#linda Shelby fanfiction

[missmomof3]

Deep Regret (shelby sister fic)

Sorry if this is awful, this is my first time ever trying to write a fanfiction. I'm not sure what this would be classified as but probably too long to be a drabble. Maybe an imagine? If anyone reads this, thank you and I am fine with criticism (I'm sure I did lots of things wrong) but please be kind.

Summary: y/n shelby always tried to make her family happy, but they all believed Grace over her and soon most bonds were disintegrating, especially with Tommy, who she'd always loved and looked up to.

TW:character death, not proofread, possibly missing some so read at your your own discretion.

"Y/N get in here!" Tommy yelled from his office at you where you were sitting in Michael's office doing your homework.

"What did you do this time" Michael asked, irritated but fortunately not at you, he hadn't turned on you.

You had always been Tommy's favorite sibling, him more of a father than a brother to you until Charlie was born. Until recently you'd even lived at Arrowhouse with Grace and him. But after Charlie was born suddenly Grace began complaining to Tommy of how disrespectful you were when no one was around. That you called her names, taunted her and even until they married, had nicknamed little Charlie "the bastard". But just to her, not around anyone else. You hadn't ever done any of that and at first were confused when Tommy began yelling at you frequently and you weren't allowed alone with Charlie anymore.

He held a family meeting without you there to discuss your behavior. By the time that happened you weren't friendly to Grace anymore because what was the point when you'd be in trouble anyways. The family had noticed the tension so for the most part believed Tommy when he told them of your troubling behavior and they began being short with you and before long it felt like all you had left was Ada, Finn and Michael. Polly was no Grace fan but was disappointed in you for supposedly insulting a baby and felt like you should be grateful Grace had agreed to let you live in their house. John, Esme, Arthur and Linda took that line of thinking as well, deeply disappointed in how you went from being one of the sweetest people they knew to being so disrespectful and cruel. They especially were disappointed that you'd be so two-faced and only do this while no one else was around. At least have the backbone to own your behavior was their thoughts.

So now here you were, living with Polly because even though she was disappointed you were still her niece, but living with hostility everywhere. You were still polite when you saw Grace, but now you held yourself back from everyone so their accusations and lack of faith in you didn't hurt so badly.

Responding to Michael's question with a shrug, you got up to walk into Tommy's office ready to be told off again for some imagined offense.

"Sit down y/n," Tommy said coldly, "and explain to me why you felt the need to make my wife cry last night."

Family dinner was held at Arrowhouse last night, and even though you hadn't wanted to go, Ada promised she'd be there and insisted you go with your head held high, knowing you were innocent. She never believed Tommy, remembering how it felt when Grace's betrayal took her Freddy away. Remembering you sneaking to her place to help with Karl, and how alone she felt thinking her brother betrayed her. It baffled her how her family could believe Grace over you, but whenever she brought it up they all asked why Grace would lie when she loved Tommy and she knew how much sending you away and practically severing his bond with you had hurt him. So she, Michael and Finn still staunchly defended you but gave up on getting through to anyone. That's why last night you stuck close to Ada, never being alone with Grace, in the hopes this very incident wouldn't be happening.

"Tell me, oh brother of mine, what did I do to Grace now?" You asked, no longer worried abour his reaction to your attitude since you had already grieved the loss of your relationship.

So he started laying out some imagined conversation that happened in the kitchen when Grace went to ask Mary a question. According to her you'd seen her and started criticizing her hosting skills, telling her what a disaster the upcoming charity gala would be.

You smirked at his tirade, because this time you knew you had proof. "Call Ada, ask her what happened last night" you said, standing up and getting ready to leave.

"I haven't dismissed you yet," Tommy clipped, grabbing your arm. "I am putting you on notice, if you do anything to embarrass Grace tomorrow night at the gala, I will have no choice but to completely cut you from the family the minute you turn 18. That means no help, no using the Shelby name, you'll be on your own."

"Bold of you to assume once I'm 18 I'll be sticking around here" you said, rolling your eyes, "I know my place now, at the bottom. When I'm an adult I'll take care of myself. I'll miss the family I had, but I'll make my own." Then you left.

Tommy sat with his head in his hands. You'd never know how much his heart broke to imagine you completely gone from his life. He didn't know how to reach you anymore. His sister, closer to a daughter. He still loved you so much and had hoped tough love would work, but he missed you deeply and choosing his wife and son had felt like removing a large part of his heart. If only you could have stayed the sweet girl you once were, before jealousy had taken over.

When Grace first went to him with your behavior, he hadn't wanted to believe it. But the more she went to him and the more you denied it the more arguments it caused between him and Grace. Until finally she told him he was putting his true family aside for a girl who wasn't his daughter, who would eventually marry and leave him, while his wife and son suffered in the meantime. It became easier to give in, to be angry at the strife in his house that you were causing. Especially when it stopped as soon as you moved to Polly's.

But he couldn't ignore the voice at the back of his head reminding him Grace was an accomplishhed liar while you had always been awful at it. So he called Ada. 30 minutes later he was more conflicted than ever but knew he needed to get answers from Grace. Ada confirmed you had never been alone with Grace, never even went to the kitchen. Then he spoke to Polly who also had never seen you leave Ada's side. Now Polly was beginning to demand he find out if they had been wrong all along, if her niece had been sacrificed for familiy unity. Michael had been chipping away at her beliefs for awhile now and this seemed to confirm it.

That night, Tommy sat Grace down, determined to find out the truth. After a lot of obfuscation and denial it all came out. She'd been feeling guilty for some time now whenever she saw how heartbroken and torn her husband was, but she was petrified he'd love his son less than his sister, and with her standing in the family being only strong because of Tommy's love for her and Charlie, she panicked and in that panic had thought if she got y/n sent away, Charlie and by extension herself, would always be his top priority.

This saddened him greatly for a multitude of reasons. Her lack of faith in him even though he'd never been the betrayer in their relationship, his poor choices, his cruelty to you, the loss of that bond. It all hurt.

The next day, before heading out on business he demanded a family meeting be held. He made Grace come with him and confess all. She did, because deep down she felt awful that she'd ruined the life of a sweet girl that had never been anything but kind to her. She'd seen the loss of spark in your eyes and couldn't deny any longer how horrible her behavior was. Maybe this could be fixed. At least your relationship with your family, especially Tommy. He missed you deeply and maybe the memories of all the years he'd loved and taken care of you could combat the time he'd spent alienating and breaking your heart.

The family was horrified but not shocked. Deeply disappointed in Tommy and themselves they made a plan to begin making it up to you. Tomorrow, after the gala, they'd all individually apologize and set about making things right. Work was cut short so they could all get ready, but at least tonight they'd be knd to you and start treating you like the beloved little sister you'd always been.

Tommy and Grace rode in silence to the gala. Grace didn't know how to bridge the gap and Tommy was lost in thought. Before they got out he turned to her and said "After you apologize to y/n, we can begin fixing us. You're Charlie's mother and I still love you, but you broke my trust and cost me someone precious. So right now, let's just focus on righting the wrongs we both have done." Grace agreed sadly, knowing it would be a long time before she had her husband back, but accepting this as the consequences for her bad decisions.

For you the night was going great! Everyone was suddenly friendly, and even Tommy had a warmth in his eyes at you that you hadn't seen in a long time. Grace had made a point of complimenting you and suddenly everyone wanted to talk to you. It made the night pleasant, but you weren't getting your hopes up. You'd built walls and they weren't coming down because suddenly people treated you like you were family again. You stuck around Ada and Finn.

While everyone had been having epiphanies and making plans to repair relationships today, you'd been doing some thinking of your own. Mostly thinking about how different your life might have looked had you had parents. They maybe would have loved you unconditionally. Maybe your relationship with your brothers, their wives, your aunt would have been better if they hadn't also had to help raise you. For so long, you hadn't felt you were missing anything because you had brothers, a sister, an aunt, and more recently a cousin and sisters-in-law that loved you ahd made you feel protected and like you belonged. As a child you'd had multiple people to go to for love, advice and help, it never occurred to you that that could all be taken away. Even during the war, the letters you got from your brothers and the presence of Finn, Ada and Aunt Polly had always kept you from feeling lonely. Now you knew that could be taken away and now you knew loneliness. Now you felt like the orphan you were.

Tommy was walking away from some duchess when he caught your eye and motioned you over. You went over hesitantly, hoping you weren't about to be chastised for something. As you walked up to him, he was in conversation with Grace about her necklace. Hoping to slip past them without being seen as everyone was moving into the banquet hall to eat, you suddenly heard someone yell out "For Angel!" with a gun in their hand. At once time slowed down and sped up and all you could think of was little Charlie losing his parents and becoming like you. Not even realizing you were moving, suddenly there was a sharp pain in your stomach and you were falling into another person.

Everything became chaos. Tommy was horror stricken as he held his baby sister's head in his lap while Grace was putting pressure on the wound. He yelled for someone to call an ambulance and kept trying to get your attention, because you were still breathing but staring at the ceiling like you could see someone there.

"Please, y/n, please look at me, stay with me, don't leave me" he begged, running a hand soothingly through your hair as tears streamed down his cheeks, all the while remembering years of time spent together, how you would climb into his bed after the war and just lay beside him when he'd have nightmares, grounding him and reminding him he was home, safe and warm, not in a tunnel, no enemy shovels around.

Grace had one hand putting pressure on your wound, the other holding your hand while she cried as well. She was horrified at what her behavior stole from you, while you had literally saved her life. Thinking back on the sweet little girl back when she was a barmaid, asking her to sing because her voice was "beautiful" Soon she was nudged roughly out of the way by John who took over putting pressure on your wound, tears streaming down his cheeks. His thoughts on the girl he used to throw in the air when she was little, her always trusting he'd catch her.

Arthur was beating the man who had fired the bullet, he couldn't make himself stop. All he could see was you in his arms as a baby, your finger wrapped in his and your eyes looking at him so trusting, and how much he'd let you down by not going against Tommy.

Polly was on the phone getting an ambulance, begging them to hurry, trying to keep herself calm as she remembered all the times when you were little and would hold out your arms, confident you'd get picked up and cuddled, she could almost feel the warmth of your head on her shoulder.

Ada was holding Finn, praying silently for her sister, most recently at an age where she was fun to shop with, try on clothes together, the girl who would confide in her because she trusted Ada's judgement and knew she was safe to be herself with her.

Michael stood at the door waiting for the ambulance, doing his best not to cry, thinking of his cousin who, even feeling alone and rejected by almost everyone, would listen as he spoke about his girlfriend, and who would joke around with him while doing homework.

Esme and Linda stood by Grace, quietly crying, both thinking of how welcoming and sweet you'd been when they were introduced to the family. Esme knowing no one and yet you immediately treated her like a sister, helping with the kids and softening some of Polly's harshness during the London expansion. Linda wishing she'd gotten to know you better, but remembering how you'd hugged her when she and Arthur got married and said how you knew she'd make him happy and help him find peace.

Regret and sorrow ran so powerfully through the large ballroom it felt like they were a physical presence.

[sailoreuterpe]

Bob/Calvin!

I ship it with the caveat of Linda either being involved or at least completely consenting and supportive. I don't abide infidelity.

What made you ship it? All of Calvin's interactions with Bob are so weirdly psychosexual, plus the whole fake family thing. Calvin should have expanded his mind; have both Belchers pretend to be his spouses so Shelby has two relationships to ruin! "Wharf Horse" just cliched the ship for me, lol.

What are your favorite things about the ship? Calvin gets a loving relationship, while the Belchers get financial stability. Calvin can be Bob's sugar daddy! XD The aesthetics of Bob with Calvin all in white are nice as well.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? I actually really don't like the age gap, which seems to be a major draw for a lot of shippers. If I read a fanfiction that brings a lot of attention to the gap I don't have a good time.

[izabesworld]

hello! I just found your page because I was planning on writing Peaky Blinders fanfic and I wanted to incorporate a more accurate depiction of the Shelby’s Roma heritage, but I was a bit of a loss as a non-Roma. I’m essentially writing a “Grace lives” fic which naturally has me thinking about the sapphire necklace, which the Duchess claims is cursed, and I was wondering your thoughts on how accurate Tommy’s treatment/reaction of the curse is? Assuming Grace takes it off, would he have given her a Black Madonna like he did for Ruby?

I would also love your opinion on the more prevalent Roma beliefs in the show, particularly regarding the depiction of curses and ghosts. I know you’ve mentioned that the Shelby’s are in no place to be haunted, and I get that you mean they have methods to preventing ghosts from haunting them, but I was wondering if you could elaborate that, particularly in regards to their religious background?

(I also have more questions but I don’t wanna overwhelm you on the first ask lol)

Hi! I’m so sorry it took me a while to reply to this, I’ve had such a week with my baby haha.

The ruby necklace is a bit of tricky one really, as it’s more “old folk” type of talk, and it isn’t really something new-generation Rrom are involved with. It’s more of that great-grandparent superstition.

Running with the fantasy side of Peaky Blinders, I doubt Tommy would’ve given Grace anything to protect her afterward, as while she is his wife, she wasn’t a child or anyone who “needed” the backup of protection if that makes sense. However, for fanfiction / fantasy purposes, it could definitely be manipulated that way! :)

The same sort of goes for the second part of your question. While I don’t believe the writers would’ve ever put the Shelby’s as candidates for anything to do with the “spiritual” world with ghosts, spirits and auras, there’s definitely a way it could be manipulated that was for fictional purposes.

In Roma culture, religion can often override that. We know that Arthur was old-testament Catholic, and Polly “dabbled” in religion when it came to the war. However, they all relied on the Church | Tommy when exposing Grace for who she really was, Polly when she had troubles, Arthur with Linda, Tommy with his daughter when answering with the Devil.

While they are Romani, they are also British citizens who still follow the ideals of the century and do seem to be quite disconnected from their culture in that way - bar Aunt Pol.

All of it is truly up for manipulation - if you wish to go for a more cultural root in your fanfiction, it could be expected for Tommy to give Grace protection, wether that is the Black Madonna or if it’s a family heirloom like (for example: an old family jewellery piece he believes to be protected, a clothing article etc). For the same reasons, you could also manipulate it where the Shelby’s would be haunted with spirits or ghosts in the same way and how they deal with that could either be with religion or seeking help from older people in the “clan”.

If you have any more questions feel free to ask as I have really enjoyed answering this!!

Much love ❤️

[byorder-fanfic]

Love Thyself, Then Thy Neighbour

Summary: Linda Montgomery is tired of living for everyone but herself. It may not be holy, but it is hers.

Word count: 1957

Warnings: Swearing, LOTS of talk about religion and Church, war, hospital and blood mentioned

Author’s Note: I really hate the misogyny in the way Linda was written and I think that sometimes the fandom demonises her as a bitch for her religious beliefs, so I wanted to try and make her a bit more sympathetic. Hope you like it xx

One thing that being brought up in a strict Catholic home is that Linda leant not all rules were written in the big book. The most important rule was that women didn't work. Her mother would huff and puff when she was eighteen and desperate for work, saying that being a wife was work enough. Keep his belly full and his balls empty became the second most used phrase in her house after Amen. Linda Montgomery kept her face straight as her mother introduced her to nice, young Catholic suitors who she would take one good look over and ask whether they supported Miss Pankhurst and her plight for women's enfranchisement. Her mother would tut and her father would bury his head in the palm of his hand, as another man was scared away to the next young girl. Linda was a radical- Linda was wrong. So, when she met another devout woman at a local meeting for WSPU, she immediately trailed along to the Church that could possibly allow such beliefs alongside the teachings of Christ. The Quaker priest welcomed her with open arms, saying he was thankful to help her cast away the false idols she had been brought up with. Her mother spat at Linda's shoes, saying she had condemned the family by falling into an ecclesial community. Was this the love thy neighbour teaching that each holier than thou figure preached? So, Linda got a flat with Dorothy Evans (the woman who'd brought her to the Church) and attended that service on Sunday, then woke up before the Sun to get to work on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Saturday sometimes too, if they needed a girl to work an extra shift.

That was another unspoken rule, even amongst the Quakers. If a woman was to find work, as rare as that would be, there were only two professions deemed suitable for good Christian women: teaching and nursing. Now, Linda had never been fond of children, so nursing it was. She had romanced the idea of it all throughout training, cooing over her baby blue uniform in the mirror that matched her eyes and thanking God for her ability to help others. It was no menial task, she would never say that. With the drunkards that gained injury after injury to the horrors of the Spanish influenza, on top of the everyday maladies that she guided to a hospital bed and patiently listened to her patients as they told her their stories. With those that noticed her silver cross that she always wore proudly over her uniform, she'd been invited to sit by their bedside and pray alongside them. Eventually she'd learned a couple of appropriate Bible verses to encourage and uplift, sometimes even writing them down if they wanted a more permanent influence. Then the War happened. The called it Great- she couldn't agree. Dorothy and her had both decided right from the start that knitting socks and lighting candles would not be enough for them. They packed up their nurses uniforms and followed the soldiers as they marched over to France. Romance was lost in the makeshift hospitals set up over thick mud that got their long dresses turning brown. Linda learned not to care; there were worst things that ended up on her aprons and managed to soak back through her clothes, turning her skin pinkish. As soon as she got home, she burnt her nurses uniform. She wanted to keep it at first, as a reminder of all that she'd lived through, but no matter how many times she washed and scrubbed until her hands were a familiar pink raw, the smell of blood never washed away. The photos stayed, as mementos to remind her that the Lord saved her, that he was with her still in the sleepless nights and the guilt that plagued her soul.

Instead of returning to the hospital before the Sun woke up on Monday, Linda found work at the only home she knew. The Church offered all kind of charity and volunteer work for her, but she was also employed as an accountant-cross-secretary role. She was good with numbers. She never knew that before. Nurse Montgomery was gone, but Linda Montgomery was proud and faithful and working still. She was twenty six and made sure to use her well-earned right by attending each and every campaign that her local area had to offer, voting according to her beliefs whenever an opportunity was open. Linda clung to it, to her faith, to her work with all she had. She had to make herself right in the Lord's eyes, had to make all those lives lost and unsavable soldiers that she'd pray with till their soul extinguished like a candle, she had to make it worth it. It had to mean something. So, when Linda saw a strange man stumble into the Church one Friday night, looking over to the empty rows of pews with hesitance and fear etched in every line in his face, she knew what she had to do. He was a handsome man, she couldn't deny it. Maybe it was that which piqued her interest.

Excusing herself from the desk (although the priest was getting on and hardly even heard her) she walked down to meet this tall man in a bulky grey coat that still hadn't figured out he was supposed to sit on the pews. 

"Hello there sir, are you alright?" She asked, polite and smiling. He looked up at the sound of her voice, although he didn't have to look far as she was quite the bit smaller than him. His eyes trailed up and down. Linda pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, feeling her face go the same colour as her clothes. She didn't wear baby blue any more, even if it matched her eyes. This man had a soldier's haircut, shaved at the sides, and the rest of it was slicked back out of his nervous-looking face, a moustache presiding over his top lip.

