Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content, bullying, fighting/ injury/ blood.
Time
1919
Tommy made his way through two full cigarettes while waiting for the twins to come out of the schoolyard. He had tried to arrange for just about anyone other than himself to collect them at midafternoon, but he had been entirely unsuccessful in that endeavor.
John was busy at home with four sick kids.
Arthur had been at the Garrison since ten in the morning, now barely able to stand.
Polly was adopting a strict "hands-off" approach towards the twins, going far beyond the call in respecting her nephew's wishes that they do things his way.
And Tommy hadn't a true clue as to Ada's whereabouts. He and Clara had settled into the agreement of it being a subject not to be discussed. He thanked, certainly not god, but whatever there was worth thanking that things had settled with Clara, even if Ada and Freddie were still roaming the city. Quarreling with Clara was something he didn't have time for, so he was grateful that that business had taken a reprieve.
Tommy truthfully didn't have time in his days for playing chaperone to a couple of eleven-year-olds either, yet here he was, waiting irritably against the brick wall separating street education from the education of arithmetic and literature. Most of the children of Small Heath's poor had already spilled through the entryway in a herd, and a few lingering groups of two and three had followed the initial swarm. Several minutes had passed by since Tommy had seen a single additional child come through the doors.
Checking his pocket watch, Tommy stubbed the end of his cigarette out on the brick and pushed off the wall, intent on finding the twins and getting them moving. He had places to be and had already wasted half an hour of his afternoon with the walk over to the school and the additional time spent waiting.
The yard was nearly empty and Tommy was starting to suspect Finn and Clara had gotten themselves into some sort of trouble with the teacher. It was not beyond possibility, especially when one considered the defiant streak Clara had been testing out. Finn had always been quick to join in on those types of things, especially on the rare occasion that his sister was keen on it.
Clara had spent nearly a week at home resting following the run-in with the Cheapside boys, a week during which Tommy had essentially confined his sister to her room. Enforcing it with a claim that she needed the rest, Tommy hoped Clara would understand it for what it truly was, a sort of reprimand for all that had happened, a warning of what could come. He had very little by way of qualms about confining his sister to her bedroom if that solution was needed. Tommy still wasn't sure whether the week at home had had its intended consequence. Though they were no longer fighting, no longer ignoring one another outright, he still wasn't certain of how his sister was understanding any of it.
Tommy was about two steps from the main entrance when Finn came through the large wooden doors wearing a scowl on his face. He was busy shoving a workbook in his bag, his eyes growing wide when he looked up and spotted Tommy ahead of him.
"Tommy, the teacher… she made me retake my spelling quiz," Finn sputtered, eyes immediately spotting the tension in Tommy's shoulders.
Tommy's features softened as he cocked his head to the side and exhaled. The kid was hopeless with the reading and the writing. Thankfully he could count. "That's fine, Finn. Where's your sister, eh?"
Finn shrugged, coming down the remaining steps to meet Tommy. "She ran off somewhere with that book she's got."
Tommy wasn't surprised. It sounded just like his sister to spend all day with books and lessons, only to follow that up with a bit more reading, especially considering Tommy had limited her access to the books during the week prior.
"Give it back, you fucker!"
Tommy and Finn both turned their heads towards the voice. Despite having the quality of a low roar, both gravely and snarling, and despite the unexpected choice of words, the boys were intuitively aware that the voice belonged to their sister. The pair made their way down the steps two at a time and turned the corner of the school building to follow the familiar voice.
When he saw his sister, Tommy let out a painful breath that had gotten caught somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. It wasn't any type of true fight they were watching, but something of a standoff between Clara and a boy who held well over a head of additional height above her own. And though it wasn't a fight, Clara's small fists were balled at her sides, her stare was hard and cold as she looked up at the boy who wasn't far off from being considered a man.
On leaving for school that morning, Clara had looked her regular put-together self, at least Tommy had thought so. Seeing his sister now, he barely recognized the girl. She was wearing an old jumper of Finn's, something crumpled up and a bit too large for her. Her messy hair was pulled back from her face, showing off the set of stitches on her forehead though the hair was falling out of the loosely tied ribbon.
