wood over and over until he heard a muffled shout from inside.

  When the lock turned he was ready, pushing hard and forcing his way inside. He closed the door behind him and saw Davidson sprawled on his back, the shirt hanging over his old, torn breeches, surprise and fear in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t like people lying to me,’ the Constable said. The pimp tried to scuttle away, dragging his bad leg, but Nottingham stood over him. ‘And you lied to me twice.’

  ‘What did I do?’ Davidson asked helplessly. ‘I told you the truth.’

  ‘You said you wouldn’t cause any trouble.’

  ‘We haven’t,’ the man insisted, sounding desperate. ‘What have we done?’

  ‘And you said you didn’t beat Lucy.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ Davidson yelled. ‘I told you what happened. You asked my sisters.’

  ‘And the three of you put together a fi
ne pack of lies for me.’ He stared down at the man.

  ‘We didn’t,’ Davidson said, but the outrage had worn thin in his voice.

  ‘Lucy told someone the real reason she’d left you.’

  ‘And you believe that?’

  ‘I do,’ the Constable told him. ‘She had no reason to lie.’

  ‘I told you the truth,’ Davidson said again.

  ‘And I don’t believe you,’ Nottingham answered coldly. ‘I’m going to give you a choice. You and your sisters can leave Leeds today, or I can come back tomorrow and put you all in jail. It’s up to you. If I see any of you in the city again I’ll arrest you. Is that clear?’

  ‘Where will we go?’

  ‘That’s up to you, Mr Davidson. I really don’t care as long as you leave my city.’

  He turned and left, slamming the door loudly behind him.

  The deputy made his way back to Queen Charlotte Court. A fragment of sunlight caught the corner of one building to show off the stained, crumbling limewash. The stench of rotting rubbish filled his nostrils, mounds of it piled against the cramped, tumbling houses, the paw of a dead dog showing, covered by flies that buzzed away as he approached.

  He knocked on the door of Wendell’s room, hoping the girl would be at home. The lock turned, and she opened just enough to glance out.

  ‘Hello, love,’ Sedgwick said with an easy grin, ‘I was here the other day, do you remember? I’m the deputy constable. Do you have a few minutes to talk?’

  ‘He’s not here,’ she said, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  ‘I know. It was you I wanted. Can I come in? It’s better than everyone knowing why I’m here.’

  Reluctantly she let him in, standing back against the wall as if she wished she could disappear into the plaster. He looked at her, seeing she was little more than frail bones and thin skin. There were fresh bruises on her forearms and more blossoming on her face and throat. The old dress was too large for her small chest and the shawl she hugged around her shoulders was faded and threadbare. Greasy hair hung around her face.