.
XXII
THE MIRACLE
July 4th, 1931
I found that every Birmingham resident knows that I work for the Shelby Company Limited. This morning, when I applied for a job in different stores in the city, I saw that, when saying name and work experience, a forced smile froze on the faces of each of the managers and they all told me exactly the same thing: "We'll contact you if we need someone".
But they won't contact me. Even if I was the last unemployed person in the world and charged them a measly two shillings, I know they would rather close than hire a woman who worked for the Shelby clan; specifically, for the leader of this one.
Taking advantage of my outrage, I drafted my resignation and knowing there was no possibility of delivering it to Thomas' hand without exposing myself to an unpredictable reaction, I resolved to visit Polly Gray and ask her to deliver it for me.
I was aware she was at her home since Ada had left Beth there and, as a member of the Board of Directors, I could delegate such responsibility to her.
So I went to Polly's house, at times somewhat hesitant and wondering if showing myself up unannounced was the right thing to do, since until then, I had never visited her house and, despite the fact the last time we spoke it seemed to me we got along better, I couldn't assure she liked me at all.
I arrived at the beautiful house and knocked anxiously on the door. A maid received me and told me to wait in the hall, as she was going to announce my visit. I hadn't finished taking in what I was doing when the maid came back and told me to come into the living room.
The tobacco smoke greeted me before any human being, and when I entered the room, my body froze and my heart skipped a beat. Sitting on a soft couch was Polly, with one hand she was holding the cigarette and with the other she was rocking Beth's crib. In front of her and standing, was Michael with a glass of whiskey. They both put their eyes on me, between surprised and curious, and I greatly regretted having gone to that house.
"Hello, Olivia", Polly greeted me, more to motivate me to talk than to be nice to me.
"Hello, Elizabeth". I looked at Michael. "Mr. Gray".
"How can we help you?", Polly asked, taking a drag on her cigarette.
I looked at the envelope that I was carrying in my hands which both, the mother and the son, had already noticed. I was sorry to have to report my decision in front of Michael but he was the Chairman of the company and sooner rather than later, he was going to find out about my resignation.
"I've come to bring you my resignation", I said in a voice so low it was inaudible.
"Your what?", Michael asked, tilting his head.
"My resignation", I repeated and felt my cheeks heat up.
"Oh God, what did he do to you?"
Polly's questioning made me crumple the envelope a little, anxiously. Michael took a sip of his whiskey and like his mother, he waited for me to expose whatever it was that Thomas had done to me.
That made me angry. While Polly hadn't been wrong to assume the reason for my resignation, I found it regrettable to have to explain myself in front of her son when we both knew how rough the relationship between Michael and Thomas was.
"I think it's time to leave the company. Just that", I answered.
"You're lousy at hiding things, you know?". Polly stood up and stretching out her hand, she requested that I give the envelope to her. She opened it in front of me and it was enough for her to read the first line to make her squint. "Your resignation is addressed to Thomas, why don't you give it to him?"
"He won't let me quit", I said and swallowed hard.
"Well, you know him better than we thought", Polly observed.
"That's why I'm asking you to hand it over to him", I hastened to speak. "As a member of the Board of Directors and with Mr. Gray as Chairman", I directed my attention to Michael, "I ask you to please convince Thomas to let me go".
"You'll have to leave Birmingham", Michael finally spoke. "You know well that if you stay here, he'll look for you", he added.
"I can't go back to London", I explained, holding back the lump in my throat.
"There are more cities in England than London and Birmingham", Michael snapped, as if he was teasing me.
"But if I go to any of them, I'll have to pay rent and I can't afford such a thing". The fact of having to publicize my financial problems caused me such embarrassment. "I would stay in Birmingham, even knowing that Thomas would look for me, but no one in this city wants to hire me. They know I work for the Shelbys".
"Welcome to the family", Polly said sarcastically.