"Um...yeah, well," he sounded a little gruff, although that was probably in part to his thick accent that Linda couldn't quite point her finger on. "Well, this is embarrassing. I thought this was supposed to be a Church, see, so I thought I'd come on in, but...uh, I, um, didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave you be."

"This is a Church," she said it quickly, before he could turn around to leave.

"It is, hey?" He chuckled a little to himself, rubbing the back if his neck. "Sorry, I thought there'd be a confession booth or something. They have that in St Oswald's."

"They have confessionals in Catholic Churches, this is a Quaker Church." She kept a smile on her face, although she heard the bitter voice of her mother ringing in her ears. Ecclesial. Pagan. Damned. "But if you need to talk, you're welcome to take a seat. I'm not a priest, but I can try my best to help."

She gestured to the pew, and the man ever so ungracefully set himself down, tucking his coat behind his hips. She sat in the pew in front of him, turning on her side so that she could face him. He, however, seemed to only be interested on the floor.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"No, don't call me sir." He shook his head, looking up as he held his hand up too. "Arthur's the name, Arthur Shelby."

"I'm Linda Montgomery," she shook his hand demurely, not sure if the ragged-looking man was really the gentleman he presented himself as.

"Montgomery?" He smiled as if there was something funny about that. "That's a proper lady's name, that is. Bet your husband's a rich man or somethin'."

"I don't have a husband," she told him, showing off her bare ring finger. It never seemed important.

"How come?" He scrunched up his face as if in genuine confusion. "A lovely lady like yourself should have a man eating out the palm of ya hand."

"Work and war," she explained simply, shaking her shoulders as if it meant nothing. "I was a nurse. Never had time for it."

"Now you have no man but Jesus, right?" 

"Something like that." Linda moved a hand over, reaching onto his. There was a point to this conversation, one she was keen to getting back to. "Why are you here, Arthur?"

My, um, aunt always comes here when she needs, I dunno...clarity, I guess? I used to go too," he stumbled through his words, clearing his throat at odd moments as she tried to figure out how to get his heart into words. "I loved the hymns. But then the war happened, and I have all this shit in my head. Can't get rid of it either, cause I'm still a soldier. Still a fuckin' soldier."

His hands shook under Linda's own, and she was quick to realise the cracks in his lips and bruises under his pale eyes were a clear sign of withdrawal symptoms.

"Arthur, you aren't at war anymore," She said gently, rubbing his calloused hands soothingly. His wide eyes looked up at only her and she felt it stir a sermon in her. "You can find peace, I swear it. I know you've just quit drinking." His brow creased in shock, but he didn't dispute it. "The temptation you feel will be difficult to fight, but once that battle is over, you won't have to fight anymore."

"Work, love, work. I have to."

"Fuck work." She surprised even herself with her bold statement that was hastily followed with a look over her shoulder to see the aged priest nodding off in the back room. "There's a lot of things that aren't written in the Bible, Arthur, but that doesn't mean they aren't Gospel truth. The most important thing is that you have to love thyself before you can love thy neighbour. Once you help yourself, get yourself out of the darkness you're in, you'll find a way out, a way to better things."

There was a pause for a moment in which Linda could see the conflict in Arthur's eyes between blind faith in a woman he'd just met, and doubt in his own abilities.

"You're an angel," he whispered. He leaned forward and she half expected him to kiss her, although she didn't move her head back. Rather, when his hands rested onto her cheek, she moved forward ever so slightly, watching his adoring look with a little smile on her pink painted lips. "I think the Lord sent me to this fuckin' Quaker Church for a reason, Linda. I think He knew I'd meet the pretty blonde cherub woman who knew just what to say to stop me from reaching a bottle again."

"You give me too much credit," she warned.

"No, love, no. No one's ever said I could have a redemption. It feels good to be believed in."

"There's a temperance group here," Linda started rubbing circles in his hand. "Would you like to join? I work at the Church so you can pop in and see me afterwards, tell me if the Lord sent you in the right direction."

He laughed a lot at that, eyebrow cocked.

"You want to see me again, huh?" He said it like a dare, something amusing in the words.

"What would be so crazy about that?"

Bold words weren't usually Linda's forte, but she'd chased after work, the Church and a good life. Why couldn't she chase after this handsome man the Lord delivered to her?

[hb-writes]

Give Away

Summary: It’s 1922 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. It's a family day—Arthur and Linda's wedding day—but rather than celebrating, Arthur's got Tommy thinking about something he'd never consciously given much thought to—their Clara's wedding and who would be giving her away.

Characters: Arthur Shelby, Tommy Shelby, and Clara Shelby.

Content Warnings: Nothing much aside from me taking some liberties with the timeline of Arthur's marriage.

Request (anon): Maybe Arthur and Tommy having a chat about the family and the chat turns to Clara, and Arthur saying how he’d like to walk her down the aisle one day- and Tommy finding that hard as he was always the one he imagined would do it.

Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there. Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

—

"It'll be her turn soon enough, eh Tom?"

Arthur nodded toward their sister, Clara. She was being led around the impromptu dance floor by one of her cousins, her bare feet shuffling through the grass.

Tommy fished in his pocket for a cigarette in lieu of giving Arthur an answer. If he’d had a drink, Tommy would’ve downed it, but Arthur and Linda’s wedding luncheon was a dry event. The most scandalous thing they were serving was too-sweet lemonade and a chocolate cake. 

And Johnny Dogs' cheeky lyrics, of course.

The music hadn’t even been a planned part of the day. It was meant to be a brief ceremony and a luncheon. But this was just the sort of thing that had happened when Johnny Dogs was bored for too long. The man got an itch and somehow assembled a band from the guest list. 

Clara had been dancing ever since.

"Mark my words, Tommy,” Arthur continued, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.

Tommy wasn’t quite certain how Arthur could stomach speaking about such a thing while sober, though he supposed it was just Arthur talking for the sake of talking. He did that sometimes, and Tommy usually let him, but it seemed a harder task today, especially when their little sister had been spinning dizzy circles in some boy or another's arms for hours now. 

Tommy knew it was all innocent enough. Everyone at the luncheon was family—or just about—and those who weren’t family were smart enough to not bother trying anything with the Shelby girl. Not with Tommy sitting right there on the sidelines of the dance floor, looking a bit grim and ready to go at the earliest convenience. 

In truth, Tommy was ready for the day to be done. Arthur’s marriage to Linda was exactly what he wanted. It was what the family needed, really. It would be good for Arthur to have a wife. Linda had already been good for him—slowing the drink, keeping an eye on him, taking some of the pressure off Tommy to always do those things.

And Tommy had done his duty. He’d celebrated his brother and his new wife. He'd acted as his best man. None of it had been exactly traditional. The whole day seemed to be some sort of mismatch of values and ideals and allowances anyway. Tommy didn’t care enough about it to comment. It wasn't his wedding. It was Arthur's day.

So even though Tommy hadn't had a drink in a few hours, he wasn't complaining. He had given a toast to the bride and groom. He let Arthur feel he was directing for the day even though it was Tommy who had been the one guiding Arthur all along—holding his hand and moving him along towards the decisions he wouldn’t make for himself. And Tommy hadn't dampened Clara's spirits with his mood either. He knew how she liked this sort of thing. He let the girl have her fun.

Tommy thought a little drink might have helped the whole thing go down easier, though. Celebrating his brother’s new wife and his new home in Maypole while Tommy waited on Grace to come back to him, with the whole thing kept quiet while she tried to maneuver out of her marriage…it wasn’t easy. But knowing Arthur would be taken care of freed up a little piece of Tommy’s mind. It cleared out some space. There were a hundred other things already queued up and ready to fill it, but it still eased him somewhat for a moment…or it had until Arthur brought up the subject of their youngest sister's nuptials. 

That certainly hadn’t been one of the things queued up in Tommy's mind. 

Tommy inhaled deeply with his lips around the cigarette, barely paying attention to the fact that Arthur was watching him, looking for some sort of reaction to make sure he hadn't said something wrong, his gaze nearly begging Tommy to respond—to acknowledge him—but Tommy remained still and neutral for as long as he could, as if in doing so he was keeping some part of himself from Arthur, keeping some part of himself for himself. It was only a few seconds, but it was a reminder that Tommy didn't have to give away everything to Arthur today. He could keep some things for himself. 

It wasn’t easy. 

Ada had insisted more than once during the course of the afternoon that Tommy needed to cheer the fuck up . She’d reminded him to smile a bit, to have a laugh and a dance and a piece of cake—it was a family day, after all—but so far he’d remained mostly neutral. 

The irony was not lost on him that Ada said those particular words, the very same he’d offered to her during a family day, a wedding, that felt ages ago now. Tommy's face had shown no indication that the words had had any impact, but Clara had laughed aloud at Ada's words, some part of her wondering if she'd ever be confident enough to tell her older brother to ' cheer the fuck up .' 

Tommy's side eye at the uncontained giggles quickly convinced Clara otherwise and she had coughed and coughed trying to stifle her giggles.

Ada was across the way now, talking with Arthur’s new wife. Polly didn’t seem to like Linda very much, but Ada was making a show at being personable. And she was acting better than she had at John's wedding, the last proper family day. It had been a very different event, a very different day. 

For one, there was no booze today, and Ada wasn’t kicking off about all the ways Tommy had done the lot of them wrong. Tommy figured so long as they weren't welcoming Linda to the family by one of the girls giving birth on the dance floor, the Shelby family must be moving up in the world.

Assuming Esme didn’t go early, today there would be no Shelbys born. There would be no arranged marriages. There would be no deals with the Lee family. There would be no drunken shouting.

And today, it was Clara—not Ada—who Tommy watched swinging around on the dance floor for hours. Back at John’s wedding, Clara had passed the day running wild with Finn and the Lee kids for company. She had been just a little thing back then. It was John and Esme’s lot running, now. 

Finn and Clara were still a bit wild, or maybe they were wilder than they were back then, but they weren’t just little kids anymore. In a way, that had made it easier to keep an eye on her. Clara had done nothing but dance all afternoon, so Tommy hadn’t lost sight of her.

"All done up in a pretty white dress,” Arthur continued to fill the silence Tommy was still holding on to. “Ready to start off on her own life with some boy...a nice boy. Smart, like her. From a good family."

Tommy cleared his throat. “A good family, eh?” he asked, ignoring Arthur’s odd way of speaking, some attempt at a poetic depiction of their sister’s future. “Good like ours?"

“Yeah, Tom,” Arthur nodded, laughing a bit. He didn't note the sarcasm in Tommy's tone. "A good boy from a good family. And I suppose I'll need a new suit. Something nice to walk her down the aisle in…well, assuming she doesn't go running off like our Ada, that is.”

Arthur finished with a fond chuckle and a nod toward Ada.

Tommy's first instinct was to remind Arthur that their Clara wasn't nearly the same girl their Ada had been back then. Christ, Ada wasn’t nearly the same girl she’d been when she ran off to marry Freddie Thorne. And the circumstances and girls themselves were so different…but Tommy’s mind quickly got caught up in processing the first bit of what Arthur had said instead. 

And I suppose I'll need a new suit. Something nice to walk her down the aisle in.  

Now that really was something Tommy Shelby had never consciously thought about, and it certainly wasn’t one of the hundreds of issues begging for acreage in the field of his mind, but it struck something in him now. Tommy had passing thoughts about Clara settling down one day, sure. He figured that was probably natural for an older brother of two sisters, but he only ever thought about all of it in a vague sense. The idea of his Clara being married was a picture painted in his mind with only the broadest of strokes.

Tommy had certainly never questioned who would walk the girl down the aisle. 

He supposed he had always known who wouldn’t be walking her. It wouldn’t be their father giving Clara away. Even if Clara had wanted it, Tommy could never have stood by and allowed it. At least him and Arthur seemed in agreement on that point. Arthur Shelby, Sr. had no right even being there far as Tommy was concerned.

Arthur might expect the responsibility to fall to him next by default. It made sense. He was the oldest. There was some logic to it, some natural order, but Arthur’s saying it aloud tugged at something in Tommy. It jostled some deep-seated, subconscious notion that if anyone in the world had any sort of right to give the girl away, it was him.

If she let anyone give her away, that is. 

Maybe Ada and Clara were more alike than he initially thought. 

Either way, it wasn't a conversation Tommy was going to have with Arthur tonight, not when he was grinning like he was, drunk on something more intoxicating than alcohol. He was just happy to finally be ahead of Tommy in some sort of backwards, unspoken race that existed between them. 

Tommy could let it go for now. Thoroughly assured by the fact that the subject of who would be walking Clara down the aisle wouldn’t be relevant for what he hoped would be a decade’s worth of time—hopefully, more—he returned to his initial thought.

“She's not Ada, Arthur," Tommy finally said, coming back to his first instinct. “And if any boy tries to marry her without consent, I—"

Tommy stopped himself when Clara appeared at the table, seeming to pop up out of nowhere with a glass of lemonade. Tommy took a moment to reconcile her presence. Surely, she’d just been on the dance floor with Nipper a few seconds before. Tommy had seen her. 

The day’s events had settled an easy smile on the fourteen-year-old’s face and all of the dancing painted a visible flush on her cheeks. She looked both ready for more and exhausted at the same time, like she could drop at any second—mid-sentence probably—but her feet would still be dancing. 

Clara took another thirsty gulp, holding the glass at her side as she met Tommy’s eye. 

“You’ve just been sitting here all day, Tommy,” she whined. 

Tommy studied her as he took a long drag off his cigarette. “And you haven’t sat in hours.” 

Clara scrunched her face up at the suggestion. She didn’t want to sit. She didn’t want the day to end. She held out her free hand, reaching toward Tommy as she twisted on her feet, the band’s music exerting more control over her than her conscious mind. “Will you dance with me?” 

“You should have a rest, Clara.” Tommy nodded toward the empty chair beside him. “You look dead on your feet.” 

“I wanna dance.” Clara shook her head. “Please, Tommy?”

Arthur snorted. Tommy’s eyes flicked to his brother. “If you’re looking for a dance partner, you’ve asked the wrong brother, sweetheart.” 

It was usually the truth unless Tommy was in a particular mood or had a particular motive. Most songs were a particularly good length for him to deliver a lecture. It was something Clara had long ago accepted about her brother and she usually wasn’t too bothered by it. 

Tommy saw something fall in Clara’s countenance as Arthur cut in though, a bit of disappointment settling in his sister even as she turned from him. Clara had already accepted Tommy’s refusal and she was prepared to issue Arthur the same request she’d made of Tommy, but there was a hesitance in her. She’d already danced with Arthur a few times today. She’d danced with John and Finn and Michael. She’d danced with Charlie and Curly. She’d danced with Nipper and Henry and Isiah. She’d danced with her nieces and nephews and even Johnny Dogs. Seemed like she’d danced with everyone but Tommy. 

Clara’s bare feet shuffled on the grass as silence stretched on between them and her gaze shifted instantly to Tommy as he leaned forward, stubbing out his cigarette and standing in one swift motion. 

“One dance for me,” Tommy said, “And then one for Arthur, but then you’re taking a rest, eh?” 

Clara nodded quickly, a smile coming to her lips. Tommy clapped Arthur on the shoulder. 

“Maybe offer your new wife a turn about the floor instead, eh, Arthur?” 

Tommy took the empty glass from Clara’s grasp. He noted it wasn’t just plain lemonade as he set it on the table. He’d suspected as much and now that he could smell the liquor on Clara’s breath, he knew. Tommy figured that was John’s doing, and he figured the lemonade was the real reason for Clara’s easy smiles and endless dancing. That was why the girl was edging towards a bit of atypical silliness. It was only a matter of time before the tiredness set in. 

Tommy hoped it would come sooner rather than later. It would make for a convenient excuse. 

He took Clara’s hand and led her to the makeshift dance floor. Clara was studying her brother as he guided them into position, seamlessly incorporating them into the fabric of the other dancers.

“What?” Tommy asked, sparing her half a glance and catching her stare.

“Why’d you say yes, Tommy?” 

“You asked for a dance, Clara,” he answered as if that alone explained the way of things between them. 

“So, that’s the rule now then, is it?” Clara giggled. “I just ask for what I want and you’ll say yes? Ada told asked you to cheer the fuck up and you didn’t do anything of the sort.”

Tommy shifted his eyes down so he could meet her gaze, the glance a half-hearted warning. It wasn’t something Clara could take seriously, not in her current state at least, and she giggled again for a half a second before Tommy suddenly spun her out and away from him. Stealing the breath from her laughter, Clara shouted out her brother’s name instead and slapped her hand against his chest as he turned her back around to face him. 

She started giggling once again and Tommy snorted, smirking as Clara struggled to settle back into the song’s rhythm, the drink and the twirl and her resistance to letting her brother lead causing her to fall slightly out of step. 

“We used to always dance like this,” Tommy said. “I used to twirl you around the house for hours. Surprised there weren’t holes worn in the floors.” 

“No, Tommy.” Clara shook her head. “Back then we danced like this.”

Clara stepped on the tops of Tommy’s shoes and he shifted his arm to hold her steady. 

“You were easier to guide back then. Not quite so rebellious,” he continued. “Less backtalk.”  

Clara turned her head as she rolled her eyes, wobbling as backed off the tops of Tommy’s feet. 

“Not stumbling from drink, either.” 

Clara stilled, tensing in her brother’s hold. She suddenly longed for Tommy to spin her away from him, all the way across the dance floor. 

And when that didn’t happen, she wished it had been Arthur she’d asked for a dance instead. Arthur probably wouldn’t have noticed she’d been drinking. He was too deliriously happy with the day to acknowledge anything that would detract from it. 

But it was Tommy who had heeded Clara’s wishes. And it was Tommy who had been watching after her all afternoon, keeping his eye on her even though it was a family day. Even though they were all safe. Even though he had no reason to worry. 

Tommy continued moving them about, but Clara still hadn’t met his eye, a certain tension thrumming in her body as Tommy moved them around the dance floor. Tommy let it linger for a moment, allowing the discomfort of being caught out sober Clara a bit before clearing his throat and issuing her name. 

Clara looked up at him, ready to offer some sort of excuse for her behavior, but Tommy shook his head.

“You and the boys had your fun, but no more of that today, alright?” He lowered his voice as he continued, nodding toward Linda. “Your new sister-in-law will have a fit, eh?”

Clara followed her brother’s gaze, the slightest of smiles ghosting her lips before she turned back to her brother. She gave Tommy a quick nod.

“Good girl.” Tommy looked away as he continued twirling them, seeking out Arthur in the dwindling sea of guests. “You enjoyed yourself today?” 

