Constant Lovers by Chris Nickson Read Free Book Online

any ale, do we?’
    â€˜Aye, I bought some today, fresh brewed from old Mrs Simpson.’
    â€˜Would you be a love and pour me some?’
    She raised her eyebrows. ‘What did your last slave die of, then?’ she asked, but a smile played gently across her face as she moved towards his mug.
    As she passed it over, he took her hand. ‘I do love you, you know,’ he told her.
    â€˜You’d better,’ she answered, eyes twinkling. ‘That’s your baby I’m carrying inside me.’
    He drank deep, almost emptying the mug, then asked, ‘So when  . . .?’
    â€˜When’s it due, you mean?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Late February or early March, close as I can tell. But don’t you be telling anyone yet, John Sedgwick. There’s still a long way to go.’
    â€˜I know,’ he agreed, standing up gingerly to take her in his arms. The truth was that he was eager to tell everyone, to let them all share his joy. Lizzie was right though, he knew that. He sounded out the months in his head. She was barely two months gone, and there was too much that could happen before the baby arrived.
    The door crashed wide and James bustled in, running straight for his father and grasping him firmly round the legs. He’d become a solid little lad with a strong grip and a ready smile. At four he kept growing out of the clothes the deputy scrounged for him, and the knees of his breeches were always ripped from playing; Lizzie seemed to spend most evenings working with a needle and thread.
    â€˜And what have you been doing?’
    â€˜Me and Mark and Andrew went down to the bridge and we threw sticks.’ The words came out in a breathless, eager stream, almost tumbling over each other. ‘And we ran over to watch them come out the other side.’
    â€˜Did you? Who won?’
    â€˜Mark, because he had the best sticks, he said.’
    â€˜Maybe you’ll win next time.’ Sedgwick’s face turned serious. ‘You watch yourself on the bridge, though. I’ve told you before. The carts and horses always go too fast there.’ He waited until the boy gave him a grin then tousled his thick hair. ‘Now go on, your mam’s got something for you to eat.’
    And she’d become the lad’s mother, he thought as he watched Lizzie cut bread and cheese and pour a cracked cup of small beer for James. More of one than Annie, his wife, had ever been. She wiped away his tears, cleaned his grazes and cuts, and loved him fiercely.
    He felt lucky she’d come along, and he still wasn’t completely sure what she saw in him. At first, once she’d moved in, he’d been scared, fearful of how fragile things could be, that she’d just up and leave. After the first three months he began to understand that she was here to stay, that they’d made a family of sorts, one where there was love and joy. Now he couldn’t think of coming home to not find her here, welcoming, funny, warm. And the idea of being a father again, of her giving birth to his child, sent a surge of pleasure through him.
    â€˜What are you smiling at, John?’ she asked.
    â€˜I’m just happy.’
    She looked at him tenderly. ‘I am too, love.’
    Nottingham arrived at the jail early. He threw out the pair of grumbling drunks who’d been brought in the night before, then went to summon a baker to the Petty Sessions for selling adulterated bread.
    A few faint, high clouds trailed across the towering sky as he ambled back down Kirkgate from the bakery on Lands Lane. It was going to be another hot day. He ran a finger under his collar to loosen it from his skin, the flesh already damp against his fingers.
    Sedgwick was standing by the desk, his face locked in thought, a small, secret smile on his lips.
    â€˜What did you make of Mr Godlove?’
    The deputy turned as the Constable spoke. ‘Morning, boss. I thought you said he was a