XIX | NO REST FOR THE WICKED


ʙɪʀᴍɪɴɢʜᴀᴍ, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟷


𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐃 on a bleak and somber winter day, adequately mirroring the sullen air hanging over the people assembled in St. Andrew's graveyard to put him to rest.

Caterina clutched the flower wreath in her hands closer to her chest, the smell of fresh lilies and roses sharp and nauseating for her empty stomach. It was her first funeral since mother, though death became a close companion of hers in the years that followed.

She did not have the privilege to bury her brother, like many other sisters, mothers, wives and daughters of the war-drained countries. And what would she possibly lower in the ground; the yellowing paper of the telegram, two lines of uniformed condolences from his commanding officer saying how bravely he fought for His King and the Country? How she should be proud of the sacrifice he made for the people of Britain, for the greater cause.

She cared not for the King sitting on his throne of blood, and Britain might as well burn to the ground for all she cared; all she wanted was her brother to come home and spin her around in the yard as he used to, only for both of them to fall on the grass laughing.

No grave to lay down his bones, no cross or stone to cover it, somewhere in the flooded fields of Gallipoli.

"I promised my friend, Freddie Thorne, that I'd say a few words over his grave if he should pass before me. I made this promise before he became by brother-in-law, when we were in France, fighting for the King..."

Thomas was talking over the open grave, reciting a poem of sort that held a sentimental value to the Flanders boys. She could hardly concentrate on the words he spoke, instead, her eyes fixed on the crumbling pile of soil by the hole, ready to be poured over the casket. In the end, rich or poor, young or old, we all end the same; with a heap of dirt above us.

Forcing herself to look away, Cat couldn't help her eyes from wandering to the woman standing next to her, holding her child as if it was her lifeline.

After all the horrors of France he had gone through, it was pestilence that dealt the final blow to sergeant Thorne, a quiet murdered that crawled into their home not even two nights ago, claiming the man's last breath by the next sunrise. His body had barely gotten cold by the time they hauled the casket on the next train to Birmingham for the funeral.

Her heart weeped even if her eyes did not, for Ada and her godson. Though two years and a significant geographical distance separated them, the only Shelby girl was the closest thing she had to a real sister.

She reckoned it was unlikely Ada would ever remarry — the bond she had with Freddie was something Cat had never witnessed, a pure sense of devotion no matter the circumstances and objections standing on their path.

It was a tragedy their time was cut short after only two years, instead of a lifetime.

When the casket was lowered down and cowered with moist clumps of soil, and the short sermon over with, Ada let out a sigh of relief. "I can't wait to get back to London."

Cat pushed her gloved hands into the pockets of her coat, trying to regain some sense of warmth in them, though she couldn't help but to be caught off guard by Ada's statement.

"You're leaving immediately? But I thought-I was hoping I could see you and Karl for a few more days." Cat wondered, pursing her lips once one of John's children started crying again — though she could hardly call it crying, it was worse than a pig heading for slaughter.

"You can always come south. I can't stay here for another minute, the stench of capitalism is choking me." Ada huffed, disgusted, balancing Karl on her hip.

She was just about to deny it — though it was very plainly the opposite — when Thomas walked over to them.

"Ada. I want to talk."

There was an immediate change in Ada's posture, the widow's shoulders tensing and the frown on her face deepening slightly.

"Here give him to me." Cat reached forward, taking Karl into her arms to give the siblings some privacy, and to distance herself from the conversation that would inevitably turn ugly in the matter of moments.

"How is the boy taking it?" Tommy asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

"He's fine." Ada paused, keeping her eyes facing up front and not her brother. "When he asks I resort to saying 'heaven.'"

"We thought now Freddy's gone, you might come back to Birmingham." His words draw an incredulous smile on Ada's face.

Cat lowered the boy in her arms onto the grass, watching with mirth as he stumbled, enchanted by the new surroundings.

"Do you know how funny it is that you've got chauffeurs in uniform now?" Ada looked over to where suited men stood by several black cars, waiting to take them back to Birmingham.

"Just for the occasion..."

Scoffing, she pressed on. "Do you know how unfair it is you've got four Bugattis when half the country's starving."

Tommy gestured at the communists who were now folding one of the banners they carried during the funeral.

"So they've made you ashamed of us...' He chuckled mirthlessly, taking a deep breath of smoke before exhaling it.

