Chapter 42) End with a Bang

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Maria granted herself a full day of bed rest. She'd placed her chair underneath the handle of the door and ignored all the knocks, kicks and pleads from both her sisters. She'd stubbornly hidden her head underneath the pillow, with her eyes squeezed shut and knees pulled up against her chest.

A sense of deja vu swept over her, the desperation she felt was a sneaky reminder of the first night after she ran away from Uncle Walter. Without any spare clothes, hope and only a handful of money. She'd booked a room inside a hotel and cried her way into the next morning.
It was odd, how lonely she'd felt in the middle of a city cramped up with thousands of other unfortunate souls. Shared despair should be a good unifier, yet it divided and merely contributed to hostility. No-one wanted to have each other's back; no-one cared to share a dime to the less fortunate. She'd witnessed that neither blood nor religion mattered, Maria's only logical solution was to flee. She'd been the rotten apple, the tainted one who dragged her family's name through soil and sin.

Fully believing that she was the problem, the dirt in everyone's eye, she'd considered ending her life inside the filthy hotel room. It would be easy to slit her wrist with the razor blade sown inside her bucket hat.

It had been tempting.

But she remembered something her father once said to her, after he'd been forced to put her favorite horse down. The poor animal had managed to get its leg trapped in barbed wire. Due to fear, it had managed to pull itself lose, but damaged its lower leg until the bone showed. The hardest decisions in life are not between good and bad or right and wrong, but between two goods and two rights, her father had said, loading his shotgun.

At the time Maria had hated her father for killing the horse. She'd been too young to understand that allowing the horse to live its life would be to condemn it to be in pain and discomfort. It didn't feel good to end its life, but it had been the right thing to do.

So rather than killing herself, she needed to do the right thing. Because suicide could not be the answer, she had no right to take her own life.

Inside the hotel room she'd made a promise to herself; take a full day to weep, then a full day to rest and on the third day, she was going to pull herself up from the bed, freshen up and find a new place in the world.

Unlike the terrible nights inside the hotel room, in which she'd been scared out of her mind and completely powerless, she now held status. Her main concern, her family, was safe and had a roof over their heads. She had money, decent clothes and food.

So on the second day, after she heard her mother leave to take her sisters to school, she got out of bed, pulled on her best outfit and went to the bathhouse.

Inside a private bathroom, she indulged herself in sandalwood, cinnamon, Arabian fragrances and cherished the hot water, well aware she deserved all of this. She spent a good amount of her morning washing her hair, massaging her temples and scrubbing every inch of her body.
When her fingertips matched the texture of raisins and every muscle ache eased, she got out of the bath.

Enlightened, refreshed and cleansed she left the bathhouse, heading to bakery.

Spending a great amount of her wallet on sweets, tarts and chocolate, Maria picked a quiet place and sat down against the wall of the shop.

Maria stubbornly ate until she felt sick. The comfort food wasn't enough to fill the gaping hole inside her chest, but it was fulfilling to be able to buy such an amount of pastries and eat them all by herself.

"Hi there voyager," Ada's voice sounded from above. The Peaky girl towered over her with a glint of humor in her eyes, "did my dear brothers forget to feed you overseas?"

With her mouth stuffed with Brandy Snaps, Maria muttered something unintelligible. If she could wish Ada away, the catty young woman would vanish into thin air.

Ada ignored Maria's obvious distress and huddled down next to her. Without asking for it, Ada snatched a fruit scone from the sticky paper bag.

Shoulder to shoulder, Ada declared that her scone wasn't half as bad as it looked and took another bite as she eagerly eyed her silent companion.

Maria had her full of being up close and personal with a Shelby and glared at Ada: "what do you want from me?"

"Tut!" Ada pouted her lips, "can't I simply be joyful and golly to see my best friend back in one piece?" receiving a non-convinced stare from Maria made Ada rapidly continue to business: "Aye, aunt wants to know details. Tommy and Arthur aren't sharing any. Big old fuss, neighbours were not pleased. They have this little three months old shit you know? I swear, that kid will drive me up the wall every night, can't have a decent sleep and then everyone expects me to get up in the morning and function. Times are hard for girls like me."

"You mean girls that twirl entire cities around their Shelby fingers, oh I bet you're exhausted," Maria retorted sarcastically, "would you like to trade for a day or two? Amsterdam was just marvelous; having a gun pointed to my face was the cherry on top! Oh and the trip of getting there was all fine and dandy if you forget the fact that I've been throwing up the entire time."

Ada nudge her shoulder; "oh look who's finally getting some attitude, good for you missy. So Amsterdam huh? How was it?"

"Like Small Heath, but worse," Maria commented sourly, "more prostitution, more loud drunks and more drugs."

"Oh I bet Arthur was having a field day!" Ada sniggered, clasping her hands together, "now, enough chit-chat, what deal was made in Amsterdam?"

