Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content, reference to physical punishment, reference to sexual (anatomical?) content, reference to underage drinking.

Red Hands

1919

Clara found her mind drifting to the untamed forests that existed just outside the Birmingham city limits. The image created in her mind was a fusion of the recollected childhood trips with her brothers to the fairs and long rides with Tommy before the war. She filled in the gaps with descriptions coming from books and her imagination. In her mind's adaptation of Freddie's story, she was riding her own horse along with him and her brother. Clara had decided on racing Marmalade, the first horse Tommy had ever asked her for help in naming and the very horse he had used when he taught her to ride, back when she had been very small.

"We were already a town over when Tommy told me we weren't only going to take the horse away but we were going to sell it for a profit."

Sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor across from her brother-in-law, Clara leaned forward, elbows placed on her knobby knees. As a small girl, Clara remembered being entranced by her brother and his best mate telling stories. The two of them had always passed the narrative back and forth with such a natural flow as if they composed one mind weaving the tale. It had only reinforced the idolization she already had for the young men.

Freddie loved the eager look in Clara's eyes and the lighthearted smile playing on Ada's features even though she pretended to busy herself with a book. His smile came easy as he laid across the rug, head propped up his hand and elbow, egged on in his storytelling by the giggles spilling from Clara's lips.

Freddie could have spent the times during Clara's visits out on the factory floors, drumming up support for the cause, but he found himself always pushing it off. He had come to look forward to her company. Her regular presence, filled with relentless conversation and effortless, unashamed laughter gave the illusion that Freddie and Ada weren't as isolated as they were, that their predicament wasn't so painful and somber.

Their rented basement room seemed small and dingy, with walls that crumbled a bit in a few places and a floor that wasn't much more than an overly condensed layer of dirt and cement. But Clara found that she didn't mind visiting the pair in the dreary, confining space. Ada had found a way to make the place seem homey. She arranged the curtains and blankets just so, decorated with dry flowers, and she hung the drawings Clara and Freddie made during the visits on their walls beside the selection of portraits that had been there when they moved in. And they always lit a fire whenever Clara visited, warming the room and casting a pleasant tone over the dull walls.

"Tommy wouldn—" Clara started.

"He did. Do you think that doesn't sound just like the Thomas Shelby we know? Said your father was a bastard and he didn't like the way he was treating that horse so we sold it off to someone two towns over who would treat it better. Saw something he thought to be wrong and made up his mind to right it. Just as stubborn as you two Shelby girls." Freddie nodded towards Clara and Ada, smirking at them.

"No worse than you," Ada answered, discarding Clara's book, which she had been haphazardly flipping through since they finished their meal.

"I'm not afraid of Tommy Shelby," she mocked as she clumsily lowered herself to the ground beside him.

"Thought you liked that about me?" he teased, kissing Ada's hand, bringing a small smile to her lips.

"But then what happened?" Clara interrupted. "Was Aunt Polly angry? Weren't you scared?"

Freddie pulled his eyes from Ada to look at Clara, the impulse to chuckle at her thirst for the narrative teeming.

As he looked away, Ada rested both her and Freddie's hands on her swollen belly. She had once found Freddie's fixation with pleasing her younger sister to be exasperating, back when she had been young and ravenous for his attention. Freddie's indulging Clara's childish whims had angered Ada, but with the new life growing inside of her, Ada found herself liking the way Freddie doted on her sister. She took it as concrete evidence of what she already felt deep inside. Freddie Thorne would be an outstanding father.

"Well, your Aunt Pol was further along than our Ada here, but your mum, we were scared a bit about her, yeah. So, Tommy and I, we took the train down to London and stayed around there for a bit until we ran out of money. And that woman...Your mother, she was standing on the platform at New Street Station when we came back. Somehow, she found out we'd be on that train and she dragged us by the ears back to Watery Lane. Sat us out on the front stoop in the cold. Tried to get us to tell who we sold the horse to but Tommy just kept saying the old girl was someplace better off. Your mother said if we wouldn't tell the truth, we could sleep out on that stoop. So, she left us there 'til breakfast and she got after your brother with whatever was closest every time he walked into the same room as her for nearly a week. He wasn't too keen to cross her again so soon. Sweet woman, your mother, but terrifying as hell if you did her wrong."

"Yeah, and what about you? You were right there with him, cowering like a little baby," Ada said.

He glanced at Ada. "You stood there and giggled while she whacked me a good one, too, so I don't know why you're even asking," he said, before looking back at Clara. "Then she made sure my own mother knew what we did, so I got it again back at home. Tom and I shoveled shit before school with Curly for nearly three months to make up for the money we spent while Ada sat in a chair and watched and reported back. But it was all worth it. Won't ever forget my first trip to London."

