12 May 1919
Morning

"So who do you think stole the guns?" Winston Churchill asked, leaning back in his chair. "The Fenians or the communists?"

"If it is the IRA Fenians, I will find them and find the guns." Inspector Campbell responded to the question with a vigour, clutching his hat heatedly in his hands, "if it is the communists, I will find them and find the guns. If it is common criminals, I will find them and find the guns. To me there is no distinction between any of the above."

He looked back up at Churchill after finishing his proclamation, breathing with excitement and passion. The look in the eyes of the man opposite made him swallow his pride in embarrassment. Churchill was unimpressed.

"We chose you because you are effective, but remember this, Mr Campbell." He leaned forward, pointing a finger at him. "This is England, not Belfast. Bodies thrown in the rivers, wash up in the papers here. We must keep the existence of these stolen guns out of the news, otherwise we're simply advertising them for sale."

He kept his voice calm, but there was a warning behind his words, a message to Campbell should he choose not to follow instructions.

"If there are bodies to be buried, dig holes and dig them deep. I want everything accounted for, down to the last bullet."

"It will be done, Sir, I promise you."

"Very good." Churchill returned to his work in front of him and Campbell had decided it was time to leave when he spoke up again, "do you have a plan Inspector? One that doesn't involve digging?"

"I have several plans, Churchill, Sir." He moved from one foot to the other, twisting his hat in his hands as he decided what idea to put forward first. "There's a girl, she just arrived here in Birmingham after a few years away, has close relations to the common criminals under investigation. I hope I might find a way to use her."

Winston Churchill's eyes flicked up to Campbell and, though his mouth didn't move, there was a laughter behind his eyes.

"And how do you imagine you'll managed that? Is it likely she'll betray them?"

"No, Sir." He replied, deflating.

"This woman, is there a place she frequents? Threatening isn't always the best solution, Inspector, sometimes befriending can work just as well."

"I am told all her family are dead Sir, I expect it likely she pays a weekly visit to the graveyard."

"Very good, Inspector, you're learning."

The Inspector nodded and, sensing the meeting was at its end, removed the necessary files from his folder for Winston Churchill's inspection, leaving the carriage. As the door was closing he could swear he heard the man murmur something about 'more bloody graves', before the door was locked behind him.

Evening

Elizabeth entered the Shelby kitchen, sighing heavily as she dumped her bag onto the table to empty the potatoes she'd bought earlier. Ada was up by the window, chopping carrots in the last, red glow of the evening and opposite Elizabeth on the table, Polly paused her mixing of a bowl of batter to stare up at her. She was placing the vegetables down on the table with more than necessary force.

"What's wrong with you?" Aunt Polly asked, leaning back in her chair. She looked up, clearly glad to have been asked, desperate to get her worries of her chest.

"I had a very strange conversation at work today."

"With who?" Polly asked, crossing her arms to get comfortable.

"Freddie Thorne." It did not go missed by Elizabeth when Ada paused in her chopping to listen to their conversation, looking over her shoulder slightly at the mention of Freddie's name.

"Why was it strange?"

"For many reasons," she muttered, removing the last potato and sitting down into the chair to start her story. "When he walked in to get a drink, and saw me behind the bar, it was like he'd seen a ghost. I said as much to him and he laughed! And you know why?" She looked pointedly at Polly, her hands shaking slightly, "because he fucking thought I was!"

"Watch your language Eliza," Polly chided.

Instead of heading her words, Elizabeth stood up suddenly, slamming her palms on the table.

"Watch my fucking language? Did you not hear what I said? He thought that I was dead."

She stopped her self suddenly, pulling her hand across her face as she took a racking breath, eyes widening with some kind of realisation.

"Harry said it as well, said all of Small Heath thought I wasn't coming back. Fuck, even Tommy said it. That means you can't have missed it Polly, you know everything that goes on round here." There were tears in her eyes as she stared Polly down. "Why did you let them all believe it?"