It was only the contrast that made Tommy realize that Clara's hair was typically styled in only a few ways, all of which resulted in neat lines whether that be a couple of plaits or her hair falling straight down her back. Tommy recognized her favored blue coat tossed on the dirt along with her school bag. Clara looked wild and scrawny before them and Tommy likened her to a regular Watery Lane young'un.
"Not so mighty now, without a copper or a brother or a—" Wally muttered, his voice low as he held the book just out of her grasp, laughter on the edge of his words as he teased her. Despite this, the words didn't quite register for Clara, so intent she was on retrieving her stolen book.
Clara had come to school intending to keep away from the Cheapside boys. She intended on focusing on her school work, but when Wally pulled the book from her grasp for the mere purpose of getting a rise out of the girl, it did just that, flicking a switch Clara didn't know was possible of being flicked.
Tommy caught his sister as she reached out to shove the boy, a light gasp escaping her lips as the rough palm clamped down around her wrist and dragged her back from Wally Bartow. Her shock quickly turned to a smug grin as she caught a more defining sight of her brother at the same time the color drained slightly from Wally's cheeks.
Tommy snatched the book from the boy's grasp. "You go on home to Cheapside. You bother these two again, you'll get a visit from the Peaky Blinders."
His words didn't encourage a response from Wally and he seemed to be lost for words regardless. Tommy watched the boy long enough to see him begin to walk away and only then did he glance down to his sister. He didn't like the haughty smirk on the little girl's face, her smug countenance.
"And you, go get your fucking things."
Releasing Clara from his grasp, Tommy sent her stumbling forward. Not particularly concerned with whether or not his sister caught her balance, he turned towards the front gates, motioning Finn forward and wanting nothing more than to drop the kids off at home so he could get on with his day.
Tommy stopped when he heard a loud growl escape Clara's lips, turning back in time to see her shove the boy she'd been fighting with. The impact was hard enough that he tripped backward over the set of feet that had grown too large for a body that hadn't quite caught up with the extremities yet. As he tumbled to the dirt, Wally pulled Clara down with him.
Sat on top of Wally Bartow's chest, Clara delivered two punches before his open hand collided with the side of her head, flinging her off to the side in an almost graceful trajectory. Tommy watched Clara slam into the ground, forehead skimming against the dirt and rock of the courtyard. Wally scrambled to his feet, backing away from her, but Clara seemed resolved on having a fight, lunging towards him again despite the blood spilling out from the spot on her head where a set of stitches had held her wound closed only seconds before.
Tommy didn't bother shouting her name. He quickly closed the distance between them and yanked her up from the ground, pulling her to her feet and then some. Clara shouted, fighting his grip even after he set her on the ground.
"What the hell are you doing, eh?" Tommy asked, shaking her arm until Clara's eyes met his. For a moment, Tommy saw the tears consider pooling, the red strain in her eyes bringing out the green in her hazel irises, and then his hand slipped, tightening just a hint on her small arm.
"But he—" Clara began, dropping the eye contact as she pulled to loosen his fingers.
Tommy hauled her forward without allowing another word, facing straight ahead as he ground out an order towards his younger brother. "Grab her things."
Though Tommy continued to drag Clara along, she dug her heels into the muddy ground, not caring that doing so made it feel like her arm might separate completely from her shoulder. Tommy didn't say a word as he pulled his sister up in his arms, swiftly moving them off the school property. He didn't have time for this.
Tommy set her on the floor just inside Jeremiah Jesus' front door. Clara's face was flushed, a deep shade of red painting her cheeks, and her eyebrows deeply furrowed. Seething eyes anchored on her brother's face. Tommy had somehow known the quieting of her protests as they made their way through Small Heath with her carried in his arms like a small child hadn't meant the anger had simmered.
Clara hadn't even acknowledged Isiah's presence in the room. The boy had been the one to open the door, stammering out a surprised, "Hello, Mr. Shelby, sir," as he stepped aside to let the two of them through into the kitchen.
Tommy moved around his sister, taking a seat at the table.
"Go find Jeremiah and show him what you did to his stitches."
When his sister didn't move, Tommy found himself taking a deep heaving breath, reaching out to grab her roughly by the collar of her shirt as he pulled her closer.
Clara nearly tripped over her own feet as he closed the distance between them, bringing her to stand between his knees. She flinched, squinting her eyes closed as she lifted her hands in a mixed attempt to free herself.
