A Brutal Chill in August: A Novel of Polly Nichols, The First Victim of Jack the Ripper (22 page)

“I have to get
out!”
Polly said. “I must escape.”

“I’ll help,” Estell said. “Place what you’ll need to take with you in my bag. I’ll go ask the nurse if she’ll allow me to walk you in the courtyard.”

“She’ll never allow it.”

“I can be very persuasive.”

While Estell talked to Nurse Flake in the next room, Polly quietly dressed, and assembled a few necessities, including the money she’d skimmed off her printing over the years. She opened the carpet bag to find the interior full of Estell’s belongings. Polly was still struggling to get her possessions inside and close it when she heard footsteps coming toward her room. Frantically, she gave another shove and tried to close the bag, yet it remained open, a chemise spilling out, when Estell entered alone. Polly sagged in relief.

Estell nodded to her as she crouched and stuffed the chemise down further and shut the bag. She stood and gestured for Polly to follow.

In the front room, Nurse Flake sat at the table feeding Henry bread softened in milk. Eliza sat on the floor at the nurse’s feet tearing open the neck of the elephant with her teeth. Nurse Flake had already repaired the toy once before. “Don’t walk fast. If she feels the least bit drained, bring her in immediately. Leave the bag with me for now.”

“No, nurse,” Estell said, “I am delivering it to a neighbor at the other end of the building. As why I stopped by.”

“Well,” Nurse Flake said, “I think Polly might make it to the other end if she wants to.” She gave an encouraging smile.

Polly thought of Percy and Alice. They wouldn’t be home from school for several hours. She wished she could say goodbye to them. She looked at her two youngest. She would miss them, but they would be much happier with Nurse Flake.

Estell gave her an even look, and Polly hid her sadness. She allowed the young woman to take her through the door and out of the Peabody building.

29

Reunion & Departure

When Polly and Estell arrived at the room in York Street, Walworth, Tom was stuporous with drink. He sat at a table against the wall. A glass of gin and his hammer rested on the tabletop before him. Seeing Polly, his haggard face brightened briefly, but then he scowled and he placed a hand on the handle of his hammer. “I don’ wan’ ’er here,” he slurred.

“She’s with me,” Estell said. “She’ll sleep with me. You needn’t talk to her if you don’t want to.”

“I’ve left Bill and the children,” Polly said. “He has a mistress, a nurse who will take good care of them. They don’t need me any longer.”

His brow lifted with a look of cautious hope. “Come, ’ave a drink, then.” He held up a bottle of gin, and leaned his chair back against the wall so that the seat’s front legs and his feet lifted off the floor.

“No, thank you,” Polly said.

Tom’s brow knitted and his eyes darkened. “Then, I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you wish, you sodden lout,” Estell said. She approached Tom and Polly followed.

“Get out,” he shouted, waving his arms. His seat wobbled on its hind legs, and he steadied himself against the wall with his left hand.

“No,” Estell said. She quickly hooked a front leg of his chair with her foot and pulled.

With the sound of wood twisting and cracking, Polly jumped back as Tom and his seat toppled into a heap. He lay on the floor groaning.

Polly gave Estell a hard look.

“Being nice to him does no good when he’s like this,” the younger woman said.

“Well, you needn’t be cruel either.” Polly knelt and tried to pull Tom off the remains of the seat. One leg and two of the chair’s stretchers had broken loose.

“You ought to fix that chair straight away,” Estell said, “or you should have nowhere to sit. Polly and I will be using the other two.”

The continued hard feelings surprised Polly. She’d thought Estell loved her brother.

Tom moaned as he rolled off the chair leg to get away from Polly. “She treats me like a wretch, she does.”

“That’s because you are,” Estell said. She held out her arms. “It’s my income what pays for all this, such as it is. Should you find work and contribute to our income, you’ll have a say in what goes on here—not until.”

