Chapter 14) Speechless

.-.-.

At first, he thought she was taunting him, being deliberately too late. He had ordered Charlie to throw away her breakfast and then got into an argument over it with his uncle. Apparently, he was being extremely and unreasonably harsh on the girl. He didn't agree, not in the slightest. She was his employee and all the members of the Peaky Blinders needed discipline, it didn't matter if they were roughnecked men or a single ignorant girl. Clearly, she still wasn't fully aware of who he was. Or even better, who she was. Working class, if Polly hadn't sent her to his stables, she'd have spent almost her entire life inside a factory.

She should be grateful for this cherishable job and thank him on her bloody knees. Or at least be on fucking time.

It was a half past seven and the sun was coming up. Tommy's mood turned sourer than Charlie's milk, and he smoked a quarter of his cigarettes before he locked the stables and informed Charlie he was going to Aunt Pol.

.-.-.

Polly was quietly sipping her tea, grateful for the silence inside Watery Lane. Ada was taking Finn to school. The other Shelby's hadn't returned from their nightly activities yet. Although she wasn't thrilled about whatever reckless path her kin had changed to, it was good that the boys had regained their focus.

Silence fled Watery Lane as Tommy bombarded into the living room. The state he was in shocked her. Not only did he look as if he hadn't slept in a week, he was fuming with rage.

What's her address? The note that he slammed down on her newspaper read.

Nerves struck her, had he figured it out? Had he found out she'd been keeping an extra pair of eyes on him? No, he hadn't. Not yet. If he thought she was spying on him he wouldn't have marched in here. He would have gone to Arthur or John.

Her lack of reaction agitated him even more. Wildly he tapped down on the note and growled through gritted teeth.

"Thomas, what's this all about?" Polly asked slapping the note out of her face when he held it up. "Why do you need her address? Please, calm down. I'm not helping you if you're in this state."

Oh, if looks could kill she'd be half way into heaven right now. It took Tommy four very deep and long breaths and a vicious kick against one of the chairs to sit down.

She didn't show up for work, he wrote down with fast and crooked letters.

"You think her uncle did something to her?" She asked.

All the rage suddenly washed from his face and his mouth dropped for a moment before he could morph it back into a blank cold gaze. He shrugged and tapped his pen back on his first note.

"And what are you planning to do if I give you the address?"

Tommy shrugged his shoulders again, intently eying on his first note.

"Thomas, what will you do if you find out her uncle beat her so badly she is in an unfit state to work?"

His eyes coldly flickered up to her and he wrote down, Return the favour. To give his written words more meaning, he slammed his balled fist into his hand.

That was what Polly was afraid of. One thing all her nephews shared was a short temper and a grudge towards domestic abuse. Injustice in general, which might seem odd considering their criminal history. But Maria's uncle wouldn't be the first man to be beaten into bloody pulp for hurting one of their employees. Anyone wearing a trademark flat cap or receiving fee from the Peaky Blinders was automatically under their protection.

"I will walk you to her address, under one condition," Polly pressed firmly, "you let me do the talking."

Tommy chuckled sarcastically, tapped on his Adam's apple and then zipped his lips. Polly cursed herself for picking her words so badly and settled on a more tactful answer.
"I meant to say, I'll accompany you to her address on the behalf of her uncle. So you won't break both his hands the minute you get there."

Tommy scrunched his lips, calculatedly ran his eyes over her to spot any sign of hesitation. She knew he didn't want her to come along. But when she didn't budge and crossed her arms he quickly raised his thumb up and left the room only to return within seconds with her black coat.

"Can't I finish my tea?" Polly moaned as she was pulled into her coat. Tommy stared at her for a moment, grabbed her cup, shoved it into her hands and pushed her out of the house. Cursing her nephew for his attitude, she threw the cup at his face. He dodged, the porcelain hit the wall, and hot tea bespattered his neatly polished shoes. Polly had to say that gave her some satisfaction.

.-.-.

His aunt insisted that he kept control of his temper and stayed a few feet away from their front door. 'Only be present for intimidation, Thomas, I want to settle this problem tactically, with words.'

Well, of course he would play along. All he really needed was Maria's exact address, the moment he knew where to find her home his aunt's tactical intervention could go to hell if he found her with a black eye or a split lip. Of course, her uncle was the reason she hadn't shown up for work, well the bastard had it coming now.

