Content Warning: Mentions of Suicidal Ideation, Death
Part Three:
A million thoughts came racing through my mind as I walked with Mr. Shelby. This was all unexpected. My brows furrowed, as I assessed the situation.
Following David's death, I couldn't plan past that day. Each new day brought in a wave of soldiers injured to tend to and I worked to the point of exhaustion to keep his blue eyes, glazed over with death from my mind. When the nursing duties ended, images of his death flashed before my eyes constantly. I had fallen to bits. In fact, just a week before, I was huddled in a pile screaming and wailing from the immense emotional turmoil that I was in, in the small hotel room that I had booked in France. I cursed God and the heavens for this entire fucking mess. I began to throw my belongings all across the room, smashing the vases of the beautiful flowers. I could not do this anymore. If his soul was left in France, so would mine. Taking a broken shard, I had been prepared to press it to my arm to end the pain when I heard his voice clear as day, telling me to fulfill my promise.
Normally that would have shocked anyone out of the state. While it was a shock to me, I reacted almost animalistically. I kept throwing more and more of my items around the room. It was only through the fit of drunken rage that I rediscovered the piece of paper with the address. It sank in.
The next morning, I booked my ship ticket and train ticket to get to where I was now. I only took the necessary belongings and reminders of David with me.
Now as I walked the streets of Birmingham, his ghost was accompanying me to find his closest mate to fulfill the promise. I blinked several times, stealing glances at Mr. Shelby as we strolled upon the streets. Was this David's way of watching out for me from beyond?
Initially I wanted to scoff at the thought, but I took peace in the thought anyways. Despite my lack of belief in God, I continued to hold hope that somehow, David was still with me.
There was no denying that Mr. Shelby was a beautiful man. Though he held the same deep blue eyes as David, the resemblance ended there. His strong jawline and high cheekbones could cut a man where he stood. I could not make out the color of his hair, as a cap had covered the parts that were unshaven. The razor blades sewn into his cap quickly caught my eyes away from studying his features. I felt my eyes widen and I resolved to gaze ahead. I should have been afraid; but in all honesty, I was more in awe of the ingenuity of the cap.
As we walked, it became evident to me that he was a man of importance, as people parted the way on the street for us like God had parted the Red Sea. It was funny how many of my metaphors extended to God in moments like this-in my mind, God was dead and he had died on the fields of Flanders.
It was only before we stood before The Garrison that Mr. Shelby interrupted my thoughts yet again. He had asked why I was there. I know that I was being hostile to a man who had no bounds to get me safely to my destination. He owed me nothing and I treated him as a nuisance. Still, I turned to answer spitefully, but I stopped as his eyes had softened.
His gaze captivated my interest, as if it could pierce into my soul. My mouth felt as if it were filled with glue. Before I could answer, a group of men carried a bloodied man through us into the pub. Mr. Shelby cursed, as he guided me into a small private room with him. I had no time to question my involvement, once we entered the room.
"Arthur, what the fuck happened to ya?" He interrogated the poor, bleeding man. I held my impulse to roll my eyes: the man had obviously been beaten.
"Aye, a new fuckin' copper is in town. He beat me fuckin' ragged," Arthur, the bleeding man, answered. The men in the room noticed my presence, unsure of how a woman would react to a man beaten to a pulp. The sight did not faze me-I had seen and dealt with worse. I was perfect for the situation, though I was unsure if my presence was even wanted. This was second nature to me.
Still, it shocked me when my nursing instincts took over and I began to tend to this Arthur without being asked.
"Please get me some alcohol, gauze, and stitching materials," I asked the men standing before me. Thomas Shelby remained unsure of me. His apprehension reminded me of my family's treatment to outsiders, much like they reacted to David. I sighed.
"You don't have to-" Thomas Shelby began.
"I SAID, bring me the damned materials, now," I demanded. "Please," I spoke as an afterthought.
My brazenness had shocked the men in the room and I knew that I had spoken out of turn. Regardless of my lack manners, someone immediately scurried to get the materials and I began my work over Arthur. It was nice to know that I hadn't lost my authority to command in these situations.
"Aye, love, you are like an angel. Once you're done stitchin' me, maybe I can get to stitchin' ya if ya know what I mean," Arthur told me. I rolled my eyes. I was no stranger to sexual innuendos from injured men on the front.