Listening to the young woman, Polly began to understand and respect her. She’d rarely seen a woman take charge in a household and the sight brought a smile to her lips.

“You’re leaving,” Tom said, “so what do you care?”

Polly looked at Estell.

“Not for two months.”

“I shall never see you ’gain,” Tom moaned. “I’ll do wha’ever I want.”

Polly kept her eyes on the younger woman. Estell clearly became uncomfortable.

“I were going to tell you once you got settled. The company as employs me has opened offices in New York. They want me there to help. They believe I am…well, I’m good at sorting things out.” She smiled proudly, then frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“You might have told me,” Polly said angrily. “You want someone to keep your drunken brother so you won’t feel bad about going.”

“No!” Estell said. She pressed her mouth into a hard line and looked at the floor. “You love each other. Yes, he needs help and I’ll not be able to give it soon. I’ve taken care of him for a long time.”

Tom had rolled onto his stomach and become motionless.

“I didn’t mean to trick you,” Estell said. “You love him,” she added pitifully.

Tom began to snore.

Looking at him, Polly swallowed her anger. “Yes, I do.”

* * *

As fall began in late September of 1880, Polly saw her father. She told him about her flight from Bill and about Tom and Estell.

“It’s not right you should leave your husband for another man,” Papa said with a stern look. Then his expression softened some. “He weren’t a good husband, though.”

At least he doesn’t take Bill’s side.

“He came looking for you,” Papa said, “but I didn’t know where you were.” His stern look returned. “You’ve abandoned your children.”

“No, I haven’t. Bill and the nurse plotted together to take them. If I’d stayed they would have done me in. I were certain she’d poison me.”

“You saw that?”

“Not clearly, but they wouldn’t have put it out in the open, would they? At the very least, Bill would have put me in the madhouse. The nurse said as much.”

“So says the sister of your lover.”

“She’s not the sort to mislead. If I was sent to Bedlam, what good would I have done my children then?”

Papa looked at her for a long time.

“One day, I’ll take care of them again,” she said, “but for now, Nurse Flake has them. I watched her for nearly a week. She’ll do a good job of it, if you want to know the truth. Better than I did, I’m ashamed to say.”

“Is that demon still after you?”

“How do you—” Polly cut herself off, then couldn’t keep herself from asking, “The Bonehill Ghost?”

Papa narrowed his gaze as he looked her in the eye. “Ah, Mr. Macklin,” he said.

Polly nodded. She had the urge to leave immediately and return to Tom.

“I have not thought of him for many years,” her father said. “Your grandfather knew him. Mr. Macklin were a drunkard. Met a terrible end. Your grandfather would have told you the Irishman fell off the Blackfriars Bridge because he were besotted. Those who loved him believed so, and he were buried in hallowed ground. Others say drink destroyed him, that he leapt to his death, and it were a mistake to put him in hallowed ground. Misery loves company. They say he serves the devil now, preying upon those who drink too much.” Papa raised one eyebrow. “Is he after you?”

Polly glared at her father. He’d never thought the Bonehill Ghost haunted her. She decided against explaining herself. “I haven’t had a drink in well over a year.”

Papa kept his eyes on her. Polly tried not to blink. After a lengthy pause, he said, “I have opened a lot of locks for Magistrate Walters over the years. He sits at the Lambeth Street court Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. For a beak, he’s a decent sort. He’ll help us with your separation from your husband.”

“What kind of locks?” Polly asked.

“I’m a locksmith,” he said indignantly.

“Does he often lock things and throw away the keys?”

“They would be things he doesn’t have keys for and can’t be opened with a betty, things taken from family people. In his work with the police, he comes across plenty of things as needs a locksmith. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Family people? You mean criminals.”

Papa didn’t respond.

Then Polly remembered something about the incident involving the strongbox. “Magistrate Walters is your friend at the Lambeth Street Police Court. You told me about that after your arrest years ago.”