"But you were only kids. What were you gonna do there all by yourself?"

"We were thinking about sneaking into a pub and getting up to all sorts of things we had no business getting up to."

"But you weren't even big enough."

"Drinking age back then was only thirteen. And Tommy and I could pass—"

Ada let out a laugh. "You boys were scrawny and short, barely passed for a couple of nine-year-olds."

"You should talk! Ada here didn't grow any tits until she was nearly seventeen."

"Freddie!"

"Well..." Freddie absently tried to stifle his laughter. "You didn't, Ada."

"Well, you would know…Staring after your best mate's little sister even when you were a full-grown man."

"Not like you weren't staring right back at me all those years, batting those little eyelashes, showing off those tiny little tit—"

"Freddie! I don't want you talking like that in front of my sister, or the baby," she answered, hand falling to her belly.

Clara snickered at the two of them. She quite liked the way Freddie and Ada fought, harmlessly teasing one another with broad smiles on their faces and always ending things by Freddie pulling Ada's face close for a gentle kiss. The two of them seemed not to care that someone else was in the room, conscious of little more than one another.

"But Clara likes my stories," Freddie said when he pulled away. "Isn't that right?"

"She may like them, doesn't mean she has any need to hear them."

"Y'know, Ada once tried to run off to Lond—"

"Freddie, enough! You two play a game or something. No more talk of running off to London."

Ada began tidying the small space of the remnants of their lunch of fruit, bread, and cheese. Clara and Freddie remained sitting across from each other on the floor, occupying themselves with a game of red hands. Freddie had introduced the game to her long before going away to war, back when he had been a regular fixture at the Shelby home.

Freddie grinned as Clara squinted with one eye, easily catching her attempt at cheating. "Ah! Keep those eyes closed, Miss Clara."

Full of nervous energy, Clara waited, impatient for another onslaught from Freddie's deft hands. The newly imposed 'eyes-closed' rule had been Freddie's idea, enacted when he realized how quick the girl's reflexes had grown over the years. The new rule made the game more of a challenge and Clara was enduring a fairly steep learning curve.

"But it's much too difficult with eyes closed!" she complained. Her hands were beginning to tingle from the repeated attacks, already bright red and stinging after only a few minutes.

"You've got to feel for the—" Freddie began.

Imagining she had perceived a shift in the air between them, Clara hastily pulled her hands away, cursing herself aloud the moment she did it.

"Too soon, Clara," Freddie said, pulling her hands back into place and giving them a light slap as a penalty.

"Ow!" she shouted, shaking the sting out of her hands, an unmistakable pout on her face. "That one hurt!"

"Oh, come off it." Freddie smiled, reaching out to poke Clara in the side. "You're an unbelievably poor actress."

"Don't you hurt her, Freddie, or I'll give you a slap," Ada said, glancing at the two of them.

"I'm not hurting her. Your sister is being dramatic. Another family trait, that must be."

Ada bent down and took Clara's hands in her own as she came closer to the pair, giving him a knowing look. "Her poor hands would say otherwise."

"It's alright, Ada. We're only playing," Clara insisted, pulling her hands back from her sister's grasp.

"Just be careful. I don't want to send her home with bruises she'll have to explain away because you took a children's game too far," Ada answered before retreating towards the bed. Ada sat back, taking a deep breath as she prepared to pull the rest of her swelling body back against the wall.

"She'll be alright."

"Freddie, I'm serious, I—"

"Go call on those bloody brothers of yours then to come and slay this vile dragon for he has offended thee, the princesses of the royal family of the mighty kingdom of Small Heath." Freddie made a production of it, using sweeping arm gestures to accentuate his words.

Ada sat forward and rolled her eyes. "And now who's being dramatic?"

"The game is called red hands, Ada," Freddie offered. "It's in the name and your sister's a strong girl. She can handle it," he said, playfully tapping Clara under the chin with a finger.

"Alright, Freddie. Let's go again," Clara said, interrupting them and swatting his hand away.

Freddie smirked at his wife before turning his attention back to his young adversary.

Clara had laid her hands out once more, patiently awaiting some sign of Freddie's impending attack. The hint came from Ada, a faint fluctuation in the intake of her breath. Clara pulled her hands away at the very last moment, Freddie's fingertips missing Clara's by such a small distance he wasn't convinced they hadn't actually touched.

