Power and Lies

Twenty-Eight

"All we can do is move forward, against all odds, into the uncertain future. The past is over, the doors are closed; there's nothing left back there but sentimental ghosts."

-D Michael Hardy

"A baby, how terribly lovely." Polly whispered to her in the corner of the converted jail. She reached her fingers out and traced at Freya's stomach, her eyes flooding with glimpses of what looked like nostalgia. Freya had come to her early in the morning, before any of the boys showed up to share the news with her. Polly was the closest thing to a true mother she had now, and she had prayed she would be happy. She did not seem as thrilled as Freya had hoped. She thought about asking her the reason, but thought better of it. If Polly did not want to share her reasons, she had no right to go prying them out of her.

"If it is a girl, I would like to name her after you." Polly laughed quickly and began to shuffle papers around her desk.

"Nonsense. Name her after someone wonderful."

Freya looked at the woman, who was now biting back tears, and tried not to cry ones of her own. She had become overly sensitive as of late, and it had been driving Tommy to the brink of madness. It had been three weeks since he found out, and at first they kept the news to themselves, savoring what it meant to be growing their own family. Already Tommy was attentive in a way she had never experienced before. She could not even walk down the stairs without him being there to hold her hand. It was sweet and terribly annoying.

"Would you like to talk about it?" She finally asked and Polly rounded on her.

"If I wanted to talk about it, I would be speaking." Freya dismissed the comment and nodded at the woman. Whatever it was hurt Polly quite badly. "I am sorry." She said after a moment and Freya approached her silently and wrapped her arms around the woman's shoulders.

"Nonsense, Polly. There is nothing to be sorry for."

The two went about their work until the others drifted in, filling the rooms with the sour smells of late nights and regret. Three times Freya excused herself to the washroom, unable to handle the stench. If this was what it took to give Tommy his family, he would have to be content with a small family.

"You alright there, love?" Arthur had asked her, and she had nodded frantically, willing him away. He smelled the worst of them all. He had been in the ring again, and the smell of sweat underlined his normal scent of liquor and dust. She loved Arthur, but she would push him from a window to get him away from her now.

"Don't be daft, Arthur. Of course she is alright." Polly defended her, winking as Arthur tried to respond. "Women are entitled to not wearing makeup and dressing up every day, are they not? Or is this the type of workplace who thinks only men should be allowed to look a bit off?" Uncomfortable with the talks of gender inequality that Polly, Esme, and Ada had been bringing about, Arthur simply shrugged and turned away. Freya took in a breath of air, grateful to be away from the smells.

"Try peppermint." Ada said, coming up from behind her. "It was about all that saved me."

"How did you-"

"Oh please. Any person who has ever had a child knows that look. The only people who don't are the boys and that is because they're too oblivious to notice anything past their peckers." Freya laughed, happy to have comrades in this new chapter for her. "Just drink a bit of peppermint, or even take a bit of the oil and place it right below your nose and it will stop your stomach from turning."

She nodded, making a mental note to ask Tommy to pick up peppermint oils from the chemist. He had gone off for the day to oversee business and the races. He had only been gone a few hours and already she craved his attentions more than she ever had in her life. She had never felt such confusion within her own mind and body.