“It doesn’t trouble me,” Estell said, making a face that contradicted her words. She pulled up a chair and sat.
Polly reached to take her hand, but Estell wouldn’t allow it.
Nancy got up and sat on the floor next to Polly, leaning against her leg. She had a stuporous look about her, as if she hadn’t been eating or sleeping well.
“May I hold her?” Estell asked.
Polly lifted Eliza into Estell’s arms. “How do you know the baby is a girl?”
“I just know.”
“Her name is Eliza,” Polly said.
“Hello, Eliza.” Estell touched the infant’s head and gently twirled the flaxen, downy locks at the crown upon her finger.
“Is Tom about?” Polly asked.
“Not today,” Estell said. “He’s working at the smithy. He didn’t work for a time, drank up our money and there weren’t much left for food. I told him he had to go back to work.”
“I see you have toke, so you have eaten today?”
“Yes. He gave me a penny and I bought old bread.”
“Was Tom ill?” Polly knew she’d asked a foolish question. Drinking too much wasn’t the same as having an illness.
“No,” Estell said, “just lonely.”
While saddened to hear he’d been unhappy, Polly was pleased to imagine why. “He didn’t find someone else, did he?”
“He should have done. I told him so. He doesn’t listen to me.”
“He went back to work when you told him to,” Polly said.
“He were hungry too.”
“You aren’t happy with me, are you?”
Estell didn’t answer for a time. She handed Eliza back to Polly and sat back in the chair and worried at the cuffs of her worn linsey shift. “Tom missed you,” she said finally. “He were worthless with drink for weeks.”
“I told him when I’d come back.”
“Yes, but he can’t count on you the way you do him. He fears you might not come back one day.”
“He said that?”
“He didn’t quite say the words.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “He were wretched-drunk and muttering. I knew as what he meant.”
“I’ve hurt him.”
“In a way, yes,” Estell said. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “It’s not your fault. He’ll say as you’re not his doesn’t trouble him, but it’s not true.”
The young woman’s distress upset Polly. “He said he wouldn’t marry me even if I were free.”
Estell wiped her eyes before the tears fell.
“Tom’s scared to try again. He pretends it doesn’t matter his wife—that witch, Ester—left him, but he didn’t expect it and the loss hurts. He felt it again when you went away, even though you said you’d come back. It’s the not knowing, not trusting, I suppose.”
Polly thought Estell astute for such a young one. What was she, perhaps fifteen years old at present? A young woman, now. Polly envied Estell’s ability to keep another’s concerns in mind. Thinking, rather than feeling, seemed to drive Polly’s own efforts to be considerate of others.
Although she didn’t like the question that occurred to her, she voiced it anyway. “Shall I go and not come back?”
Estell became thoughtful for a long moment, and Polly wished she could withdraw the question. She felt a tightness around her heart at the thought of not seeing Tom again. She needed him, his affection, his companionship. Why should she care what Estell thought?
Damned selfishness. Polly had discovered she’d hurt someone, yet all she could do was think of herself.
No, I must think of Tom and his family. For reasons unclear, she did care what Estell thought. I’ll leave the decision to her.
The young woman looked at Polly in silence. Waiting for the answer, Polly became uncomfortable in her seat. Her eyes stung, she blinked repeatedly, and her mouth went dry. Finally, when she could take the wait no longer, she opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted.
“Who, then, would give me my lessons?” Estell asked.
Polly felt a flush of relief that took the strength from her. Eliza slipped from her grasp. Estell sat up quickly, and reached to help Polly catch the infant.
The young woman seemed to pull back tears as she smiled uncertainly. “I’ll put her in the bed for a while if you’ll teach me.”
Polly smiled and nodded. She handed the infant to Estell, and began to assemble the materials for their lesson.
23
Reprisal
During their first tryst following Eliza’s birth, Tom asked Polly, “What if I’m the one gets you knapped now?”
“If I’m to bear another child,” she said, “I’m just as happy to have yours.” After a moment, she added, “No, I’d be more pleased.”
