Chapter 16
1919
Tommy made his way through two full cigarettes waiting for the twins to come out of the schoolyard. He had, rather unsuccessfully, tried to arrange for just about anyone other than himself to collect them midafternoon.
John was busy with four sick kids.
Arthur had been at the Garrison since ten in the morning, now barely able to stand.
Polly was adopting a strict "hands-off" approach towards the twins, going beyond the call in respecting her nephew's wishes that they do things his way.
And Tommy hadn't a true clue as to Ada's whereabouts. He and Clara had settled into the agreement of it being a subject not to be discussed. And Tommy thanked whatever there was worth thanking that things had settled with Clara, even if Ada and Freddie were still roaming the city.
Tommy truthfully didn't have time in his days for playing chaperone to a couple of eleven-year-olds, yet here he was, still waiting against the brick wall separating street education from an education of arithmetic and literature. The children of Small Heath's poor had spilled through the entryway in a herd, the lingering groups of two and three were coming out now. Minutes had passed since seeing a single child.
Checking his pocket watch, Tommy stubbed the end of his cigarette out on the brick and pushed off the wall, intent on finding the twins and getting them moving. He had places to be and had already wasted half an hour of his afternoon with the walk over to the school and the additional time spent waiting. The schoolyard was nearly empty and Tommy was starting to suspect Finn and Clara had gotten themselves into some sort of trouble with their teacher. It was not beyond possibility, especially when one considered the defiant streak Clara had been testing out. Finn had always been quick to join in on those types of things, especially on the rare occasion that his sister was also keen on it.
Clara had spent nearly a week at home resting following the run-in with the Cheapside boys, a week during which Tommy had essentially confined his sister to her room. Enforcing it with a claim that she needed the rest, Tommy hoped Clara would understand it for what it truly was, a form of punishment for all that had happened.
Though they were no longer fighting, no longer ignoring one another outright, Tommy still wasn't certain how his sister was understanding any of it.
Tommy was about two steps from the main entrance when Finn came through the large wooden doors, wearing a scowl on his face. Finn was busy shoving a workbook in his bag, his eyes growing wide when he looked up and spotted Tommy ahead of him.
"Tommy, the teacher… she made me retake my spelling quiz," Finn sputtered, eyes immediately spotting the tensions in Tommy's shoulders.
Tommy's features softened as he cocked his head to the side and exhaled. The kid was hopeless with the reading and the writing. Thankfully he could count. "That's fine, Finn. Where's our sister, eh?"
Finn shrugged coming down the remaining steps to meet Tommy's side. "She ran off somewhere with that book she's got."
Tommy wasn't surprised. It sounded just like his sister to spend all day with books and lessons, only to follow that up with a bit more reading, especially considering Tommy had limited her access to the books during the week prior.
"Give it back, you fucker!"
Tommy and Finn both turned their heads towards the voice. Despite having the quality of a low roar, both gravely and snarling, and despite the unexpected choice of word, the boys were intuitively aware that the voice was Clara's. The pair made their way down the steps, two at a time, and turned the corner of the school building to follow the familiar voice.
When he saw his sister, Tommy let out a painful breath that had gotten caught somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. It wasn't any type of true fight they were watching but something of a standoff between Clara and a boy who held nearly an additional head of height above her own. And though it wasn't a fight, Clara's small fists were balled at her sides, her stare hard and cold as she looked up at the boy who wasn't far off from being considered a man.
On leaving for school that morning, Clara had looked her regular put-together self, at least Tommy had thought so. Seeing his sister now, he barely recognized the girl. She was wearing an old jumper of Finn's, something wrinkled and a bit too large for her. Her messy hair was pulled back from her face, showing off the set of stitches on her forehead though the hair was falling out of the loose ribbon. It was only the contrast that made Tommy realized that Clara's hair was typically styled in only a few ways, all of which resulted in neat lines whether that be a couple of plaits or her hair falling straight down her back. Tommy recognized her favored blue coat tossed on the dirt, along with her school bag. Clara looked wild and scrawny and Tommy likened her to a regular Watery Lane young'un.