"Sometimes when I think how I used to be, it makes me embarrassed." A pang of hurt bolted through Cat's heart at Ada's words, and she couldn't help but to turn towards them.

"You liked it then." The drinking, the boys, the life of freedom and indulgence, excessive spending and above all, friendship.

"I've changed."

The words hang between them. Tommy doesn't show it but deep down he is profoundly hurt by the word.

It was then Aunt Polly showed up, just in time to peel Karl away from stealing flowers from some woman's grave.

"I caught him trying to pinch flowers off a grave." Passing him to his mother, she looked between the three adults locked in a silent standoff.

"Is she coming home?" Though the question was directed at Tommy, it was Ada who answered her, taking Karl off her hands.

"I'm going home." Ada stated, her Shelby temper slowly seeping onto the surface.

"Two years ago it was you who begged me to come home. Do I have to do the same now?" Cat raised her brow expectantly, trying desperately to understand what still tied her to London, and not the place she called home for the first twenty years of her life.

"It's all right, love. We make Ada embarrassed." Thomas bit back, stepping closer to the dark haired woman.

"That's not what I said..." Ada snapped, surprised by the amount of offence Tommy felt from her words. It was no secret that Ada now favoured a more liberal lifestyle comparing to the remainder of her family, and she thought that perhaps they would leave her alone after more than two years of defiant opposition.

"There's another reason we want you home." Tommy continued, glancing over Adas shoulder towards Polly, watching their exchange like a hawk. "We're planning an expansion."

Caterina closed her eyes in exasperation. The conversation had already gone to crap, but this was just adding the fuel to the fire. A wildfire, judging by the blazing look in the young mothers eyes.

Ada had always been a smart one, and it did not take her long to process the meaning behind his words. "Oh Tommy..."

"I'm taking premises in London," he continued, disregarding the revulsion written over his sisters face.

"Tommy, it's a funeral, business can wait..." Polly cut in, flashing Tommy a sharp look that could be only understood as bite your tongue. The dark haired man ignored his aunts protests, throwing his spent cigarette aside.

"If Ada was sobbing, I'd wait. But she's not."

Disregarding her withering glare, Tommy continued his elaboration.

"The expansion means it will be dangerous to be a Shelby in London for a while..." She did not let him finish the sentence.

"Yeah, well, I'm not a Shelby anymore." Ada crossed her arms across her chest, jutting her chin in a show of defiance, just as she did when they were younger.

She then turned to Cat. "You are one though. Watch your back else they'll rot you to the bone." The widow snapped bitterly, looking at her up and down.

Cat now dressed in an expensive black coat that reached down to her knees, and a black lace dress could be seen underneath it. An elegant headpiece adorned her head, completed by a black veil that partially covered her face. It did not, however, manage to hide the flabbergasted expression that appeared on her face following Adas venomous remark.

"Ada! What happened to you?"

Ignoring the three of them, Ada cut the conversation short by abruptly walking away, making a point of brushing against Polly shoulder as she passed her by.

"Oh and Ada, they're not Bugattis, they're Daimlers. Much more expensive." Thomas called after her, more out of spite than out of true malice.

Cat slapped him arm with as much force as she could muster, but it had no real impact on the immovable man. "You just had to didn't you?"

"I told you to let me do it." Polly scolded him, though it was far too late to make amends for his actions now. He only adjusted the collar of his coat, reaching for the packet of cigarettes in his inner pocket, out of habit passing one along to Cat.

He struck the match easily to light their smokes, resting against the tall gravestone next to him.

"It'll be all right. I'll have some men watch her house until the danger's passed." In the distance Ada joined the group of men and women carrying red flags, looking relieved and perfectly content by their company. Almost as she if belonged with them.

Caterina was assured it hurt more than a bullet wound.

With one last look towards Ada and her communists, Tommy placed his hand on the small of Cat's back, steering her to where John and Arthur were standing, the former visibly distressed by the ruckus his flock of children were causing by chasing each other around the graveyard and the latter enjoying every second of it.

Polly watched all her sisters children, an unsettling dread filling the pit of her stomach. She hadn't felt it for a while now, the unpleasant trepidation caused by her gypsy foresight. By the looks of it, there was still no rest for the Shelby's.

"'Until the danger's passed.'" She mimicked, scoffing at the fanciful prospect. "That'll be the bloody day."

One of the younger Blinders strode their way with a quick step and a worried frown on his face. Though she could not hear what he said from where she stood, Polly did see the dark shadow falling over Tommys face.

