Chris Nickson - Come the Fear

James didn’t answer.

‘Well, don’t you?’ He kept his grip tight, moving to look his son in the face.

‘Yes, Papa.’ He could hear the defeat and sullenness in the answer.

‘Do you want me to thrash you out here in front of everyone?’ Sedgwick’s voice was low, barely more than a hiss, but threatening and dangerous.

‘No, Papa.’

‘I’m going to take you home and see what your mam has to say.’

‘She’s not-’ James began then shut his mouth.

‘Not what?’ Anger flooded into his words. ‘Not what? Not your mam?’

‘She’s Isabell’s mam now,’ James started, unable to stop his words. ‘That’s all she cares about, what Isabell does.’

He took the boy by the arm and began to drag him, forcing the lad to run to keep pace with his long strides. He said nothing, feeling the fury inside himself, scared he might not stop slapping the boy if he began. Finally, in Lands Lane, the small house in sight, he halted.

‘I never want to hear what you said before,’ he told the boy. ‘I don’t know what you remember about your real mam, but Lizzie’s been more to you than she ever was. She loves you and she looks after you.’ He paused and took a breath, trying to frame his thoughts into words. ‘You know Isabell’s tiny, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Papa,’ James answered reluctantly.

‘That means she relies on her mam for everything. You were the same when you were a baby. It doesn’t mean Lizzie’s stopped loving you, and it certainly doesn’t mean she’s not your mam any more. You understand that?’

James nodded slowly. Sedgwick took an old, dirty kerchief from the deep, bulging pocket of his coat, wet it with spit and gently wiped the tears away from the boy’s dirty face.

‘I’m warning you, though,’ he continued. ‘You misbehave once more and I’ll spank you so hard I’ll tan your hide. And don’t think I wouldn’t do it because you’re my son.’ He took the boy by the hand again and walked into the house. Lizzie was hunched over Isabell; the baby in her basket was crying as if the world might end. She looked up as they entered, her eyes wide, face drawn in fear, her hair wild.

‘Where were you?’ Lizzie stood, looking first at the baby and then opening her arms. Sedgwick let go of the boy and James ran to her. She shook her head, eyes closed, rocking back and forth as she held the lad. ‘Don’t,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t ever do that again. I was looking for you and you’d gone.’

‘I won’t,’ James promised, snuffling as he cried. ‘I’m sorry.’ Sedgwick carefully picked up the baby, so light and fragile in his large hands that it still scared him. He cradled her, rubbing a fingertip gently over her lips, taking in her warmth and marvelling that he could have a love so huge for something so small. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him, the yelling subsiding into a gentle hiccough.

‘Where was he?’ Lizzie asked. The boy kept hold of her skirts.

‘Down on Briggate.’ He looked at James. ‘He knows what’ll happen the next time.’

She breathed deeply and shook her head sadly and put her arms around the lad’s shoulders. She sagged with exhaustion; she looked like a woman close to the end of her tether. Her eyes were sunken, with dark patches shading under them, all the prettiness and life leeched from her face in a wearied expression that was beyond age. Between the baby and James there was no peace for her.

Sedgwick reached out and stroked her arm, moving down to rub the back of her hand tenderly. Then he kissed her and left. There was work he needed to do; the problems at home would need to wait until later.

Will Cates was waiting in a small private parlour at the Rose and Crown when Rob arrived. It was up a rickety flight of stairs and curtained to give some privacy. A jug of wine sat on the table. Lister sniffed it, looked questioningly at Cates, then poured himself a mug and sat down. Even dressed in his best coat and breeches he didn’t look rich, but he was presentable enough for good company.

‘Now,’ Will asked, ‘what’s all this mystery about?’

‘I told you, it’s nothing important.’

Cates laughed softly. ‘But important enough to meet in private?’

‘That was your idea.’

‘True enough,’ he acknowledged, taking a drink. ‘So what is it, Rob?’

‘Your father dismissed a serving girl a few weeks ago.’

‘Who? Lucy?’ Will said in aggrieved surprise. ‘You dragged me out to ask about Lucy?’

‘I did,’ Lister admitted without apology. ‘She’s missing. No one’s seen her since she left your house.’

Cates snorted. ‘She’s probably too stupid to find her way home.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Anyway, what business is it of the Constable? She’s hardly a child.’

Rob gave a heavy shrug. ‘I just do what I’m told.’

Cates drained his mug and reached over to pour more of the wine.

‘You know Lucy was pregnant? That’s why my father really let her go.’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know who was more scandalized by it, my mother or my holy brother.’

‘Any idea who got her that way?’ Rob asked.

Will held up his hands. ‘It wasn’t me, that’s all I can tell you. She might have been too daft to say no, but with that harelip she wasn’t someone I’d have wanted in the first place.’

‘You’ve tupped other servants?’

‘Of course I have,’ Cates admitted without hesitation. ‘My first time was with a maid. What’s the point of having good-looking servants otherwise? Don’t tell me you never have?’

‘No.’

Cates raised his eyebrows. ‘Dear God,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘Another innocent. I think even my brother’s been at the serving girls, and I know for a fact my father has. But Lucy? You’ve got to draw a line somewhere. I doubt she’d have known what I was doing.’

‘I heard she wasn’t bright.’

‘She was simple,’ Cates observed flatly, pouring more wine. ‘I don’t even know why my father took her on. She couldn’t do anything without prodding, and even then it was only half done.’

‘So why didn’t he dismiss her sooner?’

‘No idea,’ he answered, ‘and far less interest. It’s not my business. If he’d give me a halfway decent allowance I wouldn’t even be living there.’

Lister sipped deeply and then pushed the mug away.

‘More?’

Rob shook his head. He rarely drank wine and didn’t want it going to his head.

‘What was she like?’

‘Lucy?’ Cates though for a moment. ‘Ugly as Saturday sin with that harelip. But it was always yes sir or no sir and a pretty little curtsey. At least she knew that. If she’d looked better I’d have had her, stupid or not.’

‘No one called for her?’

Cates laughed. ‘Christ’s blood, man, do I look like an authority on what the servants do? I don’t know. You’d have to ask them. As long as they do what they’re supposed to and keep out of my way I don’t give a bugger what they get up to.’

Rob stood. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Is that it? Not going to stay and have something to eat? The landlord said they had a fresh pig this morning.’

‘I can’t. Work to do.’ It was a lie, he had no duty until this evening. But staying meant more drinking and he wanted to be sober to walk Emily home from school.

Cates shrugged. ‘It’s your choice,’ he said.

It was the shank of the afternoon when Richard Nottingham turned the corner from Kirkgate on to Briggate. The sun had finally broken through and the heat of the day clung close to the pavement. It seemed too early in the year to be this warm, he thought.

He opened the door of the house and walked in, his ears suddenly aware of the loud mechanics of the printing press, the rich smell of ink filling his nostrils. James Lister was working, turning the handle, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his concentration deep on his task.