Tom never spoke of his reaction to Polly’s temporary absence. They picked up where they’d left off with two exceptions: The new infant took up most of her time and when Tom offered her a drink, she turned him down.
Two months after Eliza’s birth, Polly hadn’t had a drink in so long, she experienced little desire. Bill had not found the smell of alcohol on her for three months, which had allayed much of his suspicion. Tom didn’t seem to care if Polly drank. Thankfully, much of the strife in her life had diminished with the absence of alcohol. Although she considered making a new abstinence pledge, the thought of her disappointment and shame when breaking earlier promises discouraged her.
In January 1878, when Eliza was six months old, Estell began taking her along on the Thursday afternoon expeditions to market. Tom had altered the seat of the baby carriage to accommodate an extra passenger. A length of rope, cushioned by a small blanket, helped to secure them for the ride. Then, Polly and Tom could bed one another in the afternoon without interruptions.
Not much changed at home. John went to live with his grandfather and begin his apprenticeship. Bill and Polly settled into their routines.
* * *
In April of 1878, Tom saw Polly to the door when she left his room in the afternoon of a Thursday. As she walked away, carrying Eliza, she saw Paul Heryford moving up the lane in the opposite direction. Again, he nodded a greeting and touched his cap. Polly smiled and kept moving. She could only hope her luck held. Perhaps he hadn’t seen Tom. If he had, hopefully, he wouldn’t speak of the matter to Bill.
* * *
Around half past seven in the evening, Polly heard Bill’s voice outside the door to their flat. Fearing that he spoke with Paul Heryford, she became determined to act as if nothing were amiss. She had prepared a potato and fish stew. Percy and Alice sat at the table. Eliza occupied a recently acquired high chair. They all waited for their father before beginning their supper.
Bill walked in calmly enough. He took off his jacket and hung the garment on a hook beside the door.
“Good evening,” Polly said.
He didn’t respond to her, but turned to Percy and Alice. “Go outside for a little while before supper,” he said. “I must have a talk with your mum.”
Polly’s stomach seemed to drop and her heart beat a faster rhythm.
The two children got up, and went out.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Bill turned toward Polly with a dreadful scowl. “Mr. Heryford saw you twice going into a room on Jane Street. The second time, he saw you speaking with a man there. Explain this to me!”
Rattled, Polly struggled to find a voice and a manner that Bill would find believable. “I-I have a girl who watches Eliza so I can go farther to market. Those on this side of the river don’t have the prices to be had at Farringdon Market. The women I may leave Eliza with here haven’t the time for me to be gone so long.”
“The first time he saw you there was before Eliza was born.”
“Just before, perhaps,” Polly said. “I knew I needed someone I could trust. I were looking in on her to see how she lived before leaving my child with her.”
“Why have I not heard of this girl before? What is her name?” His fists balled and his fac
e turned red.
Polly tried to think fast, to cover all the possibilities with the new lie. She’d seen Estell sunning Nancy and playing with her in the Peabody buildings’ courtyard garden. “She’s a girl, Estell, I met and spoke to her here in the courtyard garden. She brings her charge, her brother’s child. I give her ha’penny an hour.”
Bill seemed to relax, and Polly moved toward him, to take his hand as a gesture of affection.
He looked up, a rage on his face, and struck, boxing her left ear. Pain, everywhere at once, dropped Polly to the floor. Bill kicked her in the gut, knocking the breath from her. She coughed and then gulped for air. She looked up at him, and he smiled.
“You’re lying, I know it,” he spat. “You’re a bloody coward. You hid behind an unborn before, but you’re not knapped now, and you’ll have a lesson, you will.”
Eliza began to cry. The sounds seemed distant as Polly heard only with her right ear.
Bill leaned down and hauled her up.
“No,” Polly cried. She tried to strike at him with her fists, but his arms and elbows got in her way. He clutched the collar of her chemise with his left hand while striking her in the face with his right hand. Polly felt two front teeth give way under the assault. She screamed with the pain.