"Ah, so, you're not looking for more trouble, then?"
After a short moment of Tommy's silence, Clara realized the question hadn't been rhetorical. Opening her eyes, she quickly shook her head.
"Do what I fucking tell you then, eh?" he answered, dropping his hand. "And don't put up a fuss about it."
As Clara trudged down the hallway to find Jeremiah, Tommy glanced at Isiah Jesus. The boy had pushed himself into the corner of the room when Tommy and Clara entered. Pretending not to be paying much attention to the Shelbys in his kitchen, he hunched over the counter as he busied himself with something Tommy couldn't see.
"You might as well follow her, Isiah. He'll need help holding her down."
The boy nodded, making only the slightest bit of eye contact before heading down the hall.
Tommy didn't want a single thing to do with holding his sister still or comforting her tears. If any contact at all, he pictured himself wringing her neck and knocking some sense into the stubborn little girl. In addition to the neck wringing and sense knocking, Tommy was partial to the notion of keeping her locked up at home where she wouldn't get into fights with Wally Bartow, where she wouldn't run into a single copper aside from the ones on his payroll.
Before the war, things had been easier. The twins had always been home unless accompanied out. He hadn't had to pay much mind to the idea of them getting in trouble or getting hurt. Sure, there had always been a few accidental injuries and the occasional trouble that any kid got themselves into, but Clara and Finn had been surprisingly easy kids. He wouldn't have ever expected it, but eleven was giving him trouble.
He didn't remember Ada being like this at eleven. Shooting rats by day and sneaking into Polly's rouge and heels to play dress-up by night, yes, but his other sister hadn't been fighting the oldest boys in the neighboring gangs during recess. She hadn't been plotting missions to see Communists in hiding and convincing neighborhood boys to lie for her. At eleven, Ada hadn't worried him like this. And constant worrying wasn't something Thomas Shelby had time for.
Tommy slumped over Jeremiah's small kitchen table for just a moment. The single lump he was trying to swallow gave the muscles in his throat a little trouble. He was feeling weary. Weary of his siblings. Weary of the Lee boys. Weary of the coppers sent to locate missing guns from the BSA factory. But there was no time for weary, in the very same way that there was no time for worry.
He knew if he didn't take the moment to compose himself, to devise some type of plan, he'd be dealing with another few weeks of the temperamental sister he thought he had just taken care of and there was no time for that either.
It was a few minutes before Tommy finally decided to follow the kids down the hall, to make sure Clara and Isiah had done what they were told. He stopped in the doorway, leaning on the frame. Tommy pulled out a cigarette and rolled it between his lips while watching his sister. He had every intention of lighting it before he remembered Jeremiah wasn't a smoker. Continuing to watch, Tommy pulled the cigarette from his lips and put it away.
Clara was making something close to an attempt to sit still while Jeremiah worked on the open wound on her forehead but by looking at her, you wouldn't know she was even trying. Just thinking about that needle going in and out of the skin on her forehead was getting the best of her and Jeremiah hadn't even cleaned the wound yet. Clara pushed and thrashed against Isiah's arms. The poor boy had the job of keeping her from moving too much while his father did his work.
It wasn't until Tommy cleared his throat and caught her eye that Clara compliantly stilled. She looked down at the muscle visible beneath the flesh of Isiah's hands. They were clasped tightly around her wrists, still tense although Clara had stopped fighting him. Now that she had quit struggling, Jeremiah was able to get a good look at the opening in her forehead, his fingers poking and prodding near the wound and the new red mark along her jaw.
"There'll be a scar, Tom," Jeremiah said. "And a mighty bruise here."
She let out a yelp as Jeremiah's hand grazed a particularly tender spot.
"She did it to herself. Just do the best you can, Jeremiah," he said, nodding at the man.
Tommy noticed his sister making her best effort to avoid looking in his direction and he watched for several more moments in silence before shifting his eyes to Jeremiah. He pulled the cigarette back between his fingertips. "Your boy can bring her around the house when she's finished up, eh Jeremiah? I've got some business."
"Sure, Tom. He'll bring her."
"No detours, no book reading, no letting her run off to the other side of Birmingham and claiming she was with you. You bring her straight home to me, Isiah."
"You hear that, boy?" Jeremiah asked.
