Chris Nickson - Constant Lovers

The man rose as they entered. The deputy had never seen him when he wasn’t immaculately dressed, even for just resting at home. Today the suit was deep, sober blue, the stock and shirt white, and waistcoat a vivid shock of contrasting colours that somehow managed to suit him. In his early forties, he’d not yet run to fat, and lines barely aged his face.

‘Mr Sedgwick,’ the man said, extending his hand in greeting. The deputy didn’t take it, but glanced admiringly round the room.

‘The thieving business must still be good, Joe.’

He enjoyed watching the man wince, but the reply was calm and even.

‘Business keeps going. Gentlemen, sit down.’ He waved them to a pair of chairs by his own, gathered around an empty hearth.

‘You must be Mr Lister,’ he said, glancing at Rob and idly letting him know how well informed he was. ‘I’ve met your father a few times. He’s done well since he took over the Mercury.’

‘Run into Amos Worthy lately?’ the deputy cut in.

‘As little as possible,’ Buck answered with a small, pained smile.

‘Not planning on trying to take over his interests?’

The man looked as if he’d been insulted. ‘Mr Sedgwick, he deals in girls, you know that.’

‘And other things. Besides, people expand their empires.’

‘Not into those areas.’ Buck shook his head in distaste. ‘Mind you, there’s been some bad blood between him and someone else from what I’m told.’

‘Edward Hughes,’ Sedgwick said and Joe nodded. ‘We’ve already come across him. Have you heard of anything big building between them in the last day or so?’

‘No,’ he said, then spread his hands. ‘But I stay out of that.’ He paused. ‘You should have a word with Bessie Hardcastle. She always knows what’s going on.’

‘Aye, that’s a good idea. Always one to collect gossip, is Bessie. Thank you, Joe. Just make sure you watch yourself.’

‘Don’t you worry about me, Mr Sedgwick.’

Back outside, the deputy looked at Lister. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure. What does he do?’ Rob wondered.

‘Joe? He handles stolen goods, a lot of them. I know he looks like a molly, him and that servant, but don’t be fooled. He’s a tough man under it all.’

‘Who’s Bessie Hardcastle?’

‘An abbess,’ Sedgwick said, and grinned at Lister’s confusion. ‘A bawd, she runs a brothel. Been doing it since God was a lad. Half the time I think she hears about things before they happen. I should have thought of her before. It’ll still be early for her, mind. The lark’s her nightingale.’

The house stood on Vicar Lane, just down from the corner of the Head Row. It was a nondescript place, with nothing to mark it out, fitting tidily between its neighbours. The deputy knocked lightly on the door and stood back, staring at the upper storeys where shutters were closed tightly behind the glass.

Finally the maid answered, a girl who would have looked demure except for the saucy twinkle in her eyes. She showed them through to a parlour hung with the fug of old smoke and stale beer.

‘Are they all like this?’ Lister asked, gazing around.

‘All what?’

‘Brothels.’

‘You mean you’ve never been in one?’

‘No,’ Rob admitted with a deep blush.

Sedgwick laughed. ‘Well, there’s all sorts. This one’s respectable, looks like any other house and there’s plenty of decorum.’ He indicated the good furniture and the painting hung over the mantle. ‘This is where the merchants and the men from the Corporation come. It seems like home. They feel comfortable here.’

Before he could say more a woman bustled into the room, still adjusting a cap over her hair. She was in her forties, hard hawk-faced, her skin still puff?y from sleep.

‘The girl said it was you, Mr Sedgwick. What can I do for you so early?’

‘Hello, Fanny,’ he said with a broad smile. ‘Business good? I was hoping for a word with your mam.’

‘She’s still sleeping,’ the woman told him. ‘She’s been poorly lately, she doesn’t do as much as she used to.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. How old is she now?’

‘Seventy-eight, as close as we can reckon,’ Fanny Hardcastle said with pride. ‘Remembers everything, too, even Charles coming back after Cromwell.’

‘So are you looking after things at the moment?’

‘I am.’

‘And getting the same gossip as her?’

The woman sniffed and stood straighter. ‘I’d better be or I’ll want to know why.’

‘What’s happening between Amos Worthy and Edward Hughes?’

‘You mean you don’t know?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘I thought it was all over everywhere by now.’

‘If I knew I wouldn’t be asking, would I?’ the deputy asked patiently. ‘They’ve been at it a bit, but I mean in the last couple of days.’

‘Well,’ she began slowly, ‘yesterday evening someone told me that Hughes has threatened to kill old Amos.’

‘You think it’s true?’

She nodded. ‘The man who told me has always been right before. Why are you asking?’

‘Just that Worthy’s hired someone new and he’s keeping his men very close.’

‘That’s not like him. Amos has never been the worrying sort.’

‘Aye, I know,’ Sedgwick agreed. ‘He must be taking it seriously.’

‘It’s going to come to a head soon, that’s what I heard.’ She looked at the deputy. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen,’ he told her and she raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

‘You’re going to keep Amos Worthy from a fight?’

‘If it comes to that, yes.’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ she said. ‘Now, gentlemen, if there’s nothing more. .?’

‘Give my best to your mam. I hope she’s well soon.’

Back out on Vicar Lane the deputy led them to the White Swan and they sat with mugs of ale.

‘Are we going to stop them?’ Lister asked.

‘I’m trying to work that out,’ Sedgwick said with a deep sigh. ‘The problem is Fanny’s right. If the pair of them are really set on a scrap we’ll be hard pressed to keep them apart.’

‘Worthy’s been a pimp for a long time?’

‘Yes.’ The deputy took a long drink.

‘But Hughes is new here? He could be the weak link,’ Rob said thoughtfully.

Sedgwick looked at him. ‘How do you mean?’

‘He won’t be sure of his ground here yet.’

‘He’s cocky enough to challenge Worthy.’

‘Yes, but what if the city pushed back hard at him?’

‘It won’t work. The boss and I were already there. It didn’t seem to do much good.’

‘That was talk. What if it was more than just a word?’ Lister suggested. ‘Make sure he knows exactly where he stands.’

Sedgwick gazed down into his mug, swirling the dregs.

‘I suppose it’s worth a try,’ he decided finally. He drained the ale and stood up. ‘Well, are you coming?’

They strode down to the Calls, stepping between puddles of waste in the street as the deputy glanced among the broken, dilapidated houses.

Finally he banged on a door that looked the same as all the others on the street. The girl who opened it looked barely fourteen, her face still young and unlined but eyes deep and full of sad experience.

‘Hello, love,’ the deputy said kindly. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, thank you, sir,’ she replied, confused by the question, and tried to sketch a brief curtsey.

‘Is Mr Hughes around?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Tell him the deputy constable wants a word, will you? There’s a good lass.’ He gave her a warm smile.

‘Yes, sir.’

She closed the door again and they heard her footsteps. Sedgwick shook his head sadly. ‘Poor girl has probably never had a kind word spoken to her in her life.’