Chris Nickson - Come the Fear

‘I know,’ he agreed sadly. He was the girl’s father, he wanted her courting to run smooth. But he’d seen enough of life to know that rarely happened. There would be many ditches and hills on the way, too many places to fall. All he could hope was that the pair of them would find their way past this, that it would be nothing important. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he suggested. ‘You might feel better if you’re away from here for a while.’

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.

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.