Chapter 10) A letter to the matriarch
.-.-.
Polly was smoking a cigar, while reading the newspaper. After the boys went to war she had to 'man up', and picked up the habit. First it was a tool for her facade, every time she needed to play the role of an ice cold bitch she'd huddle herself in black and press the thick tobacco between her teeth.
Men never liked to take orders from a woman and she could not afford to look fragile while her nephews were abroad. She'd distance herself from the thought of ever seeing them again, she was no fool, the amount of coffins coming back grew by day. Her given leadership might not be temporary and if life had taught her any lesson it was that she should never rely on hope.
She could hear Finn run around downstairs and Ada's aggravated hisses to keep her little brother under control. Polly rolled her eyes and blew circles into the air. The Shelby's household was never a quiet place.
Finn was always up and ready before the rooster opened an eye. During the day there was the humming and muttering coming from behind the curtains of their illegal betting shop. In the evening it was mostly Ada calling in from some everyday teenage drama and during the nights John and Arthur never failed to make as much noise as humanly possible heading home drunk.
"I swear Pol I will never be a mother!" Ada exclaimed entering her bedroom without knocking. "I've learned that bunnies sometimes eat their youngster, I'm starting to agree with their cannibalism."
Polly smirked by her niece's dramatic display. "Some bird push their youngs out of the nest, I sometimes empathise with their frustrations. Ever heard of knocking?"
Ada sulked and pouted, crossing her arms and wiggling a letter between her fingers. "I only came here to give you a letter. I think it's from Tommy." She handed her aunt the letter and left the room with her chin held high."I hope you won't push me down the stairs!"
Polly rolled her eyes again, that girl had the same taste for drama as her mother. The paper seemed to burn between her fingers and she turned it around. The envelope was neatly sealed with a drip of candle wax and with familiar bold and cursive letters it read:
To the true matriarch of the Shelby family, company treasurer of the Peaky Blinders, advisor of yours truly,
Or aunt Pol, for short.
Her heart beat faster and quickly she tore off the seal, rapidly ripping the envelope open. For a moment she paused, swallowing hard and thinking of that god awful night she'd witnessed her nephew pull the trigger of his emptied gun.
The what if that crossed her mind made her stomach jolt and her throat go dry. With trembling hands she steadied herself, taking a deep breath for whatever lay written in the letter:
A letter seems too formal, but considering the alternative I think it's most suiting. I've always been good with words, but failed to say the right things at the right times, when I still had the chance.
I deeply regret never thanking you for keeping your head up when everyone beat us down. You took over our mother's role and you've raised us as your own, never thinking twice about it. Your strength is what keeps our family going, for better or worse.
I regret never telling you a whole lot. All of you, I love you. All of you. This family is what keeps me from falling further apart. I regret never being able to speak up before the war.
I regret never telling you a whole lot,
But I'm letting you know now,
Forgive me for deserting you, but know that I will be back. I just have to find a new way to fill up a place in the Shelby business.
Yours sincerely,
Thomas M. Shelby.
Tears stained to the genuine words. Tommy had always been a talker, but not when it came to expressing his feelings. He'd keep everything in, wrapped it up and stored it somewhere deep down in the back of his mind.
Even as a young lad he'd exclude himself from certain feelings; it made him cold and distant when his mother died, a complete contrast with his brother's who clung to her skirt.
The only time she'd witness him cry was right after the funeral, he ran off and didn't return for hours. Instinctively, Polly knew she'd find him in the stables Charlie owned. And indeed, that had been where he ran to, his fortress of solitude. Oh how he wept, clutching the manes of his favourite mare. It had been heartbreaking, but Polly kept her distance, if he'd seen her then and there, he'd have lost the only place he allowed himself to grieve. She'd left in silence and never mentioned it to anyone.
So after the war, when Tommy moved his belongings to the stables she did not demand him to stay. She allowed him to move to his safe place and hoped for the best. If you love someone you have to let them go, but as the weeks past, turning into months, she feared he would never come home.
But her nephew was trying to get better, trying to find his new place in the world instead of spiralling down the drain.
Polly quickly folded the letter back in the envelope and placed it the draw of her desk. Blinking away a few tears she locked it, knowing Tommy would not forgive her if anyone but her read his letter. He was too proud and stubborn for that, although she knew in her heart it would bring Arthur and John the same comfort.
Especially Arthur, who had been at his side below the ground. Arthur had been there when they pulled him out of the soil of Mons, more dead than alive, bleeding with a few broken ribs and the colour of a ghost. Arthur had already been whispering his last words of goodbye when a doctor suddenly shouted they found a pulse.
Arthur had told her in confident that right then and there he'd doubted that was a good thing: He'd been buried for three days Pol, three long god damn days, it didn't seem right to claim 'im back to the land of the living.
It had been Arthur who'd sat by his side. Night after night, talking to his unconscious brother in disbelief that he was still breathing.
It had been Arthur who witnessed him break down when he tried to speak and failed.
And therefore, it had been Arthur who'd been shut out the worst. It broke the oldest of the Shelby siblings to be shunned by Tommy, clueless of what he'd done. But Polly knew why; he'd seen a bit of Tommy that should have stayed hidden.