In the next moment his hand was wrapped around Caterina's upper arm, the two rushing to where his Daimler was parked by the side of the road.

"What do you mean blown up?" Cat's voice echoed in the emptying graveyard, followed by a commotion as they all scrambled into their respective vehicles.

And just like that, the wheels were set in motion.


Wisps of smoke still rose from the remains of what was one The Garrison, the charred structure emanating a nauseating smell of wet lumber and decay.

As if it could not possibly go worse, a light drizzle of rain started to pour from the skies, drenching both the crowd of pedestrians that gathered to watch the ongoing investigation and the newly arrived.

For a dreaded moment, as she stepped into the cataclysmic scene, Cat wondered if this could be an act of war from the Italian faction of the city. It was well over a year now since her fallout with her father and brother, and she couldn't help but to glance over her shoulder every once in a while for a potential threat or delayed vengeance.

Little news came from Nechells these days; Roberto was forced to make amends with Vincente Changretta, reluctantly signing him over Bistro Napoletano, one of the family's most prized properties, as a means of apology for the caused offence.

Several other properties were closed down for good, including her beloved gelatteria's, her flats sold or rented to new tenants. Everything that had her mark, a piece of her, destroyed and erased. As if she never walked the streets of Birmingham at all.

But the people remembered, and they would not forget as long as she lived.

"Oh God, Arthur will be heartbroken." She was sure Arthur loved very few things in his life the way he loved his pub. Tiny pieces of shattered glass covered the ground, the trio making sure not to step on any of the bigger, hazardous shards.

"It happened at, uh, exactly 7 a.m." Sergeant Moss reported, glancing ever so slightly at Tommys still figure assessing the rubble. There was rage bubbling in him, they were all aware of it, and the way his lips formed a tight line, unspeaking, unsettled them.

"Nobody saw anything. Our patrols were not in the area."

In front of the entrance still stood the remains of two prams that must have contained the explosive used to blow up the pub, the metal now grotesquely misshapen and bent.

Both women couldn't help but to satisfy their curiosity and trekked further into the rubble, careful not to step on any of the glass or charred wood. Indeed, their curiosity brought fruit as Cat noticed peculiar bits littering the debris in front of the ruin.

"These are confetti. And green at that." She waved Polly over to where she stood, passing along a handful for her inspection.

Several feet behind them Moss called after them as the two stepped into the unstable structure. "Miss, Madam, the structure had not yet been declared safe!"

Tommy stepped forward to look at it, but not before he reached into his coat jacket and handing Moss a wad of money for his silence. It did not take long even for the staunchest of the policemen to bow down to Thomas Shelby.

A man could have his opinions and convictions, but at the end of the day he also had a family to provide for.

"That's morbid. I don't like this Tommy." She showed him her hand, holding pieces of shredded paper, some carbonised by the recent flames but most intact and vividly green.

Tommy took a pinch of charred confetti, examining it with a somber expression. He turned to Moss, lacking the patience to deal with the copper, be him on their payroll or not.

"Thank you. We'll be alright now."

The sergeant touched his cap, then turned and headed toward his car, not looking back for a moment. The weight of the guilt he felt still crushed his soul as a Sisyphean boulder, but he did not ask any more questions.

Beyond the rope that separated the crime scene and the world, children played with pieces of wood that were left scattered all around, their laughs and cries echoing between the rows of houses surrounding them.

Thomas crouched down, holding the tiny pieces of paper in his hand. The cogs around his head were turning like a steam engine, restless, furious.

"Tommy, what?" Cat crossed her arms, watching as he got up from the ground, eyes scanning all that was in front of him.

"I think this was somebody's way of inviting us to a wedding." Was all he said before turning his back to them and leaving.

"Who? Tommy, who did this to us?"

Cat sighed, moving closer to Polly. "Well, they're green. I can count some options." The women remained in the debris, waiting for the rest of the family that would undoubtedly rush over to the scene soon enough.

Tommy continued to disappear in the rising fog until he was no more than a speck in the murky sea of smog, his hear and mind most likely set on some sort of reckless path of vendetta Polly and Cat would never approve of.

It would always be that way, Caterina reckoned, as Polly and her made way towards the charred structure, to see if there was anything worth to be recovered from the ruin.

Light drizzle turned into pouring rain, the morning skies turning dark and sinister matching the prospect of uncertain future hanging above them like an executioner.