"Where the fuck is she?"
"Good morning to you too, Alfie," Tommy smirked to himself when he heard Alfie on the other end of the phone. He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples to ease the headache already forming from all of the paperwork he had done that morning, while he waited for Alfie to blurt out whatever was going to come out of his mouth about Niamh.
"No it aint a good morning actually, Thomas," Alfie spat. "'Cause I've woke up to find my seven month pregant wife's disappeared like a fucking thief in the night. Took me fucking car with her and I've got no clue where she's gone off to. None of her friends have seen her and she aint down at the cafe where she's been scarfing down jellied eels every day until she nearly looks like one all 'cause the baby apparently wants them, which leads me to believe she's either with you or in that smog and heathen ridden place she used to call home. So do you fancy doing me a favour, mate, and telling me which one it is so I can find her and see what the hell she's playing at?"
"She's not here," Tommy sighed. "And if she was in Small Heath someone would have told me. Polly or Ada would have called if she was with them too."
"Oh well, that's fucking great then aint it?" Alfie exclaimed. "My wife's god knows fucking where and you don't seem all that concerned about it."
"I'm not," Tommy answered. "Because I'm fairly certain I know where she'll be if no one can find her."
"Care to share that knowledge then 'cause I'm pulling me fucking hair out here, Tom," Alfie's voice sounded hoarse. "'Cause she was fine last night, laughing and joking with me about calling the baby after you or Arthur, and then the next she's gone and she could be lying dead in a ditch for all I bloody well know."
"Not a ditch but a forest," Tommy murmured. "And not dead. Definitely not dead."
… … …
Niamh's eyes were closed as she listened to the sound of the river rushing past just behind the thicket of trees that had her nestled in their safety, a blanket of leaves beneath her and the smell of the smoke from the fire she had lit, one of both fond memories and painful reminders.
She ignored the footsteps coming closer; knew that they would be one of either three people– Alfie, Tommy or Johnny Dogs. Judging by the slight drag of the right foot, she knew it was Alfie; no doubt grumbling to himself about his damned sciatica.
"If I weren't so happy to see you I'd fucking murder you," the light behind her closed eyes darkened slightly and she knew he was standing over her. "Having me worrying about you and then dragging me out here with your brother and having all them women in the camp over yonder casting their fucking curses and spells and what not over me."
"They were doing no such thing," she couldn't help but grin, even as her eyes stayed shut. "But I am sorry for making you worry."
"Hm," Alfie grumbled. "You better had be."
Niamh opened her eyes then and smiled softly, sitting up as Alfie crouched down. She motioned for him to sit, rolling her eyes as he frowned at the muddy ground until she reached for the blanket beside her and laid it out for him.
"Not muddying up me good trousers," he muttered as he sat down and immediately Niamh leaned into his side, pressing her lips to his bearded cheek as he wrapped an arm around her. "You've got leaves in your hair."
"It's my crown," she answered, lifting her hand to gently remove the garland made of twigs and autumnal red leaves and red ribbon. "Used to make these all the time when I was little and pretend I was a fairy. Back when I had the luxury of living in my own imagination and back when I didn't worry at all about the future."
"And you're worried about the future now?" Alfie questioned softly, taking the crown into his hands, his thumb brushing over the delicate knots that held the thin twigs together and entwined the leaves in place.
"I'm worried I'll be like her," Niamh's voice cracked as she whispered out the fear she had been holding onto for months, the one that had been growing slowly but steadily along with the baby growing inside of her stomach.
Alfie nodded, turning his head to kiss the top of Niamh's as she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face into his chest.
"Polly said it wasn't that noticeable with Arthur," Niamh continued. "That she had thought it to be nothing more than the normal melancholy that comes to some women after having a baby. With Tommy and John it was more noticeable, and with Ada and me even more so, but then Finn was the worst. I know that my dad didn't help; his whoring and beating and general shitness made her worse, and I know I don't have that. I have you. But I'm still scared, Alfie. I'm scared that when the baby comes, I'll feel dark forever, like mum did. Because even though she loved us and we were her sunshine, the darkness that consumed her would only let her catch a glimpse of the light that could have been her salvation.