"What? Hasn't Arthur already told you?" Maria asked.

"Told me?" Ada huffed, "Arthur doesn't tell me shit, I overheard, which wasn't so hard because our walls are thin and all our voices are loud. What I heard was that they made a legal deal with a company in Amsterdam. But when Poll wanted details Arthur was awfully vague and Tommy, well, let's say he plays the role of an imbecile rather well. Just sitting there, ignoring everybody. Yup, that's my lovely brother these days, not caring for his sister for a moment. I swear I've never seen him so eager to go to the Shepherd with the boys."

"They went out on the day they came back from Amsterdam?" Maria asked baffled, remembering very well in what poor state they've all been after returning to Small Heath.

"Of course, fucking dogs. They went out to celebrate, leaving me with a fire spitting aunt. Oh and they celebrated well if I have to believe their stories. Well Arthur's stories, because John passed out on the kitchen floor and Tommy doesn't speak. I'm not sure how much money you bunch made in Amsterdam but I sure as hell know they spent half of it at the Shepard on drinks, drugs and whores."

Maria clenched her arms around her full belly as her stomach took a drastic turn. Instantly regretting the sickening amount of sweet she just shoved down her throat, she weakly nudged her head up to Ada: "did they spend a lot of money? All of them?" She asked, not wanting to draw any suspicion in her sudden interest in Ada's brothers, Tommy to be precise.

"Yup, damn scoundrels. Seriously as a sis, I do not need to be informed on how well my brother's dick works, but for some reason Arthur found it necessary to let me know he's every girl's wet dream," Ada took out a silver cigarette box and held it out to Maria who eagerly took one. "He dared to call John a pussy for staying faithful to his Chinese fling. But I think it's rather romantic. It's nice to know at least one of my brothers are able to keep it in their pants for a night, right?"

Maria mechanically nodded, cigarette trembling between her fingers. Chewing on her lip, she feared that the answer of her upcoming question would make her throw up her lunch.

"And what about Tommy?"

Ada stared at her, raising an eyebrow: "What about him?"

Feeling how the sugary sweet taste in her mouth turned stale Maria said: "did he book a prostitute?"

Ada snorted and shrugged her shoulders; "no, of course not."

Maria relaxed, only to be shattered by Ada's next words: "he can't speak, Arthur booked one for him. The brunette with the big tits, so classy, right? Men…" she huffed and lit her cigarette.
Maria didn't respond, instead she jumped up and hurried into the back alley, ridding herself of everything sweet.

.-.-.

Polly nearly lost her faith. After losing her children to the authorities, she did not think she'd ever see the light again. Her days had been dark, endless, empty and useless. Losing her husband was a small hiccup compared to losing her kids. She'd never considered herself a good wife. She talked back, too much according to her -often drunk- husband. She was a damn disgrace when it came to household chores, according to her -often drunk- husband. She wasn't a useful wife, because she couldn't bear more than two children, again, according to her - often drunk- husband.

When he died, she'd grieved for a while. She missed him, the bright sides of him. But with two kids running around, she had her hands full. With days spent kissing hurts, cleaning smelly diapers and taking upon the role as both father and mother, there was no time to dwell on her sorrows.

That all changed when her house was empty, deserted by her two angels. She was all alone and her old demons started to play tricks on her. Maddening grief and heartache made her hear their soft voices, day in, day out. Plagued with their ghosts Polly had to flee her house and found safety in the roaring household of her sister-in-law. With a lousy husband who came and went, three young boys and a girl, Nee Shelby was at her wits end. Polly's sister-in-law had never been the brightest tool in the box and had the emotional stability of a cat being thrown in the cut. The neighbours referred to her as a fruitcake and although it pained Polly, she had to agree.

Nee Shelby was an unfit mother, spineless as a snail and incapable of maintaining order in her own life, let alone giving her children any rules and stability.

When her brother was still in the picture, Polly never visited. Call it cowardice, but she simply couldn't stand watching her own brother be so barbaric to his children. Incapable of standing up for her nephews and niece, she turned a blind eye to her brother's side of the family and simply showered her own children with all the love that she could give.

For years, both families lived around each other. There were no shared Christmas's, birthday's and at their mother's funeral there hadn't been much more than a few simple words passed between Polly and Arthur Sr.

It took a while before Polly heard word that Nee Shelby had been abandoned by her deadbeat husband and was about to send her kids to an orphanage.

When Polly entered her sister-in-laws house for the first time in years, she re-discovered the light. As she stepped over layers of filth, dirty clothes and used diapers, Polly's heart ached and tears welled up in her eyes as she noticed her young niece stand in a pile of cat shit, wearing nothing more than a torn shirt. Ada's huge frightened eyes and hollow cheeks were the result of utter neglect and abuse. As Polly came closer, the girl started crying and fled towards security. Most children would reach towards their mother's skirts, but Ada threw herself around the waist of her brother Tommy who'd failed to get the stove on. The bewildered prepubescent boy instinctively pulled his sister close and reached for a steak knife, clenching his teeth towards the presumed danger.

