mistresses and an old man with a stick, tottering cautiously on the snow and ice. The world had become an upside-down place, the weather like an unleashed beast.
At Briggate, first he thought to turn and head back to the jail. Instead his footsteps took him in a different direction, towards Timble Bridge and home.
It was dark when Josh reached his room, the key turning awkwardly as ever in the lock. The darkness and cold inside surprised him. Normally Frances would have had a light burning and the smell of food would fill the place. Groping for tinder and a candle, he called her name softly. She might be sleeping, the way she sometimes did at odd hours, curled and quiet like a small child, tiny under the covers.
The flame took, guttering at first as it threw strange shadows and then strengthening. She was in the bed, just her face showing, pale as the moon. A patch of deep colour, shiny and dark, stained the sheet.
‘Frances,’ he said, and her face turned towards him, eyes half opening.
In a voice hardly more than a whisper, tears on her cheeks, she said, ‘I’ve lost it. I’ve lost the baby.’
He knelt by the pallet, stroking the cold sweat from her forehead with his hand. Her hair was matted and soaked. Slowly he pulled back the covering to see the thick stream of blood that had collected between her legs. A heavy metallic tang filled the air. He reached out and ran his finger through it. Still warm.
‘Jesus.’
It was half exclamation, half prayer. He knew nothing about babies, but death was an old companion and he could feel him in the room. He squeezed Frances’s hand tenderly.
‘How long ago did it happen?’
She gave a tiny shake of her head. ‘I don’t know.’ It sounded as if each word was an effort. Inside, he felt the fear rising, the taste of terror in his throat. He kissed her lips softly, feeling them cold and clammy.
‘Hold on,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to get someone who can help.’ As he began to rise, he said, ‘I love you.’
Eighteen
Outside, in the freezing darkness, his breath came quickly as panic took his mind. He could rouse the apothecary, but he wouldn’t come for a lad with no money. Who else was there?
John might be able to help. He fixed on the thought and began to run, slipping and sliding as he tore out of the court and down Briggate. Please God, he asked, let him be home.
At the house he pushed open the door and ran in, his footfalls loud and urgent. He hammered on the wood, silent prayers slipping from his head to heaven.
Sedgwick answered finally, his face slack with sleep, hair wild.
‘It’s Frances.’ The words tumbled out. ‘Help me. She’s bleeding.’
‘Come in, lad,’ Sedgwick said.
‘No, you have to come,’ Josh pleaded. ‘She’s bleeding.’
The deputy pulled him inside by the hand. A candle illuminated the room softly. His woman was in bed, her sharp eyes focused. A small boy slept on a pallet.
‘Where’s she bleeding?’ Sedgwick asked.
‘There.’ Josh pointed.
‘The baby?’
He nodded and saw Sedgwick exchange an anxious look with the woman.
‘She needs someone,’ he told the deputy.
‘I’ll come,’ the woman said quickly, climbing out of bed and beginning to dress, taking quick, calm charge. ‘John, you get next door to watch James then go fetch the apothecary.’
Sedgwick nodded, took Josh’s address, and put on his clothes.
‘Show me where she is. You’re Josh, aren’t you?’ She wrapped a heavy shawl around her shoulders. ‘I’m Lizzie, love.’
Outside she hurried along, holding on to Josh’s arm for support on the ice. ‘What did you say your lass’s name was?’
‘Frances.’
‘We’ll take care of her,’ Lizzie said reassuringly. Josh blinked back his tears and believed her. She seemed so calm and capable.
Their footsteps clattered on the rickety stairs and he opened to door to the room. Frances lay where he’d left her, eyes closed, face white as bone.
He watched as the woman walked over to the bed, smiling gently.
‘Hello love,’ she said, ‘I’m Lizzie.’ She stroked the girl’s head and turned to Josh. ‘Build up the fire,’ she ordered, ‘and get your lass something to drink. She’ll be parched.’
He did as he was told, putting valuable coals on the hearth and watching the glow rise to a small blaze as he poured some small ale into a cracked mug he’d taken from the back of an inn.
Lizzie was examining Frances and he couldn’t look. He couldn’t bear to see the blood caked and cracked on her, or the way her legs seemed splayed like a corpse. He was scared. The woman was talking quickly and quietly to the girl, her words too soft to hear.
Finally she stood and drew Josh into a corner away from the candle’s light. She put her hands on his shoulder. He could feel his body shaking under her touch.
‘John’ll be here with the apothecary in a minute.’ She sighed. ‘She’s lost the babby, but I’ve seen worse. There’s no meat on her. She couldn’t nourish what was growing inside. Do you understand that?’ Her voice was warm. He nodded. ‘How old is she?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered truthfully. ‘Will she. .?’
‘Die, you mean?’ Lizzie raised her eyebrows. ‘God willing, she’ll recover. The apothecary will give her something to make her sleep. That’s what she needs now, rest so she can heal. Can you look after her?’
‘What do I need to do?’ he asked eagerly.
She ruffled his hair. ‘I know you’re a Constable’s man, Josh, but you’re nobbut a boy.’ She paused. ‘Look, tomorrow we’ll get a couple of lads to carry her over to our room. I can take care of her until she’s on her feet again. How’s that?’
‘But-’ he began, before realizing he had nothing to say. He couldn’t care for Frances, he was gone more than he was here. He looked at Lizzie, her mouth quite relaxed, her eyes warm. ‘Yes,’ he agreed.
‘Good lad. Don’t worry, you can come over and be with her all you like.’
The door opened and Sedgwick arrived with the apothecary, a wizened old man who was wheezing from the climb. He shrugged off his greatcoat, showing how he’d thrown on his clothes when the deputy roused him. The tiny room seemed suddenly full of people.
‘She’s lost a lot of blood,’ Lizzie told him.
‘Skin and bone,’ the apothecary muttered.
‘She’s strong. But she needs sleep.’
The man nodded and rummaged in the bag he’d brought, finding a small bottle and a battered spoon. He fed Frances a little of the liquid.
‘Thank you,’ Josh told Sedgwick, and the deputy smiled and shrugged self-consciously.
‘Thank Lizzie, lad. She knows what to do. You can trust her.’
The woman came and touched the deputy on the arm, taking him into the corner where she’d talked to Josh. He watched as she whispered insistently into his ear. John’s eyes widened and for a moment he looked as if he was about to protest, then just nodded his agreement and returned to the boy.
‘I can’t afford to pay,’ Josh said.
Sedgwick put his arm around Josh’s shoulders. ‘You don’t have to. You work for the Constable, the apothecary looks after us for nowt. You just take care of your lass tonight. I’ll have a couple of the men take her to our place in the morning.’ He squeezed Josh’s thin flesh affectionately. ‘Don’t worry, lad. Lizzie says she looks as if she’ll be fine. She’s just going to need some time.’
Relief filled him. He began to cry. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with his hands, but he knew he