Her chemise tore, and Bill’s grip slipped. Polly stopped struggling, became deadweight, and slid to the floor. He followed, continuing to strike her in the face as she tried to curl into a ball. Once she’d tucked her face between her shoulders, he pummeled the side and back of her head with his fists.
Finally, the punches ceased. She heard him, breathing hard, rise and step back.
Weeping, Polly tried to crawl toward the corner of the room. Her clawing hands slipped in smears and puddles of her blood, saliva, and tears on the hardwood floor.
She glanced up to see Bill standing over her. “You shall not keep secrets from me,” he said, pulling back his foot. She tried to move quickly, but his leg moved faster, and his dirty shoe crashed against the side of her head.
24
Unexpected Allies
Polly awoke unable to focus her eyes. She lay in bed with her torn clothing on. Daylight came through the window, illuminating nothing but stillness within the flat. She listened for a long time before making a sound, and heard only the ever-present hubbub of the city outside. Normally a murmur, the sounds coming in from outside, those of hooves, shoe leather, and the wheels of various conveyances wearing against paving stones, as well as the occasional voices of man and beast, were quieter still. Polly turned her head this way and that, and realized she couldn’t hear with her left ear.
She decided that Bill and the children must be out. She presumed her husband had put her in the bed.
Polly felt two holes in the gums of her lower jaw and something under her tongue. She spit it out into her hand, but couldn’t see the object. Her face was tender and swollen in several places and she suffered a terrible headache. She assumed she had at least one black eye.
Polly would not be able to see Tom until she’d healed up or he might take his hammer to Bill and suffer the consequences. As she lay worrying about all the possible details of her lies to Bill and the ones she’d have to tell Tom, her vision began to improve. Eventually, she focused on the tooth in her hand. Even if she healed up before she saw her lover, Polly didn’t know how she might explain the loss of teeth.
She couldn’t face all her concerns at present. She had to get up and move or she thought she might turn over and sleep forever. Polly struggled into a fresh chemise, pushing it down over her bloodied skirt, and then walked into the front room. She heard Eliza’s voice, crying. The sound came from the Heryfords’ flat.
Reluctantly, she stepped out onto the landing and knocked on their door.
Paul Heryford answered. Seeing Polly, he gasped. His mouth remained open as he backed away. Susan Heryford came to the door. Seeing Polly, the woman hurried forward. “Come in and sit,” she said.
Both the Heryfords helped Polly to move to a table and chairs. They settled her into one, then took chairs of their own.
Mr. Heryford struggled to find his voice. “I-I…um…uh…had no idea he…”
“I’m so sorry,” Susan said. She looked sternly at her husband. “This is what your meddling has got.” Her accent said she was Scottish.
“Eliza,” Polly said, the name coming out mush.
“She’s fine,” Susan said. “I’ve put her in Brian’s bed since he’s gone weeding and hoeing with his brother in the north.”
Polly noted that Eliza’s crying had stopped.
Paul said something too quietly.
“Pardon me,” Polly said, “I’m not hearing with my left ear.”
“I said, let me get you something to drink, Mrs. Nichols.” Paul went into another room and returned with a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He poured a large helping and offered the drink to Polly.
The whiskey stung her mouth, especially at the gums, but she downed the amber liquid all at once.
Susan fetched a basin and flannel and spent some time cleaning Polly’s face. Paul watched, a wretchedness in his eyes. As dramatic as the Heryfords’ reactions had been to her appearance, she dreaded looking into a mirror.
“I’m so sorry,” Paul said.
“As well you should be,” Susan said. Finished with the cleaning, she turned to Polly. “You shall get in the bed with your bairn. Your husband won’t have either of you until you’re better.”
Polly gratefully allowed herself to be led into a bedroom where she saw Eliza sleeping. Susan helped her to lie down, bunching the bedclothes to help protect Eliza. Polly felt safe.
Once the Heryfords had gone, Polly found the least painful position for her head, torso and limbs. She placed a hand on the back of her infant’s warm, smooth head, and went to sleep.