Both girls cheered and Clara pumped a fist in the air as she did so. Freddie might've laughed had the smug grins on both girls' faces not irritated him so much.

"Your turn, Freddie," Clara said, immediately reaching out to pull his hands into position.

Ada interrupted, standing up from her spot on the bed. "Freddie can have his turn next time. We've got to get you home."

Clara groaned, cursing Tommy for wanting her home early, and quickly weighing the consequences of not being there. "Can't I stay just a bit longer?"

"If you're not home soon, the boys will be out turning over all of Birmingham to find you and I'd not like to have a single one of them at my doorstep"

"Well, John's bringing the kids for dinner. Why don't you and Freddie just come—"

"Clara, we can't and you know why," Ada said.

"But I can talk to Tommy," Clara said, uncertain whether that was true. She hadn't said more than a few sentences to Tommy since Ada had moved out and the morning's events hadn't exactly been a step towards reconciliation.

"You'll do no such thing. You don't tell Tommy or any of them a word about you coming here or—"

"But—"

Freddie stood up, offering a hand down to Clara. "Come now, Clara. Don't give your sister a hard time. Tommy and Ada and I will be on the same side again one day and we'll all come around for Sunday dinner, me and Ada, and the baby. Your brother just needs a little extra time to adjust, that's all. We've got to wait for him to catch up to the rest of us, yeah?"

Clara reluctantly took his outstretched hand, allowing Freddie to pull her to her feet.

"We'll see you soon then, yeah?"

Clara nodded, releasing a frustrated breath as she hugged him around the middle.

"Alright then," Freddie said, kissing Clara on the head. "You be good, Miss Shelby."

Clara nodded again, following Ada's quick feet as they moved out the door and up the steps to the sidewalk. Quickly forgetting the brief disagreement about leaving, Clara and Ada occupied themselves with regular discussion as they made their way towards Small Heath. They talked of names for the baby and Clara's school assignments and made plans for the next visit.

As they neared the busy street corner where Clara and Ada typically parted ways, Ada wrapped Clara's arm tightly in her own, bringing both girls to a sudden stop.

"Wha—" Clara stopped herself when she spotted Polly ahead of them on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette as she leaned against a brick wall.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ada whispered to herself. "What is she doing here?"

"I—"

Ada turned to Clara, lowering herself to eye level as she backed her up to a brick wall behind them. Clara's heart beat hard in her chest as Ada gripped her arms. "I told you to be careful. You said they didn't know, no one knew."

Tears formed in Clara's eyes and she worked to get her words out over the growing lump in her throat. Ada and Freddie had been explicit about the conditions of Clara's visits. They had charted the many risks each of them was taking. They had been nothing aside from clear. And Freddie had told her if she put their safety in jeopardy, if she put the baby's safety in jeopardy, or even if she put her own safety in jeopardy, then he and Ada would find a new place to stay and the visits would stop, indefinitely.

"They didn't…I was careful. I swear. I—" she muttered, unable to complete a single thought.

Polly stepped up to the girls then and Clara promptly shut her mouth, stepping closer to her sister.

Ada straightened herself and looked to Polly, holding a trembling Clara close to her side.

"I have nothing to say to you," Ada said.

"Well, that's fine because I just need you to listen." Polly glanced at the younger girl. "And I need you to get yourself home."

Polly received a shocked and then icy glare as Clara's eyes shot to her aunt's face. She had been avoiding her gaze, shoulders dropped as she tried to keep hold of her emotions, but Ada's hold brought her strength.

"No, I—"

Polly cut the girl off before she could even get properly started. She didn't want to fight with Clara now. She knew she'd have to expend enough effort to wear down Ada.

"You've been lying to us for weeks now and luckily it's only me you've led directly to your sister and Freddie, rather than your brother or some nasty coppers. Best not to make this situation any harder on yourself. Go home. Straight there, no detours. No stopping off to see Isiah. And go straight up to your room. Start thinking about how you want to explain yourself."

Polly didn't like having to do it, especially since she liked the girls being together in this, but she knew Tommy had been right. Letting it all continue wasn't safe for any of them. Still, she could see the hurt in Clara's eyes, somewhere behind the initial visage of shock and anger. Polly's words washed over Clara like heavy rain, making the girl recede further into her big sister's side. Polly stared into Ada's eyes, waiting unwittingly until something in them finally shifted, the classic Shelby stubbornness softening as Ada's eyes became slightly wet.

It was ultimately Ada's silent nudging that sent Clara on her way, warm tears spilling onto her cheeks as she stepped away from her aunt and sister, feeling hurt and alone and frightened as she walked through the streets of Birmingham.