Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content, sickness, injury, police/ police violence, use of a racial slur, underage alcohol consumption.

Sleepovers

1919

Clara was up and ready to go shortly after the first bit of light spilled across her bedroom floor. Having gone to bed early the evening before, she had no problem peeling off the covers to start her day even though the floorboards chilled her bare toes. The house had no business being so cold in spring. Still, Clara dressed quickly and then slowly traversed the stairs on her toes, carrying her book and her boots in her arms.

Hearing the sounds of someone foraging through the cupboards, Polly made her way down the back steps to the kitchen. All she could see of her niece was boot-clad feet, thick knee socks, and the bottom half of a blue flowered dress. The top half of Clara was stuck inside a high cupboard reaching for something in the far back.

"What are you after all the way up there?" Polly asked from the stairs, making her presence known well before she startled the girl. It was too early in the morning for Polly to be dealing with a child fallen from a wobbly stool she wasn't meant to be standing on in the first place.

"Mornin', Aunt Polly," Clara mumbled from inside the cabinet. She carefully backed herself out and studied her aunt momentarily just to be sure she wasn't in trouble for climbing up on the furniture.

Considering the easy smile on Polly's face to be something akin to permission, Clara resumed her reaching, finally pulling out a small bag that had been stashed away earlier in the week, hidden away from her brothers and sister. She quickly checked the bag's contents, making sure the amount seemed right.

Technically, the sweets were a gift to the whole Shelby family, an unofficial payment of sorts, but seeing as Clara had been the one to stop into the store to collect while her brother waited outside, she had claimed the lot as her own and protected them as such. Clara suspected that Tommy knew where she hid her sweets. She had made him promise to cover his eyes while she got them out to share one night after supper, but Clara was pretty sure he had been watching. Tommy didn't like sweets though, so she wasn't so concerned about his knowledge.

"You'd best not be thinking of having sweets for breakfast," Polly said, glancing at the bag.

"I already ate my breakfast. These are for Siah…for later," Clara said.

"Don't let your brothers know you're hiding away sweets to be sharing with boys."

"It's just Isiah," Clara said, her voice brandishing an attitude this time.

"Well, come down off from there and tell me what else we should pack for Isiah," Polly said as she pulled a small basket off a shelf for them to fill.

Clara dropped the bag of sweets in, ignoring the mocking tone in her aunt's voice as she climbed down from the stool and searched the kitchen for other provisions. Polly arranged the items in the basket as Clara brought them over, keeping her precious sweets hidden at the bottom, settled under the bread and fruit.

Polly sometimes wondered how much longer the Reverend's boy would be 'just Isiah' to her niece. After all, Ada had been around Clara's age when boys became a bit more interesting, specifically her brother's friends. It wouldn't surprise Polly if the same thing that had happened with Tommy, Ada, and Freddie Thorne throughout adolescence repeated itself with Finn, Clara, and Isiah Jesus a decade and a half later.

But Polly couldn't be entirely sure how such things would go. Clara wasn't so much like her big sister in many ways. And Clara was still at the point where the neighborhood boys weren't much more than a bother to her. So aside from a little questioning here and there to test Clara's station on the subject of the young men of Small Heath, Polly let the girl's relationship with Isiah Jesus remain what it was, that of a platonic friendship between two innocent children.

But she had a feeling they were getting to be a bit old for the distinction.

"You'll be alright to take this over by yourself? And to heat the soup on the stove if Jeremiah isn't home?" Polly asked, looking at the girl.

She wouldn't have thought twice about it during the war. Those kids had been back and forth between houses as if the two places were connected, but that was when Isiah's grandmother was still around and the men were far away.

"It's just down the way." Clara dismissed her aunt's concerns as she tidied the small mess that she had made from her breakfast. "I can manage just fine by myself."

Polly snorted lightly. Clara had nearly always been halfway to an adult, even at the age of four, almost what one could call annoyingly proper, but it had started coming out more with age. She could tell that Clara was eager to go, excited not only by the notion of whiling away the day with her companion, but also for the solitary journey there and back.

Isiah had been sick for the better part of a week and the Shelbys had made it their business to stop by to drop off food and check in on the boy. Seeing as Jeremiah was busy with Blinder business and preaching, and because there was no woman in the home, Tommy said it was the least they could do.

