Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content.
Nonsense
1919
Clara found she liked the way her heartbeat sped up as she packed her things, sweat covering the palms of her hands as she came down the stairs, a slight flutter in the pit of her stomach. She was readily prepared to deceive anyone she encountered on the way out the door. She had a plausible story planned, the tone and delivery of said story well-rehearsed in front of the vanity mirror in Ada's deserted bedroom.
Despite the excitement which she was coming to enjoy and despite it being her fourth successful mission, Clara didn't feel at all confident she wouldn't soon be found out.
So far, Polly had been the only one to ever see the girl take leave. She had unquestionably accepted the explanation that Clara was going down the street and around the corner for a visit with Isiah Jesus. It wasn't an unexpected activity for the girl, especially since the incident with the coppers, one of those shared experiences that had evidently brought the two kids a bit closer.
Polly recognized Clara's soft footfall and didn't bother to stop sorting through the mail when the girl stepped into the dining room.
"Heading over to see that boy again?"
"We're reading," Clara offered. "It's a whole series so there's quite a lot to get through."
Clara showed the Sherlock Holmes book to Polly and she rolled her eyes.
"Ah yes, the murder and detective novels you conned your brother into buying for you."
"I didn't con him."
Polly hummed. "Yes, an angel such as you would never dare to do such a thing… Isiah knows how to read. You could just let the boy borrow your books, you know?"
Clara swallowed hard. "But… but…"
"But the two of you are friends, I know. I just hope you're not being a bother to Jeremiah, being there so often."
Clara shook her head and Polly nodded. Polly didn't truly mean the comment. Clara wasn't often much of a bother to others, to her brothers, perhaps, and occasionally to her aunt, but she liked Jeremiah, so the most bothersome thing she'd ever done in his house was messing up his kitchen. The result was an elaborate cake she and Isiah had baked though, so the man hadn't been too upset.
Jeremiah was rarely home these days anyway, and if he was, the kids told him they were going up to the grassy lot near the cemetery to read there. They insisted they wanted to read in the sunlight seeing as sunny days were so rare in Birmingham.
"Right, well, take these over to your brother before you go."
Polly held out a stack of parcels and papers, the top envelope addressed to Mr. Thomas Shelby in loopy handwriting.
"In the shop?" Clara asked, her arms still tight around her book.
Polly nodded absently. "He's in his office."
She looked up when Clara didn't move from her spot. "I'm not allowed."
"Christ," she said, snatching the book from Clara's hands and replacing it with the letters. "Go on."
"I don't—"
"Enough."
Polly took the girl by the shoulder and marched her toward the doors of the betting shop. Clara's passionate protesting had no impact on Polly and although Clara firmly planted her feet in an attempt to keep them both outside the shop, Polly easily moved her over the threshold. "It's time for the two of you to get over this unbelievable nonsense."
"And what nonsense is that, Pol?" Tommy asked, catching Clara's arm as she stumbled over her own feet. "You're the one pushing our Clara around. I'm sure none of us want to be spending the day cleaning up cuts and bruises."
Tommy promptly righted his sister, lips curling into a small smirk as he looked to her, but Clara had quickly busied herself with organizing the stack of letters in her hands.
Polly's eyebrows raised and her mouth opening for just a moment before she brought her lips to form a thin straight line. "Would you really like me to answer that question, Thomas?"
Clara interrupted the glare between her brother and aunt, directing her question to Polly. "Can I go now? Siah will be waiting for me."
Polly huffed and reached for the letters in Clara's hands and Clara quickly pulled them away from her aunt's reach.
"No! This one is for Arthur. I want to take it to him."
"That! That right there is the very nonsense I'm talking about." Polly used a hand for emphasis. "I tell you to go on and bring these to your brother and you throw a fit, but now there's one for Arthur—"
"But I did bring them to him. And I'm bringing this one to Arthur, just as you asked."
Clara passed the top of the stack to Tommy, retaining the one addressed to Arthur.
Tommy watched Polly and Clara stare at each other, the look passing between them not quite a glare, but not anywhere close to friendly either. Tommy glanced at his watch, turning out his aunt's chastising words as she continued speaking to Clara.
"Pol, let it go."
"Let it go?" Polly raised her voice.
"She hasn't done anything wrong and the shop opens in ten minutes. If you're going to lecture her, you'll have to do it somewhere else."
Polly considered her nephew's words, throwing her hands in the air before turning away from both of them.
"Can I have my book?"
Polly glared at Clara before thrusting the book towards the girl. "Right pains in my backside, the both of you," she said before slamming the shop doors shut.
Tommy settled on the edge of the table, sifting through the mail Clara had handed to him, watching her fidget as she stood before him.
"So, can I—"
"Spending an awful lot of time with Jeremiah's boy lately," Tommy mused as he continued flipping through the mail.
Clara felt certain Tommy could hear the heavy stones dropping in the pit of her stomach. She was confident he smelled the metallic trace of blood dripping onto her tongue as she bit uneasily at the inside of her cheek. She focused instead on smoothing the bent corners of the letter she held in her hand.
When Tommy finally looked at her, Clara gulped before forcing a smile. "We're just reading those detective books. Isiah likes them."