Seeing him cry in the hospital, hands clenched around the white linen, unable to control his emotions, he hated Arthur for witnessing that. And so he'd shut him out, because no one was allowed to see that part of Tommy Shelby. No one should see him weak.
Through the crocheted material of her curtains she had easy access to the street. Her eyes fell on the dark silhouette leaning against the wall below the sign of little green lane. A small orange speck lit up in the dark with regular pauses.
Polly shut her curtains, spun around and marched down the stairs.
"I'll be back in a few!" She informed Ada who was still busy bickering with Finn. Halfway into her coat she marched outside to find Tommy. He was not surprised, more like he was expecting her.
"I got your letter," she told him, blunt and to the point. If she showed too much emotion he might leave again. He nodded, observing her bearing with the most calculated eyes.
"You mentioned you'd be back again," she stated, if she'd ask he might refuse.
He nodded again, pressing out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe.
"That would make us all very happy, Thomas," she spoke, softer this time, allowing herself a bit of comfort, "very happy."
He nodded for a third time, slow and indifferent. Then suddenly he tilted his head in a boyish manner, almost shy. He sighed deeply, took a step forward and wrapped his arms firmly around her shoulders.
This time she allowed herself to cry, there was no stopping it anyway. She clutched her hands around his back and the croak of his neck and held him close.
"You stupid, stupid, boy!" She spat at him, and in return he squeezed her tighter.
"Come with me inside," Polly ordered pleading when he let go of her embrace.
He hesitated, awkwardly rubbing his neck.
"Thomas, come inside and see Finn, he's almost ready for bed. Your little brother needs to see you more than I do."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. Tommy took out his notebook and wrote down: Finn can't read.
She instantly understood his dread, there was not a decent way for him to communicate with his youngest brother.
"Finn doesn't give a damn, he just wants to see you safe and sound, breathing, and in one piece. Now come inside."
.-.-.
He had expected his aunt Pol to come outside, but he didn't plan to go with her back in. Their house in Watery Lane felt warm and familiar, but he felt like an intruder, as if he stood out. Uncomfortably, he watches his aunt run up the stairs and within seconds his only sister, Ada rushed down, hairs halfway filled with curlers.
"Tommy," she exclaimed, trying to keep her voice down and flung her arms around his neck. "You look … well!" She was being honest and he could tell that from the serenity in her eyes as she stepped back, looking him over. "Are you feeling well?"
He nodded, hoping he could live up to his sister's expectations.
"John and Arthur are out," she informed him, expecting him to be disappointed. He nodded, keeping his face in place, glad is brothers weren't present.
The steps creaked familiar under his feet as he made his way to Finn's room, and he could hear Finn babbling away to Polly from inside his narrow bedroom.
The eyes of his younger brother lightened up when he leaned in over the doorstep. Polly's effort to get him into bed had been pointless, the little boy sat up and threw his blanket off.
"TOMMY!" Finn screamed in utter bliss and wrapped his arms tightly around his brother's back. "You're back!"
Tense at the unfamiliar contact with Finn, Tommy sighed as he ruffled his hand through Finn's hair and smiled down on the boy who squeezed him tight.
"Tommy, watch!" Finn took a step back, planting both feet firmly on the floor. He pressed his thumb against his chest: "I'm F-i-n-n!" and finger-spelled his name.
Tommy chuckled and pushed his thumb up. "I'm learning from Polly," Finn exclaimed, beaming with pride. "So you can play with me again. I've miss you lots…" the boy spoke, softer now and unreserved.
"I bet Thomas missed you too," Aunt Poll filled in for him. He gave Polly a scornful look, she had no right to speak for him, he wasn't a child.
Sinking to his knees, he resting a consoling hand on Finn's cheek and pulled his younger brother close. Two small hands wrapped firmly around his neck as he picked him up to lay him back in bed.
He could see his aunt biting back her emotions at his caring action and rolled his eyes, as if she'd never seen him act like a big brother before.
He wrapped the blanket firmly around Finn's chest, knowing his brother would kick it fully off in his sleep in matter of hours. Before the war he'd always check Finn's room, tucking him in again before going to bed himself.
He snapped his fingers and held up his hand, receiving Finn's complete focus. Wiggling his fingers he made a fist, blew on it and magically a penny appeared when he opened his hand.
Finn laughed and clapped, receiving the money from his brother.
Tommy felt himself warm up inside and smiled, kissing his brother's forehead and ruffling through his hair one more time.
"Will you be here in the morning?" Finn asked hopeful. His heart ached seeing the pleading eyes of his younger brother stare up at him like that.
"He will be home soon," Polly said and with slight aversion he nodded, "go to sleep now, Finn, Tommy and I have a lot to discuss." She motioned him into the hallway, to her office. "Shall we?"
Before she could begin he signed to her: I need to address the girl.
Polly froze on the spot, one hand on the arm of her chair. She eyed him, questioning his motives. Starting to sink down on the frame she folded her hands together. "What about her?"
Her nephew grabbed a wooden stool and sat down across of her.