Tommy asked the question though he knew the answer. Clara had loved everything about the day. Ada was home. Everyone was together. Clara had gotten a pretty new dress. John had snuck her some drink. She had danced and danced for hours. And to top it off, Arthur seemed to be enjoying himself for the first she could remember in quite some time.

His union with Linda had come about rather quickly—today was less than two months after the pair had met—and Clara wasn’t quite sure whether it was happiness her brother was experiencing, but something had certainly changed for him. Arthur was drinking less, if he drank at all. He was going to church again. He was smiling more. 

Clara nodded. “Arthur seems pleased.” 

“He does,” Tommy agreed. 

“And Linda’s alright,” she said. “Good for him, I think.”

“Yes.” Tommy nodded. “Linda’s alright.” 

He wondered whether his sister would be so happy when she heard the news of his own wedding. He wondered whether Clara would welcome his choice of a wife as she had welcomed Arthur’s. Tommy wondered whether his happiness about a life with Grace would be enough to ensure Clara’s happiness would follow.

“Maybe you’ll be next, Tommy.”

Tommy made a conscious effort not to still at his sister’s words. He made a conscious effort to appear anything other than caught out, but it was almost as if Clara was reading her brother’s mind. It was almost as if the girl knew exactly what Tommy was keeping from her. 

It nearly seemed like that, but Tommy knew that couldn’t be true. Polly and Michael were the only ones who knew about an impending marriage. And only Polly knew it was Grace he was planning to marry. Only Polly knew about the baby. The last woman Clara had known of Tommy being connected to was May Carleton, and that had been over for a few months now.

Polly wasn’t pleased with his choice. She’d been pretty insistent that Clara wouldn’t be happy either. Tommy was tempted to believe Polly on that front, though a part of him figured his Clara would come around. It would probably take time and Tommy figured she had the right to a little outrage on the matter considering where they’d left things with Clara’s once upon a time tutor. He’d afford his sister those feelings at the outset. He was anticipating she’d be upset about Grace in the beginning, which was also why Tommy figured Clara couldn’t have a clue now, not with her being sweet as she was. 

“Our next family day,” Clara mumbled as she lowered her head to Tommy’s chest, their movement limited to nothing more than a slight sway back and forth as Clara rested against her brother. 

Tommy’s gaze caught Arthur once again. He’d gone to find Linda, seeking to bring her out for a dance as Tommy had suggested, but he’d been unsuccessful. Arthur had given up. The song was coming to an end anyway. He had probably figured it wasn’t worth forcing his wife to dance for a few seconds when Tommy had promised Clara to him for the next. 

He stood at Linda’s side now, shuffling his feet as his wife talked to one of the guests.

“Alright,” Tommy prompted, nudging Clara. “We better let Arthur have his turn now, eh?” He relaxed his hold, giving Clara the room to pull away. Clara didn’t move, barely shifting her head to glance at Arthur before resting her cheek back against Tommy’s jacket.

“I’ll have to find my shoes if I’m to dance with Arthur again,” she mumbled, yawning. “He’ll step on my toes.” 

Tommy snorted. 

“It’s not funny. Someone stole them,” Clara mumbled.

Tommy knew precisely where his sister’s shoes were. They’d been in his custody for much of the day, ever since Ada brought them over when Clara kicked them off. Ada had said she thought it was best leaving them with Tommy since he had taken on the position of human statue for the afternoon.

“They’re under the table, Clara.”

“Alright, Tommy,” Clara answered, nodding her head against him. “Thanks.” 

“I’ll get them before you dance with Arthur.”

Clara didn’t answer. She didn’t make any move to let Tommy get away, either. It had been no more than a few minutes that Clara and Tommy had been dancing, but something about the quickly setting sun mixed with the alcohol made Clara feel all fuzzy. She was feeling tired now, like the gentle sway of their promenade was rocking her to sleep. And it seemed to Clara that it was best for her to just stay put. That meant it was best for Tommy to stay put with her, too. 

“Tommy?” she asked, lifting her head to meet his eye. “Can we maybe have one more dance, you and me?” 

“You already had your dance,” he said. “And by the looks of it, you’re more ready for a bed than a dance floor.” Tommy tried to take a step, pulling Clara along with him. “C’mon. We’ll get your shoes, hand you off to Arthur for a quick dance, and we’ll get you home.” 

“No.” Clara planted her feet, shifting her grip to Tommy’s arms. “Tommy, please. Just one more? It’s a family day, remember?”

Family day. 

Clara was right. The next one would be his—they’d be celebrating his wedding to Grace. Maybe his sister wouldn’t ask for a dance when that day came. Maybe Clara wouldn’t want him to walk her down the aisle on her day either. 

Tommy didn’t know. He couldn’t. But Clara was asking for another dance with him now and if he didn’t have to give her away, he wasn’t going to. Tommy glanced above Clara’s head, finding their brother among the dancers. Arthur was spinning a reluctant Polly around the floor, his promised dance with Clara seemingly forgotten. 

“Alright, one more, but that’s it.” Tommy tugged Clara back into his arms and she quickly settled back against him. “Wouldn’t want your new sister-in-law having a fit because you've gotten drunk and worn out her new lawn, eh, my girl ?”

Clara lifted her head, a scowl firmly in place by the time she met his eye. Tommy could’ve sworn he knew the tone she’d use with him even before Clara opened her mouth, even if he hadn’t known what she would say. 

“You’re the one wearing shoes, Thomas .” 

Tommy didn’t bother commenting on her use of Thomas . He took the opportunity to spin his sullen little sister away and then back to him, the scowl on Clara’s face wiped away, his transgression seemingly forgiven as she settled against him once again. 

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

[thepeakygirl]

The first two chapters of my sequel ‘A Shelby Wife’ are out now on Wattpad and will be updated on Ao3 when I wake up. I hope you guys enjoy this new journey and I’m so excited for you all to read it 🥺❤️

[kai-n-ali]

Chapter Five of In The Fields of Asphodel (My Regrets Follow You to the Grave) is out!

  Chapter 5: White Poppies (Sleep—My Bane, My Antidote)

Eleanor Blum didn’t know what to think of this man, this Peaky Blinder devil that made all of Small Heath cower before him, this almost-stranger with his dead wife and dead stare, but she wished he’d stop showing up at the flower shop she worked in. And that he’d stop looking at her with those blue eyes of his.

Follows aftermath of Season 03 throughout Seasn 04. Tommy x OFC.

Warnings: Depictions of child abuse, antisemitism towards OFC (slurs), canon-typical violence, canonical deaths, sexual themes, etc.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 28

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 26: Mosley’s plan is unveiled and Tommy warns Ella and Alfie. 

         Ella wasn’t sure how long she waited, curled up on the grass. But she sat up eventually to decipher what was going on. She saw a figure approaching her, framed by the headlights.

        “C’mon. We need you inside.” Tommy spoke steadily but urgently. He helped his sister up.

        She was shaking and pressing a hand to her stomach, right over where her scar lingered. “What happened?”

        “Pol shot Linda.” He answered and walked her inside.

        Luckily, Linda was out cold by the time Ella came inside. “Can’t we just have one night without this shit?” She muttered under her breath. Standing in the doorway of the dining room, she watched Arthur sit beside his wife. He was shaking and almost in tears.

        “Apparently not,” Tommy replied with a weary sigh.      

        “Did I hear a gunshot or is Swan Lake a bit more entertaining than I assumed?” Alfie came storming into Arrow House.

        “It’s alright, it’s taken care of.” Ella touched his arm.

        “Yeah, well, your guest of honor’s decided to take the stage, mate.” He told Tommy.

        “Is he talking about the new party?” Tommy lit a cigarette.

        “Fuck if I know, I didn’t want to listen to him.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s talking like some…fucking dictator or something. It really puts a damper on the party, but everyone else seems to agree with him.”

        “I’m going to go back out.”

        “I think Alfie and I are going to head home early.” Ella linked arms with her husband. “I’ve had enough of this.”

        “El, it’s late. We said we’d stay at least until tomorrow morning.”

        She frowned. “You want to stay?” She asked in disbelief. It had been like pulling teeth trying to get him to go to the party in the first place.

        “Alfie and I have business to discuss later,” Tommy explained.

        The night’s events were starting to wear on Ella. How foolish it was to think they could have a fun, festive night for Lizzie’s birthday. “That’s fantastic, I don’t care. You can discuss business during business hours. Because that’s how business works. It’s not about sneaking around in the shadows, always looking over your shoulder to see if anyone’s fucking listening or not.”

        Alfie looked tired but resolved. There was no need to argue but he did need to speak to Tommy. “You can head to bed, Ella, that’s okay.”

        “What are you going to talk about?” She inquired. “Can I sit in on your little chat?” Tommy and Alfie shared a look of discomfort and it was enough to set Ella off. “So, you’re both keeping secrets from me now? Of all the times, Alfie.”

        “Love, it’s…” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

        “Well, I’m worried now!” She threw her hands up. “I’m done with this. You two have your conversations, I don’t care anymore.” She stalked off to find one of Tommy’s booze stashes.

~~~~~~~~

              Tucked away in the big room, Ella pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. Forgoing the glass, she drank straight from the crystal bottle. The number of people she was angry with had doubled in one night. It must’ve been a record. She didn’t appreciate her husband keeping secrets from her. Tommy, she could understand. He’d done it before and it was silly to think he wouldn’t do it again. But Alfie? It was like a kick in the gut. How many times had she told him he was the only person she trusted? The very last person left in the world that she relied on and trusted with her heart.

        Stewing at her brother’s desk, she did not want to be interrupted. But nothing about the night was going as planned.

        The door opened and Mosley entered as if he owned the place. Ella’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t say anything as he walked in and glanced at the bottles of liquor near the door. “You Shelbys throw quite the party.” He looked around, taking in the sights as if everything was amusing to him.

        “I don’t recall welcoming you in.” She replied venomously. “This is my family’s house after all, not yours.”

        “You hold a great deal of malice for me, Miss Shelby.” Mosley sat down across the desk from her, completely ignoring her jab.

        “I’ve told you many times, it’s Mrs. Solomons. You can address by my married name or don’t address me at all.”  

        “Ah, yes your husband. Interesting man, isn’t he?” Mosley folded his hands over his lap.

        Before he could continue, Ella interrupted him. She knew the games men like him played. He wanted to work her up, make her so angry that she’d let something slip. But she wasn’t about to let that happen. “My husband is my world. I would put my life on the line for him without hesitating for a second.” No matter how much it nauseated her, she kept her eyes on Mosley to make sure he took her seriously. “You will not bring harm to anyone in my family. I’ll make sure, don’t you worry yourself with how I do it. But if you ever so much as give my husband a fucking dirty look, I’ll have you rotting out in the middle of nowhere, your body riddled with fucking bullets. See that’s the thing about us gypsies, Mr. Mosley, we know the best places to bury a body. Somewhere it’ll never be found. We can throw elegant parties and play the part, but there are some things you can’t take out of us.”

        The threat only seemed to amuse the man. “Do you think your husband would do the same for you? Lay his life down on the line?”

        “Without a question.” Ella folded her arms over her chest. There was no doubt what Alfie would do for her.

        “He’s loyal? Faithful?”

        “Yes.”

        Mosley pretended to be intrigued. “Then why would I have some intelligence of a young woman seen entering and leaving your husband’s place of business? At all hours may I add?” He studied her face, waiting for the reaction of disbelief or betrayal.

        Instead, Ella just laughed. “Yes, Miss Davis. Is she on your payroll or are you simply using her?”

        If Mosley was alarmed, he didn’t show it. “I don’t follow.”

        “You can play dumb all you fucking want. But maybe next time you make sure your employee doesn’t carry around your card. Or it might end up in the wrong hands. You fucking keep her away from my husband or there’ll be hell to pay.” Ella stood up, done with the conversation. “I have no issue of doing away with her. I won’t lose sleep over it.”

        “How do you know he’s being faithful to you, then?” He tried again even if his initial plan had apparently been foiled by a misplaced business card.

        “Because my husband doesn’t enjoy the company of many people. There are a select few he loves deeply. Fortunately, I’m one of those people. I trust him more than I’ll ever trust anyone ever again. But I appreciate your attempt to drive a wedge between us. I wonder what Tommy will think of that.” She went to leave.

        Mosley stood up suddenly and grabbed Ella’s wrist. He pulled her close. Anger began to seep through his expression for the first time that night. His true colors began to show. “I would urge you to reconsider your alliances.”

        “Put your fucking hands on me again and I’ll have my husband remove them.” She spat and ripped her arm away from him. On her way out of the big room, she ran into her brother.

        Tommy looked confused. “El…”

        “Don’t you dare fucking speak to me.” She replied harshly and pushed past him.

        “Your sister has quite the mouth, Mr. Shelby. Not very becoming of a lady.” Mosley regained his composure and sat down again.

        “I don’t think she considers herself a lady,” Tommy replied and went to pour them both drinks. He looked for the Irish whiskey and was puzzled to find it already on his desk, the top opened. “Just a woman. She’s never one for social standing. I think she’s content with what she has now.”

        “And are you content with that? Your family is an extension of yourself, after all. If you have unruly family members, your reputation is severely threatened.”

        “She likes to stay out of the family business so that wouldn’t be an issue for me. She’s not a face of the company.”

        “That doesn’t matter in the public arena. It’s best to squash a problem before it becomes too much to handle. Now, what I propose, and I suggest you take this advice, you would have her married off to someone of significant standing. It would boost your appeal and perhaps tame her at the same time.”

        Tommy’s brow furrowed. “She’s married.”

        “Ah, yes, the Jew.” Mosley swirled the whiskey around in the crystal tumbler. “Well, after you’ve heard me speak, I think it should be common knowledge that you won’t be able to have a Jew as your lawyer let alone your brother-in-law.”

        Tommy’s blood went cold. He paused for a moment before speaking. “It sounds like you want me to break up my sister and Alfie.”

        “I’ve already attempted to do so. But your sister proves to be more stubborn than I anticipated. It was foolish of me if she’s anything like you then she’s as stubborn as a mule.”

        He swallowed and his eyes went to the door that his sister had just left. Tommy was sure that if she heard any of this conversation, she would have a go at the both of them. Guns would probably be drawn. “She would never leave him and vice versa. I’m not sure what else you would suggest.” Play the part, he had to play the part. Any slip would give his intentions away.

        “Get rid of him or I’ll do it for you,” Mosley replied coolly. As if murder was no skin off his back. “I know you have a reputation for making people disappear. He could prove a challenge but I trust your expertise.” Then, like it was just a bullet point on his business list or things to do, he transitioned. “Also, our friend Jimmy McCavern has asked for control of the racetracks north of Wincanton.”

        Tommy was in too much of a daze to really process what Mosley was saying. He simply nodded.

        “And Shelby, drink less.” Mosley left his whiskey on the desk and took his leave.

        Bothered by everything that happened that night, Tommy reached over and took a long drink of the whiskey that Ella had left out.  

~~~~~~~~~~~

        “The nerve of that man. And the fact that Tommy’s even listening to him! That he’s fucking entertaining him!”

        Alfie was tired of not only the night but the whole affair. He almost wished that he’d gone home earlier when Ella requested. “I don’t have any answers, love, I’m sorry.”

        “The fact that he was trying to frame you. For cheating?” She scoffed. “Honestly!”

        “C’mere,” He was proud that Ella trusted him. The thought of being unfaithful never crossed his mind even at their lowest point in the relationship. It was laughable, in fact.

        Pouting, Ella walked over to him sitting on the bed. “I don’t want to deal with this anymore.”

        “We don’t have to.” Alfie rested his hands on her hips. “I’ll talk to Tommy.”

        Ella touched her forehead to his, her eyes closing. She felt like she needed to scrub away Mosley. Scrub away the looks he gave her and the way he grabbed her wrist. It made her feel grimy and unclean. “Alfie…”

        “Yes, love?”

        She shook her head. What was there to say? The world was crumbling to bits. She didn’t know which way was up anymore. The only constant was him. All she could do was draw his lips to hers and sink into a kiss. After everything, at least that was comforting and normal.

        But it wasn’t long before there was a sharp knock at the door. Alfie drew away even though Ella tried to get him to ignore it.

        “It’s probably your brother.” He explained and picked her up to set her on the bed beside him so he could stand up.

        Ella crossed her arms over her chest, not in the mood to speak with Tommy at least for another week if she was lucky. But she wasn’t.

        “Tommy, you’ve got more to talk about?” Alfie asked.

        “Can I come in?”

        “No.” Ella asserted from the bed.

        “I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He replied.

        Alfie stood back, letting the man into the room. “What is it?”

        “I’ve just spoken to Mosley.” Tommy shut the door behind him, worried that the man could have ears anywhere even in his own goddamn house. It was wise not to take chances.

        “That’s not news,” Ella muttered.

        “The fascists have a very strong belief when it comes to…”

        “Jews.” Alfie nodded gruffly. “I’m well aware.”

        Ella’s eyes widened. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She knew Mosley had questioned her husband’s faith before but she thought it was because he was a special breed of asshole. She didn’t think the entire emerging party felt the same way.

        “Should’ve heard him out in the tent, love,” Alfie said sarcastically. “Talks about putting the blame for everything on us Jewish rats. Innit that right, Tommy?”

        Ella looked incredulous. “Thomas!” She snapped loudly.

        Tommy looked at his wits end. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m going to handle it.” He told her. “The message dies with him. It dies with him, okay?”

        “Well, we’re all waiting for your big plan! You know the one where you supposedly kill him? You’ve been talking about it for months but that fucker is still alive and walking around!”

        Alfie leaned up against the armoire. He looked grim but didn’t seem to hold the same anger for Tommy as Ella did.

        “Alfie, say something!” She urged.

        “He’s gotten closer to the man than anyone else has. If anyone has a shot at defeating this party then…” He met his wife’s look of disbelief. “Well, fuck, I know that he’s mental, Ella, we both know that! But sometimes it takes crazy to beat crazy!”

        “Exactly my point.” Tommy lit up a cigarette. It didn't matter if he was called crazy. As long as he was given the leeway to carry out his plan. In fact, he was banking on crazy to see it through. “There’s someone, once we get him, this will all be over within a week or two.”

        Ella’s eyes narrowed at him. “Who?”

        “An old friend.”

        “Who?!” She wasn’t about to let him run around her with secrets.

        “A member of the 107th. Best sniper I've ever known. He’s locked up in an asylum right now but once we break him loose, we…”

        “An asylum?” Ella threw her hands up and wondered if she had been caught in a nightmare. “A fucking asylum, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

        “What’s your plan?” Alfie asked.

        “Oh my God. Alfie, please don’t entertain him, he’s probably all doped up!”

        “Hey! You wanted a plan; I’m trying my best to get everyone out of this!” Tommy’s defenses went up when she mentioned his drug use.

        “I wanted a plan, not a crapshoot!” Ella stood up from the bed and took a few threatening steps toward her brother.