Tommy hummed, looking back to the letter he had just opened. Clara had been reading the detective books with him from time to time before they had gotten into the whole mess with Ada and her baby. He wasn't surprised his sister had found herself a substitute reading companion.
Clara had been keeping her interactions with her brother to a minimum following the now infamous dinnertime row. She found that staying out of her brother's way and keeping her mouth shut unless explicitly asked a question resulted in a lot less yelling and less attention overall. Those were both things she needed in order to keep up visiting with Ada and Freddie.
"Isiah likes them? What about you?"
Clara nodded. "I like them too."
"I suppose it keeps the two of you out of trouble," he offered, "but I want you home to help with supper. John's bringing the kids and Polly shouldn't be expected to do everything herself. And you let Arthur know I need him, alright?"
Clara nodded, preparing to step away. Anyone watching would have barely noticed Clara flinching when Tommy extended his hand, meaning to run it over the hair on Clara's head but Tommy felt her slight retreat from him. He broke the contact quickly, the two of them left staring at each other in the silence of the empty betting shop.
"Right, then. Have a good day," Tommy finally said, focusing his attention back on one of the letters in his hand.
Clara felt the rocks return to her stomach, even heavier than before. She hesitated, suddenly not so eager to get away as guilt seeped into her heart, her mind, and her limbs. Unable to find words to fix it, Clara gave her brother a curt nod and stepped away.
Arthur sat hunched over at his desk and Clara made a calculated decision to knock on the door frame though she was already through his door. Arthur groaned as he sat up, a lopsided smile coming to his face when he saw his sister.
"Well hello there, little miss. Come on over here and see your big brother."
Clara smiled, exhaling a deep breath. She made quick work of closing the short distance between the door and Arthur's desk chair.
"A letter came for you," she said, handing it to him as she stood beside him, leaning into the arm of his chair as he opened the parcel.
"And you missed a good game of snap last night," Clara said. "Aunt Polly even let me and Finn stay up late…we were waiting in case you were coming."
Arthur sighed. "I had some business out last night," he said, his voice rough and low. "Can't always be here at night," he added, as an afterthought, "much as I'd like to be," he continued, glancing from the letter to his sister.
"I know," Clara answered quietly. And she did know. She had simply gotten used to Arthur sticking around the house for a bit after dinner, playing games with her and Finn, and sending them each off to sleep before he headed down to the Garrison for the evening.
Arthur hadn't even come home for dinner, heading straight to the pub after finishing up his business responsibilities around three in the afternoon and remaining there until nearly four in the morning when he walked to the shop and settled in for a brief kip in his office. He dropped the letter to his desk, turning to his sister.
"How's this? I'll be around tonight. We'll have a big ole' game with you and Finn and John's kids. Have the neighbors really howling over how loud it gets."
Clara nodded, a smile on her lips.
Arthur glanced over her head out into the bullpen. Tommy was still out there walking around, making himself busy.
"What were you and Tommy talking about out there?" Arthur asked.
Clara shrugged. "He said he needs to see you."
"And you're just telling me now?"
"I wanted to have a cuddle first."
Arthur let out a laugh before pushing his chair back. "Well, come on, girl. Get up here, then."
Clara climbed onto his lap and let him envelop her in his arms, relishing for a moment the familiar smell of whiskey and cigarettes, comfortable in her brother's strong grasp.
"Arthur, I think you need a bath," Clara finally said as she pulled out of his hold.
"What did you say?" Arthur was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out.
"You smell like a pub," Clara said, joining in the laughter.
"How do you know what a pub smells like, little girl?"
"It smells just like you do right now," she answered, attempting to hop off his lap, only to be caught between his legs and the desk.
Clara started laughing and squealing as she writhed to get away from him and his tickling fingers.
"I'll teach you and your little smart mou—"
"Arthur, my office. Clara, I want you out of the shop."
Arthur's fingers stopped, and his sister stilled, her ragged breath immediately slowing. Clara and Tommy stared at each other as Arthur looked between the two of them.
Arthur cleared his throat, standing up straight and shrugging into his jacket before he placed his hand on the back of Clara's head, smoothing down her hair. "Right then. Tommy's right. Let's get you out of here, Clara girl. The shop's about to open. No place for a little girl. And Tommy and I have some business that needs attending to."
Arthur led Clara out of his office, past Tommy who stood stoically by the door frame, sending her back through to the house with a smile and a gentle ruffle of her hair.
It was nearly thirty minutes later than expected when Clara finally slipped out the front door heading in the direction of Isiah's. A group of men waited outside the doors of the shop, talking loud enough for her to hear across the street, complaining about the time. It was 9:02, and the Shelbys always unlocked and opened for betting right at 9:00.
Clara looked up when the banter quickly stopped. Tommy had appeared at the door. He held it open, waiting there for the impatient men to file inside. Clara imagined he was watching her as she walked down the sidewalk. She listened for the sound of the door closing but didn't hear it and then she half expected to hear Tommy call her name because something in her retreating form revealed her lie.
Clara waited until she turned the corner at the end of the lane before attempting to slow her breathing, leaning her head back against a cool brick wall and closing her eyes, savoring the way her heart propelled her blood fast and hard as it pumped in her chest because it seemed she had gotten away with it once again.