"He's not right." Polly admitted, to herself mostly.
Ruben Oliver sat across from the woman he found so utterly intriguing. Early that morning he raced over to her niece's home, Ada, in London after she rang. Their meeting was meant for a painting consultation, slowly it turned into a tender moment of coaxing. He did not mind at all. He was, after all, to paint Polly for several hours. He would not have offered his services if not for her appealing character.
Polly breathed in the toxins from her cigarette with her elbow resting on the finely decorated table. Her dark eyes held mysteries and worries all the same as she peered out the window. She changed out of her regal dress, yet she looked just as elegant.
"It's been one month." she shared, "One month and he's yet to speak a word of anything other than business. I tried talking to him," she anxiously put out her dying cigarette in the ashtray near her untouched tea. "Tommy, the others. We all try, but he won't say a thing about her . . . All he does is show up for work and then he goes out all night. I don't know where he goes, but I've seen this behavior before," she scoffed softly, "in Tommy." Polly's lips curved slightly, as though she were reliving an bittersweet memory. "In all the boys actually, even Ada . . . but only when things were serious did they act like this."
The sun outside peered through the window. Polly turned and met Ruben's kind eyes. "They got better, with time." She took a sip of her tea. "But I'm fearful that my son won't change unless he sees her." The calculated woman clasped her hands upon the table. "Which brings me back to you, Mr. Oliver."
"I beg your pardon?" he murmured, wiping away the tea on his mustache.
"You are the closest thing to family she's got left." She theorized, "Why is that you don't appear the least bit concerned for her health and well being?"
He was at loss for words. The kind man broke into a nervous laugh, but failed to contain the betrayal in his eyes. "Forgive me, Polly, but you and I both know Renée is very much capable of taking care of herself."
Polly's coy expression breached through his lie. "Tell me where she is," she asked in a low voice.
Ruben sat defeated in his chair. He couldn't help but fall for Polly's despair. She was broken and lost. Was he to simply refuse any form of assistance for this anxious lady? However, there was Rain's trust he'd end up breaking.
"She asked me not to, not until she was ready." he expressed with grief. "I believe she hasn't healed from her loss, quite yet. I convinced myself William was dead years ago, but a small part of Renée preserved that wilting hope . . . Forgive me, Polly, but I'm afraid she needs more time."
"Please," Polly begged, searching for the right words. "Somehow I feel her misery is partially my fault and it's up to me to put an end to this-," she caught herself before swearing away her worries.
"How could you think that?" Ruben questioned with confusion.
Polly peered out the window once more. The grey clouds of the day were beginning to form. "It's my line of business, you see . . . everyone is at fault no matter how hard you try to do what's right."
Grace Shelby was many things, but impatient was not one of them. That is, until she stood at the doorstep of Rain's secret apartment.
The tall woman found herself waiting within the corridors of a grand apartment complex in London. Coincidentally, Rain chose a residence within walking distance of her husband's city loft. It took Grace ten minutes to trail into the busy city center and another five minutes to walk up the endless staircases of Rain's building due to the broken lift. It was near the Playhouse Theatre, of course. The location further suited Rain's interest, for the River Thames trailed not too far ahead.
For seven minutes, Grace waited outside room 507. It was on the highest floor and the very last room. Her room was secluded from its neighboring rooms and the staircase was close by; should she need a quick escape. The grey-eyed girl never failed to impress Grace. Although, her patience was running low with each knock.
Just when she was ready to turn around with a heavy heart, the sound of multiple locks being unlocked and unchained emitted into the empty hallway.
"Un-fucking believable," a voice from behind the door murmured. "Uncle Ollie, how many times must I teach you the secret knock? I'll just have to-" Rain broke off her rant in mid-speech once the door was fully open.
It was delightful to hear that musical voice again. For a full month, Grace had ordered her husband's best spies to search for this young woman. Each week they had failed to bring her any significant news. Rain was off the grid entirely. Untraceable. Grace had half a mind to lurk through Britain herself, if not for her son. And yet, the girl she sought was mere kilometers away from her city home, standing in a disheveled apartment with jam stains on her shirt.
Rain stood baffled with one hand on the door knob and the other holding a half-eaten pastry. Her black hair was messier than Grace had ever seen before, which was a bold statement. Her shirt was untucked and a few buttons were undone from the top, displaying a few healing scars. She appeared thin, as if she wasn't getting much of her regular exercise. Though she appeared herself, which was enough to bring a warm smile on Grace's face.
"It's good to see you, Rain."
"Sorry for the mess."
Grace sat comfortably on one of Rain's ornate white couches. The towering windows of the top floor looked out to the River Thames and the buildings receding from the docks. The hidden sun brought in enough light to showcase the single room. It was a vast room, and would've appeared larger if not for the clutter.
Dinner plates were stacked high on a few counters and on a brooding armoire, accompanied by empty liquor bottles. Clothes were scattered upon every visible surface that could've easily fit inside the cabinet. A few suitcases were thrown open as if they'd vomited shoes and dresses. For some inexplicable reason, Rain had a collection of clocks that didn't appear to be working. Clocks of many odd shapes and sizes that failed to tick or tock. They were displayed all over the apartment, Grace tracked twelve before losing count.