"I know a place." Michael shook the whiskey into his glass and both Polly and I were surprised. He was about to make a suggestion as if he suddenly wanted to help me find a job. I assumed then that there was some interest behind his collaborative action: Michael took pleasure in seeing his cousin destabilized and knew that my resignation would result in such a thing. "There is a bookstore in the center of Birmingham whose owner is a close friend of who was… my foster mother". At this, Polly lowered her gaze. "I always go there when I need to buy a book and the woman still appreciates me. She won't pay you much but worse is nothing. I'll talk to her".
"Thank you very much, Mr. Gray", I thanked him sincerely. Suddenly, I felt lighter.
"Michael told me what Gina did to you", Polly snapped out of nowhere and I felt my muscles tense again.
I looked at Michael and he, with his eyes on me and no facial expression, did not allow me to be aware of what was going through his mind. I remembered Polly's hatred for her daughter-in-law and how she had suggested her murder at the family meeting. Apparently, it was impossible for Michael cleaning up the image of her wife or justifying it in any way.
"That bitch will pay for everything, Olivia", Polly said, as if I was the one seeking revenge when, in fact, she was who wanted to get rid of the woman.
"My participation in the family meeting was misplaced". I struggled to ignore Polly's words. "While it's true that I still believe that Gina works for Mosley, I shouldn't have allowed Thomas to implicate me in a matter that concerns only the Shelbys. Thomas have gotten me... too involved". I took a deep breath and tried to keep my mind off the discussion we had three days ago. "That's why I'm leaving".
"Until you finally realize", Michael snapped.
"Mr. Gray, I assure you that being knowledgeable about this cost me sleepless nights and days spent in fear and crying", I defended myself.
"Sorry if my question is a bit daring to you", Michael justified himself and I could sense what was coming, "but does your resignation also imply that you'll stop being his mistress?"
Polly watched me out of the corner of her eye and, like her son, she waited patiently for my answer. I was such an idiot that for a moment I thought she would shut up Michael and tell him that he was meddling too much.
"Yes, it also implies that I'll stop being his mistress", I replied, raising my chin, preventing the embarrassment from winning over me.
"You made the right decision", Polly told me. "Getting away from the company and from Thomas is the best thing for you, for Ada, for Lizzie, and for Thomas himself. It'll be difficult for you," she blurted " and for him also but in the end, that's what must be done. Things return to their place and no one else gets hurt".
/
The sound of china on wood distracted Tommy. Glancing away from Olivia's handwriting, he looked at the steaming kettle on the kitchen table and the saucer full of biscuits.
Jane Westerling sat across from him nervously smoothing her apron. A melancholic smile would appear on her face from time to time, and then she would sink back into deepest sadness.
"How happy Henry will be when he sees you", Jane commented to Ada. "He should be here by now", she added, looking at the clock on the wall.
"How have you been, Jane?", Ada took the woman's hand and the latter squeezed her fingers. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back. It's been… a difficult time". Tommy witnessed his sister look at him.
"Well, I've been the way I could be, Ada", the woman's eyes filled with tears again. "And your baby? How is she? Sorry I don't remember her name", she forced herself to change the subject.
"Her name is Elizabeth but we call her Beth because there's already an Elizabeth in my family", Ada explained.
"Ah yes, I remember now. You were going to call her 'Elizabeth' after your aunt, weren't you? That aunt you always talked about". Ada nodded and Jane turned her attention to Tommy. "Mr. Shelby, have yourself a biscuit. They won't be as fine as the ones Westminster serves but at least..."
"Westminster's biscuits are awful. They put anise on them". Tommy grabbed a biscuits and bit into it. It was smooth and it tasted buttery. "These are delicious. Better than Westminster's, no doubt".
Jane laughed somewhat embarrassed by his praise and put a hand to her face trying to hide her blush.
"You're a gentleman, Mr. Shelby".
"You can call me Thomas".
"Tom, she's married", Ada teased, and both she and Jane laughed knowingly. Tommy smiled, enraptured by the everyday situation which lacked the darkness he was used to.
"My Ollie must have been very happy with you", Jane said suddenly, all the joy draining from her face.
Tommy looked at the biscuits he was holding between his fingers and felt a stabbing pain in the middle of his sternum: it was guilt and sadness manifesting physically.