        “Hey, hey, c’mon now.” Alfie got between them before their showdown attracted the entire house’s attention and woke Linda from her sedated state.

        “At a rally, I’ll have a bullet put through his fucking head. That’s the best chance we’ve got.” He continued. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

        “What about our safety?”

        Tommy’s face fell a little. “I think it would be best if you and Alfie made yourself scarce until I’ve sorted everything.”

        Alfie frowned. “That wasn’t what we spoke about.”

        “I know. But what he said to me tonight…I’m very concerned about the safety of both of you.” His voice quieted.

        Ella was breathing heavily, anger built up so much that it was spilling over. “What did he say? Verbatim, Tom. I want to know what he said, word for word.” She hissed through gritted teeth.  

        Tommy took a deep breath. Either way, he would incur the wrath of his sister so he decided to at least be truthful. “He said I needed to deal with Alfie or he would do it for me.”

        “Deal with him. Like kill him? That man is going to kill my husband?” She pushed away from Alfie and went to get her gun tucked away in her purse.

        “El, Ella!” Alfie grabbed her before she got the chance to load her pistol. “No, no, no, put that down right now.” He wrenched the gun away from her shaking hands.

        “I’m going to fucking kill him; I swear to God.”

        “No, you’re not,” Tommy replied firmly. “We’re doing it my way because it’s the only way this family makes it out unscathed. Nothing is traced back to us, we smother the message. That’s how we’re going to do it.” He spoke firmly.

        Alfie wrapped his arms around Ella who was shaking so badly she could hardly stand up straight, even her vision was blurred with rage. “Are you happy with yourself?” She questioned fiercely. Huh? Are you fucking happy?!”

        “Ella…”

        “What do we do, Tom?” Alfie tried to keep the siblings from escalating even more. He had to keep a level head. Yes, there was a man not too far away that wanted him dead just because of his religion. But if that man was murdered in Arrow House, the Shelbys’ lives would be on full display to the public. It could land them all in prison, or maybe on a trip to the gallows. It would be difficult for Tommy to wrangle everyone out of a situation like that.

        “We have allies in Wales. The Youngs and Lees. The further west you are might be best. I’d keep you away from the north and away from London.” Tommy’s voice evened out again.

        “They found the Golds. We’re not safe out there.” Ella argued.

        “They won’t know you’ve gone out that way. I’ll send them information saying you’ve traveled east.”

        Ella looked indignant. Alfie looked disturbed. “I ain’t leaving my business alone.”

        “We’ll be able to take care of everything for you.”

        “No, no, that’s not happening, mate.” Alfie shook his head. “I’ll be running business as usual, I ain’t afraid of some fucking fascist. And I certainly ain’t gonna go live out in the middle of fucking nowhere in a caravan.”

        “He intends to kill you, Alfie.” Tommy reminded him as if the man misheard him.

        “Yeah, lotsa men have intended on killing me. Guess where they are now? Rotting at the bottom of the canal.”

        Tommy finished his cigarette and sighed deeply. “I suppose I can’t force you to do anything. But I would warn against staying in London.”

        “Yeah, well, fuck your warning. Not running off to Wales with me tails between me legs.”

        Ella’s stomach flipped and she ripped away from Alfie’s arms to rush to the bathroom. She became physically ill, the anxiety overwhelming her senses. They were all fucked.

        Tommy locked up Ella’s gun for the night and advised Alfie to keep an eye on her. Mosley would walk out of Arrow House alive. But his days were numbered.

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[crystalpistol]

“Don’t act a fool, Mister Shelby.” You scoffed, turning from the man and straightening out your blouse. “You know money makes the world go ‘round.”

Thomas hummed in agreement, lingering in the doorway for a long time before finally entering. The door creaked shut with a deliberately slow guide of the gangster’s foot.

“I mean it, Y/N.” He pressed, eyes falling on the ruffled sheets of your bed. “This is a filthy place,” his icy blue eyes pierced yours and you were stunned, “full of filthy men.”

Laughter bubbled in your chest, “Forgive me, Mister Shelby, but this is where we crossed paths.” Those intense eyes darted back and forth between yours and you couldn’t help but stare when his lips parted. He noticed, mouth curling in a smirk.

“Pack your things, we’re leaving tonight.” Thomas commanded, somewhat amused. “I’ll be doing no such thing.” You frowned, growing irritated. “You offend me, Mister Shelby. I think you should leave.”

Brushing past him and to the door, you opened it and motioned for Thomas to leave, but he didn’t make a move, he just stared at you. More time passed and the two of you continued to stare, then glare.

“You misunderstand, Y/N.” His face was intimidating, his features sharp and breathtaking even now. “This particular brothel has been sold to new owners,” he leaned over you, hand pressing flat against the door. It slammed shut and you were pinned in a second.

“I-I know this, what difference does it make? Elizabeth has been talking about selling for years.” You sputtered, heart racing in your chest. Not once had Tom Shelby ever harmed you, not even by accident. So, why would he now?

“So, you’re lookin’ at the new owner.” Brows furrowed, Thomas waited for your reaction and laughed obnoxiously when he received none. “And as the new owner, I’ve decided it’s best if there are some cuts around here. For business, of course.”

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach and so did your mouth. “You..”

Thomas let his hands fall onto your petite shoulders as if to comfort you, “You’re taking my job? Why?” Tears welled in your eyes and you moaned, “Why would you do that to me, Mister Shelby? This is all I know!”

The brunette smiled, cupping your face in one hand and pulling you close with the other. “You can’t tell me you actually like working here. All the scum that comes walking through those doors, I know you hate them.”

Tom’s voice trembled and he shook you gently, “Come with me and you’ll never have to sell yourself again.”

You thought hard about it. He was right, you hated the entire concept of selling sex just to avoid being on the streets of London, but this brothel, as horrific as it may sound, was the only home you’d ever known.

“Mister Shelby, I - “

“Tommy.” He corrected in a low whisper. You blinked and felt his breath hitting your face, too frightened to look at his eyes. You knew the man intimately, you knew when he was about to kiss you.

“Tommy..” Eyes closed, you sighed and shook your head. “This is ridiculous.”

And then, just as you predicted, he kissed you.

[twistedrunes]

George - Chapter 26

A Peaky Blinders Fanfiction

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800808

Hello Friends!

It’s been an embarrassingly long time since I updated this fic (or written anything really) but finally, here it is. Thank you to all of you for being patient. To those of you who have sent encouraging messages, commented or reblogged, know that these acts of kindness have not gone unnoticed. Thank you. 

This chapter would probably still be unfinished if not for originallaura, who left a comment on each and every chapter on AO3. Their enthusiasm brought some of my own back. So thank you. 

I hope you all enjoy the chapter and would love to hear what you think. 

Until next time - Twistedrunes xox

Chapter Twenty-six: Of Gold and Lead

This is a series. If you’re new here welcome! I would recommend you start at  the beginning:   Chapter One More chapters of George are available on the Masterlist Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. All original work is my own.

Summary: The tension is Small Heath is palpable and everyone is on edge. Anna included. In the lead up to Tommy's meeting with Gold and Anna's meeting with Changretta things between Anna and Arthur come to a-head. 

Note: This chapter includes parts of series four verbatim. I always wanted to explore how Anna would deal with the events between Tommy and Aberama in Charlie’s yard. Also, I haven’t seen series five yet so this is spoiler-free

Warnings: language, angst, racial slurs (as per canon), revisited trauma, mild anxiety

You knock soundly on Arthur’s front door, the sound reverberating down the empty street. Bouncing off the dirty glass and filthy masonry. Echoing, it sounds ominous, you can almost feel the people shrink back from their doors and windows. No-one’s out in Small Heath, it’s as if the place itself is holding its breath, waiting. As your knock fades the silence closes in heavily. You raise your hand to knock again.

Linda opens the door, fatigue heavy in the bags under her eyes. You wonder how long it’s been since she slept. Her eyes widen as she realises it’s you, and she attempts, too late, to close the door in your face. You stop the door easily and step inside, closing and locking it behind you. She cowers away from you. “No, please, don’t hurt him,” she begs.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” You assure her. “Which is a good thing, because if I had you’d all be dead now. You can’t open the door without checking who it is.”

Linda takes a deep shuddering breath, she looks up at you with tear-filled eyes but nods in agreement. “I just, I hoped,” she pauses. “He needs his brothers.”

You nod in acknowledgement but don’t allow her to derail you from your task. “Where is he?”

“In the sitting room. Why didn’t Tommy tell him?” She says accusatorily.

“Part of the plan.”

“Oh the plan,” Linda says sarcastically. “The plan that includes Arthur killing Changretta? With that stupid fucking bullet. Is that why you’re here? Sent by Tommy to tell Arthur it’s time. Or is it something else stupid and dangerous?” She spits the words at you, bringing the full might of her anger against you. For a moment you capture a glimpse of the street preacher; righteousness and moral indignation giving her power. “Never does handle the dirty work himself. It used to be John and Arthur and now it seems it’s you. With Arthur not even worthy of a fuckin’ audience.” Linda’s voice gets louder with each statement, her eyes blazing.

You resist the urge to snap back at her and take a breath before telling her calmly. “Tommy didn’t send me. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Then why?” Linda’s venom does not abate.

“I’m here for the bullet.” You say plainly.

Linda steps back, bumping into the hall table, she sinks against it with one hand over her mouth and the other supporting her, all the fight draining from her. She gathers herself quickly and reaches out and squeezes your arm “Thank you.” She hurries, dragging you, along the hall to the sitting room. “I’ll make some tea.” She says opening the door.

The smell of alcohol and sweat nearly knock you back. Arthur sits in the chair by the fire, bottle of whiskey in one hand, cigar in the other. Bruises blooming from his fight with Tommy, blood dried to rust on his shirtfront. His eyes are closed and he’s mumbling something to himself. You take the timber chair from beside the door, setting it in front of him. He doesn’t register your presence until you reach out and touch his knee lightly. His hand, still holding the bottle of whiskey, reaches for the holster no longer on his shoulders. Whiskey pours down his front.

“Fuck” Arthur grunts flatly.

“Arthur,” you touch his knee again.

He opens one eye, it seems to swim for a moment in its socket before fixing on your face. “Not here,” he grunts. “Not in front of Linda, the baby’s asleep upstairs.”  

You sigh “I’m not here to hurt you, Arthur. I understand. You were protecting Tommy, the whole family. You did the right thing.”

“Never wanted to hurt you,” Arthur says, shoulders hunched and voice soft.

It breaks your heart to see Arthur this way. “I know Arthur,” you say softly closing your hand around his.

“Just tryin’ to protect, everyone,” He mumbles, his eye closing.

You scoot forward in the chair taking his shoulders in your hands, shaking him slightly. “Arthur! You need to pull yourself together.”

Arthur’s eyes open’s slightly “What for ‘ey? You an’ Tommy got it all worked out.” He waves his hand broadly towards the window, managing to spill even more whiskey on himself. You take the bottle from his hand and set it beside your chair. Arthur isn’t finished. “Just fuckin’ put a bullet in my head and be done with it, ey? Take me out to some muddy fuckin’ field and do what the fuckin’ Germans couldn’t. Better for everyone.”

“Tommy needs you today, with the Gold’s,”

“He doesn’t need me. You’ll be watching, up in the gables, watching over us all. Like a fuckin’ guardian angel.” He says bitterly. You can’t help it, you laugh. Arthur looks at you incensed. “What?”

“Fuckin’ hell Arthur, no one’s ever called me an angel,”

“True. Nothing but trouble,” Arthur agrees gruffly, but there’s a gentleness to it now.

“Yeah, I am. Got a nose for it apparently.” You tease. Arthur gives a quiet huff of a laugh, but it’s over quickly and he falls quiet again, hunching forward with his elbows on his knees looking intently into the fire.  

You copy his posture, bringing your head close to his. “Tommy needs you, Arthur. I need you.” Arthur huffs and hangs his head, turning his gaze to the floor. “From up in the loft I won’t be able to read what’s happening. I’ll be too far away. You’re like me Arthur, you can sense trouble before it starts.” You pause for a moment, waiting, hoping for a response. Arthur gives you nothing so you push on. “Tommy’s good at the thinking and planning, but you’re the one who can sense things, see when something is out of place. You understand the Gypsy stuff, what the rules are, what things mean.”

Arthur shakes his head slowly, “I’m redundant, no longer needed.”

“Fuck Arthur!” You embrace his neck, hand squeezing the back of his neck. “I need you. I fuckin’ need you to look after them when I’m gone,” you tell him in a hoarse whisper.

Arthur sits up abruptly, jerking out of your grip “Gone? What the fuck do you mean gone?” He demands.

“To London, I’m leaving as soon as the deal is done. I need you with Tommy. Keep an eye on him. Finn and the others too. The Gold’s need to see a united front. They need to see that the family are still together, still strong.”

“You meeting Changretta?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah,”

“I’ll come with you. Fucking finish this once and for all.” Arthur declares.

“No, Arthur, you’re needed here.”

Arthur’s eyes blaze, then narrow and harden. “I’ll put the bullet in fucking Changretta’s skull, right between his fucking eyes. Won’t need the fucking Gold’s then will we?”

“Fuck! Arthur, you won’t get within a hundred yards of him before his men will have killed you. That’s why I’m here, give me the bullet.”

“Give you the bullet?” Arthur stands angrily, looming over you. “What do you know about the fucking bullet ‘ey? It’s tradition. It’s about fucking blood. A Shelby has to do it. I have to do it!”

“He won’t expect it from me.” You try to explain.

“You think he’ll be fooled by you when you’re all moony-eyed over Tommy?”

“You were,” you snap.

Arthur turns away from you angrily, ignoring your comment he continues. “The bullet is my responsibility, fucking Tommy knows that. But he sends you to fucking collect it!” Arthur slams his hand on the side table.

“He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” He demands as he turns on you.

“Tommy wants to give it to Aberama! Fuck!” You shout back. For a long minute, the two of you stand facing each other, both breathing heavily. You lean against the chair you had been sitting in, dropping your head. “He’s scared Arthur.”

From behind you, Linda speaks quietly. “Please Arthur,”

Arthur shakes his head ignoring his wife and looks at you. “You’re not a Shelby. Even if my brother is putting his dick in you.” Arthur says coldly. “You’re just doing his bidding like the rest of us.”

“I’m not doing this for Tommy,” You say quietly. “None of the times I’ve fought for the Shelby’s have been for him.”

“Fuck off,” Arthur snorts derisively.

“Especially not in the beginning.” You insist. “It’s always been about all of you. You’re the closest thing to a family I’ve ever had, and it was you, John and Finn who made me feel that way. With Tommy, things have always been complicated, and messy, and never fucking easy. But with the three of you, I always felt like I belonged.”

Arthur ignores you, retrieving his bottle from next to the chair.

“You’ve always been there for me Arthur. Fuck you even gave me some of your precious Shelby blood!”

Arthur takes a long swig from the bottle. “Didn’t know you knew about that,”

“Finn told me.”

“That fuckin’ kid,”

“He’s not a kid anymore,” you say automatically. “He told me what you said too,” You push on defiantly. Arthur’s brow furrows as he tries to remember. “He said that after, you said that with that much blood, I was a Shelby.” You pause for a moment. “Telling fortunes in no time.” You remind him.

Arthur stands silently, bottle hanging at his side. His face is sombre, his eyes close.

“And since then I’ve always considered you my family.” You push on boldly, deciding there was no point in backing out now. “So I came for the bullet, to keep you safe, to honour your tradition. Because I can’t tell fortunes Arthur, but I can shoot a gun. I can shoot a gun and it’s a bullet that will end Changretta, whether his name is on it or not.”    

Arthur turns his back, heading for a new bottle of whiskey. “No.” It’s a statement of finality.

Defeated you head for the door. Linda is praying quietly, she reaches out for you as you pass but you shake your head. “Lock the door behind me, ‘eh.” You instruct as you pass by.

In the kitchen of Tommy’s Watery Lane house, you find a moment of inexplicable calm. You’re seated at the table, helping Charlie with his breakfast while Tommy, Polly, Mary, and the lawyer meet in the front room. Charlie, still in his pyjamas, had insisted on sitting in your lap, scrambling up eagerly as soon as the two of you had finished preparing the toast and tea. You reach around him picking up a piece of toast and spreading it with some butter and jam.

“Come on, eat up.” You tell him, putting the slice onto the plate in front of him and bringing his glass of milk within his reach.

“Thank you, Anna.” Charlie says happily. “I like it when you come for breakfast.”

There’s a pleasant ache in your chest with his words. “Me too,” you tell him, pressing your face lightly against his hair, almost a kiss. For a moment you just breathe, taking in the smell of Charlie’s hair and enjoying his warmth in your lap, your eyes close, and just for a second everything else falls away.

“Anna?” Charlie asks wiggling in your lap so he can look up at you.

“Mm?” You hum, barely opening your eyes.

“Are you going to have some breakfast too?” He asks, pointing at the untouched slices of toast in the rack.

Smiling you meet his eye. “Yes, thank you for reminding me, Charlie.” You remove a slice from the rack, spread some butter on it and take a bite.

Charlie’s head drops to the side, eyes wide and full of innocence “Nice?” he asks.

“Lovely.” You agree. “Now you eat yours.” You nod towards his plate.

 Muffled voices from the hall draw your attention and moments later the kitchen door opens and Polly walks in. She smiles at you, but her face is pale and drawn.

“How is he?” You ask, as Polly kisses the top of Charlie’s head before her arm wraps around your shoulders. You move in the chair so you can wrap your arm around her waist.

Polly’s hand squeezes your shoulder as she straightens. “He should be home within the week.” She breathes as if she barely dares say the words aloud.

“He’s strong and young, he’ll be up and about before you know it.” You tell her reassuringly.

Polly takes a deep breath letting it out slowly, blinking rapidly and wiping her fingertips under her eyes before looking down on you again. “You be careful; this can’t be like the Russians.”  She tells you sternly. “No unnecessary risks, it’s dangerous.” She nods towards Charlie meaningfully.  

“Yes, Pol.” You agree. Polly's eyes return to yours holding them sternly. “I promise” You add quickly. Polly nods seemingly placated by whatever she saw in your eyes.

“Excuse me, Miss Hunter?” Mary’s quiet voice says from the doorway.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to do some shopping; can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Mrs Gray?” Mary turns her attention to Polly.

“No, thank you.” Pol replies.

Mary nods and moves out of the doorway, replaced by Tommy.

“I’ll be off then.” Polly says, running her hand over Charlie’s hair.

“I’ll see you in a few days.” You tell her.

As she gets to the door, Tommy steps inside. Polly pauses, raising her hand and pointing at you. “Careful.”  

“Yes Pol.” You agree.

Pol arches her eyebrows and steps into the hall.

“Back in a moment,” Tommy says, before following his Aunt.

