A Brutal Chill in August: A Novel of Polly Nichols, The First Victim of Jack the Ripper (17 page)

Tom smiled. “My little sister, turned bookish. Look at your happy lamps.”

Bashful, Estell punched him lightly in the chest.

While the girls got ready to go out, Polly spoke to Tom quietly so the others couldn’t hear her. “Bill has caught me out three times now. He has forbidden me to drink. I cannot go to pubs any longer.”

“He doesn’t know how to find you
here
,” Tom said. “You’ll have your drink here.”

For fear that he might take his fine hammer to her husband, Polly didn’t tell Tom about Bill’s threats of violence.

Before leaving for market with Nancy, Estell placed her hand on Polly’s pregnant belly. “Your child has got big. Don’t let Tom poke a hole in her.”

Tom swatted at Estell, but she dodged out of the way. “You shall
not
talk like that!”

“Why not?” Estell said.

Polly liked the girl’s pluck. She smiled, realizing that Estell had referred to her infant as female. She probably looked forward to having another little girl around.

“Young ladies ought not speak of such things,” Tom said, eyes wide with outrage.

Polly made a calming gesture toward him, while Estell stood with her hands on her hips.

“Oh, that’s a rule,
is
it?” the girl said. “Well, if you needn’t follow the rules, why should I?” She saw Polly smiling and grinned. “I know what you two are about. I like Polly, and want her baby to be safe.”

Tom covered his face with a hand, groaned, and turned away.

“I shouldn’t worry,” Polly said. “We won’t hurt her.”

“Somebody has to worry,” Estell said, too reasonably. She took Nancy by the hand, grabbed her basket and sack, and left the room.

Yes, the child on the way was a matter Polly hadn’t fully sorted. If Bill found out about her adultery and divorced her, he might require her to turn her unborn over to him after the birth. She wouldn’t want the child to grow up without a mother, and yet, she thought resentfully, the infant would prolong the years she must remain with Bill. Perhaps she would be better off if he took the child and divorced her. She had considered making certain Bill discovered her adultery. The potential consequences for her choices and actions seemed to grow increasingly complicated and difficult to consider.

How could the happiest time in her life also be the most distressing?

Knowing the infant had no responsibility for her feelings, she said a prayer for her baby, followed by the penitent prayer.

For the well-being of her unborn, she must keep Tom a secret, but that didn’t mean she’d give him up.

22

The Girl’s Decision

At the beginning of May 1877, Polly saw Paul Heryford among the foot traffic moving along Jane Street when she exited Tom’s room. Mr. Heryford touched his cap and nodded a greeting toward her. Thankfully, Tom had not seen Polly to the door. She waved to Mr. Heryford and smiled with the hope that he’d think little about the encounter. Even so, she waited on tenterhooks through the following week, expecting a confrontation with Bill at any moment.

“I must stay away for a time,” Polly told Tom the following Thursday. Unwilling to enter his room when invited in, she stood uneasily on the doorstep, glancing up and down the lane as she spoke. “I am sick much of the time and cannot have a drink with you.”

He nodded uncertainly. “We don’t have to drink.”

She held her round, bulging belly. “Lately, when we dap it up, it hurts. We should give it a rest until after the baby comes.”

“We can still be together,” Tom said somewhat pitifully.

“Our neighbor, Paul Heryford, saw me leave here last week. I’m afraid he might say something to Bill about it.”

“Has your husband said anything?”

“No, but it’s best I stay away for a time.”

“If he hits you, I’ll nobble him good.” He made a frightful face as he struck his left hand with his right as if his fist were a hammer.

Polly feared that he would go to prison if he harmed Bill. She shook her head vigorously. “No, he hasn’t done anything like that.” She touched Tom’s hands gently. “I will come back in July, not before.”

Although he had a sad look, Tom said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Polly said. “I’ll miss you until then.” She turned away and began walking. A glance back showed him watching her. She smiled, waved, and continued on.

* * *

Bill had been cold to Polly since their last altercation, but he gave no indication that Paul Heryford had said anything about his sighting of Polly on Jane Street. Over the next month, since she had ceased to go out, his icy demeanor thawed, and an uneasy truce prevailed in the Nichols household.

Polly bore a girl in June 1877 that she named Eliza. Two weeks after the birth, Polly had not seen her lover for more than a month. On a Thursday in early July, she put her baby girl in a sling and walked with her to Jane Street in the hope of seeing Tom.

Estell answered her knock. “Come in, come in,” she said, beaming for the infant.

Polly entered and immediately took a seat to rest on the bench beside the table. She hadn’t been sleeping well, having to get up so often in the night to take care of Eliza.

Nancy sat on the floor mouthing a crust of bread.

“My little niece,” Estell said, reaching to touch Eliza’s cheek, “where have you been?”

Does she think Eliza is Tom’s?
Polly wondered. The question must have been obvious on her face.

“I know she’s not truly my niece,” Estell said. “You’re married to
another man,
” she added in a scornful tone.

Nancy shook her head with a comical scowl.

Polly frowned.

“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!”