"Yeah, pop," Isiah answered, averting his eyes before he turned to look at Tommy. "I'll bring her straight home, Mr. Shelby."
Tommy focused on his cigarette as John, Arthur, and Finn horsed around at the other end of the table. He was waiting on Polly to start the meeting, waiting on the only Shelby he knew would need any type of convincing in the matter.
If Tommy had been counting his cigarettes, he may have been surprised by the amount he had inhaled since leaving Clara with Jeremiah, but Tommy Shelby didn't count cigarettes or drinks or inhalations from the pipe in his bedside table. Tommy counted things like risks and liabilities, weighing them against the expected remunerations. And though he wasn't usually the one who counted the money in the company safe, he counted their earnings in his own way, adding the symbols listed in the ledgers to see how great the business had grown since his return from France.
Leaning back in his chair, Tommy watched John and Finn play fighting, John catching Finn's small arms to prevent any further advances before turning to Arthur and continuing their conversation, easy smiles on their faces despite Tommy's mood.
"No wonder Clara's been fighting boys in the schoolyard if this is how Finn is protecting her."
Finn's strength surged as he shoved back against John's hands. "I was kept after," he said, "and she shouldn't have run off on her own. Never stays put, our sister."
"Well, I'll tell you what," John started, shifting his grip and diminishing Finn's chances of overtaking him as he pulled Finn into a gentle headlock. "If it had been me there to collect the two of you, I don't care if he's just a kid. After what he did to our Clara, I'd be teaching him a lesson. Maybe Finn and I'll take a trip down to Cheapside before we send her back to that school. What'd ya think, Finn?"
Tommy glanced at his younger brothers. Though Tommy had not stated it explicitly, John seemed to know that their youngest was to be the subject of the family meeting. It seemed to Tommy that all of the family meetings had been about his sisters in some way for a few weeks now.
"The Blinders don't deal with kids," was all Tommy said.
"Then I'll beat his father within an inch—"
"Ernie Bartow already paid his sons' debt. I stopped by this morning to see to it."
John and Tommy both glanced at Arthur, who looked plenty pleased with himself, and Tommy took a deep breath. He hadn't been privy to that bit of information.
With maneuvers and battles already in process with Billy Kimber, the Lee's, and the new Inspector, Tommy knew the Shelby family didn't need another war to spread their defenses and attentions even thinner. Still, he found himself merely nodding at Arthur's admission. Nearly eight hours had passed already and there hadn't been even a whisper of retaliation, not a hint of chatter around Small Heath that Arthur's likely violent retribution had ever even taken place.
"And our Finny boy will be with her at school," Arthur continued, pulling Finn closer with an arm slung around his shoulders. Arthur tousled the boy's hair. "He'll look after his sister. Round up the Watery Lane boys and have them all looking after her."
"The Cheapies won't get near her again," Finn answered.
"Thatta boy, Finn," Arthur said, clapping his hand down on his shoulder.
Finn couldn't hide his grin, pride surging at the approval as he stood with his back straight and tall between John and Arthur. It wasn't often Finn got recognized for protecting anybody. If anything, Finn felt he was always blamed when things went awry with his twin sister, like he had some sort of unspoken responsibility to stop anything untoward. Any trouble caused for one twin was somehow trouble for both, but the correlation felt stronger when the trouble started with his sister.
"And, I'll take care of Wal—" he started.
"Finn, go tend to your nieces and nephews," Polly snapped.
She started muttering as she removed her hat and coat, the words said aloud, but more to herself than anything else. "Out running the streets with no shoes or jackets, all four of them. Even the baby, traipsing through the mud and the shit."
"Shit," John answered. "Can't leave those kids for 10 minutes. They were all asleep in bed when I came over."
Polly eyed her older nephews each in turn before finally turning her stare to the youngest who had yet to move an inch. "What are you waiting for? Off you go. Keep them occupied until supper," Polly said.
Finn grumbled. No one liked the job of wrangling John's wild children, especially if they were sick. Though he frequently played with John's oldest boy like one would a cousin, even Finn thought John's kids could be a pain. He didn't like the idea of being responsible for them and supper was still a few hours off.
"What about Clara? Why can't Clara do it?" he groaned.
"Because I've told you to do it," Polly answered.