You can hear Tommy farewell Polly, before the heavy door closes and the key clicks in the lock. He’s back in the kitchen in moments. He kisses the top of Charlie’s head and then yours too. 

“Tea?” You ask him.

“I’ll do it,” Tommy replies setting out two cups and pouring. 

“We made you toast, daddy. It’s not even a little bit burnt.” Charlie says proudly, pointing at the toast rack.

“Excellent,” Tommy says, placing your tea in front of you and taking the chair next to you and helping himself to a piece of toast.

No one speaks while Tommy butters his toast and adds a spoonful of marmalade. He takes a bite and chews it carefully. “Perfect,” He tells Charlie, ruffling his hair with his free hand before settling it on the back of your chair, rubbing his thumb against your shoulder. “You alright?” He asks brow furrowed slightly as he focuses on your face.

You force a smile “Yeah,” Tommy frowns and raises an eyebrow. “I stopped to see Arthur. It wasn’t a good idea.” Tommy kisses his teeth. You lay your hand on his thigh, “He’s hurt,”

“I’ll talk to him.” Tommy says as his hand glides over your shoulder and his fingertips caress the skin of your neck. Your muscles relax a little and your head tilts towards him. Tommy’s thumb rubs along your jaw. “Which train are you getting?” Tommy asks you, before taking another bite of his toast.

“I was thinking the two o’clock, do you think we’ll be finished by then?”

Tommy nods and swallows his mouthful of toast “Should be.”

“Where are you going?” Charlie asks.

“London.” You reply.

“No.” Charlie says clearly and loudly.

“Charlie,” Tommy admonishes his son’s outburst.

“No,” Charlie repeats, louder this time, his face screwing up crossly.

You try a gentler approach “It’s only for a day or two.”

“No!” Charlie yells, his face crumpling as tears threaten. “You can’t go.” Tears spill onto his cheeks as he slaps your arm.

“Charlie!” Tommy snaps.

Charlie ignores him turning around in your lap and pummels his fists against your chest. “Don’t go.” He wails, the tears follow close behind.

You wrap your arms around Charlie, and pull him against you. His pounding stops instantly and his arms pull into his chest.  Hugging him and rubbing his back, you can feel his heart pounding. You look over his head at Tommy for some kind of answer. He shrugs in confusion. “I have to go, darling. I’ll be back before you know it.” You coo soothingly. He continues to cry.

Tommy shuffles his chair closer and strokes the back of his sons head tenderly. Charlie turns his head just enough to see his father “Tell her she can’t go daddy.” He begs.

“Anna’ll be back soon,” Tommy says reassuringly, brushing Charlie’s hair back off his face.

“As soon as I get back I’ll come and see you.” You echo.

Charlie shakes his head furiously “No, the bad men will get you. Daddy told Aunt Linda that the bad men want to kill the whole family.” His eyes are wide with fear.

Tommy’s eyes close, and his head drops slightly, “Charlie,” Tommy begins with a sigh.

“You DID! I heard you,” Charlie interrupts him. ‘And Aunt Polly told Anna to be careful because it’s dangerous.”

“Fuck,” Tommy breathes, rubbing his hand over his face and then through his hair.

“Well, Charlie,” you take over from Tommy who seems at a loss “I’m not a Shelby, I’m not part of the family. So the bad men aren’t trying to hurt me. I’m going to London so they go away and don’t hurt anyone.”

“Are you sure they won’t hurt you?” Charlie tilts his tear-stained face back, forehead creased with worry. A dark expression crosses Tommy’s face and his jaw flexes as his hand tightens on the back of the chair.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.” You assure Charlie, taking his cheeks in your hands. You kiss his forehead and then his cheeks. “There, that’s better.” You pull him back to your chest and embrace him.

Charlie snuggles into you and Tommy leans over, wrapping you and Charlie in his arms. He kisses your temple tenderly. You allow yourself to lean into him. “Come on, let’s finish breakfast ‘ey,” Tommy instructs quietly. You and Tommy release Charlie enough that he can go back to his toast. Tommy keeps his arm around your shoulders. It remains when Mary returns from her shopping and Tommy asks her to take Charlie to change into his clothes for the day. You hold Charlie tight and kiss his him again promising again to be back as soon as you can.

“Fuck,” Tommy says quietly as Mary closes the door behind her.

You lean into him again, resting your head against his shoulder “Yeah.”

Tommy turns in his chair facing you, his forehead pressing against yours. You press your lips to his. Tommy’s hands snake around your waist pulling you closer, with a slight grunt he pulls you onto his lap. Greedily you wrap your arms around his neck, your palms gliding over the shorn hair on the back of his head. 

“I should go,” you murmur as your lips eventually part. Tommy’s begin to ghost over the skin of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against the sensitive skin. Reluctantly you push against his shoulders. “The boys will start turning up for the guns soon, and I still need to change.”  

Tommy’s hand rises to your face, fingers stroking your jaw as he guides your face to his. This kiss is gentle and slow, both of you breathing the other in deeply, eyes locked. 

Tommy says nothing and kisses you again. Eventually, you pull out of his grasp and stand. Hand in hand he walks you to the door. There Tommy’s hands come to your hips and he pulls you close, lips ghosting against yours. “Be careful,” he insists.

“You too.”

Nestled high up above Charlie’s yard, hidden amongst the hay and grain stores you rub your hands together in an attempt to warm them. The cold gunmetal beginning to burn the skin of your ungloved fingers. From your vantage point you’d watched Mr Gold, Bonnie and their pair of muscled men, like dogs at their heel, from the moment they arrived. They had strutted around with an arrogance and disrespect which curled your lip in disgust.  

Gold stops by Charlie and Johnny who are preparing the birds for lunch. He compliments Charlie on his yard and asks how much he wants for it. The sharp intake of breath behind you a reminder that Curley was here with you. You take a deep breath, inhaling slowly through your nose as you bring the gun to your shoulder. With Charlie’s refusal the Gold’s and their henchmen move on. Mr Gold makes his offer again loudly as he approaches Tommy and Arthur.

“Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold.” Tommy’s voice is clear across heavy silence of the yard.

“Oh, everything is for sale.” Mr Gold shoots back cockily. “Everything.”

You fix the sight on Gold, watching him for the slightest hint of treachery.

“We’re going to spin a coin for your yard, Charlie.” Tommy says casually.

“What?” Charlie’s incensed cry cracks out across the otherwise silent yard.

“No,” Curley’s softer cry behind you.

Ignoring the urge to comfort Curley you keep still and focused on Gold.

Tommy speaks, quietly and calmly. “If it’s heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing. If it’s tails,” Tommy turns his gaze to Mr Gold, pausing for a moment to ensure he has Gold’s complete attention. “I fuck your daughter, Mr Gold.”

Gold swallows hard, the only sign Tommy’s offer has affected him. Bonnie, however, is less experienced in not showing his hand and the colour quickly drains from his face. Arthur laughs, it’s jarring, hard and hollow. He has cleaned up well, posture menacing and eyes like a hawk on the proceedings before him. The knot in your stomach loosens a little, thankful that Arthur was here, present and focused on the task at hand.

“Esmerelda,” Tommy continues, his voice as cold as the metal in your hand, “she’s the eldest and the prettiest. I’ll have her.”

You feel the words more than hear them. You knew they were coming, yet still ice prickles through your veins as your heart and body freeze. Unable to draw a breath you feel panic threatening to overwhelm you. You swallow hard, trying to quell the bile burning your throat. Memories pluck at the edges of your perception, threatening to overwhelm you. Your father’s voice taking Tommy’s words and echoing them, over and over until they make no sense. Stopping you from thinking, stopping you from focusing on what’s in front of you. A large warm hand settles in the middle of your back, stroking you rhythmically, drawing you back from the edge.

“Hush now, it’s alright. Just words to upset Mr Gold aren’t they? Don’t mean nothing.” Curley’s deep, slow voice is like a blanket, wrapping around you and keeping you together.

Taking a long slow deep breath you allow your eyes to close. Mentally you push the memories aside. Looking over at Curley, you give him a little nod. “I’m right now Curley, thank you.”

Curley nods in return and stands from where he is kneeling next to you, moving so he is behind you again.

You return your attention to the scene in front of you. Arthur and then Tommy speak again, threat heavy in their tone. Gold hesitates in replying to Tommy, balancing the coin, and his daughter on his thumb. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your finger slides off the guard and onto the trigger as silence spreads over the yard.

The long moment draws on and on as Tommy and Gold stare each other down.

“No wager today,” Gold says smoothly, holding up the coin. Relief washes over you but your focus is immediately sharpened by the thinly veiled threat that follows. “I’ll keep this coin to buy a flower for your grave when the time comes.”

Tommy doesn’t flinch, “And before that time, please, don’t again disrespect my friends, or their valued property.” Gold gives a slow blink, but Tommy doesn’t give him time to respond further. “We’ve missed Christmas, let’s have it now.”

It’s the signal you’d agreed with Tommy. It was over.

Setting the gun aside you stand up. “That’s it, Curley, we’re done now.”

Curley ducks his head to look out the small window, you do the same. You watch Arthur guide the Gold’s to a long makeshift table, where Mr Gold accepts a tumbler of amber liquid from Charlie. Gold holds the glass aloft; he’s facing away from you so you can’t hear what he says but you clearly hear the laughter at the end.

“I don’t trust him George, I don’t trust him at all.”

“Neither do I, Curley.” The pair of you watch the scene below for a few moments more. You place your hand on Curley’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ve both got jobs to do. Let’s leave them to do theirs.”

Once Curley is gone, you pack up the gun and sling it over your shoulder. At the top of the ladder, you look out over the yard a final time. It all looks so deceptively tranquil. Men sitting around talking, drinking and laughing. You notice Arthur isn’t with them. Your eyes sweep the yard, anxiety tightening your chest again. As you look the murmur of the assembled men seems to coalesce into one voice, “I’ll fuck your daughter.” You feel hot tears running down your cheeks but do nothing to stop them. The chant repeats over and over in your head. You give a small sob of relief when the church bells ring out the hour over the yard, drowning out the men’s voices and reminding you, you need to get moving.

You scramble down the ladder. In your haste, you miss a lower rung and land heavily on the rammed earth. Lying there the low hum of the men’s voices join together again “your daughter.” Clambering to your feet you scramble out the back of the barn. You feel yourself beginning to spiral, wondering how often Mr Gold had been so casual about his daughters’ safety. If Tommy had ever considered, or worse suggested, taking someone’s daughter to settle a bet before. You feel woozy and stop, leaning one hand on the barn to try to steady yourself concentrating on your breathing. Despite your best efforts the scene replays in your mind. Tommy’s cold words ringing in your head “I’ll fuck your daughter.” All at once you heave, toast and tea splashing on the ground at your feet. You gag and spit as you try to gather yourself.  

“Fuck! What’s wrong?” Arthur’s voice is hushed but strained.

“Nothing,” You wave him away without looking at him.

“Anna,” Arthur begins. You turn on him eyes blazing. “Fuck, I mean George.” Arthur corrects himself quickly, holding his hands up.

You turn away again with another heave, groaning as you wipe your mouth on your jacket sleeve.

“He didn’t mean it,” Arthur says quietly, his hand gripping your shoulder from behind.

You don’t have the energy to shrug his hand off. “Why aren’t you with him?” You grunt, still looking at the ground.

“I wanted to talk to you before you left,”

“Fuck! It’s not the time.” You groan still not facing him and leaning heavily on the barn.

“Fuck! It never fuckin’ is, is it?”

You wince at his outburst and turn to face him. “No, always seems to be something doesn’t it.” You say softly.

“I was wrong to doubt you.” Arthur says.

“You were right to doubt me.” You tell him firmly, finally looking up at his face.  

“I should have known you wouldn’t betray us. Fuck, you’ve been protecting this family from the moment we first ran into you. John and those fuckin’ birds.” Arthur says, interrupting himself, and smiling for a moment. “Hardly fuckin’ knew us, every reason not to trust us, to just ignore what was happening. But you didn’t and you saved my Linda.”

You shake your head “I would have done it either way. Seems I spend my life dealing with men who hurt women.”

A flash of pain crosses Arthur’s face, “Tommy, he didn’t mean it. She’s promised you see,”

“I know.” You interrupt him, not wanting to let that cloud your mind again. “Arthur I need to go, the train.”

“Yeah, just a minute. I wanted to give you this.” He says pulling a bullet out of his waistcoat pocket. “ Thought you might need it while you’re gone.” He spins it in his fingers idly. “Finn was right. That’s why I lost it last night. The thought you betrayed us was like it had been Finn or John. It broke my heart. So here,” He holds out the bullet, between two fingers, towards you.

Wrapping your hand around his fingers you take the bullet. “Thank you, Arthur. You won’t regret it.”

“I know,” Arthur says.

You nod “You better get back,” you suggest softly.

“In a minute, there’s something else,”

You want to argue but the look on Arthur’s face makes you hold it back.

“You and Tommy,” he begins

You rub your hand over your face, “Fuck, Arthur,”

���Just fuckin’ listen for a minute.” Arthur rakes his fingers through his hair and his eyes closed for a moment when they open they fix on yours, his pain clear. “You said I see things, things that Tommy can’t. I think maybe I can see things you can’t ‘ey?” It softens you, and you nod for him to continue. “You and Tommy, it’s a good thing.”

You sigh, “I don’t even know what we are,”

Arthur holds up his hand to stop you. “Doesn’t matter. The way he looks at you,”

His words sting, all the more painful coming from him. “Yeah, like Grace. I’ve been told.” You reply bitterly.  

“No.” Arthur shakes his head. “Not like, Grace. He looked at her like she could save him.”

“I know Arthur! He doesn’t look at me like that, I know!” Suddenly all your insecurities about Tommy, come rushing to the surface. Hot tears sting your eyes and your lip trembles. 

Arthur embraces you with such force it the air is pushed from your lungs. Trapping your arms between you he holds the back of your head in his hand, holding you against him. He keeps you there until you relax into him. He takes your face in his hands and looks you dead in the eye. “No love, when he looks at you he looks like he wants to save himself.”

You’d hoped for a carriage alone, but there were none available, the train busy with people travelling for the holidays. You had chosen a carriage with an older couple, both of whom were sleeping. As the train speeds through the countryside, the rhythm matches that in your head “I’ll fuck your daughter. I’ll have her.” The landscape flies past the window and you aren’t able to focus on anything and the words get louder.

“Would you like a slice of Christmas cake love?” The woman’s voice cut’s through the noise. You start, looking around you to see a woman, holding out a slice on a napkin.

Before you can politely decline the man speaks, his voice is warm and gentle with humour “It’s delicious, best cook in the three counties my wife.”

The woman blushes, her smile bringing a youthful glow to her features as she leans towards you conspiratorially, sliding the piece of cake onto the table in front of you. “I won first place at the county fair thirty years ago and still he goes on.” She smiles fondly “There were only three competitors!”

“Thank you,” you say accepting the piece, still feeling slightly dazed. You take a small bite from the corner of the slice. It is very good. You smile and nod to the man. “That is delicious,” you agree, taking a larger bite.

“See.” The man says with a satisfied grunt as he takes a large mouthful of his own slice. “What’s your name love?”

You swallow quickly, “Anna, it’s lovely to meet you Mr,” you pause.

“Ogden, Harry and Rose Ogden.” The man replies “Lovely to meet you too.”

“Would you like some cordial, dear?” The woman asks.

“Um,” you mumble around a mouthful of cake.

“Elderberry,” the woman explains “he makes it, it’s the best in the three counties.” She finishes with a chuckle.

You grin “Well then, how could I refuse Mrs Ogden?”

The woman pulls three small, plain tumblers from the basket and uncorks a bottle. Once the first glass reaches halfway the man places his hand over hers. “Hold on Rose, gotta add my secret ingredient.” The woman pushes the glass toward the man. “Right then,” he says pulling a flask from the inside of his jacket “just a splash, brings out the flavour.” He says filling the remainder of the glass. He repeats the process twice before pushing a glass towards you. “Merry Christmas.” He says raising his glass.

“Happy New Year,” You reply bringing your glass to his, the three of you clinking glasses. You take a small mouthful, humming again at the beautiful flavour, you lift your glass towards the man and give him a little wink “Delicious.”

“My, what a beautiful ring.” The woman says as you set your glass on the table. “From your sweetheart?”

Her question catches you off guard, a wave of emotions threatens to crash over you. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, opening them when you hear the sound of liquid being poured.

“No need for cordial this time,” Mr Ogden says filling your glass with straight gin.

“Thank you,” you take a sip of the drink and hold the glass in your hand. You clear your throat “Sorry. It was from someone I cared a lot about, he had this made for me. His Uncle, he’s like family to me, I’m going to see him now, gave it to me after he died.”

“The war?” Mrs Ogden asks, as her husband places his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly.

You pause again unsure what to say. How do you explain you had lost both the men you loved?

“Not him, but someone else to the war,” Mr Ogden says quietly, it’s not a question somehow he just knows.

You nod, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Sorry.” You say looking away embarrassed.  

“No need to apologise, love. The whole thing was a terrible waste, absolutely no reason to any of it.” Mr Ogden tells you, reaching out and squeezing your forearm gently. Mrs Ogden hands you a napkin.

“You lost someone too?” You ask quietly.

Mr Ogden nods, “Our only son.  We are Quakers, so we are pacifists, but he wanted to serve, he was training to be a barber so he joined the medical core as an orderly.”

“My George was a stretcher-bearer.”

The three of you fall into silence. All of you allowing it to stretch out for a while, Mr Ogden takes his wife’s hand, his thumb caressing it gently. Finally, Mr Ogden speaks. “Well enough of that for now.”

Mrs Ogden nods, “You heading to London?” She asks brightly.

“Yes,”

“Thought as much,” Mr Ogden says, “not nearly enough Brum in that accent for you to be a native. I’d bet you’re from the East End.”

“Yeah.” You reply before draining your glass.

“So going home then?” Mrs Ogden asks.

You pause for a moment, considering your answer. “No. Birmingham’s home.”

As always I look forward to your thoughts, comments, questions and suggestions. I’ll see you all again for the next chapter.

More chapters of George are available on the George Masterlist

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[3xc3lsior]

I loved season 1 right till the whole I’m gonna propose to my surrogate daughter. I think the problem is/are the time jumps. It feels like whiplash. They just skip him and grace properly working shit out. I need that character development. Then they kill her off. I can’t reinvest in her and in their relationships. Then it cheapens his grief. Not to say the scenes with him and his son aren’t powerful and him going to see the Romani woman and asking about the curse is hella interesting. 1/?

Maybe I’m being too harsh. Overall it’s good, but it feels like a let down after s1. There are little moments that I feel like cut the momentum. Like the slow-mo or Tommy‘s comment about how Shelby limited is a progressive company. Also they cut down on the PTSD, and the wider commentary on how the British government ignored and forgot the veterans, especially the poor vets who had even less access to care. I am excited about how they handle WW2 though. I am not really invested in Tati maybe 2/?

