I asked, and you guys answered! This chapter follows the fallout of Mrs Shelby's death just after giving birth to Finn. You guys really like the angst, huh?!
Tess is four years old.
Tommy was numb. He felt like he should cry, like John and Ada. That was someone did when their mum died, wasn't it?
But he couldn't do it. He felt solid, as if his blood had curdled, drawing his body to halt. There was no room for tears, no room for understanding the weight of what was happening.
His mum was gone. She'd been weak as long as he could remember but was always there. She was part of the walls, part of the city. She was the one part of his family who would be home, who would put her hand on the back of a tired head and bring about a smile when one seemed previously out of reach.
Now she was gone. And he needed her.
Tommy stood, feeling as if he didn't get up from the bed, he'd sink too far into the mattress and wouldn't be able to find his way back. His footsteps were heavy as he made his way down the stairs to the living room.
Arthur was sat on the couch, cradling Finn. Tommy stayed behind, watching. He was a Shelby baby, that was for sure. He looked just as John had, only a little smaller. He wondered if his mum knew that this little baby would be the one to kill her. She probably did. Had to have.
She always did give too much to her children.
"He's a quiet baby," Arthur said.
Caught, Tommy came over to them and touched a hand to Finn's soft forehead. He let out a soft baby-like huff in his sleep.
He would be his last sibling. They'd always thought Ada would be the last, thought their mum was safe. She'd made it through. And now she was gone.
"Pol went to sort out the arrangements," Arthur said.
No one else would notice, but Tommy heard the small tremble in his older brother's voice. He sat beside him, putting a hand to the back of his neck. Arthur leaned into him, breathing ragged but his grip on Finn still firm. When his brother's tears came, Tommy felt his own rise in his throat. Arthur was always so strong, and he'd always had their mum. Arthur, Tommy, and she had walked to school together. They'd eaten together and whined at her together when she announced John was due to be born.
They said they didn't need her as much as their younger siblings, but they did. She'd been gone a day and they'd already fallen apart.
The tears were too close now.
"I've got him," Arthur said quietly, pulling away.
He knew.
Tommy nodded silently and rose from the couch. If possible, his footsteps were even heavier on the way back up the stairs.
He went to head back to his room but the thought of sitting alone again made the tightness in his chest contract further. Before he'd thought it through, Tommy turned to the room at the end of the landing. He knocked once and opened the door.
Tess was sat at the window, her head tilted back against the wall. Her eyes were closed and Tommy could see half-dried tear tracks running down into her hair. She turned at the sound of him closing the door and opened her eyes. She had such soft eyes. They had so much depth and now they were swimming with unshed tears.
"I'm really sorry, Dad," she said.
He didn't trust himself to reply. Instead, he walked to her and picked her up. Her arms went around his neck and though she was in his arms, it was as if she was holding him. He sat down on the edge of her bed, holding her as tight as he could. He imagined himself being her age and felt a stab of sadness. Those days were gone, and it was unfair.
"I miss her too," Tess said into his neck.
His daughter's voice held the same tremor as his brother's, but still the tears wouldn't quite come. There was still that stubborn part of him, that solid, unmoving part that didn't dare believe it was true.
He smoothed his daughter's hair down as she held him.
He closed his eyes. His mum had always different to his father, and even he and his brothers. She was gentle and kind. She was stern enough to get them to behave and could raise a wilder hell than any of them could if her family was on the line, but she was better than them. She was a good woman and a good person.
She always saw the angel in him, always believed that side would beat his father's devilment.
A tear fell, rolled down the curve of his face, and landed on Tess's curls. More followed.
As his breath hitched, Tess's grip on him tightened. She was letting him know she was there, that she had him as much as he had her.