Before leaving the cemetery, he had read the entry where Olivia had recounted the time when he had been a jerk to her. It hadn't been necessary to read the diary for him to remember how miserable he had been, but being aware of what Olivia had felt, through her words, had increased the load of hatred he felt towards himself.
The irony of all this was that, minutes before, he had been rejoicing in Andrew Fairfax's suffering, since he considered him a hypocrite who had made Olivia suffer. As pathetic as it sounded, Tommy had acted in a similar way.
"Your daughter made me happy, Jane", he confessed.
"Ah, Ollie had that strange ability". Jane stroked her still empty cup. "She had such an affable character that, even when sad, she managed to make others happy. I was a somewhat severe mother", she explained. "Not just with Olivia, but also with William and Alden... my other two children". Jane let out an anguished sigh. "I wish I had been a more loving parent, more understanding, as was my husband. That wouldn't have stopped Will and Al from going to war but maybe Ollie would have stayed here in London with us".
"We've all made mistakes", Ada tried to comfort her, "and no one is taught how to be a parent".
"I have two children". Tommy had the need to bring this up to Olivia's mother. He saw how she raised her eyebrows in surprise. "From two different marriages", he added, and Jane's astonishment only increased. Ada scowled at him, questioning him. "I've been a pitiful father".
"Why do you say that?", he noted curiosity in Jane's question.
"After the death of my first wife, I shut myself up in my own suffering and put poor Charlie aside. I tried to protect him and be present in his growth but I realized late that the child not only needed a father to be there, watching him play the violin, but also one to hug him from time to time".
"Oh", Jane took a biscuits, gaping, "I didn't know you were a widower. And your second child?"
"It's a girl. Her name is Ruby".
"What a beautiful name", she observed. "Girls are more affectionate towards their fathers. I checked with Olivia. She was always attached to Henry and, although he denied it, she was his favourite".
"Ruby doesn't love me", Tommy snapped.
"Tom…", Ada caught his attention, prompting him to shut his mouth.
"Her mother and I don't get along", was all he allowed himself to say.
"Did Ollie meet your children, Thomas?", asked Jane.
"Yes, she knew them". The memory made Tommy unable to contain his smile. "Strange as it sounds, Ruby really liked Olivia. Which it didn't like to her mother".
"How curious". Jane was nostalgic. "Olivia never wanted children and yet the children adored her".
The sound of the front door opening brought Jane Westerling to her feet, and she immediately left the kitchen and headed for the living room. Tommy heard a male voice and felt stupid to find himself nervous. Never in his life had he had to meet what he considered a "father-in-law": Greta's father had never bothered to speak to him and Grace's father had died before they crossed paths.
"Please behave yourself, Tommy", Ada spoke to him in a whisper as the Westerling couple's footsteps were heard heading into the kitchen.
Henry Westerling was a very tall man, reaching two meters in height, and his head was half covered by a few grayish strands. As Ada had told Tommy, his hands were stained with ink from the printing house. His green eyes went first to Ada and then to him, as if he wanted to put a face to the man his wife had been talking about.
"Ada, little one", he greeted Ada first, as expected.
Her sister hugged Henry so naturally that if Tommy hadn't met either of them, he would have sworn they were father and daughter. In a way, he was glad to know that, at least during her stay in London, Ada had found a surrogate father, who managed to fill the void left by her biological one.
"He's my brother, Thomas Shelby", Ada introduced him.
Tommy and Henry shook hands in silence and everyone in that small kitchen could sense a certain tension.
"Thomas Shelby, OBE and Member of Parliament for South Birmingham", Henry pointed out. His voice was deep and husky.
"Exactly", Tommy nodded.
"My wife hasn't stopped talking about you since you set foot in this house".
"Henry!", Jane scolded her husband.
"It's particularly striking that someone with that bunch of additives after their name notices a simple woman like Olivia was".
"I was a simple man once too, Mr. Westerling", he explained.
"Yes, and from what I could find out you were a very simple one". Tommy didn't like the tone Henry was using, and while he understood part of it, he was annoyed by the fact that the man had been inquiring about him. "You lived on Small Heath much of your life. I don't know Birmingham but apparently that's a pretty humble place. Like Whitechapel here".