That will change. Of course Linda is the fucking worst. God forbid you actually have a non-manipulative woman on the show (I’m working on remedying that). I feel like the show is too in love with Tommy‘s dick (he can get it) but I want more son-father content. Give me less sex and more angst. Less Tati suggesting sex in front of servants (which is... interesting. I feel like I could pull some sort of meta out of that but...) and more shovels against the walls of the bedroom. 3/3

Mm this is a super interesting and, tbh, super fucking valid take, I really enjoy hearing people who have never watched the show react to it for the first time. its helpful to me for my own selfish interests bc guess what STEPHEN feedback is A USEFUL TOOL. One of the main purposes of fanfiction is attempting to remedy the holes/issues in canon, and I am wholeheartedly with you on all the things you pointed out, especially with the time jumps. I have no particular problem with skipping ahead as long as what transpired in between is fleshed out well, and I totally agree that especially after s3, it is... not. We needed some flashbacks at the very least to feel any pain over grace’s death, otherwise her character becomes cannon fodder to fuel the Man Pain. Again, im not mad about the angst, I just think it could have been approached differently. the show loses focus of its own foundations (PTSD and the effects of war) as a sacrifice to the plot, which I don’t feel is necessary. the Tommy we meet in s1 is complicated and conflicted, sure, but we UNDERSTAND him. he and grace are both well developed, well thought out, and their characterizations do not take away from the momentum. if anything, they add to it. its unfortunate that they lose sight of that later on. 

[hb-writes]

Burns and Blemishes

Summary: 1923 in the Little Lady Blinder universe, shortly after The Council. While spending a relaxing weekend with her brother and sister-in-law in the country, Clara burns herself a bit by forgetting to cover the blemish on her neck.

Featuring: Arthur Shelby, John Shelby, Linda Shelby, Esme Shelby, and Clara Shelby

Content Warnings: canon-typical content, John/ Arthur being sexist idiots.

Request: A story about Arthur finding that Clara have an hickey? 🤔 (from Anon). 

I started the google doc for this on January 7th, 2021 and finished it on October 11th, 2021. So, that’s fun. 

Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there.

--

Arthur rehearsed a few variations of his opening statement in his head, stumbling over the words even as he muttered them in the privacy of his own mind, his steps over the downy grass as hesitant and imprecise as the conversations in his head. He moved slowly across the yard with meandering steps, almost as though he was still undecided on whether he'd actually arrive at the spot where his youngest sister was settled on the grass, lounging in a rare bit of lingering sun out near where they kept the chickens.

Arthur hadn't even seen the thing he'd been sent out to discuss, and he couldn't see it from where he was now either, not with Clara's thick waves left loose, the bulk of her mane settled over her shoulder, a single strand absently twirled between the fingers of one hand while she held a book open with the other.

The sight of her there, unaware, absorbed in the words on the page before her…That was the little sister Arthur most often pictured in his mind. The reality of who she'd become somehow never quite matched up with the version of her he carried inside, the version of Clara Shelby that was still just a little girl.

Their Clara.

And their Clara would never…

Linda had been insistent though, had insisted that Arthur's little sister was sporting a blemish on her neck, a fucking 'love bite' had been what his wife had actually called it, the mark reportedly bared while the ladies were working in the kitchen, exposed while Clara's hair set tied back with a ribbon as she chopped the vegetables to accompany Linda's roast.

Hours had passed since then, the house already filled with the bouquet of a nearly ready dinner when Arthur pushed open the front door. Linda had met him there, almost seeming as if she'd been waiting just a few steps away, eager for him to come home though she'd turned her cheek to his kiss and swiftly delivered the news about his sister instead, insisting that he do his duty as the eldest brother and discuss it, insisting he set the girl straight about boys and proper behavior and all of the things Linda was quite certain Clara wasn't receiving elsewhere.

'She needs your help, Arthur.'  

That’s what Linda had said, already knowing the way those words would affect him, knowing how he longed to be a help rather than a hindrance, knowing his gentle misguided heart swelled at the mere prospect.

The woman had entered the family on the pretense that Arthur Shelby was redeemable, and while much of the family was beyond salvaging, Linda thought the youngest ones held an opportunity for redemption as well, the babies naturally possessing a little more room for accepting a bit of good influence, a little more capable of integrating something different from what the rest of them had been exposed to for decades now.

That was why Linda was more open to the little ones, more willing to have the twins stop by for lunch, more willing to take on John and Esme's lot for an evening, or even Ada's Karl though he was a city boy with ideas and words too big and slick for a four-year-old.

Linda liked to think the kids were teachable, malleable, like her Arthur. A challenge, for certain, but not an impossible task. They could be rescued, towed from the jaws of a sinister life, guided toward what was good, taught the proper way of things.

Linda believed it of Clara because she knew the girl used weekends at their farmhouse as an escape, always seeking a bit of reprieve and solace when she stayed with them, and Linda took that as evidence that Clara's day to day, filled with the business and school and Tommy's influence, wasn't quite right. It was all either far too much or simply not enough for the girl. And whichever was the truth, Linda saw Clara's discontent as an opportunity, a way forward.

Arthur was often easy enough to convince regarding the interference with Clara, the man often showing a certain sensitivity and openness to suggestions from his wife about the youngest's needs that had Linda thinking he might be a good father someday, the doting he spared to the twins and his siblings' children some of Arthur's best showing.

Arthur hadn't needed much prompting to interfere on this particular subject either, already out the door before he'd fully processed his wife's allegation.

Their Clara was too young to be adorned in marks up and down her neck, too young to be allowing some boy to brand her in that way for everyone to see, too young to be letting people get a certain kind of idea about the type of girl she was.

And it did say something about her because as far as Arthur was aware she wasn't seeing anyone. He had heard the insistent denial of even a slight interest come straight from her mouth just a month or so before, and that made things all the worse if she was letting just anyone…

Arthur released a sigh and Clara mumbled a distracted hello at the sound, her eyes pulling away from the book cradled in her hand for just a moment to watch her brother's distracted journey towards her.

Arthur grunted, a hand moving to rub at the back of his neck, the skin there suddenly feeling hot as he realized he'd have to make an opening.

"I…uh…can you maybe…" Arthur's foot shuffled on the lush grass, the pressure of it exposing a bit of dirt he was sure Linda would get after him for later. "…Can you put that down for a…"

Clara sat up and marked her spot as she closed the book, studying her brother more closely, shielding her eyes with a hand and squinting up to him as she adjusted to the sun shining just behind him.

"Everything alright Arthur?"

So clear it was to Clara that her brother wasn't alright with all of the stammering and the pallid tone gracing his cheeks, the way he kept pushing his long hair from his face, approaching her as though she was a wild animal he needed to be cautious of, but she asked the question anyhow, hoping the inquiry would spur him into saying whatever it was he came out for rather than making them both suffer through a quarter of an hour of him building up to it.

Clara truthfully just wanted to speed things along, to be left alone so she could get back to her book. Though she usually enjoyed the quiet company of Arthur and Linda, usually found their calm home to be a treat, Clara found that something was lacking this time, or maybe stifling was what she found it, because she'd wished for something else from the very moment Arthur picked her up from Arrow House and she'd set herself to sitting alone with her book as often as she could rather than accompanying her brother about or keeping Linda company.

Clara couldn't quite set her mind on what precisely she was longing after, just knew it was something different, something as simple as a bit of distraction, maybe, but whatever it was, Clara had quickly decided that perhaps chasing after a weekend of quiet and calm hadn't been the best strategy.

Maybe she would have been better off with John and Esme and the kids for the weekend.

Or staying on with Charlie and the staff at Arrow House.

Part of Clara knew she was really yearning a bit for her sister, Ada. She had even phoned her with the intention of spilling her secrets and sharing her woes, but they'd ended up chatting about nothing instead, some part of Clara freezing up as the phone line crackled between them, reminding her of the distance, even if she was only a train ride away in London. 

She'd let Ada prattle on about Karl's goings-on instead, humming at all the proper places, playing the part of an active listener, a good sister.

Arthur rubbed at his chin rather than answering Clara's question, his fingers giving a measure of extra attention to the stubble he'd allowed to grow out over a few days. "Maybe you should come inside and we'll—"

Clara pushed herself to her feet without accepting her brother's outstretched hand.

"Arthur, what are you on about? Just tell me."

Arthur hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as his tongue and lips tested out the shapes needed to form the words that never came and Clara's heartbeat sped up, a lump forming in her throat as her mind drifted to her brothers and her sister, to her aunt and cousin, to the numerous nieces and nephews, a handful of scenarios coming to the front of her mind on account of Arthur's stammering.

"Arthur!"

Arthur's eyes snapped to Clara's, finding them wide and unblinking, and his fingers grazed his own neck above the collar almost as if he was dealing with a stubborn itch.

"The uh…"

Arthur took a step forward, gesturing toward the same spot on his sister's neck.

Clara froze, the rigidity only noticeable for a moment before she shifted her stance and folded her arms over her chest.

"The what, Arthur?"

The impatience in Clara's voice, that sharp, condescending quality that always reminded Arthur a bit of Polly and a bit of Tommy and had no business coming from his sweet little sister's mouth shook something loose, knocking Arthur's thoughts into place and fortifying the courage he'd been lacking since stepping out of the house.

"The blemish on your bloody neck," Arthur answered, the words steady and clear, and coming out in a great rush. He heaved a great sigh at finally spitting them out, readying himself for rebuttal only to be met with Clara's furrowed brow.

"There's something on my neck?" Clara reached up to touch the skin of her throat, her red-polished fingers barely grazing over the surface of her skin, nowhere near to the supposed blemish. "What is it? Some dirt or—"

Arthur huffed, stepping forward as he flicked Clara's hair over her shoulder, his finger extended to the spot where his eyes tried not to look. "That!"

"What?" Clara answered, a bit of concern lacing her voice as her fingertips shifted just a bit to the right side of her neck in their search.

Clara knew full well what her brother was on about, had spent a fair share of her time studying it in the mirror, the little mark about the size of a small coin, positioned on the soft skin just below her ear. It was mostly faded now, nearly come around to the sickly shade of yellow that meant it was on its way out, but Clara should have known better than to be so careless in showing it.

On his own, Arthur would never catch something so small and slight, especially not with Clara's long hair draped over her shoulder, but Clara figured Linda had probably known before even seeing it. The woman had an unnatural sense for that type of thing, had probably smelled the sin on her when she walked through the door, not that Clara considered a bit of consensual kissing anything close to a sin.

"You know what I'm talking about," Arthur answered, stepping closer still, the space between them finally swallowed up. "And you better tell me who did it so I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

Clara bit her cheek, the moment of hesitation just enough that Arthur was now giving her a hard stare and at the same moment that Arthur shifted, about to reach out for her, Clara allowed her fingertips to graze the spot Arthur had been trying to get his sister to acknowledge.

"Oh! This?" Clara asked, her lips forming a small circle of enlightenment, a sparkle shining in her rolling eyes before she laughed. "Arthur, that's nothing to worry about."

"It's not nothing. My little sister's letting some man…some boy…tarnish her and—"

"Oh, come off it, Arthur," Clara scoffed, rearranging the shield of hair over her shoulder. "You've got it wrong. It's just a burn…from trying to use that silly contraption Ada bought. The curling iron? I should never have tried to do it on my own."

Arthur narrowed his eyes as he studied his sister's face searching for some sign of a lie though he had not a clue as to what to look for.

"So, you haven't—"

Clara thrust her hand forward, showing off a nearly identical mark on her finger. "Look here, Arthur. I have another just there. You think it's more likely for someone to be kissing me on the finger or that I've been clumsy and burned myself twice?"

Arthur chuckled and met Clara's eye, taking a breath that heaved his entire body before he settled a hand on Clara's shoulder, shifting it after a moment to cup her cheek. "Just a little burn, then? Our clumsy Clara at it again?"

"Yes, Arthur," Clara answered, rolling her eyes at the nickname before she turned her attention to the burn on her finger, an actual burn she’d obtained from using her sister's curling iron, a repercussion Ada thought of as well deserved seeing as Clara hadn't asked to use the thing in the first place.

"Just a bloody burn," she continued, "and it hurts like hell, but it's nothing for you to throw a strop over."

“Well, alright then.” Arthur nodded and then he pulled Clara’s head forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You should be more careful, sister.” 

Clara nodded. “I know, I know. Makes for difficult work with page-turning." She glanced down towards the book she'd left sitting on the blanket. "I certainly won’t be trying the silly thing on my own again anytime soon.” 

“Well, good,” Arthur answered, glancing back toward the house, catching a quick glimpse of Linda watching them through a window. “Alright, then. I suppose your sister-in-law’s about ready with dinner.”

“Sure.” Clara nodded, forcing a smile. “I’ll come set the table as soon as I’m through with this chapter.”

She watched her brother with an easy smile as he ambled back towards the house waiting until Arthur closed the door behind him before leaning back against the side of the barn and releasing a heavy sigh, her fingertips moving up to skim over the blemish that had caused all of this trouble. Clara's eyes fell closed as she rested her hand against her neck. She's almost forgotten about it while reading her book, the first time in close to a week that her mind had allowed her to escape from the muddling moment and the thoughts of the boy who had given it to her.

She stood there against the barn as her breathing and thoughts slowly returned to normal. Clara picked up the discarded book and willed herself back into the story though she only ended up reading the same passage over and over, tied up as her mind was with the most recent plot twist of her own saga, occupied by her own scenes and characters and struggles. She huffed and gathered up her things, deciding on heading inside though she still held the book open in her hand as she came into the house and leaned on the counter beside the sink.

Clara had been just about to turn a page when she heard the quiet clearing of a throat, the sound in the serene kitchen distinct enough that Clara glanced up to see Arthur and Linda stood side by side at the threshold.

"I believe your brother has something he'd like to say," Linda offered, her arms settled across the middle as she took a step back, letting Arthur stand half a step ahead.

Clara leaned her hip against the counter as she glanced at her brother, both eyebrows raised.

"More than one something," Arthur grumbled, stepping further from his wife's side.

Clara's arms settled over her chest as her brother stepped forward, a foot slowly shuffling back as he approached.

"What is it, Arthur?"

“You know what it is. That—" Arthur reached out and flicked her hair over her shoulder again, taking the book with his other hand and tossing it down on the counter with a thud.

"Hey, that's my—!"

"That—" Arthur continued as he pointed a finger at her neck. "—s'not a burn."

Clara's other foot shuffled back. "Arthur, I already told you—"

“You think you can pull one over on me? Think your brother's too old or too stupid to know the difference between burn and a...a...” Arthur sputtered on, still struggling to describe exactly what was there on his sister’s neck, a flush evident in his cheeks and the tips of his ears even at the attempt.

“Arthur, I—"

“No. No more." Arthur grabbed Clara's shoulder and guided her stumbling feet toward the dining room. "I've already had enough talk outta you.”

The extent to which Arthur was about ready to burst was clear in the tight grip he set on Clara's shoulder. He had held himself in the throes of inaction for close to ten minutes, ten long minutes of marinating while he waited for his younger sister to make her way inside, a near-record on his part, something made possible only through the calming encouragement of his wife and the presence of a God Clara wasn’t quite certain she had any faith in.

Especially not right now.

Arthur pulled out a chair at the table, issuing an order to take a seat when Clara continued to stand beside him looking down at the chair as if she'd rather lose a limb than settle herself in it and he then applied a bit of pressure to lower her into the seat. "Sit. We'll eat while we wait for the boys."

Clara pushed back against his guiding hand, a complaint poised on her lips when Linda beat her to it, the woman's request for clarification coming in a sharp tone and a few rushed words, her pitch trilling up a few notes on the sounding of Arthur's name.

"The boys, Arthur?"

Clara swallowed a chuckle at the sight of Linda's widened eyes, her perfectly straight spine with her head tilted to the side as she waited for an answer for her husband.

"Yeah, Linda." Arthur nodded, removing his hand from Clara's shoulder and settling it on the back of the seat his sister had yet to occupy. "Called them right away for a family meeting. Seemed the best idea."

Linda's small body heaved with a tight breath as she silently retreated into the kitchen, leaving Clara alone to calculate the reach of her misstep, to determine which boys Arthur was referring to.

Clara was quite certain Tommy had plans to be away from business through Sunday afternoon at the earliest. And she knew Finn was staying on the lane this weekend. John was meant to be taking his lot to camp with the Lee family for a few days. And Michael, though not technically a brother, was often looped in on these types of things, so Clara tried to account for his whereabouts as well, tried to remember what he'd said about his weekend plans while she'd been distracted thinking about other things on Thursday afternoon. She hoped she was right in thinking he'd gone away with his mother for a few days.

As much as Clara wasn’t happy at the prospect of her brothers converging on Maypole, it was Linda who seemed put out by the impending arrival, exasperated by her husband’s rash action in calling the ring of Shelby heathens to their home, and a bit mad with herself for not intercepting her husband's plans, for not knowing his next moves before he took them.

The woman often meddled, always encouraging Arthur to take one avenue or another in any given situation, instructing him on how best to handle his family, on how best to handle himself, on how best to take a bit of initiative, but Linda didn’t like to be surprised, and more than that, she didn’t like what the presence of other Shelbys often brought out in her husband.

Clara was quite certain that Linda preferred the exposure to her in-laws to be in small, controlled doses. She found no fault with an occasional weekend passed with Clara occupying their guest room, or with a quiet dinner with the twins, a planned Sunday lunch with others, with the menu and start and end times determined before the invitation was accepted, but this was something different. Something impromptu, something hosted in her home but well out of her purview.

And the Shelbys wouldn’t be controlled for this. 

If only she’d only let the blemish be, let the girl have her secrets and her love bites, the three of them would be sitting down to a quiet dinner with civilized conversation. They'd eat their vegetables and roast and then the three of them would finish with tea and the pie she'd baked fresh that afternoon…

Knowing Linda was just as unhappy as she was about the boys impending arrival, Clara hoped that after her sister-in-law retreated to the kitchen she would return with more than just their dinner. Clara hoped that after three minutes of quiet contemplation or prayer or whatever it was that Linda did in the moments of solace she stole for herself when shocked or overwhelmed or frustrated, she’d come up with something to get them out of this. 

Arthur followed his wife to the threshold, speaking through the open doorway into the kitchen. “It uh…it’ll only be John who's coming just now. Tom’s away. And Finn’s out, but I left word with Scud at the shop so Isiah's out looking for him, and Michael’s—”

Clara rounded on her brother, her cheeks instantly growing warm as she took a few steps toward him. She’d never hear the end of it now that he left word at the shop. The entire company would know whether they’d been directly informed or not. “You what?”

Arthur glanced at her. “I thought I told you to sit.”