Clara hadn't had a chance for a proper visit aside from a quick drop-off with Polly since she had school all week, but today was Saturday and Clara didn't have anywhere special to be. When Polly didn't fight her on leaving the house alone, Clara gathered up her book and some papers in one hand and took the basket in the other as she headed towards the door.

"Should I expect that you'll be with that boy all afternoon?"

Clara answered with a shrug. "If Siah's up to it. I'm supposed to show him my new book."

"Well, make sure you keep your distance. If you're reading with him, you do it from a chair in the corner. And keep a window open. Don't need you to be getting yourself sick."

"Where else would she be doing it from?" Tommy asked, settling his cap on his head as he stepped towards the pair.

Polly gave Tommy a look. They both knew exactly the spot his sister would take when caring for a sick Isiah Jesus and that's the spot right beside him. Even if she didn't know it about herself, Clara loved the idea of playing caretaker, teacher, or helper to whichever loved one would let her. Isiah was a willing abettor, especially in his current state.

Tommy knew that the twins and Isiah were close, which was mostly his doing. His letters home had come close to ordering that the Jesus boy and the grandmother be treated like family.

Polly hadn't questioned it, had readily agreed to it. They were good people. And as a result, the kids spent many nights while the boys were away at war having sleepovers in one living room or the other. Tommy put a quick stop to that once he was home though, sending his sister up the stairs to her own bed whenever her eyes started to droop. If she was old enough to not want to share a room with her twin brother, there was no reason for her to be sharing the couch with a neighborhood boy as far as Tommy was concerned.

"Maybe I should just take the food over and check in on him myself," Tommy said, a hand on the basket as he tried to take it from her.

"No, Tommy!" Clara howled, stepping out of his reach while gripping the basket. "You're takin' Finn to the fair and you said if I don't make a fuss about not coming along, I get to go see Siah for the day. And you told me the doctor said he was better so it doesn't much matter where I sit! He is better, isn't he?"

Tommy smirked, shaking his head at the fright in her voice. "The boy's doing better, but—"

"It's not funny, Tommy. Siah's sick and he's been stuck inside for days and—"

"And for a girl who promised not to make a fuss, you're sure making quite a big one right now."

"Because you're being a prat, Tommy. He's sick and you're making daft jokes!"

Tommy raised an eyebrow and Clara backed away from him, sending a glare his way.

She was only getting worked up because of the report Tommy had given the family earlier in the week. It was succinct, in typical Thomas Shelby fashion, and delivered the news that the Reverend's boy looked like he was an inch from death and that he had had to call the doctor because it was beyond the expertise of Jeremiah, who had served as a medic in the war. That was the day after Clara had been to see him with Polly. She knew it was bad because the Shelbys didn't call the doctor for something unless it was serious and even then, most of the time they just sorted it out with little more than a bottle of liquor.

Polly rolled her eyes at the two of them. Tommy's head was tilted to the side, an eyebrow still raised, and Clara's right foot was perfectly poised to stomp. Polly took the path of least resistance and turned her niece towards her.

"And you're a very good friend to that boy for worrying and taking care of him. Don't you pay any mind to your brother's teasing."

"Don't be telling my sister—"

"Oh, you hush, Thomas," Polly hissed.

Clara peeked at her brother, a smirk on her lips at his being chastised and Polly turned Clara back in her direction before they got into it again.

"And you don't be using words you're not yet grown enough for, understood? Leave it to me to decide when your brother's being a prat."

Polly smoothed down Clara's hair before pulling a hat down over her head and rearranging her scarf. Though it was getting to be the start of spring, it was still early morning and even without stepping outside, Polly could feel the air outside was damp and cool.

"Now, you tell that boy Aunt Polly says hello and you let him rest some. Don't be pestering him all day if he needs the rest."

Clara nodded dutifully.

Tommy buttoned his jacket before opening the door, waiting for his sister to step out of it.

"But Aunt Polly said I can go myself," she said, stopping two steps from the door and crossing her full arms over her chest.

"That's enough, Clara. I'm walking you over," Tommy said.

Clara hesitated only a moment before her shoulders slumped and she walked towards the door. Tommy was in a decent mood and though she had been looking forward to the briefest taste of freedom on the walk over, it certainly wasn't worth the risk. Tommy nodded his cap to Polly, taking the basket of food from Clara as she passed.