I love our baby so much already, Alfie. Even before I could feel it moving or before my stomach even started to show, I loved it. From the second the doctor told me we were expecting and I knew that there was a little heartbeat in there, I loved it so much. I can't imagine how much more intense that love will feel when they're actually here in my arms, and knowing that my mum felt that six times over and she still couldn't stop the darkness from taking her, then how will I?
She used to come out here; spend time travelling and being out in nature and it helped. It made her better… for a little while. Maybe she should have stayed out here forever? Maybe it was the knowledge that she had to come back home to bricks and mortar and to us that made her realise death was the better option. Maybe our love wasn't enough for her."
"Oh Niamh," Alfie swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling guilty that he had no idea of the things she'd been thinking about.
"You can't do it, can you?" Niamh looked up at him then.
"What?"
"You can't lie," she whispered, tears dribbling down her cheeks. "You can't lie and tell me that our love was plenty enough for her or that the darkness won't take me like it took her. You can't lie because you know that no matter my surname now or no matter my life, deep down I am and always will be a Shelby. And the only peace any Shelby ever has is in death."
"You gypsies are so fucking dramatic you could almost be Jewish," Alfie muttered.
"You can't just label two types of cultures with a stereotype, Alfie," Niamh tutted.
"Well, first of all one of them's my own and if you knew my mum and all my bloody aunties then you'd agree, and second I'm married to a whole family of gypsies and you're all always harping on about death and curses and god knows what else, so actually I think I can."
"You're confusing all of us with just Esme," Niamh rolled her eyes.
"If you say so," Alfie shrugged. "I just… I think even without having you and your brothers and sister your mum would have been the same. Some people are just the way they are, you know? And some aren't and I don't think you are that way inclined, Niamh."
"That's the biggest load of confusing crap I've ever heard," Niamh couldn't help but scoff.
"Well, I'm trying to make you feel better but I think I'm doing a bit of a shit job," Alfie admitted.
"Because you know that I'm gonna end up like my mum?"
"No because I can't see into the fucking future."
"Thought you had those magic fucking glasses that helped you see into the future?" Niamh muttered.
"Turns out they're a bit shit," Alfie's lips twitched. "But one thing I don't need magic glasses to see is that you're gonna be the best mum ever and that we're gonna be the happiest family. 'Cause you wanna know what you've got that your mum never had?"
"You?" Niamh guessed with a wry smile, despite the tears still trickling from the corners of her eyes.
"Well, yeah," he grinned. "But also two communities of people who are as smothering and loving as they are dramatic and exhausting. Two communities of people who are your family through both blood and through choice as well, and who will always see you right, love. I know your mum had your aunt and she had the people what she went off travelling with and stuff but that was too late, weren't it? 'Cause she needed the help before you all came along and before them feelings started. Which is why I'll have a word with Tommy when we go back to the fucking caravan park on the other side of this forest, and he'll make sure your aunt and your sister and even that bloody black haired witch of a sister in law are taking care of your worries and all that. And I'll have a word with Karina who'll make sure she and all the other women at that bitchy gossiping session you call a ladies group are doing the same.
And before you start with all the 'I don't need no fuss' shit, you can stop. You're carrying the most precious cargo and more than that, you're precious cargo too, and there's plenty of people what'll remind you of that. And I'll make sure I'm not working so late and that I'm checking in with you more, 'cause if I'm being honest, I figured that coming from a family as big as yours you were ready for our little munchkin to come. Should have crossed my mind to actually double check and I'm sorry for that."
"I'm sorry for not telling you how I was feeling too," Niamh murmured, brushing her finger along the scar across his cheek before her lips followed its path. "I should have said something before now and I shouldn't have just run off in the night and frightened you."
"Frightened Ishmael far more than me, to be fair," Alfie sniffed nonchalantly. "Might be my car but you know how he gets about the bloody thing. In a right tizz he was."
"Course he was," Niamh chuckled. "I'll make sure he knows how sorry I am. Because I am really very very sorry."
"Yeah, I can see that," Alfie croaked when Niamh's hand reached down to palm him through his trousers before she climbed on top of his lap and kissed him hard.
"I've always wondered what it would be like to fuck you right here," she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth as she unbuttoned his trousers and took his velvety length in her hand. "Surrounded by the trees and nothing else."
"Well if this is about dreams coming true, love…"Alfie placed Niamh's handmade crown back on top of her head. "...I've always fancied fucking a fairy."
The End.