Chris Nickson - Constant Lovers

‘Was she called Nan?’

‘Aye. Been around, has she?’

‘I think there’s two of them, her and a man. What did she look like?’

‘Pretty enough,’ he answered. ‘Not too tall, long dark hair, blue eyes, not filled out yet.’

‘How old?’

‘Fourteen, fifteen?’ Worthy shrugged. ‘I didn’t ask. She had a reference.’

‘And you never thought she’d be stupid enough to steal from you.’

The pimp turned, his face dark, his voice quiet and menacing. ‘It’ll be the last time she steals from anyone, Constable.’ He spat on the floor. ‘I have people out looking for her.’

‘Call them off, Amos.’

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘If she stands trial she’ll hang for the ten guineas.’

‘And your way’s better? Find her and kill her?’

‘Aye, laddie, it is. I can’t do anything else. She’s made a laughing stock of me.’

Nottingham understood. If Worthy didn’t catch the girl and take his revenge, others would think he was losing his power and come after him. Hughes was already trying to push his way in, to challenge the man’s power. His own men might start doubting his judgement and sharpening their knives. Worthy lived in a world that had no use for mercy or compassion. But understanding that didn’t mean accepting it. The Constable took a drink.

‘I told you, you’re not the only one she’s done this to. There are two of them, we’ve been looking for them.’

‘Well, you haven’t bloody found them yet, have you?’ His voice was sharp as metal.

‘We will.’

‘Not before I do, laddie.’

‘We’ll see about that, Amos.’ He stood up, brushed the fringe from his forehead and left.

Sedgwick was already back at the jail, putting a prisoner into one of the cells, the man shouting in drunken incoherence.

‘This early?’ Nottingham asked.

‘Left over from last night, more like. He was wandering all over Boar Lane.’ The deputy hung the key back on the hook. Ale was good, being drunk once in a while was fine, but he had no time for public stupidity.

‘Did you find anything out at Jackson’s?’

‘A woman used to come to visit one day a week, right enough. Not always the same day.’

‘Very good.’ The Constable settled back in the chair.

‘She visited with her maid, so the landlady thought everything was proper. Thought it was a relative who cared for him.’

‘Even better. And what about a description?’

‘The woman was young and blonde, tiny little thing according to the landlady. Seemed very respectable, always wore an expensive gown. The maid was just a little older, with dark hair. Got to be Sarah, boss.’

‘Yes,’ Nottingham admitted. ‘But we have something else to think about.’

‘Oh?’ He pursed his lips, waiting.

‘That girl from the servant lay. Her name was Nan, wasn’t it?’

‘Aye.’

‘Well, Nan’s either been very bold or very stupid. She stole ten guineas from Amos Worthy last night.’

Sedgwick’s face broke into a grin and then laughter. ‘Oh, that’s lovely, boss. I could kiss her for that.’

‘You’ll not get a chance if Worthy finds her first,’ the Constable told him seriously. ‘Word’s spread about it. He said he’s going to kill her.’

‘If he does we have him for murder.’

‘And then someone new comes and takes his place, like this Hughes. If he doesn’t find her then people will think he’s lost his power and they’ll be on him like wolves.’ He sighed. ‘He’s the devil we know.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘We find her first,’ Nottingham answered simply. ‘That’s our job. She and whoever’s with her can’t be from around here. They’d never have stolen from Worthy otherwise, that’s just tempting trouble.’

‘We haven’t had any luck so far,’ the deputy pointed out.

‘Then we’re going to have to work harder. I want you on it, John.’

‘Why not Rob? It would be a good start for him.’

The Constable considered the idea, then said, ‘No. You know what you’re doing, and Worthy has his men out looking. It’s going to be quite a while yet before Rob’s ready to go up against them. I’ll keep him with me on the murder. Use some of the night men if you need help. You know what to do if you have a problem with Worthy’s men.’ He paused, thinking. ‘Try the inns first. If they have money the chances are they’ll be spending it. A good room, drink, clothes.’

‘Aye, boss.’

Lister returned soon after, horse dung from the road thick on his shoes, a satisfied smile on his face.

‘Third place I tried,’ he said.

‘Definitely Sarah Godlove?’ Nottingham asked.

‘Yes.’ The smile became a wide grin. ‘She used the same stable every time, that one on Cripplegate, just off Boar Lane. The first time she was there the ostler asked her name and she didn’t have the wit to give a false one.’

‘Good work.’ The lad knew what questions to ask and how to ask them, it seemed. ‘Did he mention the maid?’

‘Always with her, he said, but only one horse.’

‘That sounds right enough. And from the description, the pair of them visited Jackson’s lodgings every week.’

‘So what now, boss?’

That, the Constable thought, was a good question. If Jackson and Sarah were lovers, Samuel Godlove became the obvious suspect for the killing. Yet he’d seemed innocent enough when he came to report his wife’s disappearance, and distraught when he learned she was dead. So either he hadn’t done it or he could have had a career on the stage.

‘I think we’ll go to Horsforth on Monday and talk to Mr Godlove again,’ he decided. ‘How are you on a horse?’

The early evening was heavy with the scents of wild flowers as they strolled up the bank of the Aire. Lizzie’s arm was through his and they both kept an eye on James as he ducked and scuttled through the trees or ran too close to the water’s edge.

Bees buzzed, a deliciously lazy, summer sound, and John Sedgwick felt fully content being here with his family. He glanced over at Lizzie, a soft smile on her face, one hand moving to rub at her belly, polishing the life growing in there.

‘Tell me when you’re ready to go back,’ he said.

She looked at him happily. ‘Not yet. This is lovely.’

They’d gone beyond the city and its bustle and buildings, past the upper tenters when the cloth lay stretched on the frames and out into the country. Across the river sheep were bleating as a shepherd walked towards them, crook extended to gather them in. But on this side they might have been the only people in the world.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked her. ‘With the babby, I mean.’ He indicated with a dip of his head.

‘John.’ She stopped, pushed herself on to tiptoe and kissed him lightly on his pox-marked cheek. ‘You can be a soft bugger at times. Everything’s fine. I’d tell you if it wasn’t. Come on, I’ll race you to that oak over there.’ She picked up her skirts and started to run, looking over her shoulder and laughing, the cap tipping back on her head. He began to dash after her. He loved her, but he was damned if a woman was going to beat him at this.

She was breathless by the time her fingers touched the wood, ready to sit and rest in the shade. He took off his coat, folding it into a pillow for her then wandered off hand in hand with James to find flowers they could pick for her.

He needed this feeling of freedom and fresh air. The afternoon had been hours of frustration, full of hints that promised something but evaporated as he approached them. Someone had told him of a couple staying at the New King’s Head and spending freely, but the landlord soon scotched that, and neither the Old King’s Arms nor the Rose and Crown had lodgers who might be them. He’d talked to his touts, but all he’d received for his time was a series of shaken heads.