The two walked in what Clara found to be a comfortable silence for several minutes, and she got lost deep within her own thoughts before Tommy spoke up.

"Would you like to know a secret?" Tommy asked.

"No," she said, scuffing her feet along, her arms holding her book tightly to her chest.

"No?"

Clara glanced up at him. "Maybe Finn would like to know," she suggested with a shrug.

Tommy swallowed his desire to chuckle. "I'm sure he would, but Finn's not as good with secrets as you are."

Clara knew from personal experience that Finn was just as good at collecting information as he was at sharing it. She was surprised that Tommy hadn't yet found out about the gun or about her wandering off. She supposed that self-preservation was the only thing that had a way of making Finn keep his mouth shut.

"He's not as good at behaving either, but you're still taking him to the fair instead of me."

"I can bring you back 'round to the house if you'd like that arrangement better."

Clara looked up quickly to see if he was being serious. Though he wasn't smiling, there was something in his eyes that seemed too soft to follow through on a threat. Clara smirked at him and the right corner of his lip moved upward just the tiniest bit before he looked straight ahead as they continued down the lane.

"Well, this secret's about a horse," Tommy finally said.

"We're getting another horse?" Clara asked, taking hold of Tommy's arm in an attempt to slow him down and bring his attention back to her.

"Oh, so now you're interested?" Tommy said as her hand slipped from his forearm to grasp his fingers.

"Well, are we?"

"Johnny Dogs has got a nice one. Says he'll bet me the car for the horse."

"But—"

"Don't worry. He won't be getting the car."

"Better not be. Arthur'll be mad."

"You let me worry about Arthur…but I may be needing some help with this horse. Do you think you'll be up to the task?"

Clara nodded eagerly. It had been quite some time since the family bought a new horse. Aside from Tommy, it was only the twins who had any sort of interest in being around the yard. Finn mostly just liked to race the horses, but Tommy had been sure to teach them both about communicating with and caring for the animals too.

"The first thing I'll be needing help with is a name…this one will be a winner."

"I'll have to meet them first."

"You'll come with me to the yard tonight," Tommy said as he knocked on Jeremiah's front door. "Help get the boy settled."

When Jeremiah opened the door, Clara gave a quick hello before she dropped Tommy's hand and bound up the stairs and towards Isiah's room. Isiah was still in bed, wrapped in a blanket, but his face and eyes seemed brighter than when she had last seen him, his countenance a bit lighter.

"Is that your brother downstairs?" Isiah croaked, his voice sounding deeper than Clara had ever heard it. She had no way of knowing that she had heard the last of Isiah's high-pitched voice three days before, but she giggled at the deep sound coming from him now.

"You sound like an old man," she said.

"Better to be sounding like an old man than hurting like one…What did you bring me?"

Clara hopped up beside him on the bed, holding out the book for him to see.

"And these," she said, showing off the sweets that she had taken from the basket and stashed away in her pocket before coming upstairs.

Isiah smiled, popping one into his mouth as Clara did the same.

When Clara heard her brother shout her name, she scurried off the bed and pulled open the bedroom door, looking down the steps to where Tommy stood.

"Jeremiah and I are heading out. Be home before supper."

With the candy still held in her mouth, Clara nodded once and waited for Tommy to step away before heading back to Isiah's room.

Even though Tommy and Polly had told her to sit in the chair across the room, Clara found herself on the bed beside him. Isiah couldn't see the words if she sat in the chair and when they read a book, they liked to take turns.

Clara had already read the book they were reading as a school assignment but she didn't mind reading it again. Isiah didn't get to go to school but he wasn't stupid. His dad had made sure he could read and write, which was more than could be said than what her family had done for Finn who could barely do either.

With their backs to the wall and their legs under a shared blanket, Isiah read aloud as Clara rested her eyes. The Secret Garden was too easy for both of them, but Clara had liked the story well enough and Isiah had never read it.

Clara let Isiah's deep voice paint the picture of the bungalow where Mary Lennox had been left after the cholera outbreak. She was quietly wondering if the idea of a book beginning with sick people dying was the best choice considering Isiah's current condition, but his voice didn't waver and he didn't give pause to the content so Clara settled in until it was her turn to read.