As cobbled streets turned into mud and soil, Tommy knew they were getting closer and when his aunt stopped in front of a narrow 'two up, two down' house something started to dawn on him. This place felt awfully familiar, but he couldn't place it, not yet.

"Thomas, mind your temper," Polly told him again and he gave her the most angelic smile he could muster. Oh, he was going to raise hell, just to spite her.

When a tall and broad man opened the door Tommy instantly recognized him. For a moment his eyes fluttered to the street sign Adlers Street. Oh, Tommy almost laughed at the twist of fate.

Years ago, one of his Blinders had been shunned from their local Catholic church because 'no nigger should stain their precious house of God.' Well, that member of the Blinders had been Jeremiah Jesus. And Jeremiah happened to have been a close friend of the family ever since Polly joined their gang. The thing was, Jeremiah had vowed his life to God ever since he killed a man in a bar fight. It had been self-defence but Jeremiah had gone to jail. In there he found the good Lord and when he got out he pledged never to pick up a weapon, and to turn the other cheek.

Jeremiah had turned his other cheek and hadn't set another step into the church. Instead he remained in the doorway during the service. His devotion towards God didn't sit well with some of the locals and after one Sunday service a small inner circle had made it clear his presence wasn't wanted by beating him unmercifully. His blood had to be mopped off the marble steps and Jeremiah hadn't been able to eat solids for a month because of a broken jaw.

Of course, this terrible act of violence had to be avenged. Although Jeremiah would never pick up a weapon himself, he was rather keen to point out the bloke who had broken his jaw.

And although Tommy didn't believe in God, he was eager to act as the hand of the Lord Almighty. Or rather, as his fists.

On the first of November, at All Saint's Day, Tommy returned the favour. Along with two broken front teeth. This time, the steps of Saint Michaels didn't turn red, but the muddy road of Adler's Street did and the following Sunday Jeremiah had the best place near the altar.

Walter Pratt opened the door and paled when he instantly recognised the two early visitors. His mouth dropped into a small 'o' and although he'd grown a moustache the lack of his two front teeth was still very obvious.

"Good morning, Mr Pratt, we're here to collect one of our employees for work," Polly said, pragmatic and civil.

Tommy wanted to slap himself in the face for never pressing Maria to share more details about her family. Of course, they did not share last names as her mother and aunt where relatives. Of course, Walter loathed his niece for working for the man that smashed out his teeth and brought great shame to his family. And of course he needed to make her homelife a living hell.

"She isn't here," Walter lisped, a result of his missing dental work, "she didn't return last night."

Tommy noticed the self-indulgent smirk on the man's face and didn't buy it. But since his aunt was in a much better position to talk to Mr Pratt, he kept in the background.

"Where can we find her?" Polly continued with the same pragmatic tone, but her firmly compressed lips told Tommy she wasn't going to remain civil if her opponent refused to cooperate.

"I don't know, she didn't come home," Walter stated again and looked passed Polly in Tommy's direction, "I figured she'd be spending the night with one of your lot."

And that was the moment even Polly couldn't control him. He spurted passed his aunt, grabbed the taller man by his neck and forced him backwards. Panic instantly spread through the tiny house as the head of the family was slammed into the cabinet and a razor-sharp hat got pressed against his throat.

Tommy could hear two similar cries from two young girls, an older lady started to scream bloody murder, and two pairs of feet ran downstairs. Meanwhile Polly was on his tail and tried to release his opponent from his iron grip.

"Tommy let go! Let go! You are frightening the children!" Polly hissed in his ear.

The terrified hiccups of the two youngsters shredded through his red vision and slowly he turned his head.

On the couch sat a woman with similar characteristics as Maria. The same freckled oval face, eyes, and nose. Clenched against her chest sat two girls, staring back at him through identical blue teary eyes. At the bottom of the stairs two prepubescent boys stood frozen staring at their father being pinned into their cabinet. And to his right, the mother of those two boys still screamed bloody murder.

Polly gestured to the woman to shut her mouth and in a last attempt to lighten their current situation she yanked her nephew back by the hair. The pain in the back of his scalp made him retreat but he still kept a painfully tight grip on Mr Pratt's neck.

"For God's sake where is she!?" Polly spat, throwing all civility out of the window.