“Arthur, why would you go and tell—”

“No, that’ll be enough out of you.” He crossed the room and pulled Clara's chair out a bit further. “Sit.”

Despite his penchant for quick anger, Arthur wasn’t usually the one Clara concerned herself with about such things, not the one she worried about blowing things out of proportion, not the one so stubborn he couldn’t be moved, but she had lied to him, had tried to pull one over on him, and Clara knew her brother to be particularly sensitive to that. He always allowed it of Tommy, but he was sick of being told, rather than doing the telling when it came to the younger ones, sick of the casual handling he often endured when his wife was telling it was meant to be the other way around. He was meant to be in charge.

Seeing her brother wouldn’t be moved, and seeing that her sister-in-law had given up on that endeavor as well, returning from the kitchen with plates of roast she set at each of their places without sparing a single word, Clara did as Arthur asked, lowering herself into the chair where she’d suffer through a supper she was no longer hungry for.

Clara closed her eyes, bowing her head as Arthur began muttering out some prayer Clara wasn’t listening to, too busy with a prayer of her own, or a wish, or whatever it was she was doing speaking in her mind, her eyes remaining closed even after Linda and Arthur uttered their quiet ‘amen’s and picked up their forks and knives.

Clara's amen came in the form of a quiet explicative slipping from her lips not five seconds later, the sound of it masked by the distant honking coming through the open window, the noise growing steadily louder, the honks held out longer in duration as the seconds ticked by.

Clara had no need to drag herself from the chair, no need to look out the window and see who was barreling down Arthur’s private drive, not that she could have with the weight of dread that had seeped into her limbs. She imagined the car swerving back and forth over the road, scattering dust and pebbles in its wake, fueled along by petrol and John’s stubborn volatility, with her brother more focused on getting to her, his mind more occupied with the inevitable act of wringing Clara’s neck than navigating the road laid out ahead of him.

Linda silently cleared the plates she’d only just set out, only just filled with the roast they’d no longer be enjoying, and Clara tried to sort in her mind a course of action. She decided on being tight-lipped with the boys, decided it would be better to not say a word once they started in on her even if the silence would land her situation firmly in Tommy’s hands, sat in the chair in his office with his stifling stares and his condescending tone. Clara figured she’d end up in front of Tommy by the end of the weekend anyhow, regardless of how much she shared with John and Arthur now. 

“Where is she?” 

Clara sighed and put her head down on the table as John stomped into the room. She let out a groan as she felt John's radiating presence just beside her, slowly sitting up straight in her chair before he could force her back himself. 

"John," she greeted, avoiding his eyes.

“Who did it?”

“John, it’s not—”

“Let me see it.”

Clara scoffed, shaking her head. “Surely you can’t be—”

John reached down and towed Clara up from the chair, tilting her head to the side and causing her hair to fall back over her shoulder. Clara clasped a hand over her neck and shoved him away with the other, resorting to a punch in the arm when he didn’t budge, a treatment which John returned in kind, his open palm landing a restrained smack to the side of her head, shocking her well enough that he was able to pull her hand away from her neck, exposing the mark on her neck as he held her close with the hand wrapped around her arm. 

“Fucking hell, Clara," John half-shouted as he dropped his hold. "You've got to be—"

Clara went for him again, shoving him back though he’d already put a step between them. “Don’t fucking manhandle me.” 

John took a step back and scoffed, gesturing toward her neck. “Seems you like letting people manhandle you."

Clara started for him again, but Arthur caught her arm, tugging her back a step.

“Enough fu—"Arthur cringed before continuing, fighting with himself not to allow another expletive to slip through his lips. “...Enough cursing, both of you. The problem at hand is our Clara’s been seeing someone without our—"

“Looks like she’s been doing more than—”

To hell with tight lips, Clara thought, the need for some type of proper response growing with every syllable coming out of John’s mouth, growing with every shift of his face, every bit of sarcasm-infused communication. “Oh, go ahead and fuck right off, John.” 

Arthur applied a sharp slap to the other side of her head and Clara pulled herself free, trying to put a bit of distance between her and both brothers.  

“Christ! Will you two stop smacking me?”

“Watch your mouth, then," Arthur shouted as he pointed a finger at her. "I won’t have those words in me house.” 

Clara was surprised to hear him saying it seeing as Linda had made her way out of the room shortly after John entered it and Clara scoffed, rubbing at the tender spot on her head, muttering under her breath. 

“You won’t have it or Linda won’t?”

John snorted and Clara sent him a glare, which only pleased him more as he smiled back at her.

“The problem at hand is…” Arthur started.

“There is no problem,” Clara said. “If anything, it’s you two with the—”

John sat back against the table. “Really? No problem, huh?” he chuckled, rubbing at his chin as he considered it. "So, tell me, did you kick the lad’s ass or should I be expecting an invitation to lunch?”

Clara tilted her head at the question, inclined it to the right by just a small fraction, just enough that John knew his question set her off balance. 

He chuckled again before turning to Arthur and tapping him on the arm. “You remember, right Arthur? Not two months ago now, she—" John folded his arms back across his chest and nodded towards his sister. "—Our Clara said if it was  unwanted  attention she’d kick his ass and if it was  wanted  attention, she’d bring the lad around to meet us.”

“Mmm, sure, I remember,” Arthur said, mimicking John by taking up purchase settled against the table, his arms folded across his chest in the same manner, his gaze nearly hammering Clara to the floor.

John turned to Clara, a wicked grin on his face. “And I assume since we’ve not been invited to lunch, you’ve kicked his ass. Should have some bruises on your hands to match that mark on your neck, eh?”

Clara flexed her fists, her perfectly unmarred knuckles tucked between her arms and her sides as she willed the heat in her cheeks to subside.

“Do I have it right?” John asked.

Clara’s piercing glare seemed to bounce right off John, deflected by the smiling white of his teeth and the shiny glint in his eyes. 

“Answer his question.” 

“I’m done with your bloody questions,” Clara answered, moving toward the door only to have it shoved open before she could quite reach it, forcing her back against the wall as Esme came through.

“Oi! John, what’s the hold-up?” she asked.

“The hold-up is my slag of a little sister.”

Esme turned back to Clara and quickly closed the distance, handing over the child in her arms, Clara struggling a bit with the unexpected weight of the sleeping toddler as Esme flicked the hair from Clara's shoulder, the hint of a smile there in her features as she met Clara’s eye.

Esme steeled her face before turning back to the boys with her hands on her hips. “This is the bloody trouble keeping us from the patch?” She turned back to Clara without waiting on the boys' response. “And I assume you’re not keen to tell them who’s done it?” 

Esme didn’t blame the girl, to be honest, but she didn't rightly care for the delay either, her swollen, pregnant self just longing to be settled out at camp with the kids left to their own devices, with her family doting on the little one, able to set her feet up for a while.  

“If you’re worried she’ll find herself like me, let her have some more time left alone with the kids." Esme turned back to Clara. "You can start with that one. Hasn't slept for three days except when leaned up against a tit. Screaming when not. The joys of motherhood."

Clara glanced at her brothers, a bit of shock on each of their faces, both of them easily assuaged by the panicked look in Clara's eye and her sudden stuttering. “I’m not—It…It was nothing…just a kiss.” 

"That's where most babies come from, eh John?" Esme laughed and turned back to Clara, nodding to her. “And you lied to them about it, so must be…"

Esme's head tilted to the side for a moment, her eyebrows arched at just the right angle, ready to deliver the rest of her accusation before everything about her suddenly softened, reacting to some expression Clara wasn’t even aware of displaying. Esme sighed then, pressing her lips into a straight line, her hand briefly patting at Clara’s arm.

Polly and Tommy often discounted Esme, but Clara couldn’t escape the feeling of being so carefully scrutinized in that moment, so thoroughly seen, so fully understood that she was sure their minds had connected for a brief passage of time because Esme seemed to know everything, all without Clara having to say a single word.

Clara hiked the sleeping child up in her arms as the heat in her cheeks grew, her words barely above a whisper as the child in her arms stirred. “Only because the boys are mad, completely off—”

John cleared his throat, interrupting the rushed whispers his sister was passing to his wife.

“So, when's he coming around to meet the family then?” John asked, his disturbance earning a slap from his wife.

"Oi! Esme—"

Clara huffed as she faced her brothers, her voice growing louder despite the sleeping child. “He’s not! And no one’s going to beat him up either because it’s not going to happen again. It’ll never fucking happen again, alright? So, you can all just let it be. Your sister’s honor is well intact and—” 

“What do you mean it’s not—” John started, reaching out towards the child stirring in Clara's arms.

“I mean exactly as I’ve said. It won’t happen again,” Clara muttered as the little one reached up to wrap their arms around Clara's neck and Clara turned away from John.

“Why not?” John asked.

Clara stilled, meeting Esme's eyes for a moment, wishing to be seen again, wishing her sister-in-law would understand and intervene. “Hmm?”

“Why won’t it happen again?” Arthur said.

Clara took another deep breath. “Does it truly matter?”

“If he’s hurt you, I'll—”

“No one’s hurt me, Arthur,” the words came out with a sigh, a bit flat even, before she shifted her hold on the child growing heavy in her arms. “It was a mutual decision is all, so you don’t have to worry about it happening again, alright?” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes, but they were all watching her, observing Clara's quick swing from indignant to somber, the waves of it shifting something in her brothers as well.

“You’re sure it’s mutual?” John took another step forward, his voice lowered. “It doesn’t seem—”

“Your sister seems to have cleared it up,” Esme interrupted, reaching forward to take her child back in her arms. “And I’ve left Linda alone with the other kids, so we should get—”

“Get going, yeah,” John answered with a vague nod toward his wife while his eyes remained on his sister, a bit of quiet settling over the room while Esme's retreating footsteps echoed back to them.

John took a step towards the door before leaning back in Clara’s direction and gently calling her name. Clara heaved a breath while John waited for her to pull her eyes to his. 

He took another step back as she met his gaze, pulling her into his chest with the arm he hooked around her neck. “I’ll still teach him a lesson if you want,” he said into her hair. “We’ll take Finn and Is—”

“Thank you, John,” she answered, shifting a bit to hug him back, resting her head against his chest for a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“And in the meantime, you keep away from boys or I’ll teach you a—”

“Alright, John," Arthur interrupted, clapping John on the shoulder and pulling him back. "Our Clara’s a bright girl. She understands.”

"Yeah well, she's not too bright, otherwise she woulda kept that mess covered up, eh Clara?" John smirked as he nudged her shoulder.

Clara nudged him back. "I believe your wife is waiting on you."

"Yeah, yeah." John rolled his eyes. "Best not to keep her waiting, I suppose."

Arthur followed John out, leaving Clara in the empty dining room rubbing her now tired eyes, grateful she'd spilled no more than a bit of the truth to her brothers, the boy's name and the true depth of her hurt held in, hidden just like her tears she'd only shed in private.

It didn't matter though. That's what Clara had decided. That none of it mattered. She had already planned to let it be of no consequence, had determined to let all of it fade away, decided that one day it would all be like the blemish, painful one day, forgotten the next. Her brothers learning of it had been an unfortunate turn of events, but it changed nothing.

Clara sat back down in the chair she'd been so resistant to just minutes before, a hunger settling in her stronger than it had been in days and she glanced up at Arthur's approaching footsteps, ready to apologize to him for something, though she wasn't quite sure what.

"Let's eat," Arthur said, his hands full not with the plates of forgotten roast but a pie dish and Clara's discarded book.

"But Linda's supper—"

"You let me worry about your sister-in-law," Arthur said as he set the dish between them, two forks stabbed into the flaky crust. "You just find your spot and we'll finish that chapter of yours."

--

Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist

[thepeakygirl]

My book is finally updated on both Wattpad and Ao3, it feels nice to be back ☺️❤️

[thepeakygirl]

I still can’t believe we’re nearly at 100 chapters and still going strong 353,317 words later! I can’t thank my readers and friends enough for their constant support throughout my story, it truly means a lot to me and to this day it still surprises me that people even read it never mind like it 🥺❤️

[thepeakygirl]

So my story has been published on these websites by someone using the same name as me without permission. Has anyone else had this issue with this site? Sadly there’s no way to report it and I don’t know who’s doing it 🤬

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 16

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 16: When Ella and Alfie go to Birmingham, they’re met with horrible news. 

      “No, Alfie, don’t even fucking speak to me right now!”

           Ella was seething with rage. Her darling brother was the reason everything had suddenly come crashing down. The perfect little bubble she’d set up with Alfie. Her slice of paradise in Camden and in Margate.

           But Thomas Shelby would never stop. There was no reason to. Not when there was money to be made and power to be held.

           “You ain’t gonna want what I pack for you, so you might s’well do it yourself. I don’t know what you want to bring.” Once he was finished chewing Tommy out over the phone, Alfie returned to the bedroom and pulled out Ella’s suitcase.

           “I’m not fucking packing anything because I’m not going anywhere!” Ella retorted and tore up the Christmas card Luca had sent her. “I’m going to bed, that’s where I’m going! It’s late and I’m tired.”

           But Alfie had already opened her suitcase onto the bed, leaving her no room to lie down comfortably. “D’you just want skirts, dresses? What do you want to bring?” He started opening dresser drawers.

           “Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the bed, turning her back to him.

           “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Alfie threw his hands up. “Of all the possible times, now? Now is when you’re acting like a child?”

           It was all too reminiscent of when her older siblings diminished her to her younger age. Ella spun around and crossed the room to get into his face. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

           He didn’t back down. Not when there was so much at stake at that moment. “Ella, I don’t like your brothers. I don’t fucking like anything about them. I also don’t fucking like Birmingham. And I would never voluntarily go there unless I bloody well had to. But right now there’s a fucking wop threatening your life. And if I have to be in Birmingham around your fucking brothers to keep you safe, then I’ll fucking do that!” He snapped. “So do not fight me and get your fucking things together.” Trying to cut off any potential argument, he began to pack a few of his own clothes.

           Ella clenched her hand into a fist and felt like punching something. “You said I never had to go back there! That I never had to speak to them again unless I wanted to.”

           “It’s called extenuating circumstances love.” He muttered through a tight jaw.

           “You can protect me here.”

           “I’m not risking it.”

           “I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. I want them to stay the way they are now!” She pled. Maybe if she begged a little it would sway him.

           “El, it shouldn’t matter where we are. Where we are doesn’t define us. If we’re in Birmingham then we’re in fucking Birmingham. But we’re together. Things between us won’t change.”

           Her stature slumped. “I don’t want to leave home.” She whispered. “This is my home now Alfie, I don’t think you understand that.”

           Alfie sighed and walked back over to her. He wouldn’t tell her, but she was making things very difficult. Of course, he didn’t want to leave Camden Town either. But he had to ignore her puppy dog eyes and make sure he delivered her to safety. He gently touched her arms. “Tommy’s going to have an army there by the time we arrive. Small Heath’ll practically be a fortress. London’s too big to control who comes in and out. If you’re there, I can be sure you’re safe.”

           Ella chewed on her lip. She wanted desperately to ignore the danger if it meant uprooting the foundations she had only just begun to set. But it was becoming clear that Alfie wouldn’t let the issue go. “Promise me that things won’t change.” She whispered.

           “I promise, love. You’re my priority. C’mon, I want to leave before the hour’s up.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           Ella slept on her way to Small Heath. She hoped that when she woke up, she’d find herself in bed with Alfie. They’d be in Camden, Cyril and Anthea sleeping on the foot of the bed. The Christmas morning beginning to dawn. Everything would be perfect.

           But she was disappointed to wake up still in the passenger seat of Alfie’s car. Cyril and Anthea curled up in the backseat, both half asleep.

           The sun had yet to rise but the sky was starting to lighten. As Alfie let out the dogs and helped Ella out of the car, Ada came out of Six Watery Lane.

           “El…” Her older sister sighed in relief and rushed over to embrace her tightly.

           She was immediately brought to tears when Ada hugged her. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” Ella cried. All the emotions that had been stewing since Alfie made the phone call spilled over.

           “It’s alright.” Ada petted her hair comfortingly. “Tommy says we’ll be safe here. He’s got a plan.”

           The sister’s parted and Ada saw Alfie lagging behind with Cyril and Anthea sat by his feet. He didn’t appear uneasy, perhaps disgruntled. Birmingham wasn’t his domain so it was likely that he would feel undermined by the Shelbys. Something he absolutely hated.

           “Alfie.” Ada greeted the man tentatively.

           “You alright, Ada?” He replied as friendly as he could possibly come off.

           “Yeah, I’m fine.” There was a delay when all three of them realized the automatic nature of her response. Of course, she wasn’t fine. There was no possible way they could be. Not when there was a man out there who was risking everything to possibly kill every last one of them. But Ada didn’t correct herself. Instead, she cleared her throat and straightened her back.

           “They’re inside. But…Tommy asked that Alfie go to Polly’s for a little bit.”

           Ella’s face clouded over. Only her brother would try to control the conversation before they even came face to face again. “Well, Tommy can go fuck himself.”

           Ada sighed. “I’m just trying to tell you what he said. There’s no need to take it out on me.”

           “S’alright, El.” Alfie was a bit grateful for the option. He thought it might be a good idea for the siblings to reunite on their own. If he were involved, things would get…messier. “I’ll get the dogs settled and come back.” He kissed her cheek.

           Ada didn’t say anything but was a little taken aback. Tommy said the two had been living together for quite some time. But she could never see her baby sister with a man like Alfie Solomons. “Here, I’ll let you in,” Ada said and began leading Alfie down to Polly’s apartment.

           Ella took a deep breath before walking inside.

           Arthur stood up when he heard the door open. “Ada? She here yet?” He called.

           Ella walked into the kitchen. There was a bit of reluctance behind her step. She wasn’t there by her own volition. Like Alfie said, they were extenuating circumstances.

           “El.” Her eldest brother looked positively heartbroken. With his long hair and tired eyes, he appeared aged.

           She swallowed her tears and went to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

           “Ain’t nothing to be sorry ‘bout, sister.” He soothed softly. “Just happy you’re here now. Safe, aye?”

           “Is Tom here?” She asked.

           “Upstairs.” Arthur let her draw away from his arms and offered her a seat at the table. “On the telephone.”

           Six Watery Lane was suspiciously quiet. Especially when the family was in such turmoil. “Where is everyone?” She listened for voices but couldn’t even hear Tommy upstairs.

           “Polly’ll be around soon.” Arthur answered and went to pour her a cup of tea. “Finn’s at the Yard. There’s a war starting, El, and we’ve gotta plan for one.”