Papa’s lips drew back in a grim smile. “He saved me from going to prison, saved us all, you and Eddie too.”

“What happened?”

“Billy and Rob Bowker, brothers and dragsmen they were, threatened to harm Eddie if I didn’t crack that peter. It were the third such lockbox I’d opened for them, each while under the same threat. I knew they’d bring more, and didn’t want any part of it. The push in the box was a great sum, hundreds of pounds. I took it to the police at Lambeth Street, told them I wanted to talk to Magistrate Walters about it. He weren’t there. They held me two days. The third day I would meet the Bowker brothers in the afternoon to hand over the opened strongbox, and I were worried if I missed the meeting time what they’d hurt Eddie.”

Realizing that Papa had no other choice but to help the criminals, Polly felt ashamed of herself for having once believed that he’d eagerly embraced wrongdoing.

“Walters, he came in the morning of the third day, I told him about the Bowkers and their box, and we plotted to capture them. I’d cracked a box for Magistrate Walters once too, did it for nothing because I thought I might need his help one day. Good thing I did. When the Bowkers come back for their box, hidden constables waited for them. The brothers went to prison. I’ve had a debt of service to the Magistrate since. He’s done well by what I’ve opened for him over the years. He values my service enough to do me a kindness from time to time.”

Without her father explaining completely, Polly understood that Magistrate Walters had enriched himself with treasure from the boxes Papa had opened for him over the years, boxes no doubt taken in raids on criminal enterprises.

“You were right when you called me a criminal. I know it’s wrongdoing, what I do for him, even though he’s with the police court.”

“You’ve done it for your family,” Polly said. “No one could fault you for that.”

He nodded slowly, perhaps not agreeing with her completely. “If you’ll stay the night, we’ll try to see him tomorrow. I won’t bring up the children with Walters—it would be asking too much, I think.” His eyes became hard again. “I expect you to sort that out on your own later.”

The next day, they arrived early at the Lambeth Street Police Court, and waited through much of the day before they were brought before Magistrate Walters. In moments, they obtained for Polly an order of legal separation from her husband on the grounds of persistent cruelty and a maintenance order that would require Bill Nichols to pay her one pound, three shillings per month unless he successfully contested the orders within thirty days. In the brief discussion Papa had with the Magistrate, Polly remained silent.

With Polly’s help, Papa then wrote to Bill telling him about the legal proceedings and threatening to assemble the witnesses—particularly the neighbors from the Trafalgar Street rooms and the Heryfords—needed to have him convicted of persistent cruelty should he try to contest the orders.

* * *

Tom began to drink less, and found work at a local smithy.

The maintenance started coming in through the post to Papa’s address. Though not a generous amount, the funds helped. Polly made a weekly trek to her father’s room to get the money. Her first few visits became unpleasant as he asked what she was doing to reclaim her children and she had no good answers. Finally, she had a suggestion that seemed to put an end to his questioning on the subject: “I know Bill won’t give them up. To see them, I’d have to get close enough to him that he might do me down again. When he has and you and Tom have taken turns punishing him for it, perhaps I’ll be visiting both of you in prison.”

Papa lowered his gaze and nodded. She took that to mean that he got her message.

In late November of 1880, Polly and Tom said goodbye to Estell at the docks as she boarded a steamer bound for America. The younger woman had become family and Polly wept to see her go. Even so, she looked forward to having Tom all to herself.

30

Census

Aside from the maintenance funds from Bill, Polly didn’t make any income during the following year, 1881. Tom expected her to keep house, but didn’t ask her to find a position of employment or to do piece work. Polly had too much time to think, and little ability to pin down her thoughts. She had never fully recovered from her exhaustion. Her thoughts frequently flew away from the task at hand. Since her monthly flow had ceased to make an appearance over a year ago, and yet she had not become pregnant, Polly knew her time for bearing children had past. Though that pleased her, the idea also contributed to her sense that, at thirty-six years of age, she’d become old before her time.