Tommy scanned across the room, calculating the actions of the spectators. The boys seemed ready to piss their pants, they didn't pose a threat. The wife, she might drop down in tears or switch back into hysteria. Annoying but understandable. Then his eyes returned to Maria's mother. Although she kept her young girls firmly against her chest Tommy noticed her fingers move. Intently she stared at him and repeated the same motion, she was fingerspelling.

P-l-e-a-s-e f-i-n-d h-e-r, the mum spelled carefully not to put any more focus on her. S-h-e r-a-n a-w-a-y. Pleadingly the woman stared at him, p-l-e-a-s-e f-i-n-d h-e-r.

Tommy pressed his cap back on and slowly lowered his hand until it was resting against his hip. With his thumb and ring finger he made a closed circle, signalling an ok to her.

The woman blinked, it was enough for him to know she understood his message.

"I don't know where she is," her uncle repeated, "she's gone and I'd say good riddance!"

It took every bit of Tommy's self-control not to knock another tooth out. If the twin girls weren't already staring at him as if he was some kind of monster, he could easily allowed himself to punch the bastard in the face.

Without further notice, he released Mr Pratt's throat and hooked his arm firmly around Polly's. His aunt didn't see the sudden rush to leave but didn't question him in the presence of the family, which he adored her for. She waited until they were outside.

"What on earth has gotten into you, Tom?" She pressed rapidly, "I thought you wanted to get her back, they might have locked her up in her room."

He shook his head, overhearing how the aunt cursed her husband for getting on the wrong side of the Blinders, again.

She's not at home, she ran away last night, he quickly wrote down in his notebook, her mother finger spelled it to me when no-one was paying attention to her, he explained when Polly gave him a confused look. Get Arthur, John, and Johnny Dogs. I want every man of ours to keep their eyes open. I want her back!

.-.-.

Polly had done all the talking and he'd simply sat there, keeping his jaws clenched and his fists deeply sunken into the pockets of his trousers. He was back at square one, and everybody knew it. He was back at their dinner table, all eyes on him while nobody dared to ask him a direct question. After spending months mainly inside the stables and spiralling down an ever more depressing path it had been an overwhelming surprise to regain his voice. And with it, he quickly recovered his old self and claimed back his rightful place within his family and their business.

He didn't just want her back, he needed her back in order to function. With her as his speaker he was able to quickly give orders, hand over information to a large group and talk with emotion.

Without her he was back at writing down lines, waiting for the other person to read them over and respond. It took more time and effort, it created distance, and it made him feel weak. His family knew only the very basic of sign language, and half of the city was illiterate. Tommy was painfully aware he was cut off from his most important gift: his voice.

He was speechless once again.

His two brothers and Johnny Dogs left briefly after their meeting to get the word out. Every Blinder would keep his eyes open for the young lass that had been accompanying Tommy during meetings at the Garrison. Her description even ended up on the desks of a few coppers, in case she wound up at the police station.

"Don't worry, they will find her," Polly promised in an attempt to comfort him as the second day went by without a trace of Maria, "a lass can't disappear into thin air. She must be somewhere."

Yes, but where? Tommy nodded grimly at his aunt to get her off his back, and focussed back at the newspaper, searching for any headlines involving a missing girl.

Guilt ate at him, he had failed to get her home safe. After she threw Ada's earrings at his feet she'd run off. And he'd been so incredible hard-headed and angry to let her run. They hadn't been that far away from the block he'd normally dropped her off, as she'd preferred not to be seen with him in the near direction of her house. Which was even more understandable now that he'd found out who her uncle was.

Maybe if he'd calmed himself down and escorted her back safely as he'd done every other time, she wouldn't have run away from home. It was very possible his tyranny during their last moments had driven her over the edge and made her abandon her family and home. It took a lot to leave a home, even a broken one. Tommy knew, he'd fantasised about it often when he was younger. But could never stomach leaving his kin, not even when his father's fists ruled their house.

He waited for his aunt to leave on an errand and tore a note from his book and left it on their kitchen table.

I'll be at the stables, if you need me.

He left Watery Lane with two full bottles of whiskey.

.-.-.

Kind of dug your own grave, now did ya Tommy? To gain and to lose again, that must be hard. In my country, Holland, we have a song which is roughly translated as: A man doesn't know what he has, until he loses her.

An amen to that,

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Xoxox Nukyster