"Not so mighty now, without a copper or a brother or a—" Wally muttered, his voice low as he held the book just out of her grasp, laughter on the edge of his words as he teased her. Despite this, the words didn't quite register for Clara, so intent was she on retrieving her stolen book.
Clara had come to school with the intention of keeping away from the Cheapside boys. She intended on focusing on her school work but when Wally pulled the book from her grasp for the mere purpose of getting a rise out of the girl, it did just that, flicking a switch Clara didn't know was possible of being flicked.
Tommy caught his sister's wrist as she reached out to shove the boy, a light gasp escaping her lips as the rough palm clamped down around her wrist and dragged her back from Wally Bartow. Her shock quickly turned to a smug grin as she caught a more defining sight of her brother at the same time the color drained slightly from Wally's cheeks.
Tommy snatched the book from the boy's grasp. "You go on home to Cheapside. You bother a Shelby again and you'll be starting a war."
His words didn't warrant a response from Wally and the boy seemed to be lost for words regardless. Tommy watched long enough to see him begin to walk away and only then did he glance down to his sister. He didn't like the haughty smirk on the little girl's face, her smug countenance. "And you, you gather your fucking things."
Releasing Clara from his grasp, Tommy sent her stumbling forward. Not particularly concerned with whether or not Clara caught her balance, he turned towards the front gates, motioning Finn forward. Wanting nothing more than to drop the kids off at home and get on with his day, he took a few deliberate steps away from his sister.
Tommy stopped when he heard a loud growl escape Clara's lips, turning back in time to see her shove at Wally's middle. The impact was hard enough that the boy tripped backward over a set of feet that had grown too large for a body that hadn't quite caught up with the extremity yet. As he tumbled to the dirt, Wally pulled Clara down with him.
Sat on top of his chest, Clara delivered two punches before Wally's hand collided with the side of her head, flinging her off to the side in an almost graceful trajectory. Tommy watched Clara slam into the ground, her forehead skimming against the dirt and rock of the schoolyard. Wally scrambled to his feet, backing away from her but Clara seemed keen on a fight, lunging towards him again despite the blood spilling out from the spot on her head where a set of crude stitches had held her wound closed only seconds before.
Tommy didn't bother shouting Clara's name. He quickly closed the distance between them and yanked her up from the ground, pulling her to her feet and then some. Clara shouted, fighting his grip even after he set her on the ground.
"What the hell are you doing, eh?" Tommy asked, shaking her arm until Clara's eyes met his. For a moment, Tommy saw the tears start pooling, the red strain in Clara's eyes bringing out the green in her hazel irises. Then his hand slipped, tightening just a hint on her small arm.
"But he star—" Clara began, dropping the eye contact as she pulled to loosen his fingers.
Tommy hauled her forward without allowing another word, facing straight ahead as he ground out an order toward Finn. "Grab her things."
Though Tommy continued to drag Clara along, she dug her heels into the muddy ground, not caring that Tommy wasn't stopping, not caring that doing so made it feel like her arm may separate completely from her shoulder.
Tommy didn't say a word as he swung his sister over his shoulder, swiftly moving off the school property as she kicked and screamed.
He really didn't have time for this.
Tommy set Clara on the floor just inside Jeremiah Jesus' front door. A deep shade of red painted her cheeks and her eyebrows were furrowed. Her eyes seemed to be seething as they anchored on Tommy's face. He had somehow known the quieting of her protests as they made their way through Small Heath with her over his shoulder hadn't meant the anger had simmered.
Clara had yet to even acknowledged her friend's presence in the room. Jeremiah's boy, Isiah had been the one to open the door, stammering out a surprised, "Hello, Mr. Shelby, sir," as he stepped aside to let the two of them through the door.
Tommy moved around his sister, taking a seat at the table. "Go find Jeremiah and show him what you did to those stitches," he said, waving her off.
When Clara didn't move, Tommy found himself taking a deep heaving breath, reaching out to grab her roughly by the collar of her shirt as he pulled her closer. Clara nearly tripped over her own feet as he closed the distance between them, bringing her to stand between his knees. She flinched, squinting her eyes closed as she lifted her hands in a mixed attempt to free and protect herself.