"Miss Casey will not be servicin' ya, Arthur, she is not a whore. Now let the good nurse stitch you up." Thomas Shelby's voice boomed and the discussion ended, as I took care to patch up this man. His intervention appeared to shock the others and I was grateful to this Mr. Shelby, yet again. I felt conflicted. I hated owing anyone anything and this man seemed to be my protector without even being asked. I frowned at this revelation.
The time passed rather quickly. Following Thomas Shelby's declaration, Arthur apologized for his joke and he was actually a pleasure to talk to. In fact, I really enjoyed the company of Arthur. He reminded me of a man that I had met during my nursing duties. It was strange how welcomed I felt by this man. As I finished my last stitching, Arthur caught my eye.
"What is your name, love?" he had asked me.
"My name is Antonina Casey," my cold exterior completely gone, as I answered warmly. I felt the sudden change in the atmosphere from Thomas Shelby. A sudden hardness had shown through his eyes towards me.
Was he troubled that I was being kind to this man? It seemed odd, given that he held no bounds to me and I held no bounds to him.
"Aye, Antonina is a mouthful. May I call you Toni?"
The shorthand for my name sucked the wind out of me. Tears sprang to my eyes and I quickly blinked them away, though it was not unnoticed. Only David had called me Toni.
"I prefer Antonina, if that is alright with you Mr.-"
"Arthur Shelby, pleased to make ya acquaintance, lass. No Toni, just Antonina," Arthur spoke, smoothing over the uncomfortableness of my tears in the room. Another Shelby. I smiled gratefully at Arthur. He returned the look, with a pain in his eye that had nothing to do with the stitching and mending that I had done. This man knew pain, far beyond the reaches of the physical sense. I turned to Thomas and nodded, hoping that I would be able to attend to the business that I had set out upon. As if he read my mind, he beckoned me to follow him.
"Come with me, Ms. Casey."
I sighed, knowing that I could not escape his company. Momentarily, I was thankful with his presence as he called a man who I had assumed was Harry Fenton to us. I froze. Thomas looked over to me and nodded to me, to let me know that he would take care of it. Another debt that I seemingly owed this man. I sighed.
"Hello Mr. Shelby, what can I do ya for now?"
"Harry, I have a Ms. Antonina Casey here to see you. I do not know why she is here, however she was of great assistance to the Peaky Blinders in our time of need. Please see to it that you help her with what she needs. By order of the Peaky Blinders," Thomas Shelby said, as he nodded and he left us to be.
I was stunned by his declaration, as I felt that I owed him much more than he owed me. I felt a lump in my throat and I felt momentarily shameful for my behavior towards him. It was not his fault that he reminded me of David, with his eyes. I had no time to even thank him and I felt momentarily lost without his presence. I tried to remind myself my fondness was misplaced, as it was because of how closely his eyes had resembled David's.
My attention turned to the situation at hand. I sucked in a breath of confidence, as Harry Fenton's wide eyes turned to meet my own. I was not sure if my surname or the mention of the Peaky somethings or whatever it was had invited such a wave of shock into his face. We stood silently, willing the other to begin. Harry took a breath and he began the conversation.
"Casey. Ms. Antonina Casey. You were David's wife. I have been expecting you, though I did not expect the Peaky Blinders would have escorted you here," he spoke, testing the untrod waters between us. This was not ideal. I had broken some invisible barrier by my unknowing association with Mr. Thomas Shelby. Despite this, I sighed in relief, as Mr. Fenton had at least known about me and my impending arrival.
"Mr. Fenton, I am-" I faltered as I began, feeling the wave of crushing emotions threatening to strangle me where I stood.
"Please, call me Harry, lass. Let us go in the back to talk privately. I will have my barmaid, Grace, take care of the pub for the moment." He motioned for me to follow him to the room in the back. I caught the gaze of the blonde barmaid, as her eyes looked over me questionably. I felt an alarm ring through my head as I eyed her. She held my look and my eyes bore into hers. Her character reminded me of the treacherous souls of Chicago. She was not to be trusted.
My thoughts on the barmaid were cut into, as Harry and I went into a small room, with a few chairs and a desk. He motioned for me to sit and I sat down. I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I held the address and letter of instruction in my grasp. Harry looked down as he read it over and he nodded, willing me to begin. I swallowed, reminding myself that this was not the worst thing that I had ever faced.