"Why did I let them believe it?" Polly was standing now as well, voice raised and on the defensive after Elizabeth's outburst. "You know why Eliza? Because I believed it myself. I believed it myself! You stopped writing for six months, what else were we supposed to think?"

"It doesn't mean I'm dead though! You could have found out easily, even fucking Tommy knew I wasn't dead for God sakes. If I had died, you'd know Polly, you'd bloody know. I've had that letter myself, don't forget it."

Elizabeth was leant over on the table, glaring up at the woman opposite. Behind the pair of them, Ada was watching, eyes flicking between the two like they were playing a game of catch, but today they were throwing loaded words and not a ball.

"I'd know? Eliza there are countless mothers in this city alone that can tell you for a penny that it's not a fucking letter you should wait for. They get lost, they never get written. You know what it's like out there, how hard it was to keep track and make sure the right fucking reports get filled. And what do you mean, Tommy knew? You wrote every month for nearly four years and then, just like that, you stopped. So of course I had my suspicions. Dead, dying, never coming home, it all boils down to the same thing. It's hard to disprove rumours you believe yourself."

Polly was glaring across at her, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Elizabeth was still leaning on the table, but her head had dropped and the fire that had been there seconds ago, was gone. Ada could only stare.

"Polly.."

"And why does it matter so much to you? Hmm? Why the fuck do you think it's okay to shout at me?"

"Because it's like they've moved on!" She stood back up, and though her voice was raised, it broke at the end, the pain behind the anger surfacing. "This is my home, Polly. I know every inch of it, I've lived here all my life, but now I'm back I feel like I don't know any of it. It's like I've landed in- God- bloody Moscow or somewhere. You all look at me like you don't know me, people walking down the streets, people I know. It matters because it's like I did fucking die and you've all moved on and left me behind."

Something in Polly softened at her words, and she uncrossed her arms to reach across the table, squeezing Elizabeth's hand.

"It's like that for all of us, Eliza. This isn't the place we knew either, I promise you're not the only who feels left behind. I just want to know why you stopped writing. Why so suddenly? It hurt darling, it hurt me when you stopped, that's all."

The pair sat back down in there seats, the fight dissolving as quickly as it had arrived, a not uncommon occurrence between the women. Elizabeth looked guilty and upset, blinking back her tears.

"I'm sorry, Polly, I know I shouldn't of stopped, it was just..." She took a deep breath, "the war ended, the boys came home, and suddenly you were writing about all of you together, even if it was different, and I was just so tired. Tired of all of it. It was hard to write when I was still out there, and yet it was even harder to think about coming home. I'm sorry Polly, truly."

And the look the women shared told each other that the matter was settled.

"You said there were many reasons?"

"For what?"

"For why the conversation was strange. What else did he say?" Elizabeth laughed at that, shaking her head.

"It doesn't seem half as important now, but when we were talking, he mentioned something. Since when did Freddie and Tommy hate each other Pol? How did that happen?"

Polly laughed as well, but more bitterly than Elizabeth, relaxing back into her seat again and mixing her bowl of batter as she mulled over the question.

"Freddie has very deep political views. Remember how he used to go on about his communism before the war? It's even more now he's back. He's utterly devoted."

Ada was the one to reply, coming over from her neutral spot at the back of the kitchen. Elizabeth couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at the girl's wistful words, the way she sighed slightly as she talked about the man, a small smile playing at her lips. She would address that later.

"Strange, they always used to get on so well. Things change, I supposed, as we've established today." Elizabeth moved over to a drawer to get out a peeler for her potatoes, the cooking slowly getting back to swing in the room. After a few minutes of silence Polly spoke back up again,

"Eliza," She asked, looking at the young woman as she poured her batter into a muffin tray to make Yorkshire Puddings. "What did you mean when you said 'Tommy knew', you never answered my question."

Elizabeth blushed, paying close attention to the cold vegetables in her hand, not daring to look up.

