“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’ve no reason to lie to you.” He opened his palms. “Look, Joshua, I could put you in a cell and haul you off to court tomorrow without a word. Do you want to know why I haven’t?”
The boy nodded dumbly.
“When I was your age I got by the best I could. I worked when there was work available. And when there wasn’t, I stole. I thieved, I cut purses.” He saw Forester’s eyes widen more, trying to absorb this strange information. “So maybe I don’t think you’re beyond redemption. It’s your choice. But if you turn me down, I can tell you right now that you probably won’t live to see twenty.”
Forester knitted his fingers together in his lap and bit his lip. Nottingham watched him carefully. He’d handed the boy a lifeline; the question was whether he was clever enough to recognise it.
“And nothing will happen to me for what I’ve done?” he asked, wanting to be certain on the point.
“Nothing,” Nottingham assured him. “On my honour.”
“I’ll do it, then,” he said after thinking for a long while. “And you promise I won’t be punished?”
“I promise,” the Constable told him. “You have any of that money left?”
The boy nodded tentatively.
“Make sure you eat well tonight, then. Be back here at six tomorrow morning and you can start learning the job. But I’ll tell you this, Joshua — if you’re not here I’ll find you and you’ll be convicted. Understand?”
Forester nodded vigorously, and Nottingham moved away from the door to let him leave. He ran up the street, as if he needed to put distance between himself and the jail. He’d be there with the dawn, Nottingham was convinced of that. He’d let Sedgwick teach him the ropes. They needed bright young talent, and who better than a thief to catch other thieves? What the lad lacked in size he obviously more than made up in cunning.
And it solved the problem of the cutpurse. Maybe no one would go to jail for the offence, but the crimes would mysteriously stop, and they could rule a line under the affair. It was no real consolation for everything else that had happened, but it was one thing fewer he had to think about — and one more person on the street to help find the killer. He’d managed to retrieve something from a bleak day.
Nottingham ran a hand through his hair and let out a slow breath. He knew he should send word to Sedgwick to call off his men. He’d do that tomorrow if they hadn’t turned up anything useful.
For now, though, he was ready for home. Maybe the scare of the other night had jolted Emily; he hoped so, although deep inside he doubted it. He knew her too well; if she wanted something badly enough she’d find a way. And he was afraid she wanted her first young man.
He paused in front of the door, his fingers poised to turn the knob. The house seemed quiet and normal, a light shining through the shutters as if nothing had ever been wrong inside its walls. He walked in to see Mary darning hose, Rose embroidering, and Emily in the corner with a book. Inwardly he sighed with relief.
Mary stood gracefully and gave him a small kiss, and Rose smiled at her father. Emily hunkered down behind the pages of her book, never looking up or acknowledging him.
Nottingham sat by the fire as his wife brought him cold meat and bread. As he chewed hungrily, he relished the warmth of the blaze and the weight off his feet. It was as if the family sensed that he didn’t want to discuss the day. Most likely a lot of the news had already reached them, he mused, laying the plate on the floor.
A hand rubbing his sleeve roused him slowly. Looking around he saw that the girls had gone and Mary was standing by his chair.
“You’ve been asleep for an hour, Richard,” she told him with a soft laugh. “You dropped off almost as soon as you’d finished eating.”
He shook his head, trying to clear it.
“It was bad,” he explained, his voice thick and husky, as he reached for her hand.
“I heard.”
“How’s Emily been?” Nottingham asked.
“Quiet and helpful,” Mary said with relief. “What did you say to her the other night?”
“Not a lot,” he answered truthfully. “Maybe she just got a lesson in life.”
“Why don’t you come to bed? You look like you could sleep for weeks.”
“I feel like it, too,” he agreed, his eyelids like lead. “I just wish I had the time.”
The evening had turned cold with a cruel wind blowing down from the north. Sedgwick listened as the men detailed everything Worthy’s lieutenants had done for the last six hours. It had been a worthless enterprise, trailing them as they collected money from a number of girls, before vanishing into an inn where they drank and played hazard while the lawmen waited outside in the growing chill.
Sedgwick sent them home for the night. If there really was anything to be learned, it wouldn’t be here or now. And he needed rest and some warmth himself, even if it was in Annie’s unloving embrace.
He unlocked the room expecting to find a fire burning in the grate and the sound of voices. Instead it was in darkness, and when he lit the stub of a candle, it looked as if no one had been there since he’d left. That was strange, he thought, they should have been home hours before; James needed his sleep. Then, almost without thinking, he checked the chest that held their clothes. Both Annie’s and James’s were gone; his spare hose had been tossed into a corner. The spare money he kept in a tin by the fire had vanished too. It wasn’t much, but he’d saved it carefully and conscientiously from his wages for emergencies.
Using only his good hand, Sedgwick clumsily built a fire in the hearth and sat quietly on an old joint stool as the flames took, letting the warmth slowly lick over him. His right arm ached constantly, with bright, shocking flickers of pain whenever he tried to move it. So they’ve gone, he thought dully, watching as light from the blaze shimmered in the empty corners. But in spite of the evidence, he couldn’t really believe it. Any minute she’d come through the door, James on her arm, a pack on her back, saying she’d made a mistake… he’d take the boy, then tell her to go and close the door behind her.
Except, of course, he knew it would never happen. If Annie had made up her mind to leave, then she wasn’t returning.
He needed food, something cooked and hot, but it was too late and he was too tired. Searching around he found a carrot that hadn’t gone soft and he chewed it. Tomorrow, perhaps, he’d buy a few things at the market. Better yet, he’d find a smaller, cheaper room since it was just him now.
It was funny, he mused. The only emotion running through him was relief. No hurt, no pain, no anger. If anything he was grateful to her for making the decision. It was a good end to something that had quite plainly gone bad.
There was old ale in a jug on the table, flat now but still drinkable, and he poured himself a cup. He knew why she’d gone, ultimately: she hated his job and the hours it took. When he’d been offered the work he’d told her and she’d agreed, yet within a year she was complaining. The baby crying when he was desperate for sleep didn’t help either. It made both their tempers shorter.
Well, no more of that. He finished the drink and lay on the low straw pallet. He wanted to rest, and he closed his eyes and pulled the rough blanket around himself, but he couldn’t drop off. Images kept replaying in his mind: Annie’s smile, the throaty way she used to tell him she loved him, the feeling he had when he first saw James.
His feelings for her might have changed and died, but James…
He felt a surge of love in his heart for his son. She could go, but he’d be damned if he’d let her take the best part of him. He’d get him back and raise him properly.
He sat up, acknowledging that he was going to remain awake all night. He poured more of the ale, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. Bloody woman, he laughed to himself. Even though she was gone, she still wouldn’t leave him in peace.
26
Sedgwick reached the jail a little after six to discover a boy sitting on the doorstep, looking bitterly cold in his thin clothes but eyes shining and eager.
“So who are you, then?” he asked.
“I’m Joshua Forester.” The lad introduced himself, gazing up high into Sedgwick’s face. “The Constable told me to be here at six today.”