           She frowned at his choice of words, but decided to ignore it. “What about Michael and John?”

~~~~~~~~~~

           “Oi, get offa there.” Alfie shooed Cyril off of Polly’s couch. “You can do that at home but not here. They’re already gonna give me a fucking hard time without you shedding all over their couches.”

           Cyril slunk off to lie down in the corner of the parlor, Anthea eagerly following.

           Ada had returned to the other flat, leaving Alfie alone at Polly’s. He felt extremely out of his comfort zone but he kept reminding himself that he was there for Ella’s sake. It didn’t matter what he thought as long as she was safe.

           But it didn’t make him feel at home there. He awkwardly strolled around the parlor, glancing at the various things Polly had to decorate the small space. Typical things to make the room a bit more feminine. Then he found a few photographs on the mantle. He got closer to make out the figures.

           There were a few people he didn’t recognize. Ella’s mother and father. Polly’s husband and a few other relatives on the Gray side. But then he came across an older picture that was dated 1908. And there was no mistaking who the photograph was. The six Shelby siblings.

           Arthur was twenty-one, standing like the man of the family but with a mischievous smile on his face. His arm was slung around Tommy who was eighteen. The light in his eyes still burning. No dreams of shovels haunting him. In front of him was Ada, just twelve, and lugging a bundle of blankets that held the newest Shelby. Little Finn who was only a few months old when the photograph was taken. John was thirteen and looked chuffed that someone was taking his picture. And finally, beside him, who had just turned seven. She was proudly showing off the gap in her smile from the tooth she had lost.

           She was so bright-eyed and rambunctious at the time. They all were. A couple of poor kids who only had one another to survive. A time when their name meant nothing. Only conjured up a few unpleasant memories of their father. Who would’ve ever thought things would turn out the way they had?

           There was a price to be paid when your last name opened doors. There would always be someone there, ready to take that privilege from you.

           And that’s when Alfie heard banging on the door. Something in the atmosphere shifted and the game would never be the same again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Alfie stormed through the hospital. Ada had arrived at Polly’s flat in tears. Her speech was so hurried and jumbled that he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. But he heard John’s name. And he heard her say something about the hospital. So he followed her there.

There was chaos already forming in the waiting area. Blinders were everywhere, trying to figure out what happened. The Shelby family was in hysterics. Arthur was shouting at cowering nurses who didn’t have a clue what to do. Polly was holding onto Esme who was wailing and could hardly stand upright.

Amidst the fray, he saw those beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. Ella ran over to him. How was it that in the brief moments they’d been apart, her world had been torn down.

“My brother’s dead. My brother’s dead.” She sobbed. They were the only words she could get out. A scratched record playing over and over again, the horrible message stuck in her mind. “He’s dead, he’s dead, Alfie.”

Alfie embraced her tightly as a cold chilled him to the bone. He spotted Tommy through the chaos. The leader of the Peaky Blinders looked seconds away from falling over. His face was like stone but his eyes were full of anguish and anger.

It made Alfie sick to his stomach. The Italians were playing with fire. They had thoroughly pissed off the wrong people.

“C’mon, love.” He ushered Ella over to a quieter hallway. She stumbled along beside him, her grief taking up every ounce of her being.

“He’s dead. He’s dead, Alfie.”

He sat on the stairs and took her into his arms. “Easy, love, I’ve gotcha now.”

Ella curled up instinctually into his lap, pressing her face to his shoulder and bursting out into loud tears. “He’s dead…he’s dead.”

She was inconsolable for nearly an hour. Alfie stayed sitting on the stairs with her, never once letting go of her. All he could do was whisper softly to her and try to comfort her.

Tommy and Arthur eventually left the waiting area to go downstairs to the morgue. They passed by the hallway where Alfie and Ella were sat. Tommy paused when he saw the scene at the end of the hall.

“I know it hurts, love, I’m so sorry.” Alfie murmured to her. He noticed movement and glanced up to see Tommy staring at him.

What could either of them say? For years, Tommy and his brothers were Ella’s source of comfort. But they’d been through too much to support each other anymore. They’d caused each other such grief and from behind their blinding armor, they discovered they were only fighting each other with no real results. Blame wasn’t the issue anymore, neither was healing. It was vengeance.

They had a common enemy. Sometimes that’s all that mattered in war. Sometimes it was more than enough for rivals to set down their weapons and make a pact. A pact to see them through this until their enemy was dead.

But emotions were hard to keep in check after the loss of a loved one. And Ella would set fire to the powder keg.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`

So much pain built up in Ella. It stewed and boiled on the trip from the hospital to Watery Lane. So much uncertainty was in the air. Her cousin was clinging to life and she had no answers about her brother’s death other than it was the Italians.

She stepped out of the car and saw Tommy going for the door. Alfie lagged behind, unsure what she planned to do or say. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Her voice was strong and carried well down the lane.

Tommy turned to face her. “What would you like me to say?” He looked exhausted. They all were.

“What would I like you to say…” She laughed sarcastically and tossed up her hands up in disbelief. “That’s your problem, innit?”

“El,” Alfie touched her arm.

“Go inside.” She didn’t look at him. Her entire body tensed up and rejected his touch.

“Ella.”

“Alfie, I’m going to talk to my brother alone, go inside.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

Alfie cleared his throat and nodded. No use in arguing with her when she was all riled up. “Right, I’ll be inside then.” He passed Tommy and disappeared into the house.

“You don’t even know how much I fucking hate you right now.” Ella’s voice shook with rage once the door closed.

Tommy stood like a soldier. His shoulders squared, back straight, fingers outstretched as if reaching for a trigger, and tilted forward slightly. “Go on, tell me. Tell me how much you hate me.”

Her eye twitched. “I should’ve stayed away. We all should’ve. Should’ve never let you bring it to this point. We’re all to blame for enabling you. But you’re the one who sent John to his fucking grave.”

“Fucking what?” He hissed and strode towards her. “You think I wanted this to happen, aye? Wanted him dead?” His voice rose. The usual steady tone he held was faltering. It was what Ella wanted. She wanted him to shout. Wanted to see that he was just as angry as she was. Sometimes it was easy to believe her brother was completely void of any emotions. When his stony façade broke, it reminded her of the young boy who was passionate about what he believed in.

“You kept pushing and pushing until there were consequences. Were you really stupid enough to think that this wouldn’t happen? Stupid enough to believe you were fucking untouchable?

“Not my fucking fault that you all scattered. How’m I supposed to keep tabs on you when none of you would ever respond?”

“Not your fault?!”

He didn’t mind talking over her anymore. If that was the only way he could talk then he would shout over her for days. “They’re going to knock us off one by one. They take it as a game when you take them on a little chase. I know what’s best to keep you all safe, you need to listen to me. If I wanted you all dead, I would let them kill you!”

Ella shoved him away from her. “You’re the reason they’re even after us, to begin with!”

“Keep living in the past, Ella. While I’m trying to keep us all alive.” He didn’t react to her push, simply stepping towards her again. “This family only has a chance if we stay together! You’re a Shelby like it or not-”

“I’m not! Not anymore!”

Tommy rolled his eyes and dragged a hand over his face. “This game again…”

“Which reminds me,” She reached into her purse and blindly ripped out the torn up card that had been delivered to her on Christmas Eve. “Next time you see him, tell Luca Changretta he’s addressed his death threat to the wrong person.”

“What?”

Ella tossed the card and enveloped to the ground. The paper sticking to the wet sidewalk. The envelope’s address facing up towards Tommy.

Miss Ella Shelby

“Next time he wishes to address anything to me, or you for that matter, you can send it to Mrs. Ella Solomons.”

Mrs. Ella Solomons.

The name hit Tommy like a well-aimed brick to the head. His stomach lurched and he was afraid the world had completely tipped upside down if it hadn’t already before. “Fucking what…” He hissed.

“I won’t be accepting any mail that’s not properly addressed.”

“You married him?” Tommy’s blue eyes went wild with anger. “You fucking married him without telling any of us? When?”

“We had to do it in secret because no one would understand.” She’d been waiting for a long while to drop the news. Waiting to show Tommy that yes, he may have tried to dictate her life, but no longer. She married Alfie on their terms and not his. “You’re just upset that I didn’t do it when you told me to. That I didn’t jump when you said so.”

“That man allowed me son to be fucking kidnapped!” Tommy shouted and closed the gap between them. “He could’ve had us all killed!”

“You let half the family have a noose tied ‘round their neck!” She screamed back at him, her voice starting to go hoarse. “John is dead! Do you get that, you fucking animal? Cold, unfeeling, selfish, arrogant, poor excuse of a man!”

Her brother was shaking with anger. A lifetime ago, he would’ve scolded her and sent her off to her room. Made her pout on her bed for the rest of the day. But there wasn’t a suitable punishment for what he considered betraying the family by marrying Alfie. So he grabbed her by the arm and made her look at him. “I don’t fucking care what you’ve done. That man is not a part of this family ‘n he never fucking will be.”

“Then neither am I.” She fought against his hold but he dug his fingers into her skin, bruising her pale complexion. She very well could’ve hurt him. He himself had taught her how to defend herself.

“You will stay here in Small Heath and he’s going back to London. I’ll not have him in my city.”

“Your city.” She scoffed with a dark look in her eyes. “Your fucking city? Your city is burning, Thomas! It’s falling and you’re standing in the middle of it pretending like you’re some fucking god-sent king meant to save us all!” She used her free arm to try and get a good punch in. It had been a long time coming, as far as she was concerned.

But the close proximity allowed Tommy to restrain her, overpowering her before she could clip his jaw.

It only took a glance out the window for Alfie to lose his cool. The sight of Tommy wrestling Ella back sent him over the edge. He burst out of the door. “Oi!” He shouted and grabbed Tommy by the collar. “You fucking cunt, let go of her!”

Tommy didn’t mind turning his anger onto Alfie. “Stay out of this,” He pushed Ella away from him and whipped around to confront him. “You’ve no horse in this race. This is my family and I’ll be damned if I let you hang around just so you can betray me again!”

“I trust him more than I’ll ever trust you.” Ella spat.

“You’ve gone angry, Tommy, aye? Turning on me when you’ve got plenty of other people to be angry at. I’m a fucking easier target than Luca Changretta, ain’t I?” Alfie squared his shoulders, fully expecting the Blinder to tackle him to the ground.

“He’s trying to help you, Tommy, you need as many people as you can!”

Tommy’s entire body was tense as he shook his head. “Just…”

“Either he stays with me here or I go back to London.”

“Enough!” Tommy shouted over them both.

Ella had never heard him speak so loudly before. It silenced both her and Alfie. The two stared at Tommy, Watery Lane turning quiet after his voice had finished echoing across the tightly packed buildings.

“Go inside.” Tommy finally spoke again.

Ella instinctually gravitated towards Alfie. “I’m not…”

“Both of you get in the fucking house!”

Although Alfie didn’t like being yelled at and or told what to do, he wrapped an arm around Ella’s waist and led her into the flat. Tommy followed and slammed the door behind him.

“In the kitchen.” He snapped.

Ella grimaced but walked into the kitchen where the rest of the family and a few of the Blinders were congregated. All of them a little unnerved by the yelling.

“What on Earth is going on?” Arthur stood up. His eyes narrowed when Alfie walked in. “The fuck is he doing here?”

“Arthur, stop,” Linda said gently and tugged on his arm to get him to sit again. “Now’s not the time.”

Tommy didn’t answer, he jabbed a finger towards the table. “Sit.” He commanded them both.

Alfie grumbled incoherently under his breath and pulled up a chair for Ella. He stood behind her, hands protectively resting on the back of the chair.

Arthur stiffly sat down at the request of his wife. His eyes never left Alfie, critically suspicious of the man’s proximity to Ella. After his exoneration, he felt it was crucial to splinter from the family. If only for his sanity. But he frequently reached out to Ella. She responded only vaguely, assuring him she was perfectly safe and very happy. Never once did she mention she was shacking up with one of the men Arthur hated.

Tommy paced a few steps, his mind racing at migraine-inducing speeds. His brother was dead. His sister was married to Alfie Solomons. He was going to make deals with the Golds. He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Fine. He could handle this.

Ella stared at her brother, anger still coursing red hot in her veins. Alfie was more than uneasy. He was greatly outnumbered even if Ella was a strong fighter in his corner of the ring. But he noticed everyone was curiously glancing his way. Finn, then Ada, then Lizzie, then Johnny Dogs, then Charlie. Polly didn’t seem bothered, smoking with her back slightly turned to him. Arthur continued sending him deadly glares.

As if she could sense his discomfort, Ella reached up to touch his hand resting near her shoulder. Arthur noticed. He also noticed the two rings on her left hand. Coincidentally on her ring finger.

It clicked in his head and the eldest Shelby nearly seized in horror. “No fucking way.” He pointed at his sister. “Don’t even fucking say it.”

Ella clenched her jaw and refused to look at him. “I don’t have to say anything.” She retorted firmly.

“Thomas!” Arthur looked to him for backup.

Tommy dropped the hand from his eyes and took a deep breath. “John is dead.” He turned to face his family and friends. “Esme’s gone on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded. I can stand here and make excuses. We can go into the history of what led up to this. But we’ll be here all night. John and Michael were shot because we killed a man. That is why we’re here now. If you’d like, we’ll all sit here and focus on what the past brought. Can all have a little chat ‘bout who did what. Or, we can finish this for good.”

Polly made a little noise of disbelief but didn’t speak up. There was no need for words.

“Until this business is settled, we need to stick together. Small Heath, Bordesley, Hay Mills, down to Greet.” Tommy waved his cigarette towards Ella. “You can have your room upstairs or take one of the flats we own now. Number ten, two doors down.”

Ella crossed her arms over her chest. “Alfie stays with me.”

“He’s not fucking staying anywhere near this place.” Arthur hissed. “We’re talking ‘bout the people we can trust.”

“Well, I don’t trust anyone in this room except my husband.” She responded. It knocked the wind out of a few people in the room. Not only her proclaimed distrust but also the affirmation that she had married Alfie without their knowledge.

“Tommy!” Arthur exclaimed, trying to prompt a reaction, preferably a violent one.

“That’s fine. He stays with you.” Tommy ignored his brother and Ella’s blatant disrespect. “But none of his men can enter this territory without my explicit permission.”

“What?!” Arthur stood up again.

Tempers flared again and Tommy slammed his hand down on the kitchen table, causing a few of them to flinch. “If you want her to go back to London and get shot then be my guest. She will not stay without him. This is not the issue right now!” He shouted in Shelta.

Ella pretended not to listen and tugged Alfie’s arm to rest a hand on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek into his arm.

“He will cross you again. Have you not learned the last time?” Arthur demanded in their native tongue.

“If he does, he knows the consequences. As far as I am concerned right now, he is another person who will protect her.”

It surprised Ella and she perked up. Of course, it was true, Alfie was as much of a protector as the rest of them. If anyone were to hurt her, he’d be first in line to cause bodily harm to the perpetrator.

Polly shifted in her seat to face her niece. There was no mistaking the adoration and fierce bond that had developed during the division of the family. She could sense Ella’s unwillingness to part and Alfie’s determination to defend her. The older woman reached out for her niece’s hand.

Ella smiled and took it gratefully.

“She has reason to distrust all of us,” Polly spoke. “We all have reason to distrust. But for all of our sake, we need to be together. Even if it’s temporary.” Her eyes landed on Tommy.

He nodded in agreement. “Arthur, sit down. We’re done discussing this. Now is the time to discuss plans of action.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before John’s funeral, Ella went out to the fields with Alfie. Several people were already there setting up the pyre but most of the family had yet to arrive. She needed to breathe and that wasn’t easy back in the midst of Small Heath.

Alfie sat at a small table that was set up with some food and drinks as she wandered about the long grass. She was so exhausted, it was difficult to cry. But that didn’t stop the tears from falling. Memories of her brother kept finding their way to the forefront of her mind.

The time John tricked her into thinking unicorns were real.

When he’d tote her around on his shoulders, mimicking horse sounds to make her laugh.

The beautiful summer afternoon that she would never forget. When she went riding with just him and they ended up in a small glade littered with dandelions. John sprawled out in the grass, toothpick hanging out of his mouth, and arms behind his back. He patiently let her place dandelion crowns on his head. Proclaiming himself king of the forest.

One morning when he socked a boy so hard in the gut because he’d made fun of Ella’s two missing teeth.

Every time he’d cover for her if she managed to get in trouble. Bravely taking scoldings for her or conjuring excuses to get her off scot-free.

Ella’s stomach turned and she doubled over in pain. She let out a loud sob and curled into herself, tucking over her knees.

The swish of grass alerted her to someone walking over. Alfie knelt down and wrapped his arms around her. “S’alright to cry, love.” He murmured sympathetically.

She leaned into his hold, clutching all the memories to her chest even though they kept stabbing her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`

He held her when Arthur lit the pyre. The rest of the family was too grief-stricken to care or comment. And Tommy was simply waiting.

Waiting for the gunshots.

When they echoed across the field, everyone ducked. Alfie shielded Ella and withdrew his gun. Fuck if he knew if this was some sort of gypsy tradition. He wasn’t going to risk it.

“Do not return fire!” Tommy shouted and held his arms out. “The men firing are on our side.”

While the panicked funeral attendees recovered, Ella sprung up. She instantly went for Tommy’s throat, trying to tackle him. “You fucking monster!” Her brother struggled against her, grabbed her wrists so she couldn’t strangle him. “You used John’s funeral? Used us fucking bait?!” She shouted. Her eyes wild with rage.

Alfie tucked away his gun and grabbed his wife around the waist to pry her off Tommy. “Easy, easy! No need for that. Enough!” He scolded.

“You’re taking his side?” She demanded in a huff.

“What?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “Of course not, but I ain’t gonna let you fucking beat him up while your brother’s not even buried…er…burned.”

Ella narrowed her eyes at him but decided not to waste her anger on him. “Who’s shooting?” She pointed across the field where the sound of the gunshots had originated. Figures began to cross over the tall grass towards the vardos.

“I took the trouble of inviting Aberama Gold.” He answered.

“More gypsies. That’s just what we fucking need right now.” She spat.

“Are you not a gypsy anymore, El?” Tommy accused. “Not the gypsy girl you used to be proud of being, aye? What’re you now?”

“I’m me own fucking person now, that’s who I am.” She shimmied out of Alfie’s grip and stalked away from the funeral. She could hear her brother commanding the family.

“This is how it’s gonna be!” He shouted, partially directing the demand right towards Ella.

She ignored him and kept walking. Eventually, she intersected with the men who were walking towards the pyre. Two painted gypsy cob horses with long-kept manes plodded towards her. Two plainer horses followed with two dead men tossed over their backs.

“Miss Shelby.” The hoarse voice was instantly recognizable. The man who was proclaimed as too wild even by Traveler standards. With his long graying hair and gold hoop earring, he was difficult to miss.

“Mr. Gold.” She nodded curtly. “Bonnie.” She greeted his son on the other cob.

“My condolences about your brother.”

She simply shook her head and kept walking. “You’ll want to save your breath. We’ll all be dead soon anyway.”

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