"I didn't mean anything Polly."

"Don't lie, Eliza, what's going on?" Ada piped up, a sly grin across her face.

I'll get you back for that, Elizabeth thought.

"I, uh, I don't know how to explain."

"God, you wrote to him didn't you!" Polly exclaimed, throwing a tea towel down in annoyance. "For how long? Just the six months you decided you didn't feel like writing to us?"

"No Polly, of course not. I've been writing to him since the start." She looked up suddenly, clapping a hand to her mouth. "I can't believe I told you two that!"

Ada whistled in surprise and the two of them turned their full attention to the flustered Elizabeth.

"Tell us more," Polly goaded, gesturing with her hands .

"You can't tell anyone else, I beg you." The two women nodded and she accepted defeat, opening up to them,

"George made me promise to write to him every week when he was gone, and I agreed. When the boys went I only said I'd write to Tommy once a month, just like I said to you when I left, but then after- after George died I couldn't bear to stop writing every week so I started sending more letters to Tommy instead. Only he, well he-" Elizabeth cut off, stabbing one of the potatoes heatedly. She looked back up, "he promised he'd write back, but he never fucking did. Not once. A letter every week for more than fifty months and nothing back."

There was a silence in the room when she finished, so she stabbed the potato again for good measure before she threw the knife down and looked at Aunt Polly. The woman looked angry.

"The bastard. That bloody bastard." She hissed, "so that's why things are so off between you. I assumed it was the time apart, and the things you've been through, you're not the same people you knew, which is still partly true I suppose. But this?" She walked forward and pulled Elizabeth into an embrace. "I'm so sorry my darling, I'm so sorry."

She wrapped her arms around Polly and pressed her face into her neck, willing herself not to cry. Once she was sure the possibility of that had passed, she pulled away and smiled strongly.

"It's alright Pol. These things happen. I'm alright."

The conversation drifted to other things across the evening as they made their dinner and fed it to the little ones, but Elizabeth didn't miss the glances they gave her the rest of the night. Pitiful and sad looks, so often that she desperately wanted to climb up on a chair and scream at them that she was alright. Maybe if she shouted loud enough, she'd believe it herself.

It was sometime before Elizabeth was able to get Ada by herself that night, not until the two of them were tucking one of John's sleeping babies into bed.

"'Night, night Rupert," She hummed, placing a kiss on the little boy's head, "sweet dreams darling."

Ada moved to go but Elizabeth caught her arm and pulled her back down onto the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping child by whispering her next words,

"So how long have you and Freddie been a thing?"

Ada blushed furiously, opening and closing her mouth in some kind of denial.

"How? How did..? Oh God, never mind that, please just don't tell Tommy alright? Please Eliza!' Ada whispered desperately, gripping her hands.

Elizabeth chuckled lightly and shook her head,

"We're not exactly on speaking terms right now, Ada, so don't worry. And even if we were, I promise I wouldn't ever tell." She could see the woman visibly relax, a long breath release from her lungs. "So? Details please? We haven't had a conversation like this for a long time so I need you to talk my ear off, you have my full permission."

Ada giggled, squeezing her hands again and smiling. Elizabeth couldn't help but smile back, the hushed conversation a welcome reminder to times past, when the two of the would lie awake at night, spilling all kinds of secrets over a stolen bottle of gin.

"Oh Eliza, you don't know how much I like him. It was very unexpected, you know, we wrote a few times when he was away, but not much, and yet as soon as he was back, something changed between us. He's utterly gorgeous Eliza, so smart, so strong and he's the only man in all of Small Heath, Hell, in all of Birmingham in fact, that's not afraid of my brothers. That's why I love him."

"Love? Is my little Ada in love?" Elizabeth laughed along with her, Ada's young innocence very much infectious.

"Completely and utterly, Eliza, completely and utterly!"

hope you enjoyed, please leave comments and advice, i'd love to hear it

e x

(09/06/2020)