Chapter 8) The mother of all hangovers
.-.-.
'Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…' Polly thought sucking on her black cigarette, tilting her weight from one worn out pump to the other. It was a damn cold morning and she cursed the girl for bringing her into this early position. If she hadn't delivered such excellent work there would have been serious consequences.
"You didn't show up at Watery Lane," she told the girl when she crossed the corner.
Maria visually shrunk, faltering her shoulders and dropping her gaze down.
"I'm very sorry ma'am, my uncle wouldn't let me out of his sight the entire weekend-"
"Don't worry child." She waved with her cigarette, cutting Maria off. "A little bird told me you kept your part of our deal". The little bird she mentioned was Arthur and instead of chirping he'd bawled about how Tommy showed up at the Garrison. Scorned at me as if I was an infant, the bloody nerve! He'd grumbled angrily and Polly had to be honest; she had to blink away a few tears. Finally a sign of the old Tommy. Before the war, Tommy would never miss a chance to be an utter wisearse to piss off his older brother.
"I had to bury my father and brother, Miss. I am no longer a child, especially if I have to play the role of a spy," the girl spoke politely, but there was a bitter undertone.
Polly stared at her scrawny partner in crime, she wore the same outfit as before; stained oversized jeans, a loose blouse and a large bucket hat. Her posture was timid, even more then before and she kept her gaze down, ash blonde hair curtained around her face.
When Polly spotted her at the market she didn't see anyone special, besides her talent, mastering sign language. Polly knew there was nothing that would catch her nephew's attention and maybe that was the girl's second best quality.
Polly had seen Tommy's despair and frustration with the opposite sex, unable to play along if there was a wink or lingering stare. Before, her nephew was a heartbreaker, an eye catcher,always good with his words. Now, having a simple chat was out of the question.
But this grey mouse, she didn't pose a threat, she didn't stand out in the crowd and god forbid hadn't been corrupted yet.
Maybe her innocence could cast away some of Tommy's demons.
"Fine, Miss Lehman. You will keep me informed. I'll be at this exact same spot next Monday, that'll save you from your inconveniences." Polly hoped the girl would not think of this lightly, Polly Grey Shelby was not the type to lurk in narrow allies, nowadays she had personnel for that.
"See you next Monday, Miss," the girl answered and hide away her well earned pounds when she received them.
Polly watched the girl hurry off and stamped out her cigarette. Hopefully this new pawn could save their king.
.-.-.
A blanket of icy cold water washed over his whole upper body. Hissing and spitting he jerked up, a sharp pain throbbing in the back of his head.
"For Christ sake, get a hold of yourself will ya?" His uncle spat dumping the empty bucket at his feet.
Tommy needed a moment to adjust and get familiar with his surroundings. Apparently he'd passed out against the box of Bourdon, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The empty bottle of whiskey explained the headache and nausea.
"Ya scared yer lass shitless, she thought you were dead," Charlie lectured stiffly.
'Lass?' Tommy blinked a few times, the sun piercing his skull into two. Through his lashes he made out the frame of Maria. Was it Monday already? How long had he been out? The entire weekend seemed to be morphed into one endless state of being drunk. He couldn't recall getting out of the stables or even taking a piss, was it really Monday?
""Drunken twat," his uncle mumbled angrily to himself and turned around to head off to his duties. It wasn't the first time Charlie had to drag him out of an alcohol infused coma and he wouldn't receive any compassion from the older fellow. Not that he would allow any in the first place.
The headache was killing him and being drenched made him shiver.
A towel was being handed to him, it took him a moment to recall Maria's presence, the girl being silent and pale as a ghost. With eyes the size of saucers she gave him the towel and then headed off to take care of the horses.
Luckily for her she left the stables fast enough, his stomach jolted and he quickly grabbed the bucket. Whiskey burns twice as bad, coming out. He heaved three times before flunking back against the wood. Fuck, the entire stable was spinning and he couldn't recall his reasoning for drinking the amount of alcohol that he had in the last two days. Not that there were that many options either , it was because of the nightmares or the fact that he was a no-good mute.
He realised then that he was not wearing his hat and it made him feel naked, fragile. The rotting part of him, all in the open. Stumbling up his feet he was glad there wasn't anything left in his stomach. Where the hell was the bloody thing?
With difficulty he pulled himself up the ladder and got into the attic. The space was cramped and he had to bend his head to get to his sleeping accommodation.
He spotted his hat hanging on one of the nails above his old mattress. He pressed the worn material firmly over his scalp and dropped down on his bed. The attic did not receive much daylight through the small and dusted window, which was a good thing. He'd brought a small oil lamp when he exiled himself from Watery Lane, but hardly used it. From his bed he could always see the moon and he kept the small window wide open, providing a constant breeze. He needed that, during the nights he needed a constant reminder of being above ground.
Other then some spare clothes, a gun, a few pictures and his mother's mirror he left all other belongings behind. He didn't need much and didn't want anything.
The headache seemed to lessen and his eyelids got very heavy and within minutes, he found himself drifting into a restless sleep.
.-.-.
He couldn't recall how long he'd slept but when he got down into the stables Maria was eating. So it was lunchtime apparently. "The horses didn't have any food," She informed him, her accusation not to be missed.