"So, you're not looking for more trouble then?"
After a short moment of Tommy's silence, Clara realized the question hadn't been rhetorical. Opening her eyes, she quickly shook her head.
"Do what I fucking tell ya then, eh?" he answered, dropping his hand. "And don't put up a fuss about it."
As Clara trudged down the hallway to find Jeremiah, Tommy glanced at Isiah Jesus. The boy had pushed himself into the corner of the room when Tommy and Clara entered. Pretending not to be paying much attention to the Shelby's in his kitchen, he hunched over the counter as he busied himself with something Tommy couldn't see.
"You might as well follow her, Isiah. He'll need help holding her down."
The boy nodded, making only the slightest of eye contact before heading down the hall.
Tommy didn't want a single thing to do with holding his sister still or comforting her tears. If any contact at all, he pictured himself wringing her neck and knocking some sense into that stubborn little girl. And after the neck wringing and sense knocking, Tommy was partial to the notion of keeping her locked up at home where she wouldn't get into fights with Wally Bartow, where she wouldn't run into a single copper aside from the ones on his payroll and where he wouldn't have to worry about her.
Tommy remembered when things had been easier. Before the war, the twins had always been home. He hadn't had to pay much mind to the idea of them getting in trouble, getting hurt. Sure, there had always been accidental injuries and the occasional trouble that any kid got themselves into but Clara and Finn had been surprisingly easy. It had continued that way until quite recently. He wouldn't have ever expected it, but Clara at eleven was giving him trouble.
He didn't remember Ada being like this at eleven. Shooting rats by day and sneaking into Pol's rouge and heels to play dress-up by night, yes, but his other sister wasn't fighting the oldest boys in the neighboring gangs during recess. She wasn't plotting missions to see Communists in hiding and convincing neighborhood boys to lie for her. At eleven, Ada hadn't worried him like this. And constant worrying wasn't something Thomas Shelby had time for.
Tommy slumped over the Jesus' small kitchen table for just a moment, the single lump he was trying to swallow giving the muscles in his throat a little trouble. He was feeling weary. Weary of siblings. Weary of the Lee boys. Weary of coppers from Belfast sent to locate missing guns from the BSA factory. But there was no time for weary, in the same way that there was no time for worry so he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Tommy knew if he didn't take the moment to compose himself, to devise some type of plan, he'd be dealing with another few weeks of the temperamental sister he thought he had just taken care of and there was no time for that either.
It was a few minutes before Tommy finally decided to follow the kids down the hall, to make sure Clara and Isiah had done what they were told. He stopped in the doorway, leaning on the frame. Tommy pulled out a cigarette and rolled it between his lips while watching his sister. He had every intention of lighting it before he remembered Jeremiah wasn't a smoker. Continuing to watch, Tommy pulled the cigarette from his lips, placing it back in the case.
Clara was making something close to an attempt to sit still while Jeremiah worked on the open wound in her forehead. Looking at her though, you wouldn't know she was even trying. Just thinking about that needle going in and out of the skin on her forehead was getting the best of her and Jeremiah hadn't even cleaned it yet. Clara pushed and thrashed against Isiah who had the sorry job of keeping her from moving too much while his father did his work.
It wasn't until Tommy cleared his throat and caught her eye that Clara compliantly stilled. She looked down, studying the muscle visible beneath the flesh of Isiah's hands. His hands were clasped tightly around her wrists, still tense despite the fact that she had stopped fighting him. Now that she had stilled, Jeremiah was able to get a good look at the opening in her forehead, his fingers poking and prodding near the wound on her forehead and the red mark along the jaw.
"There'll be a scar, Tommy," Jeremiah said. "And a mighty bruise down here."
Clara let out a yelp as Jeremiah's hand grazed a particularly tender spot.
"She did it to herself. Just do the best you can, Jeremiah," Tommy said, nodding at the man.
Tommy noticed his sister making her best effort at avoiding looking his direction and he watched for several moments in silence before shifting his eyes to Jeremiah. He pulled a cigarette back between his fingertips, using it to point at Isiah. "Your boy can bring her 'round the house when she's finished up, eh Jeremiah? I've got some business."
