‘I’m not going to blame you for what your father believes,’ Nottingham said with a small smile, making sure that none of what he was feeling crept into his tone. ‘It’s understandable, I suppose. After all, I’m the son of a whore, that’s true enough, and I’m proud of her. There are plenty of people in this city who’ve never forgotten that. Your father’s just one of them.’
‘But it’s not right,’ Lister insisted.
‘You and I both know that, but you can’t change the way people think. I’m used to it by now.’
‘What do I do?’ Rob asked helplessly. ‘I think he’s wrong.’
Nottingham sighed and pushed the fringe off his forehead.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘He’s your father and I know you don’t want to cross him. But sometimes you have to do what you think in your heart is the right thing. Don’t go marrying Emily just to spite him, though. If the pair of you really want to, that’s one thing, and my wife and I will give our blessing-’ Lister’s eyes lit up briefly. ‘But remember, you stand to lose a great deal with him if you do that.’
‘I know. That’s what I was trying to tell Emily yesterday.’
‘Then my advice is don’t give up until you make her see it. She can be stubborn, though.’ He winked. ‘No idea where she gets that from. Now, you go home and sleep.’
‘Yes, boss.’ He stood, then stopped. ‘And thank you for not being angry about it.’
The Constable shook his head gently and Rob left. Alone, Nottingham could think, the fury simmering inside him. He’d always seen James Lister as a fair man and taken pleasure in his company. He’d never given a sign of what he truly believed. He felt betrayed, cut by the words. Still at least Lister had had the grace to hide his knife when they’d met. It had been years since he’d heard anyone say his family wasn’t good enough; he’d believed those days were done. He’d loved his mother and hated the man who’d fathered him. His father had thrown them out and taken everything, left them to rot, to starve, to die without thought, care or regret. His mother had done what she could so they’d live. He still felt proud to have come from her.
If the words had been about him, they’d have hurt. But they were being visited on his daughter and that was what caught on his heart and made him bitter and angry.
He could go and see Lister’s father, of course, but what good would that do? Nothing he could say would change the man’s views; hard experience had taught him that. All he could see in the future was heartbreak for Rob or for Emily, and he’d do everything he could to protect his daughter.
But the one thing he couldn’t save her from was love, the thing that was supposed to bring her the greatest joy. He gave a long sigh. None of this would be resolved today. Rob was going to have to make some choices and whatever his decision it would be painful.
Now he was in the right mind to see Joshua Davidson again.
Eleven
He brought his fist down hard on the door, feeling it shake in its frame. No one stirred in the house, the shutters closed, no puddle of night soil in front of the step. He banged again, hitting the wood over and over until he heard a muffled shout from inside.
When the lock turned he was ready, pushing hard and forcing his way inside. He closed the door behind him and saw Davidson sprawled on his back, the shirt hanging over his old, torn breeches, surprise and fear in his eyes.
‘I don’t like people lying to me,’ the Constable said. The pimp tried to scuttle away, dragging his bad leg, but Nottingham stood over him. ‘And you lied to me twice.’
‘What did I do?’ Davidson asked helplessly. ‘I told you the truth.’
‘You said you wouldn’t cause any trouble.’
‘We haven’t,’ the man insisted, sounding desperate. ‘What have we done?’
‘And you said you didn’t beat Lucy.’
‘I didn’t!’ Davidson yelled. ‘I told you what happened. You asked my sisters.’
‘And the three of you put together a fine pack of lies for me.’ He stared down at the man.
‘We didn’t,’ Davidson said, but the outrage had worn thin in his voice.
‘Lucy told someone the real reason she’d left you.’
‘And you believe that?’
‘I do,’ the Constable told him. ‘She had no reason to lie.’
‘I told you the truth,’ Davidson said again.
‘And I don’t believe you,’ Nottingham answered coldly. ‘I’m going to give you a choice. You and your sisters can leave Leeds today, or I can come back tomorrow and put you all in jail. It’s up to you. If I see any of you in the city again I’ll arrest you. Is that clear?’
‘Where will we go?’
‘That’s up to you, Mr Davidson. I really don’t care as long as you leave my city.’
He turned and left, slamming the door loudly behind him.
The deputy made his way back to Queen Charlotte Court. A fragment of sunlight caught the corner of one building to show off the stained, crumbling limewash. The stench of rotting rubbish filled his nostrils, mounds of it piled against the cramped, tumbling houses, the paw of a dead dog showing, covered by flies that buzzed away as he approached.
He knocked on the door of Wendell’s room, hoping the girl would be at home. The lock turned, and she opened just enough to glance out.
‘Hello, love,’ Sedgwick said with an easy grin, ‘I was here the other day, do you remember? I’m the deputy constable. Do you have a few minutes to talk?’
‘He’s not here,’ she said, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.
‘I know. It was you I wanted. Can I come in? It’s better than everyone knowing why I’m here.’
Reluctantly she let him in, standing back against the wall as if she wished she could disappear into the plaster. He looked at her, seeing she was little more than frail bones and thin skin. There were fresh bruises on her forearms and more blossoming on her face and throat. The old dress was too large for her small chest and the shawl she hugged around her shoulders was faded and threadbare. Greasy hair hung around her face.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked kindly. Her eyes were haunted, and he could feel the fear coming off her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘Anne.’
‘Anne, did you know Lucy?’
She nodded slightly, keeping her head down, eyes looking at the floor.
‘Did you like her?’
She looked up at him as if she didn’t understand the question. ‘What?’
‘Did you like her?’
She shrugged. ‘He loved her, she were his sister.’
‘Your man must miss her.’
‘Aye.’ She turned away again, as if she couldn’t keep her mind on one thing for more than a moment.
‘And she was never here after she left her job?’
Anne shook her head briefly.
‘You didn’t see her after that?’
‘No.’
‘How long have you been with Peter?’
She thought for a little while. ‘A year, close enough.’
‘Do you love him?’
‘He’s better than some,’ she admitted flatly. ‘We eat.’
He knew he wasn’t going to get much from her, and she’d never dare say anything against her man; she was too scared of him. She’d probably had batterings so often in her life that it seemed the normal way to her. He smiled.
‘Thank you, Anne, you’ve been very helpful.’
‘Are you going to tell him you were here?’ she asked, and he could hear the terror under the words.
‘Not a word,’ he promised, and her face relaxed a little.
The Constable sat adding figures, making sure the men would be paid, when there was a timid knock on the door and a boy of about eight entered, looking around wide-eyed at being in such a terrifying place.
‘Sir?’ he asked in a high voice. ‘Are you the Constable?’
‘I am,’ Nottingham told him, smiling with his eyes.
‘A man told me to give you this. He said you’d give me some money if I did.’ He held out a small fist containing a folded piece of paper.