Finish The Unfinished
"How what?" Henry asked standing beside Polly.
The clerk blinked several times, struggling to work out where she was. She glanced at Henry briefly and felt an urge to hug him, but quickly collected herself, "You could have been killed. Why did you antagonise my father?" She slapped his arm instead.
"I'll add it to the list," he smirked in response. "I have no idea where Mr Alexander has got to."
Polly suddenly remembered what happened, "I know what he wants," she exclaimed, probably a bit too excitedly. "I need a drink," she said with the lid of the gin already hitting the floor. After a few mouthfuls, the image of Bill murdering her father came to mind. A tear formed.
"What's wrong?" Henry asked softly, taking the bottle from the distraught woman.
Polly looked him in the eyes, "My father's death was no accident. It was bidded by Mr Picking... A horrible man."
"Murder?" Henry replied, his expression dropped.
"Yes, by his henchman."
"Is this what he told you?" Henry was keen to learn everything.
"I had a vision. My father was showing me what happened. I was somebody else. I... I saw... Things..."
"Interesting..." Henry murmured, mainly to himself. "What did he show you?"
"There were children, stolen from their families by an unpleasant man."
"You believe Mr Alexander somehow knew of this, so Mr Picking had him murdered?"
"Yes, my father was murdered because he found out about their scheme."
"Interesting indeed," Henry murmured again. Speaking up he said, "Seems my employer is covering up blood money. If you are sure of this then you have found your father's unfinished business. You have a knack for this work. If only he would stop disappearing."
"I'm not sure I want any part in this, Henry. Let's just go to the police now. This goes deeper than just you trying to send my father away."
"We have a duty, Miss Alexander. Our job now includes a rescue operation. Tell me about the children?"
"Our job?" Polly questioned doubtfully.
Henry smiled pleasantly, "Your father is being stubborn, and it seems for good reason. He will not be able to rest until we save those little ones. This will require both our efforts. Are you ready, Polly?"
"I do feel you are limiting my choices, Doctor," Polly exclaimed.
"You're doing this for Geoff, it is definitely what he wanted."
Polly let out a long hard sigh as response.
"That's the spirit, no pun intended. Now tell me, where are the children?" Henry said in the first serious tone that Polly had heard from her new colleague.
"They've been taken to the dockyard. Possibly around twenty or so, I think they've been taken in small groups. He mentioned working in tight hulls. Oh I do hope they're not being sent away somewhere by boat. That would be most dreadful." Polly fell to her knees in dismay.
"This is truly fascinating," Henry replied.
Polly looked him in the eye, "Excuse me?" She said, offended. She stood back up and threw him a glare.
Henry pulled out a notebook and began scribbling notes, "Not the children, that is tragic. The contact you have made, how Mr Alexander has shown you this information. This needs further study."
Polly thought of the voice at the end of her vision. She pondered if her father was the only entity looking for the children. After all, how could he have shown her what happened after his death? She shook the thought, too much thinking would lead to too many questions that would rival Henry's question count. After a pause she suddenly realised Henry was leaving, "Where are you going?"
Henry turned to face her, he had removed his goggles again, "To the docks of course. Let's go."
"Now?" Polly yelped.
"Unless you want to stop for a pot of tea while the small ones suffer more torment. Yes now," Henry said with emphasis on the sarcasm.
Polly began to follow after him, "You don't have to be so crass. I also want to see those children safe."
"Then let's go see to it that they are."
Polly paused, "What about my father?"
Henry turned back again. "Don't suppose he'd be willing to come along?"
"Is that possible?" Polly asked with a glimmer of hope.
"I don't know. What I do know is, as his therapist, I am going to complete his task, then I am going to help him crossover."
"You are a strange man indeed, Dr Neville." Polly muttered to herself as she left the factory with the geist therapist.
"I will call for a hackney," Henry said as they stepped out of the gate and into the street.
"This gate was locked." Polly replied.
Ignoring her, Henry continued. "I have more questions I would like to put to you regarding your vision."
Polly was still intrigued by the open gate, "There's no way that should have opened freely."
"It's just a gate, like doors, they open and close," Henry said suddenly. "Now, your father showed you exactly where the children are, yes?"
Polly sighed, "Not exactly. My father had already been... Had already passed over by that point. I don't know what happened next but I was still the other man, Bill his name, and Mallory was the kidnapper. We were travelling to the docks when I..." She stopped.
"When you woke up," Henry finished.
"Yes. There was another voice, but I did not see the person it belonged to. She said she could help me get back here."
Henry was listening intently, "Then what happened?"
"Well, then I was back in the factory with you of course."
Henry could hardly believe his luck. This latest case was opening up all kinds of study opportunities, alongside new experiences. Most of his 'clients' were very easy to talk to and send over. A few were being tricky and needed that little electrifying push. They were usually the bad ones though that did no good in life and planned to do more ill now they were deceased but still active. Never did he believe he would witness the connection between living and death as he had seen with Polly and her father. This would prove to be extraordinary data in his pursuit for paranormal knowledge.
The new companions walked south towards the docks. Henry looked up and down the street, determined to spot a carriage to take them the full distance.
"Not many people venture here while the factory is closed," Polly said doubtfully.
"It seems not," Henry replied dryly. "I don't want to leave my equipment behind for too long so I'd rather not walk if it can be helped."
Polly eyed the box he carried suspiciously, "What is in the box you carry?"
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.
***