"Sure, Tom. He'll bring her."
"No detours, no book reading, no letting her run off to the other side of Birmingham and saying she was with you. You bring her straight home to me, Isiah."
"You hear that, boy?" Jeremiah asked.
"Yeah, pop," Isiah answered, a pink twinge finding his cheeks before he turned back to Tommy. "I'll bring her straight home, Mr. Shelby."
Tommy focused on his cigarette as John, Arthur, and Finn horsed around on the other side of the table. He was waiting on Polly, waiting on the only Shelby he knew would need any type of convincing, and he was using the steady inhale and exhale of his cigarettes as a way to remain patient. If he was in the business of counting cigarettes, Tommy may have been surprised by the amount he had smoked since leaving Clara but Tommy Shelby didn't count cigarettes or drinks or inhalations from the pipe in his bedside drawer. Tommy counted things like risks and liabilities, weighing them against the relevant remunerations. Though he wasn't the one who counted the notes in the company safe, he counted his family's growing wealth in his own way, adding up the symbols listed in the company ledgers to see how the business had grown since his return from France.
Leaning back in his chair, Tommy watched John and Finn play fighting, John catching Finn's small arms to prevent any further advances before turning to Arthur and continuing their conversation.
"No wonder Clara's been fighting boys in the schoolyard if this is how Finn is fighting."
Finn's strength surged as he shoved back against John's hands. "I was kept after," he whined. "And she shouldn't have run off."
"Well, I'll tell you what," John started, shifting his grip and diminishing Finn's chances of overtaking him as he pulled Finn into a gentle headlock. "If it had been me there to collect the two of you, I don't care if he's just a kid. After what he did to our Clara, I'd be teaching 'em a lesson. Maybe Finn and I'll take a trip down to Cheapside before we send her back to that school. What'd ya think, Finn?"
Tommy glanced at his younger brothers. Though Tommy had not stated it explicitly, John seemed to know that their youngest was to be the subject of the family meeting. It seemed to Tommy that all of the family meetings had been about his sisters for a few weeks now.
"The Blinders don't deal with kids," was all Tommy said.
"Then I'll beat his father within an inch—"
"Ernie Bartow already paid his sons' debt. I stopped by this morning to see to it."
John and Tommy both glanced at Arthur, who looked plenty pleased with himself, and Tommy took a deep breath. He hadn't been privy to that bit of information.
With maneuvers and battles already in process with Billy Kimber, the Lee's, and the new Inspector, Tommy knew the Shelby family didn't need another war to spread their defenses and attentions even thinner. Still, he found himself merely nodding at Arthur's admission. Nearly eight hours had passed already and there hadn't been even a whisper of retaliation, not a hint of chatter around Small Heath that Arthur's likely violent retribution had ever even taken place.
"And our Finny boy will be with her at school," Arthur continued, pulling Finn closer with an arm slung around his shoulders. Arthur tousled the boy's hair. "He'll look after his sister. Round up the Watery Lane boys and have them all looking after her."
"The Cheapies won't get near her again, Tommy," Finn answered.
"Thatta boy, Finn," Arthur said, clapping his hand down on his shoulder.
Finn couldn't hide his grin, pride surging at the approval as he stood with his back straight and tall between John and Arthur. It wasn't often Finn got recognized for protecting anybody. If anything, Finn felt he was always blamed when things went awry with his twin sister, like he had some sort of unspoken responsibility to always stop it. Trouble caused for one twin was somehow trouble for both.
"And, I'll take care of Wal—" he started.
"Finn, go tend to your nieces and nephews," Polly snapped at Finn before she started muttering as she removed her hat and coat. She said the words aloud but more to herself than anything else. "Out running the streets with no shoes or jackets, all four of them. Even the baby, traipsing through the mud and shit."
"Shit," John answered. "Can't leave those kids for 10 minutes. They were all sick and asleep in bed."
Polly eyed her older nephews each in turn before finally turning her stare to the youngest who had yet to move an inch.