He really didn't need her to scorn at him, so he didn't respond and went to the well for some water instead.
The cold liquid didn't do his tormented stomach any good. He gagged a few times and used a lot of willpower to keep the water down.
God, he felt awful and he smelled, bad. Very bad, he needed a long hot bath. Whipping his chin his skin felt like sandpaper, he needed a good shave too.
"Eat something." Maria seemed determined to bug him today. "You should eat."
Holding onto the brigs of the well for support he swallowed a few times, fixed on not getting sick again.
She held out a piece of bread which he didn't take.
"My uncle was an alcoholic." Clearly she'd solemnly devoted herself to being a cunt today. "He died."
'Then I am a dead man walking', he thought and gave her the finger.
"Charlie is right you know? You are a twat," She announced, spun on her heels and paraded back in.
It was the first time he heard her use a curse word and although she was entirely right she was not entitled to speak to him in such matter.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in the back of his head he marched after her, grabbed her by her shoulders and twirled her around.
What did you call me? He signed angered.
Intimidated, she drew her body back but dared to look him in the eyes.
"I called you a twat and you are! None of the horses had access to food, half of them didn't have water. You were dead set to keep a mother and foal alive, I would like to see them last!" With the tip of her shoe she ticked at the empty whiskey bottle on the floor. "But I bet you where to occupied to take care of your animals."
Her accusations struck him more then he wanted to show, because she was right. His usual devotion towards his animals had reached an absolute low. He couldn't recall even thinking about checking on Precious or his mother. He'd neglected his one and only duty.
But he would not show her his remorse, he had his pride. Infuriated he clenched his jaws he signed, Do not patronize me, you have no idea what it's like!
"Oh, I don't!?" Frustrated, she dug her hands into her hips. "You think I don't know what it's like to have no voice? I am a girl, a woman; therefore born without one. I could scream bloody murder in the mainstreet and no-one would even gaze at me twice! But you don't see me crying about it, because I will do anything to keep me, my mum, and sisters together. I had to man up after my father and brother died! So don't tell me I don't know what it's like to lose everything, because I do."
That had to be the longest and well meant rant anyone had given him in a long time, now that she'd blurted out all her frustrations, her lower lip quivered and anger made place for grief.
Yes indeed, today Tommy Shelby was the biggest twat of Small Heath.
"We couldn't even have an open casket, they might as well could have put my brother in a cardboard box. Grenade, there was barely anything left."
Tommy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose painfully hard to suppress a few upcoming memories of the battlefield. Faces with bulking eyes, coughing up their lungs from gas, men holding their own intestines in both hands, trying to press them back in. The heartbreaking sounds of dying horses, he never got used of that.
"My brother would do anything to be in your shoes and you are wasting it all away, like it's nothing." She sounded heartbroken and it was hurting him.
He swallowed thickly, her statement cutting him to pieces. As if it was that simple. In her eyes maybe, because he was alive and her brother wasn't. But it wasn't that simple, not by far. He didn't expect her to understand though, she had her loss and so did he.
"Your family loves you, I can see that," she spoke, honest and without a doubt in her words.
I know, he signed slow, finding it difficult to remain angered. I know.
"I wish I had a family like yours."
For a moment he wanted to laugh, because she sure as hell must know by now his family was so called gypsy scum. But when he looked at her, her face was all serious and then it struck him.
Carefully he tilted her chin to the side, a fading bruise marked her cheek and made her jaw swollen.
"My uncle hit me when I got home late, he already knew where I had been. And with who. For a big city news travels very fast. He doesn't want me working here. But he doesn't want to get on the wrong foot with your family so he will allow it."
Tommy clenched his jaw and signed, What is his name?
"I'm not telling you." Maria bit her lip and stared at him pleading. "Please leave my family be. If my uncle sends us away we have nowhere else to go to. My mum … she's deaf so no-one wants to hire her, and I don't have the money to rent a room."
And so she was stuck, powerless. Voiceless in her own way.
I understand, it wasn't his place to interfere in family business, definitely if the girl didn't have any other options. But he would keep his eyes open and do some digging around, because no-one fucked with a Peaky, not even if she was just an stablemaid.
Go clear the boxes. Give me a minute, I'll help in a second.
First, he needed a cigarette, second he needed a soddin' gun to kill the mother of all hangover. And third, he needed to grow a pair because right now she was fixing his lack of work.
He remembered the first thing she said to him: because I will work twice as hard for half a paycheck Mr Shelby. He snorted, lighting up his cigarette. Well, she'd been bloody right.
.-.-.
A/N: I love how Polly is becoming a bigger part of the story, first I just wanted to write Tommy and Maria's POV's but Polly is such nice character to write about. She's the bridge between the old Tommy and the new Tommy. I also like that finally someone dared to make Tommy aware he's not the only one in the word who's voiceless. Try being a woman! Overall I am thrilled how the story is working out, I had a chapterline but now it's more of a pair of guidelines because things keep popping up and at this point I'll see where the story takes me.
xLonelyDreamerx, thank you so much for your long review, you really made my day and gave me enough inspiration to write another chapter. Not the next because for some reason I keep writing everything in bits and pieces.
And Comet96, for beta-reading faster than lightspeed!
Please, be so kind to leave a review,
Xoxox Nukyster