She's troubled, he signed not letting any emotion show from his bearing. Do you know where she lives?
"I have a suspicion." Polly answered.
He raised his thumb up and motioned from his eyes to hers: Good, I want you to keep an eye on her.
"Why is that, Tom?" Polly questioned.
An inarticulate noise escaped from the back of his throat: Her uncle beats her, he eventually confined to her.
Polly did not seem surprised or shocked. "I'll see what I can do."
Tommy nodded slowly, hiding the tension in his fingers he wrote down: She's an employee of the Blinders, therefor she's under our protection, I will not condone any harm on her, not even from the hands of relatives.
"You made your point, I gave you a promise. Now let's talk business," Polly continued matter-of-factly. "You need to come back, Thomas, you've been cramped up long enough in the stables. Believe it or not, Arthur listens to you. He apologised to Zilpha, bowed down and scrape his forehead on the floor if I must believe John. I'm not exactly sure the Lee's are back being our allies, but at least we are no longer enemies."
Tommy tilted his head and quirked up his lips with the thought of Arthur on all fours, cursing him under his breath while pleading to Zilpha to forgive his barbaric behaviour.
John would not let him forget that, not ever.
"Arthur listens to you. Only you, although he will never admit it to any soul. I kept this business running while you all fought for the king. I will not let it slip through my fingers because of a loose cannon!" She stated, referring to Arthur. Taking out two glasses and a bottle of red wine she muttered to herself."Bloody menfolk…"
Polly was a lioness, always had been. Protecting her cubs, their house and her family business. Even keep him out of harm's way, protecting him … mainly from himself. He remembered what his elderly neighbours used to say to each other when he crossed them on the street. The end of a rope has been that man's destiny since the day he was born.
With his roots and upbringing many were astonished by what he'd accomplished at such early age. Some impressed, most of them enviously, but all in awe anyhow.
"So, what is your plan, Tommy?" she poured out a glass for him and filled hers to the top when he shrugged.
"Oh Lord…" Greedily she drank almost draining the glass and quickly filled it back up.
Guilt-ridden, Tommy stared at his own, unaware of his aunt's brooding face.
"Be Arthur's advisor," she ordered him, "that way he won't think you'd try to undermine his leadership. Meet with him during daytime, he is easier to bribe when he's sober. Take the girl, her words won't seem as harsh as your writings. And for god's sake, Tommy, try to keep him in line or he will damn us all. Let Arthur have his shimmer in the spotlights, while you and I run this bloody circus."
Tommy let the information sink in, taking his time and swirling the wine inside the glass. The dark crimson liquid reminded him of all the blood he'd seen in France. How he'd been covered with it from head to toe.
In a flash he found himself reliving the last few minutes of his self-instigated burial. He'd known he signed himself up for an early grave when he pressed the detonator ten feet below the ground. He'd also knew that if he sacrificed himself, his brothers, both blood and those in arms, would be safe.
Somewhere deep down, behind the mask of a cold hearted gangster there was a much stronger part of him that solemnly lived to protect. He would keep his family out of harm's way, no matter what.
He switched the detonator and welcomed death. Embracing the full impact of the blast, the tunnels gave in and darkness surrounded him. Thick, crushing darkness, freezing him in a fetal position.
But he did not die, his sacrifice gave him no relieve, instead a dreadful burden to bear. Time seemed to pass endlessly, his limbs turned stone cold and ached, unable to stretch. A few broken ribs painfully kept him conscious.
Arthur later informed him he'd been under the ground for three days, but it had felt like an eternity. Although he remained awake most of the time his mind had started to play tricks on him. Hallucinating from lack of water, fresh air and a concussion, he'd begged for his mother to take him away. He re-lived his childhood nightmares of being alone in the dark unable to find any light.
After a while he'd begged for death. But instead he'd watched as a light appeared at the end of the tunnel and shovels dug him out of his nameless grave.
From the entire journey to the hospital he could not recall a single moment. All he did remember was pain, so much pain. It had been unbearable and he screamed, howled, and cried.
Eventually, a doctor figuring out the source of his tortured outcries. Blood had been building up inside his skull for three days and if he would have had any strength left he would have scratched his brain out by himself.
Trepanation, the doctor had exclaimed hurried and pumped his veins full of anaesthetics.
Next thing he could remember was Arthur sitting by his bed, located in a sterile white room that hurt his eyes. He couldn't speak, couldn't breath on his own, and he couldn't move. All he could do was blink and fight the tubes inside his throat, reliving the suffocation below ground.
'Dead man walking', he thought to himself, 'I'm a dead man walking.'
I'll be at the Garrison tomorrow around noon, he solemnly wrote down and showed Polly. I'll see if I can figuratively talk some sense into his thick skull.
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A/N I want to thank my new beta reader Comet96! Sorry for the long pause, I hope this last chapter makes up for it! This is the start of Tommy's new direction. I've been thinking about what I want to make happen in this story and puzzle piece started to fall into place. Next chapter won't take too long!
Please be so kind to leave me some feedback, I love to know what you think of mute-Tommy, I hope he doesn't go OOC.
X Nukyster