"What are you waiting for? Off you go. Keep 'em occupied until supper," Polly said.
Finn grumbled. Supper was a few hours off. No one liked the job of wrangling John's wild children, especially if they were sick. Though he frequently played with John's oldest boy like one would a cousin, even Finn thought John's kids could be a pain. He didn't like the idea of being responsible for them.
"What about Clara? Can't Clara do it?" he groaned.
"Because I've told you to do it," Polly answered.
It was a gentle nudge from Arthur that finally sent Finn towards the front door to corral John's kids and play babysitter. Slow and arduous was the journey from the table to the back door, almost like he knew there was something important left to be discussed and he was hoping his aunt and brothers would change their minds and let him stay.
Now that Polly had arrived, the real family meeting could begin. He had let Arthur lead things about the Bartow's. Tommy let Arthur have that victory, proceeding as though Arthur's acting out of turn hadn't phased him in the slightest. But he couldn't afford to allow any more instances of improvisation. Tommy waited until Finn was off through the front door before pulling himself to sit a little straighter in the chair. "Pol, join us. Take a seat."
Polly looked at Tommy straight on, lips pursed as she lowered herself into a chair. "How's your sister?"
"She'll be fine. Jeremiah's fixing her up. Isiah will be bringing her home when they're through," he answered calmly.
Polly nodded once, searching Tommy's eyes and face for whatever he wasn't yet communicating. The two of them had a way of speaking without saying any actual words. Polly and Tommy communicated plenty through those lingering stares. Plenty that John and Arthur missed out on without Ada there to call it out.
As John and Arthur waited out the silence, they got to thinking the stare down wasn't something they'd want to get between, especially considering that Polly had yet to take the seat Tommy had offered her. Instead, Arthur pushed a hand through his hair a few times and John focused on twirling the toothpick in his mouth. Both men looked up when Tommy finally cleared his throat.
"Right, well, I believe you're all well aware of why I've called this meeting. It seems as though Arthur has addressed the Bartow's so their debt has been cleared. We won't be dealing with them further."
Tommy paused, glancing around the table. Arthur nodded, a small grin on his lips as he looked around the table. John still chewed the toothpick on the left side of his mouth, seemingly more interested in cleaning the dirt from beneath his nails now that he and Finn wouldn't be teaching anyone a lesson. But Polly continued to meet Tommy's eyes straight on, not blinking even once while she waited for him to continue.
"And even if Arthur hadn't paid them a visit, Clara's issues with the boy won't be a problem any longer. I've pulled her from school," he finished, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it, puffing as if the more smoke he blew into the air between them, the clearer it would be that the matter was good and settled.
"You've what?" Polly asked, her head tilted to the side as she stared at her nephew, leaning down over the table with both palms pushed into the wood grain.
"I'm pulling Clara from that damned school, Pol."
"And what do you expect to do with that mind of hers all day? Going to put her to work in the shop? Make her your maid and the family cook?"
"I've made a plan," Tommy answered.
Polly laughed, throwing her arms up as she finally settled into the chair. "Oh, that's splendid, Thomas. You've made a halfcocked plan, have you? Another grand scheme devised without consulting a single member of this family."
"I'm informing you all now. I've already employed a tutor for her and—"
"You've already—"
"Pol, this tutor is a very bright woman. Clara will learn more with a tutor than she could ever learn at that overcrowded school," Tommy said, settling the matter. "Now, unless anyone else has other business, the shop needs reopening."
John and Arthur took their cue, moving behind the double doors and pulling them shut. Polly watched her nephews leave the room without a complaint. It took effort for her not to roll her eyes at the backs of their heads. They were sweet boys, well-meaning and all, but entirely worthless when it came to dealing with their brother. Tommy had manipulated them both into unconscious compliance sometime around 1896 and things had been the same ever since. Polly was beginning to confirm something she had always known. It was only the girls in the family who ever questioned Tommy Shelby, only Polly and her nieces gave him any sort of a fight worth noting.
"Those kids should be together, Thomas."
