Chris Nickson - Come the Fear

‘What did she say?’

‘I don’t remember,’ the boy admitted with a blush of embarrassment. ‘She gave me something to drink. It tasted funny but she said I had to drink it all. Then I don’t remember anything after that until I was back here. I’m sorry, sir.’

Nottingham smiled and patted the boy’s hand.

‘You’re doing very well,’ he said. ‘What did the woman look like? Can you close your eyes and see her?’

He waited as the boy concentrated, careful not to rush him.

‘She had a blue dress.’

‘Very good, Mark, you’re doing well. Anything else?’

‘Her hair was dark.’

‘What was her name? Did she tell you?’

He said nothing.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ the lad apologized, ‘that’s all.’ He turned to stare at the Constable. ‘Was she a bad lady?’

‘I don’t know,’ Nottingham told him. ‘You’re safe now and that’s the only thing that matters. But you probably shouldn’t say anything about the lady to anyone. Can you keep it a secret?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Mark answered seriously.

‘Even from your parents?’ he asked quietly. ‘Just between us? You promise?’

The boy nodded.

‘Good lad.’ He stood, feeling the ache in his knees. ‘You just rest today, you’ll be fine tomorrow.’

Wearing his best clothes, his hair combed, Rob stood outside the Constable’s house. He’d managed a few hours of sleep, broken by the church bells, then he’d determined to come down here, the way he had every Sunday afternoon for months. Maybe Emily would refuse to see him, but he had to try. His father might want to marry him into society but he was going to follow the course his heart set.

He had no great experience of girls but he knew enough to understand that she was different. She enchanted and nonplussed him in equal amounts with the way she looked at the world, a girl who spoke her thoughts fearlessly without caring who heard them.

What he felt for her wasn’t the bloodless love his parents professed. It was passion, not propriety. Maybe it was ridiculous, maybe it would come to naught, but he’d fallen into it without hesitation.

He stood straight and knocked. Almost before he was ready, Mary Nottingham was standing there, a woman with greying hair and a kindly face. Beyond her he could see the boss sitting in his chair, rubbing his chin with his hand as he thought.

‘I’ve come to see Emily,’ Rob said.

‘Come in, I’ll shout for her.’ She climbed the stairs and he waited in the room, the Constable staring at him and smiling.

‘I’m glad to see you’re persistent,’ he said.

‘I love her,’ Lister answered, as if it explained everything.

‘She knows that, I’m sure.’

He turned as he heard footsteps and saw Emily, her expression as unsure as his own. She was still in her church dress, the dark colour showing off her pale skin, her hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders.

‘I thought we could take a walk,’ he suggested.

He watched as she glanced briefly at her father then back at him.

‘As long as it’s not far,’ she agreed cautiously. ‘I still have to prepare work for school tomorrow.’

‘Just to the river and back,’ he said, feeling as nervous as if they’d barely met.

‘You go and enjoy yourselves,’ the Constable said. ‘Stay for supper if you like, Rob.’

He saw the minute shake of her head.

‘I can’t today, boss,’ he answered.

Outside, under the high clouds, he wanted to reach for her hand as they crossed the tenters’ fields, the wooden frames standing stark, empty of cloth. But she kept a discreet distance, too far for a casual touch.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come today,’ Emily said hesitantly.

‘Why not?’

She glanced at him. ‘After we talked the other day.’

‘Did you really think I’d just give up?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she sighed.

‘I told you, I love you.’

He listened to the silence until they reached the riverbank and sat on an old log where generations of lovers had carved their initials.

‘But I said I didn’t know if I could love you,’ she continued as if there had been no gap. ‘Not unless I can be sure of you.’

‘If we don’t see each other and if we don’t talk to each other, how can you ever know?’ Rob let the words rush out. He stared at the water moving lazily past. ‘If we stop it’s the same thing as my father winning.’

‘Is it?’ she wondered.

‘Yes,’ he replied with certainty, and she looked at him.

‘Why do you love me, Rob?’

The question took him aback. He tried to dig down, to find the words that could capture his feelings for her.

‘Because you’re you,’ he answered eventually. ‘You’re not afraid of anything,’ he added.

‘That’s not true,’ she told him, sadness in her voice. ‘I’m afraid of lots of things.’

‘But you don’t show it,’ he insisted. ‘You care about people. . about things.’ He knew it hardly made sense, but it was all he could manage.

Her fingers touched his and he felt a pull of hope as he put his hand over hers.

‘I do love you,’ he said.

He waited, holding his breath for her reply.

‘I know, and I love you. It’s just. .’

‘What?’ he asked quickly.

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted and shook her head. ‘I really don’t know; I wish I did.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘I’m scared of what your father might do if you refuse him. I’m scared that you’ll give in to him and break my heart. Or if you don’t, I’m scared you might resent me some day.’

‘I won’t,’ he told her, knowing it was true.

‘But I have to be certain and I’m not.’ She stood and smoothed down the dress. ‘Let’s go back. I really do have work to finish.’

They held hands, meandering slowly, letting idle words cover their feelings until they were outside her house.

‘It’s not over,’ he said. ‘I don’t ever want it to be over.’

She smiled and gave him a small, quick kiss.

‘Neither do I.’

John Sedgwick had almost finished his day’s work as the sky clouded over in the late afternoon and a light drizzle began to fall. He perched the battered tricorn hat more squarely on his head, turned up his coat collar and made his way back to the jail.

The only thing remaining was to take Walton over to the prison below the Moot Hall. He’d wait there until the Quarter Sessions reached the city then stand trial for his crimes. There was no doubt of his guilt; they’d caught him with the loot from a burglary. Within days of the verdict he’d be dangling from the noose up on Chapeltown Moor and the crowds would jeer and roar as he danced in the air.

He’d let the thief taker sit all day without food or water. They could look after him at the prison. There had been more pressing business. He’d gone over to Shaw’s Well and seen that Davidson and his whores had gone then asked around casually to see if anyone had noticed Morrison’s boy when he’d been missing.

After this he’d finally be able to go home. All day he’d been scared of James wandering off again, of the child snatcher taking him. He was small, he’d be easy to grab for anyone with determination. Minute by minute the fear had eaten through him and he knew he’d embrace his son tightly when he walked through the door and saw him there.

He needed to talk to him, to make him understand that he needed to stay close to home, close to Lizzie, close to safety. How could he make a boy of his age comprehend all the dangers life held? All he could do was try. If necessary he’d lock him in the house and keep him there.

Maybe the boss was right, and there’d be panic if word of someone taking children spread through the city. But maybe panic was better than another child gone and parents grieving, he thought. With everyone watching and wary the bastard would have a much harder task.