"I have a letter here from David for you. David promised me that you would take care of me and I could work at the pub, while I got on my feet from the war. I know that you may not have expected my arrival with the Peaky something or another-"
"Peaky Blinders," he corrected, though it seemed to appease him that I seemed to have no idea who they were. The tension diminished quickly.
"Right...however, I am at a loss of where to begin. I came here on a dying promise of a man that I loved very much." I couldn't continue to talk anymore as fear consumed me. What if he wouldn't take me? I cursed myself for the display of my emotions. I had lived through the streets of Chicago with my family and the Great War. I used to be Antonina fucking Paltrowicz. Why was I faltering now? As if he knew my thoughts, he began with a reassuring speech to me.
"I know why you are here. I want you to know that you are welcome here for as long as you need to be here. I was David's best mate. You are kin to me, whether you have known of me or not. I wanted to extend my deepest condolences to ya. I know that he loved you dearly. I will take care of ya, Toni. I promised him this and I promise you this," as Harry said this, he grabbed my hand and held it.
Normally, I would have pulled my hand away at a man's contact, but Harry already felt like kin to me. Choking on the emotions and hearing David's nickname for me, I let the tears spill. Crying was a sign of weakness, something that I had learned to suppress early on in Chicago. Yet, I wanted to tell him how grateful I was for this. I could only nod my head and squeeze his hand. He seemed to understand.
"I am sure that you are exhausted from your travels and the war. I have a room above The Garrison, waiting for you. You can start as my second barmaid this week once you are rested. It may be good to have a second anyways, as this place is rather busy with the return of men from the war."
Although Harry's words were meant to reassure me that I was not a financial burden, I felt the pain of his last comment. Men returned from war, but at what cost?
Sensing my unease, he took me to the room above The Garrison. Although the room may not have been much to others, the hospitality of the actions in preparing the room for me warmed my cold heart. He had attempted to make it more lively and homely with the small collection of items that he could. He showed me the bed with a beautiful red quilt, with the small end table with a red oil lamp. Touches of David's care were evident, even after death. David knew how much that I loved the color red. There was a small table in the middle of the room with chairs and place mats. Beside the table, a small stove and a collection of small cabinets were there for storage. I looked out the small window of the room, onto the streets of Birmingham.
Before leaving, Harry faltered momentarily as if he wanted to say more. Changing his mind, he handed me a key and bid me good day.
I sat in the chair, drinking in the surroundings of the room. Minutes turned to hours, as I allowed myself to replay the memories of happier times. When I came to the present, I realized that the daylight had turned into dusk. I sighed, realizing that I needed to stop living within the relative, stolen safety of the past before the war. I needed to accept the afterwar period.
I opened the window to let the chilled air in and I lit a cigarette, as I sat on the window ledge to observe the surroundings of my new home.
A sole figure walking down the street caught my attention as I flicked the cigarette ash out of the window.
Thomas Shelby's blue eyes had found me in the night. I was unable to look away.
The afternoon had taken a rather unexpected turn for Thomas Shelby. Antonina Casey had shocked him as he saw a glimpse into the life that Antonina had during the war. What would have made any other women ill, it brought a sudden calm to her spirit. Antonina sprang into action to help his brother without a moment's thought or hesitation. It troubled him how comfortable she felt with Arthur, even after the sexual innuendo he had made at her. She was unfazed, except for the bit where Arthur had tried calling her Toni. Of all the things to be upset about, this was the bit that did it for her. As he watched as the tears filled her eyes, he felt perplexed by her display of emotions. Who was this woman? What past was she running from?
After the introductions were made with Harry, he felt that he must leave her to confront the ghosts of her past.
The entire afternoon with her made him want to know more about the troubled woman.
Following an uncomfortable confrontation with Polly about the stolen guns and the family meeting about the new copper, he walked the streets of Birmingham to clear his head yet again for the second time today. He needed to have a clear mind for the plans that he held with the Lees and the situation with the guns.
Yet, his mind repeatedly returned to Antonina Casey.
Soon, he would have his answers. Following the family meeting, he asked his men to dig around for information on her past, her family, and her time during the war. He wanted to know why Harry Fenton had taken her in.
He would know what led her to Birmingham.
As he was walking, he found himself gazing up at the windows above The Garrison. It was there that he found the woman who clouded his mind staring out her window. Her beauty was only intensified by her grief. As she flicked her cigarette ash out the window, he met her gaze.
Her hazel eyes bore into his and he could not look away.