"Just as humble and both places are close to a river", said Ada, as if she wanted to calm the waters that were beginning to roil.
"And now you live in a mansion". Henry Westerling seemed determined to be ironic and to play with fire.
Tommy thought of Olivia and tried to contain the anger that was beginning to germinate inside him. She would not be amused to find out that Tommy had beaten her father in the kitchen of her house, in front of her mother and Ada. Furthermore, Tommy had already had a fight earlier that day and knew that his body would not withstand an onslaught against Henry Westerling.
"I'll serve tea", said Jane when the tension threatened to destroy the peace that had hitherto reigned in that house.
They took their seats again, and as Jane filled the old cups with hot tea, Tommy caught Mr. Westerling's glances several times.
That man hated him and Tommy understood that he, somehow, had decided to point him out for the death of his daughter. The version that Ada, Polly and Michael had circulated regarding Olivia's murder was that she had been killed by the fascists and, Tommy being a well-known politician in Birmingham whose rocky relationship with Oswald Mosley was publicly known across the country, Henry was to be expected to believe that his actions had led to the tragic ending.
Beyond his annoyance, Tommy couldn't blame Henry: he had believed himself guilty of Olivia's death until recently.
Without consulting or asking permission, Tommy took out his cigarette case and got hold of a cigar.
"Nice cigarette case. Is it silver?" Henry's observation didn't surprise him. After all, he was addressing Tommy using the purest sarcasm.
"Yes".
"I see you have something engraved on it", the man pointed out.
"It's my last name". Tommy didn't quite put the cigarette to his lips.
"Shelby", Henry repeated to himself. "I have to admit that when I first heard your last name, it caught my eye", he commented. "I had never heard of it before, and I asked a fellow printer who is originally from Birmingham if he knew of a family by that name".
Ada, just at that moment raising the cup of tea to her mouth, was paralyzed when she heard what Henry Westerling was saying. Jane, on the other hand, shook her head and snorted from time to time, pissed off at her husband and completely ignoring the explicit seriousness of that conversation.
"He told me about a gang". Henry took the cup with his eyes fixed on Tommy's. Until now, he had never met a man who could stare at him for so long. "The Peaky Blinders". Tommy witnessed Ada have an expression of disgust on her face. "Gypsies originally from Ireland but settled in Small Heath, dedicated to the field of horse race betting. Violent, wild and unforgiving". Henry took a sip of his tea. "Their leader: Thomas Shelby".
It was five to ten seconds of absolute silence where Tommy and Henry looked at each other defiantly, and Jane watched them both in confusion. Ada, however, cleared her throat and tried to speak a word a couple of times, with no success.
"What do you expect me to tell you, Mr. Westerling?", Tommy shrugged and tried to show disinterest, even though his pulse was racing. "Apparently you already know everything".
"I want you to tell me whether or not my daughter was the victim of a mobster reckoning", Henry demanded through clenched teeth.
"No, she wasn't", he said.
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because your daughter is alive".
Jane stifled in surprise and in disbelief, she brought her brown eyes to Tommy, as if she searched in his expression for something that told her he was lying. Henry Westerling, however, shook the head angrily, letting him see a sneer.
"You shows up at my house, one day, without announce", Henry's jaw trembled with anger, "and you tell my wife you loved our daughter. You invade her room, touch her things and take her notebooks. You hide from me and my wife that you have made your fortune with illegal businesses and shedding the blood of others..."
"Henry…", Ada tried to get the man's attention in a thin voice.
"No, Ada. You have lied to us too", Westerling told her "and lied to us for years. You were friends with Olivia and you slept in the same bed as her knowing that you were hiding what your family was doing. You never told us your maiden name, even when you ate at this same table, for God's sake. We take care of your son when you were at work".
"Enough, Henry". Jane tried to silence her husband as she witnessed the state of anguish that Ada was beginning to sink into.
