Chris Nickson - Come the Fear

‘Constable,’ he said in sleepy surprise. ‘What brings you back here? Nowt wrong, is there?’

‘You’d better let me in,’ Nottingham said stonily. ‘I’ve some questions to ask.’

Davidson limped heavily away and the Constable followed him to the kitchen. There was coal in a bucket but no fire burned in the room and he felt the chill in the air. An old table had been scrubbed clean, three chairs pulled up close to it. The floor was beaten earth, worn down by generations of feet.

‘Sit thisen down,’ Davidson said with a smile. ‘There’s some ale if you like.’

Nottingham remained standing and shook his head. ‘You’ve been lying to me.’

The man cocked his head and gave a gentle, bemused smile. ‘Me?’ he asked.

‘You.’

‘What have I lied about?’ Davidson scratched his head.

‘You said you only run two girls.’

‘Aye, that’s right enough. Me sisters, like I told you.’ He poured himself a mug of ale from a tall old jug that stood by the window.

‘What about Lucy Wendell?’ the Constable asked.

The man chuckled. ‘Is that what this is about, then? Little Lucy?’

‘It is, Mr Davidson. She’s missing, and the last time she was seen was when she was whoring for you.’

‘That were all of one night,’ Davidson said, shaking his head sadly. ‘She didn’t bring in any money, anyway. The way she looked and all, and her getting heavy round the belly, I told her it wasn’t the life for her.’

‘So you beat her when she didn’t earn anything.’

‘I bloody well did not.’ The man crashed the mug down hard on the table, eyes blazing. ‘I’ll not have it said I hit lasses.’

‘No?’ Nottingham asked, his eyes cold, watching the pimp’s face carefully. ‘Who did, then?’

‘Someone who had her and didn’t pay.’

‘And why should I believe you?’

‘Ask me sisters if you like. They’ll tell you.’

‘Where are they?’

‘Out earning, I expect. They were both gone when I woke up.’

He’d find them later and ask his questions.

‘Why did Lucy come to you?’

The man wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. ‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth, Constable,’ he answered with a shrug. ‘Happen I was the first she saw. We’d not been here too long ourselves when she came around.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Said she needed work, and would I look after her. I couldn’t understand too much of what she told me, mind, it was hard to make it out. She wasn’t a pretty lass to start, and then there was that lip. When you saw that. .’ He shook his head.

‘What else? There must have been more than that.’

‘She said she’d been dismissed and she couldn’t go home. One look at her with the belly starting to bulge and you could see why.’

‘Was that all she said?’

Davidson scratched his head again, a fingernail digging into the scalp for lice.

‘Aye, there was summat odd, I suppose. She said he’d find her if she went home.’

‘Who?’

‘I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem to matter.’ He took another drink then poured himself more of the ale.

‘If you didn’t think anyone would want her, why did you take her on?’

‘I told you, we’d just come to Leeds ourselves. I thought she might bring in a little. Besides, our Sarah felt sorry for her.’

‘And are you always so kindhearted, Mr Davidson?’ the Constable asked.

The pimp stared at him. ‘Mebbe I was a bit when I came here. Not now. It’s a cruel place, is Leeds.’

‘What happened when she was hurt?’

‘The lasses brought her back here and cleaned her up. Whoever he was, he’d done a right job on her face, it were all bloody and swollen up. Sarah looked after her, sat up with her all night.’

‘What about the next day? Was she willing to go out again?’

Davidson shook his head. ‘She didn’t want to. She was scared. Offered to stop here and clean for us instead. Look at me, Mr Nottingham.’ He opened his arms appealingly and glanced around the room. ‘Do you think I’d know what to do with a servant girl? So she went back out with our Sarah and Fanny.’

‘But she didn’t come back.’

‘No. When they were done they went looking for her, but she’d gone. Not seen her since.’

‘You didn’t search for her?’ Nottingham wondered.

Davidson shrugged. ‘What for? I thought she’d decided I were right and she wasn’t made to be a whore. Best to let it be.’

The Constable stared at the man. His leg might stop him moving fast but he had a large pair of fists that could damage a girl. His tale seemed plausible enough but he still wanted to talk to the girls.

‘You’d better be telling me the truth,’ he said finally.

‘I am, Constable. I told you, ask me sisters.’

He found them down by the bridge, standing close to the old chantry chapel. He could hear the yells of the men from the barges out on the river, loading cloth from the warehouses that would end up in more countries than he could name.

The girls were easy to spot, with the same pinched, hungry faces as Davidson, looking as if youth had been drained from them too early. They were standing together and talking, warily eyeing the men who passed. A few weeks before they’d probably had an air of innocence but it had already been rubbed off them, leaving their mouths and eyes hard. He walked up to them and the taller one turned, appraising him quickly.

‘We’re only looking for gentlemen today, love,’ she told him.

‘I think you’ll talk to me,’ he said with a friendly smile.

‘Oh aye?’ she asked cockily. ‘Why’s that, then?’

‘Because I’m the Constable of the City.’

The girls looked at each other with the kind of quick, silent conversation only sisters could manage. He’d seen it in his own daughters when Rose was alive.

‘We heard you said this was all right unless we caused trouble,’ the girl said.

‘It is,’ he agreed, keeping his voice light. ‘But I need to ask you some questions. You’re Sarah?’

The taller one hesitated then gave a brief nod.

‘I need to know about a girl called Lucy.’

Sarah sighed. ‘What about her? She were hardly with us long enough to draw breath.’

He asked what he needed to. Everything they answered echoed Davidson’s words. Lucy had been a timid little thing, hadn’t talked much. With her face and the signs of a baby on the way they knew not many would want her, but she might have made enough to keep body and soul together. They’d looked after the girl when she was hurt, bathed her face and tried to ease her tears.

‘She said she didn’t want to go home?’

‘Aye, that’s right,’ Fanny said. ‘She said he’d find her there.’

‘Who would?’ Nottingham asked.

The girls shrugged together.

‘Her business,’ Sarah said. ‘If she’d wanted to tell us, she would have.’

‘Who beat her? Was it your brother?’

The girls glanced one to the other and started to laugh.

‘Mister,’ Sarah told him, ‘it weren’t our Joshua. He wouldn’t dare raise his hand to a lass. I’d kill him mesen if he tried. I know what he seems like, but he’s soft as summer butter.’

‘It was someone she was with,’ Fanny interrupted. ‘Hit her all round the face. Thought it should have been free wi’ her. Poor thing cried half the night.’ She paused. ‘She weren’t made for this. I’m not sure she were made for anything.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, she had the lip.’ She stared at him to be certain he understood her. ‘And mister, she were simple. Didn’t know what you meant half the time, you had to show her. And then there were the babby. No lass should have all that,’ she said seriously. ‘It were like God hated her.’ She blushed and looked down.