* * *
She awoke to the sound of Eliza fussing. The sky lay gray outside the window. Polly sat up, drew her infant into her lap and gave her a breast. As the child suckled, Polly heard bits of a contentious conversation coming from the next room. Quickly, she realized that Bill and Paul Heryford were arguing, their voices raised.
“The children are with my sister tonight, but will need their mother when they return from school tomorrow,” Bill said.
“Tell them to come here tomorrow after school,” Paul said.
“Polly must be home to greet them,” Bill said impatiently.
“Mr. Nichols, sir,” Paul said slowly, disgust in his tone, “the face you have given her would frighten them away.”
“She isn’t that bad,” Bill said.
“If you do not leave my door, I shall give you a face to match! How bad would that be?”
Polly heard indistinct grumbling and cursing, and then a door shutting.
The Heryfords couldn’t protect her for long. She’d have to return to Bill soon. The thought made her want to drink.
After a time, she put Eliza back into the nest of bunched bedclothes, and got out of bed. Paul and Susan sat in the next room apparently trying to have a quiet evening. He set down his briar pipe and she closed the book she was reading.
“My dear,” Susan said. “Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you,” Polly said. “I must go to my flat for fresh clothes.” She indicated the blood on her skirt.
“Paul,” Susan said, “will you go with her to make sure she’s safe?”
“Please, don’t make a fuss.”
“I will,” Paul said. “Mrs. Nichols, if you’d like to wait until I come back, I should just borrow your key.”
“Yes, thank you.” Polly pulled the key from the pocket of her skirt and handed it to him.
Paul left the flat. Susan gestured toward his seat, and Polly sat.
“Thank you for taking care of my girl. You are good folks to think of her as you’ve done.”
“I haven’t had a small child of my own for many years. I never had a girl.” Susan gave a warm and loving smile. “If you have nee
d, you may leave her with me from time to time. Truly, I don’t mind.”
“Then, if you would, please take care of her tonight while I go see my father.” As good as the Heryfords had been to her, Polly hated to lie to the woman. Hopefully Susan would never know that Polly intended to drink that night. “He told me to tell him if Bill should beat me again.”
“He’s done this before?”
“Yes.”
Susan looked at her with such sadness, Polly had to hold back tears. She didn’t have time for such emotion. Tonight she would get good and drunk.
“I won’t return until tomorrow. If Bill asks, you might tell him I took Eliza with me.”
“We won’t lie. If he demands to have her, we’ll have to allow it.”
“I understand.”
“While she’s with us, we’ll take good care of her. Paul told your husband to have Percy and Alice come here when they return from school tomorrow.”
Polly had spent little time with the Heryford family. She knew they had two sons and that Paul worked as a clerk at Waterloo Bridge Railway Station. Until that day, though, conversations with them had been limited to small talk, yet Susan remembered the names of the children. The Heryfords were pleasant, good people.
Strange that, living so close together in the same building, we have not become fast friends. Then she realized that what had stood in the way was her need to keep secrets. Presently, she would create another one.
Paul returned. “Mr. Nichols is not in your flat,” he said, handing her the key.
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“Anything I can do to help,” he said sheepishly, glancing at his wife.
Polly smiled for the couple and slipped beyond the threshold, shutting the door behind her.
25
A Timely Amendment
Polly retrieved some of the coins she’d hidden among her printing supplies, and went out into the night, walking south to the Compass Rose public house. Although her battered face received plenty of stares, the patrons of the pub left Polly in peace. Finally, she was having her greater adventure. Too bad the outing didn’t occur under better circumstances. She drank enough gin that she couldn’t feel her feet when she stumbled out of the place at closing time around one o’clock in the morning. Few people and little traffic moved along the roads. She made her way down South Street, turned west, and walked past the low, brick building where the family had occupied rooms in Trafalgar Street. She became lost in her memories, some good, some bad, of the years spent there, and when she took stock of her surroundings again, she didn’t recognize them. Polly stumbled on into darkness.
A Brutal Chill in August: A Novel of Polly Nichols, The First Victim of Jack the Ripper Page 13