Come the Fear by Chris Nickson Page B

‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth, Constable,’ he answered with a shrug. ‘Happen I was the first she saw. We’d not been here too long ourselves when she came around.’
    â€˜What did she say?’
    â€˜Said she needed work, and would I look after her. I couldn’t understand too much of what she told me, mind, it was hard to make it out. She wasn’t a pretty lass to start, and then there was that lip. When you saw that . . .’ He shook his head.
    â€˜What else? There must have been more than that.’
    â€˜She said she’d been dismissed and she couldn’t go home. One look at her with the belly starting to bulge and you could see why.’
    â€˜Was that all she said?’
    Davidson scratched his head again, a fingernail digging into the scalp for lice.
    â€˜Aye, there was summat odd, I suppose. She said he’d find her if she went home.’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem to matter.’ He took another drink then poured himself more of the ale.
    â€˜If you didn’t think anyone would want her, why did you take her on?’
    â€˜I told you, we’d just come to Leeds ourselves. I thought she might bring in a little. Besides, our Sarah felt sorry for her.’
    â€˜And are you always so kindhearted, Mr Davidson?’ the Constable asked.
    The pimp stared at him. ‘Mebbe I was a bit when I came here. Not now. It’s a cruel place, is Leeds.’
    â€˜What happened when she was hurt?’
    â€˜The lasses brought her back here and cleaned her up. Whoever he was, he’d done a right job on her face, it were all bloody and swollen up. Sarah looked after her, sat up with her all night.’
    â€˜What about the next day? Was she willing to go out again?’
    Davidson shook his head. ‘She didn’t want to. She was scared. Offered to stop here and clean for us instead. Look at me, Mr Nottingham.’ He opened his arms appealingly and glanced around the room. ‘Do you think I’d know what to do with a servant girl? So she went back out with our Sarah and Fanny.’
    â€˜But she didn’t come back.’
    â€˜No. When they were done they went looking for her, but she’d gone. Not seen her since.’
    â€˜You didn’t search for her?’ Nottingham wondered.
    Davidson shrugged. ‘What for? I thought she’d decided I were right and she wasn’t made to be a whore. Best to let it be.’
    The Constable stared at the man. His leg might stop him moving fast but he had a large pair of fists that could damage a girl. His tale seemed plausible enough but he still wanted to talk to the girls.
    â€˜You’d better be telling me the truth,’ he said finally.
    â€˜I am, Constable. I told you, ask me sisters.’
    He found them down by the bridge, standing close to the old chantry chapel. He could hear the yells of the men from the barges out on the river, loading cloth from the warehouses that would end up in more countries than he could name.
    The girls were easy to spot, with the same pinched, hungry faces as Davidson, looking as if youth had been drained from them too early. They were standing together and talking, warily eyeing the men who passed. A few weeks before they’d probably had an air of innocence but it had already been rubbed off them, leaving their mouths and eyes hard. He walked up to them and the taller one turned, appraising him quickly.
    â€˜We’re only looking for gentlemen today, love,’ she told him.
    â€˜I think you’ll talk to me,’ he said with a friendly smile.
    â€˜Oh aye?’ she asked cockily. ‘Why’s that, then?’
    â€˜Because I’m the Constable of the City.’
    The girls looked at each other with the kind of quick, silent conversation only sisters could manage. He’d seen it in his own daughters when Rose was alive.
    â€˜We heard you said this was all right