Free Fair and Tender Ladies by Chris Nickson Page A

he disappeared from view without glancing back.

NINE
    O n Saturday morning Nottingham stood in the doorway of the house on Marsh Lane, waiting for Emily. She was making an early start, with plenty to do at the school before the pupils arrived. Finally she rushed down the stairs, a shawl pulled around her shoulders, eyes shining at the prospect of a day spent teaching.
    There was a widening band of pale blue at the horizon as they crossed Timble Bridge, the girl hurrying to keep pace with her father.
    â€˜You’ll be there before your pupils for once,’ he teased.
    â€˜Papa!’ she said, feigning outrage. ‘I’m not as bad as that.’
    He smiled, amused. ‘If you say so.’
    â€˜I didn’t have time to talk to you last night, Papa,’ she said. ‘You came home late.’
    â€˜Aye, I know.’ Work had kept him busy until well after dark then he’d sat in the White Swan for a hour, quietly sipping a a mug of ale.
    â€˜I wanted to tell you, Mr Williamson’s wife came to the school yesterday,’ she said excitedly. ‘She’s very grand, isn’t she?’
    â€˜Is she now?’ He thought back to his conversation with the merchant. ‘What did she think?’
    â€˜She wants to help us.’
    â€˜Help?’ he asked. ‘How?’
    â€˜She’s going to talk to some of the other merchants’ wives and raise money for us. We’ll be their charity.’ She smiled widely and clutched his arm happily. ‘It’s good news, Papa.’
    â€˜It’s wonderful news,’ he agreed.
    â€˜It means we’ll be able to afford more books. Maybe even somewhere larger …’
    â€˜I hope you can, love, but don’t go making plans before the money’s there.’
    â€˜Oh, I won’t,’ she promised, but he knew she was already thinking ahead. It was her way; since she’d left the cradle she’d been a dreamer.
    They turned from Kirkgate on to the Calls; he’d escort her all the way to the school. His mind was elsewhere when she cried out, ‘No!’
    Someone had smashed half the mullions on the street window of the school. This was deliberate, he thought immediately, not children throwing stones. Glass glittered in the street. He put his arm around her, drawing her close.
    â€˜Let me look inside,’ he said. He saw her hand was shaking as she gave him the key. But there was no one within and the closed shutters had kept most of the damage out of the room. He made sure the back door was secure then brought her in.
    â€˜You sweep it up,’ he told her. ‘I’ll have Thompson the glazier come by this morning.’
    She looked up at him uncomprehendingly. All the earlier joy had vanished from her face. ‘Why, Papa? Why would anyone want to do this?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ he told her. There could be so many reasons; he’d have Sedgwick ask people if there were any rumours flying around. ‘You go on,’ he said gently.
    Rob was at the jail, yawning wide as the Constable entered.
    â€˜Get yourself to the school,’ Nottingham ordered.
    â€˜Why? What’s happened?’ Lister asked urgently, standing up and reaching for his coat. ‘Is Emily all right?
    â€˜She’ll be fine, she’s just shaken. Someone broke the windows there. See Thompson on the way. Tell him I asked if he could look to the job this morning.’
    â€˜Yes, boss.’
    â€˜You could give her a hand down there, there’s glass to clean up.’
    â€˜I’ve got a job for you, John,’ he told Sedgwick once the deputy had arrived and downed a mug of ale. ‘Go down to the Calls. Ask if anyone saw or heard anything last night. Someone smashed the windows at Emily’s school.’
    â€˜What?’ he asked in alarm. ‘How is she?’
    â€˜She’s not hurt. Rob’s down there now. I want to know what happened. It was probably drunks,