Disclaimer: I do not own anything Peaky Blinder related, that belongs to the series creator Steven Knight.
Face Claim for Rosemary Parker: Celina Sinden.
Chapter Nine: The Unknown.
"Any word from Tommy?" Ada asked hopefully, stepping into the kitchen that morning and found her sister-in-law sitting at the table in the centre of the room. It had been nearly a month since her brothers had gone to war, and Ada was a little upset that none of them had written to her yet when they had promised to write often.
"Not yet," Rosemary replied setting down some sandwiches on the table, the four Shelby women had come together for lunch and she was glad to be out of the house; it was strange being there without Thomas. It was too quiet for Rosemary's likening and she was going to have to get used to it; she just hoped that it was not going to be permanent.
Work was keeping her busy right now and Rosemary was thankful for that, although even she would admit that work seemed to be drying up as more men enlisted and people started to tighten their financial belts to support their families. Rosemary had even started to help Polly with some paperwork since she had been left running things at the Shelby family business while the boys were gone. Rosemary did not know much about the work that Thomas and his brothers did, however she was quickly learning the ropes to help Polly in any way that she could.
"I am sure he will write when he has the chance… war isn't something that can be put on hold," Polly mused, it was not like he was sitting around doing nothing while he was gone; he was fighting in a war and that was certainly going to keep him busy. There wouldn't likely be anything that they could write home about, between training and getting to work the boys would be kept busy and likely wouldn't have time to do much else.
Ada frowned, she did not like waiting around and she wanted to hear from her brothers; she wanted to hear what they were doing and what it was like over in France. Things were boring here, and Ada wanted to hear all about what it was like in France, she could not imagine living anywhere else than in Birmingham and the street that she had grown up on. Everything seemed so normal here, she wanted to travel to France as her brothers had done and see the world; she wanted to experience another way of life and do the things that ladies seemed to do when they went abroad.
"Did you hear a telegram arrived at the Kirkwoods?" Ada announced suddenly after a few moments of silence, the gossip was all over the street and she was quick to share what she had heard with her family. Ada didn't like silence, she longed to fill the quiet house with sound as the house should be at this time of day instead of the stillness that seemed to fill it now that Arthur, Thomas, and John were away. There was silence at her words and Ada did not notice how pale Martha had become, a trembling hand sneaking under the table to pinch at her thigh in an attempt to stop the tears from falling as she tried to stop herself from crying.
"I can't imagine one of them coming here, apparently Allison Kirkwood was screaming hysterically," Ada continued obliviously, she missed how quiet Rosemary and Martha had become at the idea of a telegram coming to their home. It would not come to this house, but the homes that they called home and the very idea that they would have to face that alone terrified them. It was a sign that neither of them wanted, a sign that their husbands had been killed in action and neither of them wanted to think about that happening.
"Enough Ada," Polly snapped stopping her, the younger girl frowning before she caught sight of her sisters-in-law and realising why her aunt had quietened her; she looked down at her hands, she had not meant to upset someone. No one spoke for a moment, all trying to shake the bad thoughts that had been brought forward by Ada's words about the Kirkwoods and how there could be many more in Small Heath that would suffer that fate.
"We shall offer our deepest condolences to the Kirkwoods when we attend church… let us not forget that William was a good man," Polly insisted getting to her feet, she did not say another word before leaving the kitchen. There was no telling who could be next and none of the Shelby women wanted to even consider that they could be next and what that would mean for the family. They would fly a lot of flags half mast before this war was over and bury many a good man.
Leaning back in his bunk, Thomas looked down at the letter that he was trying to write and groaned; nothing seemed right and he hated that he could not find the words to say to those back in Birmingham. Nothing he had written sounded right and Thomas could not bring himself to share how bad things truly were; he could not share much about where he was and what he was doing with them.
It did help that he was with Arthur and John, it was not much of a consolation, but it was better than worrying what was happening with his brothers while the war raged around them. The downside was that he also had to deal with his father-in-law and Robert did not seem prepared to forgive what had happened just yet. Thomas did his best to stay out of his way while they were at training and while they were in their tent; there were ten of them shoved in there and Thomas knew most of them from the streets back home.
Training was rushed, the food was terrible, most nights he collapsed into bed; his limbs aching, and he knew that soon they would be off to France. His uniform was itchy, and Thomas would be glad when he never had to wear it again; he could not imagine when he would be able to take it off permanently especially when there seemed to be still some hope that this would be all sorted out by Christmas.
Looking to where John was seated on his own cramped bunk, Thomas smiled spotting his younger brother writing a letter to his own wife. Martha was not far from John's mind since they had arrived, he had left her with their three children; all under the age of three and he longed to be home in time to see their youngest daughter start walking and talking.
The sudden sound of shouting outside of the tent disrupted the peace that had fallen over the tired soldiers and Thomas frowned wondering who was stupid enough to start a fight here. The last thing that any of them wanted was to be forced to start doing drills because some idiot had upset the commanding officers again; they were tired enough as it was.
Getting to his feet, Thomas headed out of the tent and frowned at the sight that greeted him; something had happened, and no one looked happy about it. There was a tension in the air that set Thomas ill at ease and he moved forward searching for some sign of what was going on.
"What's going on?" Thomas asked the nearest man, his blue eyes sweeping the gathering as men started to head back into their own tents; there were so many of them here and they were packed in like sardines. There was barely any room to breathe, let alone take a moment to yourself and Thomas missed having space where he didn't have someone always with him. The man paused and looked at him, he looked back at the commanding officers that were walking through camp; it was not the news that any of them were looking for.
"We're getting shipped out in the morning," the man told him before moving away, his words make Thomas frown; they had not had much training and he worried that people would die because of this. The training had been far too quick for his liking and Thomas doubted that everyone would be prepare for the fighting that was happening on the other side of the channel.
Slowly moving back into his tent, Thomas suddenly found inspiration for something to write; he did not know what would happen over the coming months, but he knew that there was something that he needed to do. It was no secret to those around them that news was coming back of men being killed in action and there was no escaping the fact that it could be any of them next.
Sitting down on his bunk, Thomas picked up his pen and paper to start writing; he hoped that this letter would never need to be sent but he knew that it was something that he wanted to do. This was the letter that he wanted delivered home if something happened to him; he would carry it with him until he was done with this war then it would either be delivered upon his death or come home with him.
It would be the last words that he would say to his wife, the only words of comfort that he would be able to offer her in the cause that he was killed. Thomas started to write, everything that he wished that he could say to Rosemary; his hopes for their future together and what he hoped for her should anything happen to him. He wanted her to have this letter if something happened to him.
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