"As I've said, Pol, she's not being challenged. And Finn'll be leaving school soon enough," Tommy answered, leaning forward to clear the ash from the end of his cigarette into the tray. "You and I both know the boy's not cut out for academics and won't be staying beyond the leaving age. Clara needs more than Small Heath has to offer."
Polly took a deep breath before reaching across the table to pull a cigarette from Tommy's case, wordlessly accepting the lighter Tommy held out to her across the table. She blew more smoke into the air between them as she considered it.
"She won't like it. We just got things settled with her and now you're going to pull something like this…" Polly said with a small shake of her head.
"It's already decided, Pol. I'm taking Clara out of school. She doesn't have to like it."
Tommy glanced towards the doorway, the almost imperceptible creak of the floorboard pulling his eyes in the direction of the sound. Over their slightly raised voices, Tommy hadn't heard the opening of the front door. He hadn't heard Isiah Jesus bid goodbye to his sister from the stoop. Clara's characteristically quiet footfall hadn't given him any early warning of her impending arrival. And if Polly had sensed Clara's presence, she hadn't given Tommy a clue.
Clara looked a different girl than the one he watched in the schoolyard, a different girl than the one he left in Jeremiah's living room. He took in the look of her fresh stitches, the skin around them pink and inflamed. Tommy's eyes flickered from the red puffiness beneath her eyes to the slight wobble of her lower lip. "Tommy, I—"
Tommy released a small breath as he beckoned her forward. Any lingering anger present when Tommy left her with the Jesus' had been quelled. With only a little hesitation, Clara stepped through the door and up to Tommy's side. She allowed him to pull her to stand between his knee, allowed him to take a look at her stitches before she climbed onto a knee and settled with her head against his chest.
"I wanna stay at my school," she mumbled, her voice barely audible with her cheek placed flush against the fabric of her brother's jacket.
"Finn and I gotta look out for each other," Clara continued though Tommy's hand had stopped running up and down her back.
Polly raised an eyebrow as she watched Tommy's reaction. She knew he hadn't been expecting the words that came from Clara's mouth. From the way he had invited her into his arms, Polly was quite certain Tommy had been expecting some pitiful tears and an apology. He should be learning to know better.
"How long were you listening outside that door?" Tommy asked.
Tommy felt Clara shrug a shoulder so he shifted her, breaking the contact she had with him as he forced her back to stand between his knees.
"Stand up and talk to me," he said.
"I don't wanna leave school. I wanna stay with Finn."
"Finn won't be in that school much longer."
"But I've been invited to read my story at the pageant and—"
"It's been settled, Clara."
Clara turned to her aunt, attempting to pull herself off Tommy's lap. "But Aunt Pol—"
"The decision has been made," Tommy said, cutting her off before she had the chance to plead.
"But…but what about a family vote?" Clara sputtered.
Tommy leaned forward again, flicking the ash before looking to his sister. "And how would you know about family votes?"
Clara's mouth dropped open for a short moment before she thought better of showing Tommy too much. "I just…" Clara started, "Well, I know we're supposed to have them. We're supposed to make decisions as a family."
Polly smiled, looking across the table. "She's not wrong."
Tommy took a lengthy inhale and exhale from the cigarette before making eye contact again. "We had a vote just now, surely you heard it since you've been standing out in the hall listening in."
"But that wasn't a proper vote!" Clara said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You just told everybody, that's all. You can't just decide everything for everyone, Tommy."
Polly let out a snort. "She's not wrong about that either."
Clara's lip pulled up in a half-smile as she looked to her aunt but Polly and Tommy were already in the middle of another one of those conversations she knew they liked to have with their eyes. Clara knew better than to interrupt them so she stayed quiet for a moment as she watched. Quietly as possible, she attempted to put a bit of distance between herself and her brother, surprised when he grasped her arm to stop her.
"I've had enough of you two fighting me. Freddie will be leaving Birmingham. And Clara's leaving that school."
"But, Tommy, I don't wanna—" she started, letting out a whimper when he turned her face towards him with a rough grasp on her chin.
"You think I'm concerned with whether or not you wanna?" Tommy asked over his sister's objections, looking into her eyes as he waited for her to shift towards deference.