When he registered the identity of the unwelcome guest, he lowered the knife a few inches, but kept his sister close to his chest.

Ma, it's for you, he'd shouted and didn't wait for a response, she's in the bedroom, he'd informed her and continued his task to warm their place up.

Nee must have been six month pregnant and stank of cheap gin. The stale smell of cigarettes hung around her like a cloud and the curtains of her bedroom were shutting out every inch of sunlight. In the middle of chaos, clutter and filth, the expecting mum sat on her bed, staring at the walls. After a short, awkward hello, Nee shared that she didn't recall the whereabouts of her two other sons, nor the time or date.

Halfway into their conversation, Tommy walked in, dropped a plate of overcooked potatoes and carrots and walked out again. He didn't bother to acknowledge his mother and glared at Polly, making her aware that her presence wasn't welcome.

When she came back the next day, with dry firewood and a basket filled with bread and apples her two other nephews had been present. Their state wasn't much better than their brother and sister's, but their faces lit up when they saw the gifts. She'd even brought some of her children's toys, figuring they'd be of use in the Shelby household. Tommy allowed her to use the stove and circled around her, watching every step she made as she made them a decent meal.

While the rest of the children were relieved to see their mother leave her bedroom and join them for a meal, Tommy kept a firm distance between the women who gave him life. Brooding, he silently judged his mother's weak attempt to smile, plucking at a stain on Ada's dress.

Later that night, when he was brushing his sister's hair and getting her ready for bed, Polly felt the need to tell Tommy how proud she was on him and his siblings.

His answer was a scoff and he said the line he'd keep repeating non-stop over the upcoming years: leave, we're not your responsibility.

But they were and would remain her responsibility until the day she died. She loved her niece and nephews more then she valued her own life. It wasn't just a desperate need to repent, because the facts were that she'd abandoned those poor children for years, knowing what a monster their father could be. Arthur, Tommy, John, Ada and Finn had been her light, her reason to go onto, to wake up in the morning. They never took the place of her own beautiful angels, but they filled a void that would have been too excruciating to bear.

None of them ever referred to her as 'mother' or 'mum' as her own children lovingly had called her. And she'd never expected them too.

What she did expect from them was respect, loyalty and perhaps, egocentrically; love. Polly wanted to feel that pure, childish form of love again and it felt like a punch below the belt to be challenged every time she tried to establish any bit of structure.

Her nephews lived as savages, lice and fleas jumped at her feet with every step she took. Desperate times need desperate measures. She wanted to cut off those perfect hiding places for those darn pests. She'd have their mother to force them down on a chair as she butchered their dark manes with the stainless steel scissors. Tommy's eyes had been smoldering but he'd allowed the head care.

When Polly returned the next day, she'd dropped her basket at the doorway, bringing her hand to her gaping mouth. As a silent riot, Tommy had demolished Polly's forced upon haircut, by shaving of the sides. His two brothers had a matching 'strokes of the razor blade' and Ada's hair had been butchered, cut high above the ears, giving her a boyish appearance.

Tommy's chin tilted upwards as he ran his hand over the dark stubbles, challenging her to say anything. Provoking her to give him any excuse to fight her. To push her away, cuss at her, hurt her. His defiance was the sharp reminder that she'd come back too late. So Polly tried to look past the callous, cruel behaviour of her nephew, reminding herself that deep down there was this precious little boy who'd burdened himself with the impossible task of keeping his family well.

So, even when her nephew fled the fucking country to gain some impossible contract with an unknown business man, she'd kept reminding herself of that same stubborn boy who was in way over his head.

A good thing though, because it was against her nature to hurt a child. Although strangling Tommy's inner-child had been high on her agenda.

'The fucking balls,' Polly thought sucking on her cigar, fiddling in her purse to find the keys of the bakery, 'the fucking nerve!'

Nudging her keys into the lock, she muttered a few curses concerning her 'precious' nephews. Turning the keys she noticed how the lock jammed, which made her frown because they'd recently had a locksmith come over to change all the locks, due to Tommy's expensive dough.

But before she had the time to make a mental note of bombarding into the locksmith's office, a loud explosion erupted from inside the bakery, a force of heath and fire only to be matched by the devil blew her off her feet as a smoldering ragdoll.

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A/N: Oh boy isn't it going from good, to better, to shit, to absolute worse? Oh and I love it! You… well might not like it as much but hey these are the Shelby's not the Brady Bunch.

Also I made a few tiny adjugements in chapter 9 of this story, feel free to read that one through, I mainly changed a few ages and added a few words of wishdom.

To be continued…

Xoxox Nukyster