It was a gentle nudge from Arthur that finally sent Finn towards the front door to corral John's kids and play babysitter. Slow and arduous was the journey from the table to the back door, almost like he knew there was something important left to be discussed and he was hoping his aunt and brothers would change their minds and let him stay.
Now that Polly had arrived, the real family meeting could begin. Tommy had let Arthur lead things about the Bartow's. He allowed his brother that small victory, proceeding as though Arthur's acting out of turn hadn't phased him in the slightest, but he couldn't afford to allow any more instances of improvisation. Tommy waited until Finn was fully through the front door before pulling himself to sit a little straighter in the chair. "Pol, join us. Take a seat."
Polly looked at Tommy straight on, lips pursed as she stood in front of the chair Tommy offered her. "How's your sister?"
"She'll be fine. Jeremiah's fixing her up. Isiah will be bringing her home when they're through," he answered calmly.
"And you trust him to do that?"
"I do," Tommy answered.
Polly nodded once, searching Tommy's eyes and face for whatever he wasn't yet communicating. The two of them had a way of speaking without saying any actual words. And they communicated plenty through those lingering stares. Plenty that John and Arthur missed out on without Ada there to call it out and demand a translation.
As John and Arthur waited out the silence, they got to thinking the stare down wasn't something they'd want to get between anyway, especially considering that Polly had yet to take the seat Tommy had offered her. Instead, Arthur pushed a hand through his hair a few times and John focused on twirling the toothpick in his mouth. Both men looked up when Tommy finally cleared his throat.
"Right, well, I believe you're all well aware of why I've called this meeting. It seems as though Arthur has addressed the Bartow's so their debt has been cleared. We won't be dealing with them further on the subject."
Tommy paused, glancing around the table. Arthur nodded, a small grin on his lips as he looked around the table. John still chewed the toothpick on the left side of his mouth, seemingly more interested in cleaning the dirt from beneath his nails now that he and Finn wouldn't be teaching anyone a lesson. Polly continued to meet Tommy's eyes straight on, not blinking even once while she waited for him to carry on.
"And even if Arthur hadn't paid them a visit, Clara's issues with the boy won't be a problem any longer. I've pulled her from school," he finished, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it, puffing as if the more smoke he blew into the air between them, the clearer it would be that the matter was good and settled.
"You've what?" Polly asked, her head tilted to the side as she stared at her nephew, leaning down over the table with both palms pushed into the wood grain.
"I'm pulling Clara from that damned school, Pol."
"And what do you expect to do with that mind of hers all day? Going to put her to work in the shop? Make her your maid and the family cook?"
"I've made a plan for her," Tommy answered.
Polly laughed, throwing her arms up as she finally settled into the chair. "Oh, that's splendid, Thomas. You've made a half-cocked plan, have you? Another grand fucking strategy devised without consulting a single member of this family?"
"I'm informing you all now. I've already employed a tutor for her and—"
"You've already—"
"Pol, this tutor is a very bright woman. Clara will learn more one-on-one with a tutor than she could ever learn at that overcrowded school," Tommy said, settling the matter. "Now, unless anyone else has other business, the shop needs reopening."
John and Arthur took their cue, moving behind the double doors and pulling them shut. Polly watched her nephews leave the room without a complaint though it took effort for her not to roll her eyes at the backs of their heads. They were sweet boys, well-intentioned and all, but entirely worthless when it came to dealing with their brother. Tommy had manipulated them both into unconscious compliance sometime around 1896 and things had been the same ever since. Polly was beginning to confirm something she had always known. It was only the girls in the family who ever questioned Thomas Shelby, only Polly and her nieces ever giving him any sort of a fight worth noting.
"Those kids should be together, Thomas."
"As I've said, Pol, she's not being challenged. And Finn will be leaving school soon enough," Tommy answered, leaning forward to clear the ash from the end of his cigarette into the tray. "You and I both know the boy's not cut out for academics and won't be staying beyond the leaving age. Clara needs something more than that little school has to offer."
Polly took a deep breath before reaching across the table to pull a cigarette from Tommy's case, wordlessly accepting the match Tommy held out to her across the table. She blew more smoke into the air between them as she considered it.
"She won't like it. We just got things settled with her and now you're going to pull something like this..." Polly gave a small shake of her head.