On the far end of the large room was Rain's bed. It was a small one, but it was the only tidy aspect of the entire setting. Grace figured Rain often failed to reach that end of the room on her eventful nights. Nevertheless, Rain raced around her home, piling up her clean bed with the clothes that plagued the floors and the furniture.
"I wasn't aware that I was to have company today." Rain sheepishly explained with a pile of dishes in her arms. There was a delightfully small stove and oven in the corner of the room near another door. The restroom, of course. Rain placed the dishes on the small kitchen counter and began rummaging through the cupboards above.
"Shall I put on some tea?" she asked as though she'd never spoken those words prior to Grace's arrival.
"Actually," Grace laughed softly, "I'd rather you quit bolting around the room and sit down with me. I only have a few moments, my dear."
Rain's grey eyes grew in size, "Of course!" she let go of everything and raced to the couch opposite Grace.
The brightly lit room shined over Rain's freckled face. Her cheeks were rosy, yet slightly sunken. Grace beamed with satisfaction. Her Rain was doing quite well on her own, if only she knew how poorly the office had been functioning without her. The books were all right, yet the atmosphere remained . . . robbed of its warmth. So when Grace looked over Rain's tousled, yet content new life, she felt rather selfish for the intrusion. If there was anything this girl needed after the tragic death of her father, it was peace.
"You must have a great deal to say if you can't find the words, Miss. Grace." Rain snickered. Her girlish laugh caught Grace's attention by storm. She failed to realize that she'd been lost in her own thoughts.
"I'm only relieved to see that you're all right, Rain." Grace exhaled.
"How did you find me?" Rain asked, in all seriousness.
There was a hint of her distress that peeked through her happy facade. It was subtle, yet Grace spotted it the moment it came into existence. This eccentric behavior, it was simply Rain's anxiety protruding through her safe haven after weeks of solitude.
"Do you forget I used to be a spy?" Grace carefully delivered.
"Ruben Oliver told you." Rain guessed.
"Polly told me," she revealed. "But Mr. Oliver did inform Polly, yes."
Rain faltered momentarily, she sat back against the couch. "Now that was unexpected," her grey eyes slid up the walls behind Grace and to the high ceiling above. "Of course, Uncle Ollie confessed under some sort of manipulation but," she pondered without distaste, "I thought she'd be more than pleased about my absence."
"Does anyone know why Polly does what she does?" Grace inquired, mostly to herself.
She saw that Rain was waiting. Her ghostly eyes seared deeply into her own. Grace wondered if Rain was fully aware of how intimidating her gaze was, regardless of how young she was. On some occasions, Grace found herself wondering the same thing about Tommy. This was a quality the two shared, and a stubborn behavior was another.
Grace cleared her throat softly, "Rain, I came here to ask for a favor."
"Why do I have a feeling I know what that favor will be?" Rain said, not in a rude fashion, but rather in a coy one.
"There was a time when I thought I could never speak to Tommy again. I was miserable after what I'd done that broke our trust. Then I found myself even more so without him."
"I'm not miserable." she established.
Grace saw through the girl's weak smile. There was ice in her gaze, heat in her posture. Grace hadn't even mentioned Michael's name and Rain's stance was already defensive. She wasn't miserable, no, but she wasn't happy either.
"If you say so." Grace nodded, "But Michael is."
At this, Rain faltered.
"Ada and Lizzie miss you. You know that I cherish your company. All of us are hurt that you've left us. You're going to let one boy get in the way of our friendship, Rain? That doesn't seem clever to me. And I thought you were a clever girl."
"It isn't just Michael, Grace." she stammered. Grace took notice of Rain's broken voice, but she forced away her emotions and sat up taller. However, her facade had truly fallen once her grey eyes appeared to be glazed with stubborn tears. " . . . Have you forgotten that I found and lost my father all in one night?"
Grace felt her own shoulders fall. She felt her heart sink all over again. She felt the pain that emitted from this young girl's troubled life. Rain; an innocent child thrown into a world of lies and gunfire. A lawless life that will never cease to haunt her.
At once, Grace sat up from her seat to console Rain. The girl didn't let a single tear fall, but she let Grace envelope her in a comforting embrace. Rain let her head fall against Grace's violently beating heart.
"How could I forget what causes you such pain?" Grace held tightly onto Rain as her own tears began to fall. "Can't you see why I'm so inclined to have you back? No one should suffer alone." The angelic woman wiped away her own tears and held Rain by the chin. She bore straight into those grey eyes that bewitched her so. "Especially on their birthday."
A small beam escaped Rain. She closed her eyes tight and let a stubborn tear slide into existence upon her freckled cheeks. "Who told you?"
"Last night was the first time he spoke of you in over a month." Grace exhaled a shaky breath. To her relief, Rain's didn't push her away. She merely dropped her gaze to one of the many clocks on the coffee table. "Come tonight," she wiped away the trail of a tear on Rain's freckled cheek, "You are most formally invited to the Shelby Charity Dinner."
