‘Aye, he is that, praise God.’ The chandler smiled, showing the nubs of brown teeth in a wide mouth. He was a stout man, his knuckles gnarled and misshapen, two fingers gone from his right hand. ‘Come in, come in.’
The chandler and his family lived above their business in a series of small, untidy rooms. He could hear the wife in the kitchen, giving orders to the maid and the sound of children behind another closed door.
Morrison led him up another flight of stairs, the rail trembling under his touch, and into a small room under the eaves. The floor was swept and a window looked down on the street. The boy lay in clean sheets on a pallet of fresh straw, a spotless shirt over his scrawny body.
‘This is the Constable, Mark.’
The lad turned and Nottingham could see his eyes were alert and the colour had returned to his face.
‘Hello,’ he said, squatting down and smiling. ‘How do you feel, Mark?’
Mark glanced at his father then back at the Constable. ‘Fine, thank you, sir,’ he replied, his voice clear and strong, although Nottingham could see the faint traces of fear lingering in his expression.
‘You had us all worried yesterday, you know.’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
Nottingham grinned and ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘You’re back and safe now, that’s all that matters.’ He turned to Morrison. ‘I’d like to talk to your son alone, if I might.’
‘Of course,’ the chandler agreed with an eager nod. ‘Just come down when you’re done.’
He waited until the footsteps had faded before speaking.
‘What do you remember about yesterday, Mark?’
‘I don’t know,’ the boy answered slowly. ‘It’s all mixed up inside.’
‘Do you recall being at the market with your mother?’ he prodded gently.
Mark nodded.
‘What happened after that?’
‘I was holding her hand and then I was on my own. I tried shouting but no one heard me.’
He could see the tears of memory welling in the lad’s eyes.
‘Did anyone help you?’
‘Yes. There was a lady. She said she’d take me to my mam.’
‘And did you go with her?’
He nodded. ‘But we went the other way, down Briggate. I asked if she was taking me home.’
‘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.’