"Mr. Shelby", Westerling turned to him again. Tommy had clenched the fists under the table and the cigarette split between his fingers. "I wouldn't have been bothered by the way you chose to live your life if it hadn't been the cause of my daughter's death; if you hadn't crossed path with her or taken advantage of her kind heart to make her fall in love. Olivia was my girl, my little miracle". His green eyes filled with tears. Tommy had seen many men cry but it was strange to see someone the size of Westerling being the victim of crying. "And you, overflowing with money and power, not only weren't able to step aside when you saw Olivia belonged to a different world than yours, but you couldn't even protect her".
"I'm telling you that Olivia is..."
"Alive?", Henry cut him off and gave a wry laugh. "I buried my daughter, Mr. Shelby. I carried her coffin and I can assure you that it wasn't empty".
"My brother is telling the truth". Ada was speaking again. Her lashes were wet.
Ada took the bag that she had hung from the back of the chair and from it took out a notebook that looked familiar. Opening it, Tommy recognized Olivia's handwriting and knew that, in some distracted moment, his sister had taken one of the diaries. He got a glimpse of the date of the entry Ada was about to read: March 28th, 1932.
"Tom, it's time for you to go". That was the phrase Ada had chosen to inform him of the moment in which she was going to tell the Westerlings about Olivia's fate.
Tommy said nothing and stood up, struggling to ignore the questioning but confused look owned by Henry Westerling. Jane was staring at Ada, stunned, wide-eyed and gasping for air. He knew then that the woman had begun to give in to the possibility, while her husband was still immersed in denial.
He went out into the dark and lonely street, tossed the cigarette that he had never started smoking and lit another, praying that it would soothe his soul. Tommy's heart continued to stir uneasily in his chest and a particular anxiety led him to walk up and down the sidewalk of the Westerling family home.
Tommy couldn't imagine what that diary entry would say, the last entry Olivia had written before she disappeared, and what sorts of things it would bear witness to to make it sufficient proof that Olivia was still alive.
He walked and walked, over and over on that bloody sidewalk, until the knees reminded him that his body was still suffering from the blows received in the car accident. He sat down in front of the portal, and when he finished the third cigarette, he lit one more. His lungs groaned and made him cough, at the same time his ribs punished him with some stabbing pain.
Across the street and under the only lantern in the entire block, he caught a glimpse of Grace's slim, almost angelic figure.
"Not now, please".
"Tommy", Grace called him across the street. She was barefoot. "Tommy".
He closed his eyes. Tommy didn't know why the hell he saw her if he hadn't drank laudanum for two days.
"Go away, Grace".
"I won't leave. I can't", her voice was soft. "I'll stay with you until Olivia's parents can forgive you", she added.
"Then you'll stay with me forever". Opening his eyes, he watched as Grace sat down next to him. She was smiling.
"They will forgive you. What's more, they have already forgiven you". Grace turned and looked toward the door. "They know you love her".
"Do you think she still loves me?", he asked to the hallucination.
"Of course". Grace stroked his shoulder. "If she didn't, she would never have left the book of poems in the brick house. Olivia waits for you".
Grace was gone in the blink of an eye when Tommy heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door. He stood up and faced the wooden door taking a deep breath of icy air. After a long time, Thomas Shelby felt fear again, and ironically, he didn't feel it in the face of danger, but he felt it because of Olivia's parents' reaction.
The door opened and Jane Westerling ran toward him, her arms outstretched, her face flushed with joy and tears. She hugged him and while Tommy assumed what was happening, Henry Westerling approached him and placed a stained hand on his shoulder. The man's lower lip trembled as if a sob threatened to escape his mouth.
"She's alive, Thomas". Jane kept holding him. The woman's tears soaked his coat. "My girl is alive. It's a miracle".
Tommy said nothing but the cold of the night could not lessen the warmth that warmed his soul.
He had told Ada earlier that afternoon that miracles did not exist. But how could miracles not exist for parents who found, suddenly and against all odds, that the daughter they believed dead was alive? How could miracles not exist for someone like him, who by simple and capricious chance, once again felt the owner of everything when he had nothing left? Removing the religious context, Thomas Shelby was beginning to believe in them.
'There are no coincidences. Only miracles'.