Grace ran across the room once more. She grabbed a small envelope from the pocket of her coat, leaving Rain to evaluate the event.
Rain failed to move from her spot, but Grace handed her the envelope regardless of her cooperation. "If not for me, then for some cake."
"What kind?" Rain held the envelope with a tight grip.
A wave of relief rushed through Grace's head. She was considering her offer. "Vanilla."
"Hmm . . ." The girl pondered to herself before getting on her feet. "I'm not very fond of vanilla cake." she challenged.
"Then I'll order a chocolate one," Grace countered.
"If I had known you were going to give in that quickly I would've asked for a dozen cakes."
Rain's eyes twinkled with delight. Grace figured this was the first time Rain had toyed with someone in a long while. There were only hints of her Rain shining through. In that moment she prayed she would shine through soon, before any darkness could corrupt her light while its vulnerable state remained resistant.
"Anything for the birthday girl." Grace beamed with the weight of alleviation conquering over her grief when Rain finally nodded in confirmation that she would indeed attend. "Wonderful!" she expressed with genuine joy before placing on her coat in a hurry, "I'm sorry I'm off so soon! It's the dinner tonight, I'm organizing everything and it's running my mind array. I'll have someone drop off the dress I had made for you. It's a beautiful black dress with-"
"-Grace!" Rain intervened before she was halfway through the door.
"Yes, my dear?" Grace placed on her hat and stood patiently for Rain to speak up again. She appeared distraught, as if unaware how to say what was on her mind.
"I wanted to thank you . . . for visiting me." she exhaled, as if it were difficult to say these words. "I didn't know how much I needed a familiar face until I saw one."
Grace dropped her shoulders and strolled over to Rain for one last embrace. She held on for quite a while, wrapping her lengthy arms around the girl's shoulders. "Don't ever run away like that again. Do you understand?" she whispered in her ear. Rain nodded against her neck. "The only exception is when you want to drive Polly mad with Michael's brooding behavior, but you're required to brief me beforehand."
Rain laughed her girlish laugh. It was soft and weak, but it was the most light she had appeared during Grace's entire visit. She left the clock infested apartment with a warm heart, awaiting the grand night that was only hours away.
The grey-eyed girl lied awkwardly upon her white couch wearing only a silk robe. She eyed the dress across from her with her head hanging off the edge of the cushion. Her bare legs were propelled over the headrest of the couch, kicking the air as though she were cycling upside down.
Even as the blood rushed to her head, Rain sat staring at the cream dress a man had delivered to her doorstep nearly two hours ago. When it arrived she took a bath, cleaned her apartment of any filth, rearranged the placement of her many clocks, had a smoke, and eventually found herself sitting before the dress. Her wet hair was completely dry by the time she sat upright on the couch.
Rain huffed in her place, admiring the beauty of the elegantly crafted dress. It was sleeveless, with a low neckline, it was almost nonexistent. The work on it was mostly hand-sewn, Rain could see the detail within each beaded and pearly design upon the silk fabric. At the very bottom of the slim dress, there were fringe textures framed in an angular fashion. It was short enough to display fragments of skin, that was for sure. As she achingly admired the dress, Rain thought to herself, this is definitely a fancy event. One even more decadent than the wedding.
The wedding.
A simple thought of that day brought Rain into a low, anchoring depression. That bittersweet event was only what began a downward spiral in her life. Michael's disappearance, and then her father's. It had been a month since she had lost him, but Rain woke up each morning feeling as though she'd lost him all over again.
A while ago, Rain realized that it wasn't Michael's actions that led her into hiding. Though it may have fueled her decision to leave, Rain knew in her heart it was because she needed to be alone. She needed to get away from Birmingham, from the Peaky Blinders, from the violence, even if it meant leaving Michael behind too. She wouldn't know how to live after a loss like that.
But time had changed Rain. She lived in solitude for over a month, learning to act and react like a sane human once again. She rarely ever cried, but she'd often find herself unable to move or speak for more than a few minutes. The girl couldn't explain it, nor shake herself from the lethargic grip it had on her. Rain figured, if it only happened for a few moments at a time, it was nothing to worry about.
Michael will be there.
The thought of him brought a bit of life back into her drowsy state. Her heart fluttered for a swift moment. She had forgotten of the green-eyed boy for most of her time sulking away. She had forced his image out of her system by focusing on fixing clocks and watching plays in the city. During her lonely nights, Rain drank herself to sleep. Only enough so she could find some sleep, until she finally ended her days with genuine rest. Michael was nonexistent during the day, that is until he'd find his way to her dreams, but she refused to acknowledge him in the mornings.
Would he forgive me?
Rain shook her head violently and stormed all the way to the dress. She cursed herself for allowing these thoughts to reach her conscious mind. The girl stripped herself out of her robe and grabbed the silky ensemble. Grace had gone out of her way, disregarding her busy schedule, just for Rain. It would be an insult to dismiss her invitation. If there was one person that could convince Rain to stop acting so childish, it was Grace. It was her birthday, after all. She wasn't going to sulk away in a room filled with broken clocks.