Rather than Isiah nudging her with his shoulder to alert her that it was her turn, the sound of screams and whistles outside caught her attention. Clara climbed over Isiah's legs to look out the small window above the back alley and he wasn't far behind, leaning over her shoulder. It didn't give them much by the way of gathering intelligence seeing as all the shouts were coming from the front, but Clara craned her neck through the window once she opened it anyway.

As the front door was forced open on the floor below them, Isiah pulled her back, making sure that he stood between her and the door. It was only moments before a copper stood on the threshold of Isiah's bedroom.

Clara didn't recognize the man. He wasn't anyone that the Blinders worked with.

"What do you want?" Isiah said, his newly deep voice giving him an air of authority that wouldn't have been there before. Barely fourteen, he had no right to have any semblance of an air of authority.

The copper laughed. "Look what we 'ave here, quite an interesting pair. What's a pretty little thing like you doing at this end of town?"

The man reached forward to grab Clara's arm, but Isiah stood his ground, landing a solid punch on the man's cheek though Clara objected. Her brothers could fight any men in Small Heath and probably win, but Clara knew that a couple of kids didn't have much clout on their own.

The copper shoved Isiah to the floor, a boot landing hard in his stomach before Clara jumped forward, shoving at the man until he backed away from Isiah long enough that he turned his attention to her.

"Brave one, are we?" he asked, a smirk on his face before he backhanded her hard enough that she spun in a circle before landing hard on Isiah's floor. The man had turned back to Isiah, who was nearly motionless where he lay on the floor. Clara latched onto the man's leg, holding as tightly as she could. He grabbed Clara by her hair, pulling her to her feet and then some.

"Eh, Walsh, that's the little Shelby girl. Leave it. No one here but these two."

It was another copper, sticking his fat head through the door.

"Fuckin' Shelbys," the first copper, Walsh, said as he roughly took Clara's chin in his hands. "It's born in you. The whole lot of you are filthy, worthless gypsy scum."

"My brother—" Clara didn't get to finish her sentence before the officer flung her across the room and into Isiah's dresser.

Clara didn't remember getting home, but she woke up on the couch in her family's front sitting room, her body jolting when she felt something solid against her while stretching her arms above her head.

"How are you feeling?" the low voice asked, a lopsided smile coming out from behind a busted lip.

Clara pushed herself up but regretted it as she felt a distinct pain in her head and an unyielding ache throughout her body.

"Like we fought some coppers," she answered.

"You did fight some coppers," Ada said as she came into the room with two cups and a kettle for tea. "Isiah says you're quite scrappy."

"Are you—" Clara's mind flashed the picture of the man kicking Isiah in the stomach, to the sound of the repeated impact.

"I'm alright."

"But he was—"

"I'm alright. We both are."

"How did we…I don't remember…"

"Isiah brought you home first thing once the streets calmed," Ada said, sitting down on the coffee table, facing the two of them. "You've been asleep since then. Here, have some of this. It'll help…both of you."

Clara took one sip and knew it wasn't just any cup of tea, but Ada had sweetened it to the point where the alcohol was barely noticeable.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Ada Shelby?" Isiah asked after a sip.

"I'm trying to give you a bit of bloody relief! You've had a day, the two of you. No need to be suffering through the night as well. Just don't tell anyone I gave it to you and that's all you'll be getting."

"Where is everybody?"

"Well, you know how our brother likes to make scenes… so he's built a fire out of the king's portraits."

Neither Isiah nor Ada could stop Clara from stepping to the front door and looking down to the far end of Watery Lane where a crowd had formed around a circle of flames. Ada let her watch for a few moments before calling her back inside. Both kids needed their rest and Ada knew Tommy wouldn't appreciate their sister showing up at his side in her condition.

Clara didn't argue, gladly snuggling back up under the blankets to finish sipping her tea.

It was hours later when Tommy made it home to find Clara and Isiah asleep on the couch while Polly watched them from the table in the next room over.

"Have you fixed it?" she said.

"We've recovered." Tommy took a seat beside his aunt. "How are they?"

"They'll be fine. Want me to help get her upstairs?"

Tommy glanced at the kids sleeping peacefully in the next room. Even Finn had made his way there after the fire, falling asleep in the chair with his feet up on a small ottoman.

"No, Pol. I think we should just let the kids sleep," Tommy said before standing and heading up the stairs for bed himself.