Henry Neville- The Geist Therapist

4. Polly: Chapter Four

Henry held up the small tin box, it was around ten inches wide and seven deep. "Everything. My note book, my miniature voltage batteries, spare lens for my goggles, index cards, a penny dreadful, or two and a cheese sandwich, although I expect that isn't edible now, given the heat."

"The batteries power that rod thing of yours?"

"To a degree," Henry pulled up his sleeve to show the rod was attached to a cable that ran the length of his arm, "I have a conductor on my back that takes the batteries."

Polly stepped sideways from him, not for the last time, "You're a walking grenade!" She exclaimed.

"It's perfectly safe. I'm wearing a rubber vest under all this garb."

"What about those around you?"

"In my line of work you don't get many people close to you. My interactions with you today have already been far longer than anyone else for some time."

Polly did not doubt that, she could not help but feel a little sorry for the man. She could not find the right words to say, so instead she said, "You are a strange man, Henry, but a good one. There is someone out there that matches your quirks and big heart."

"Thank you," he replied with a smile. "May I ask why you are not a Mrs Someone?"

Polly returned with a short nervous laugh, "I was engaged once; we were pregnant, however I lost the baby and he eventually disappeared. I've been single ever since, and to be honest, I enjoy every aspect of my life as it is."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Henry replied.

"Don't be, it was a long time ago. I often wonder what motherhood would have been like for a while, but now I can't imagine the thought of giving birth and losing my independence. He was a brute, I believe he went on to father three other children before ending up behind bars for pinching pockets."

"I'm pleased you found peace with it all," Henry gave a comforting smile, before raising his cheeks into a grin at the sight of an approaching hackney. "Here we go," he said thankfully.

Polly, who was glad to change the subject, thanked the air silently at the carriage as it slowed down to Henry's waving arm. "Are we to go to the docks straightaway? Only I'm still in my funeral attire."

Henry was taken aback from this comment. He turned to face her while half way up the steps to the carriage. "It's just a dress now; I'm sure after what you've seen today you'd be passed the standard conventional view of funerals. You look great, and ready to kick some justice into what we're about to face," he clambered into the carriage then held out a hand to help her up.

Polly blushed a little as she used Henry's hand to pull herself up. Not many men were nice to her, gender and heritage being huge factors, but Henry was different; he actually seemed to enjoy being in her company.

Henry informed the driver where to go and they both sat back as comfortable as they could possibly get while, in Polly's opinion, carrying a lot of explosives on what will undoubtedly be a bumpy ride.

"I have a thought," Polly said after the silence lingered too long.

"Oh," replied Henry, perking an eyebrow. "Interest in the case?"

"My father, he couldn't have been the only one trying to save the children."

"I would guess there could be others. How so?" He watched Polly with the same awe a child would watch a performing magician. She was showing promising signs of being a magician, in a sense to Henry, herself.

"My vision continued after his passing. I do not believe it was him showing me the happenings after his... Well, you know."

A twinkle reached the doctor's eyes, "That is an extraordinary claim. I absolutely love your thinking on this."

"Ok..." Replied Polly doubtfully.

"There is another spirit who knows of Mr Picking's crimes. They may be in the factory too. They extended your vision after your father, forgive me, was murdered."

Another tear came to Polly's eye on Henry's mention of her father, but she forgave his comment. They were finally getting somewhere in unraveling the mysteries surrounding her father's boss.

Henry opened his tin box and pulled out his notebook, the same book Polly had already seen him write in earlier. He was truly fascinated by all that he had learned. He began scribbling down notes, turning pages to scribble more notes.

Polly shook her head, she did not like Henry's enthusiasm at a time that called for anxious reasoning in the face of unknowing danger. Henry did not ask any more on her thoughts of a second spirit, so she did not tell any more of them. She left Henry to his notebook as he seemed to have a lot of thoughts himself based on how much he was recording. Polly sat in silence for the remainder of the journey, which was not very long at all. She was content with looking out of the window and watching the life in Fulham pass by; she grimaced at the terrible ash cloud holding over the city due to the constant burning of coal all around them.

The driver made the announcement of arrival when they neared the Chelsea Embankment. Polly and Henry climbed down from the carriage and the doctor threw the driver two shillings for the fare and he left them with thanks.

"We'll walk from here," said Henry. "We don't want to draw any attention. Are you ready?"

"No more now than I'll ever be," Polly replied dryly.

"Good, here goes nothing," Henry led the way down to the docks, weaving around barrels and small huts to get to the building he believed to be the working house. The children were near, Henry could feel their presence. What he could not feel, however, were the spying eyes watching him and Polly nearing the ships.

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