"It's already decided, Pol. I'm taking her out of school. She doesn't have to like it."
Tommy glanced towards the doorway, the almost imperceptible creak of the floorboard pulling his eyes in the direction. Over their slightly raised voices, Tommy hadn't heard the opening of the front door. He hadn't heard Isiah Jesus bid his sister goodbye from the stoop. Clara's characteristically quiet footfall hadn't given him any early warning of her impending arrival and if Polly had sensed Clara's presence, she certainly hadn't given Tommy a clue.
The Clara he saw now looked a different girl than the one he watched in the schoolyard, a different girl than the one he left in Jeremiah's living room. He took in the look of her fresh stitches, the skin around them pink and inflamed. Tommy's eyes flickered from the red puffiness beneath her eyes to the slight wobble of her lower lip.
"Tommy, I—"
Tommy released a small breath as he beckoned her forward. Any lingering anger from when Tommy left her with Jeremiah had been quelled. With only a little hesitation, Clara stepped through the doorway and up to Tommy's side. She allowed him to pull her to stand between his knees, allowed him to take a look at her stitches before she climbed onto a knee and settled with her head against his chest.
"I wanna stay at my school," she mumbled, her voice barely audible with her cheek placed flush against the fabric of her brother's coat. "Finn and I gotta look out for each other," Clara continued even though Tommy's hand had stopped running up and down her back.
Polly raised an eyebrow as she watched Tommy's reaction. She knew he hadn't been expecting the words that came from Clara's mouth. From the way he had invited her into his arms and started dolling out bits of care and comfort, Polly was quite certain Tommy had been expecting some pitiful tears and an apology. He should be learning to know better by now.
"How long were you listening outside that door?" Tommy asked.
Tommy felt Clara shrug a shoulder so he shifted her, breaking the contact she had with him as he forced her back to stand between his knees.
"Stand up and answer me properly," he said.
"I don't wanna leave school. I wanna stay with Finn."
"Finn won't be in that school much longer." Tommy's words were a bit of a stretch. Finn had a good couple of years still left before he could stop going.
"But I've been chosen to read my story at the pageant and—"
"It's been settled, Clara."
Clara turned to her aunt, attempting to pull herself from Tommy's grasp. "But Aunt Poll—"
"The decision has been made," Tommy said, cutting her off before she had the chance to plead. "And begging Polly won't change a thing."
"But…but what about a family vote?" Clara sputtered.
Tommy leaned forward again, a hollow laugh falling from his mouth as he flicked the ash and turned to look at his sister. "And what would you know about family votes?"
Clara's mouth dropped open for a short moment before she thought better of showing him too much. "I just…" Clara started. "Well, I know we're supposed to have them. We're supposed to make decisions as a family."
Polly smiled, looking across the table. "She's not wrong."
Tommy took a lengthy inhale and exhale from the cigarette before making eye contact again. "We had a vote just now, surely you heard it since you've been standing out in the hall listening in."
"But that wasn't a proper vote!" Clara said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You just told everybody, that's all. You can't just decide everything for everyone, Tommy."
Polly let out a snort. "She's not wrong about that either."
Clara's lips pulled up in a half-smile as she looked to her aunt, but Polly and Tommy were already in the middle of another one of those conversations she knew they liked to have with their eyes. Clara knew better than to interrupt them so she stayed quiet for a moment as she watched. Quietly as possible, she attempted to put a bit of distance between herself and her brother, surprised when he grasped her arm to stop her, his eye contact with Polly breaking as he looked at her.
"I've had enough of you two fighting me. Freddie Thorne will be leaving Birmingham and Clara, you're leaving that school."
"But, Tommy, I don't wanna—" she started, letting out a whimper when he turned her face towards him by grasping her chin.
"You think I am concerned with whether or not you wanna?"
At one point, Tommy might have been concerned with his sister's wants, when he had the time for it but he was beginning to lose patience with it. The more defiant she grew, the less patient Tommy felt, the coldness he rarely showed towards her seeping in and becoming commonplace. He was growing immune to his sister's objections, cultivating an impervious resistance to the teary eyes. Tommy looked at his sister for what felt like a long while, waiting for her to comply, waiting for some sort of understanding to show itself only to be disappointed by her outlasting him.