Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content.

Theories

1919

Finn had a theory, one that said if his aunt shouted out in the back courtyard for long enough without finding them, the woman would eventually tire and just go on to church on her own.

Polly had already called out the twins' names twice, already made the appropriate accompanying threats telling them exactly what would happen if one or both of them didn't soon make their way back to number six. They were mostly empty, the threats, but Clara knew her aunt wouldn't hesitate to whack any one of them if the whim suited her.

While Clara participated in their game of hide and seek, lowering herself to the floor beside Finn in John's kitchen while the breakfast cooking on the stove sat unattended, she didn't have much hope for them both getting out of church. Polly was a persistent woman and Clara figured she would come through John's back door at any moment and drag one of them off regardless of what Finn thought.

She settled her arms over her knees and took a deep breath as she listened to her name being shouted again, this time without Finn's following. Despite not having any specific rows with Tommy, no especially clear cut "bad behavior," Clara had a feeling it was really her who Polly was after. Avoiding a row with Tommy was part of how she'd ended up at John's in the first place, floating the idea by John and Arthur at the end of the shop day since Tommy and Polly were out. She wouldn't have asked for their permission anyway, not with Tommy being bad-tempered again.

Clara took a bit of responsibility for that though, Tommy's mood, because she had come up with a few theories of her own. Theories about Ada and Freddie mostly, about how they could bring their sister back home, and a few theories about Grace Burgess. While Clara had told her brother about her ideas to bring home her sister, Tommy had promptly shut her down and reminded her that he was handling it. After that, Clara decided to keep her ideas about Grace to herself.

With a bit more evidence in her possession, something a bit more concrete, Clara might have just told Tommy the truth she'd uncovered about Grace. That and if she wasn't so worried about the state of her older brother's heart, worried that he couldn't handle knowing the barmaid wasn't quite so sweet on him as he was on her. If those things were in place, Clara really might have just told him and spared herself the trouble of being back on his bad side. But because she didn't have the evidence and because of the history Clara had with Grace by now, she knew Tommy wouldn't believe what she had to say. He wouldn't appreciate this theory just as he hadn't appreciated her theories about Freddie and Ada.

Clara would've liked to have the advice of a woman, would have asked the same questions of a woman that she'd asked of Arthur, just to be a bit more sure. Ada could've answered her questions had she been around. Clara figured her older sister could have told her just about anything she needed to know about courting and love. And while Clara supposed she could ask Polly, she had thus far refrained because the woman often deciphered others' ulterior motives and Clara wasn't ready for a full explanation and defense.

If Clara was being truthful though, she simply longed for her sister, unanswered questions or not.

And even without a woman's confirmation and without any proper concrete evidence, Clara knew her theory was correct. There was a man in Grace Burgess's life, another man, one who wasn't Tommy Shelby or Harry Fenton or one of the regulars at the Garrison. It was someone she frequently met up with outside of the boundaries of Small Heath, claiming an errand across town. It was someone she had notes from, someone she bought pretty dresses for, someone the barmaid freshened her makeup for. And despite feeling confident that there was another man in the woman's life, Clara didn't say anything, letting the frustration over the whole matter come out in ways that, though Clara thought kinder to her brother's heart, were somehow less palatable to everyone else than the truth, especially since neither Tommy nor Grace understood what was behind the sudden reversion in the girl's demeanor.

So, feeling very much weary at the prospect of another evening at home with Tommy, Clara had instead begged John to let her and Finn stay at his, something John had never deprived the twins of since he left their homestead to move in with Martha before the war. The trio had left Arthur to explain the twins' whereabouts to Polly and Tommy, and as was a typical consequence of immersing one's self in the chaos that was John's home, Clara promptly forgot of any issues with brothers or sisters or barmaids once she arrived.

John scratched his head as he came into the kitchen, Robbie flailing about over his shoulder, toy cars in both hands as John set him at the table, an ache in his back the sole evidence that he was no longer young as he thought he was. After finishing up at the Garrison the night before, he had joined the kids, his four and Clara and Finn, and they had all slept on the floor in a mess of pillows and blankets the kids claimed as a fort.

"Which one of you's in trouble?"

John stretched out his back before reaching out to absently shake the pan of frying bacon left unattended by the twins, grabbing a piece out with a fork and taking a bite before passing the rest to his younger boy.

"My money's on both of you."

Finn stood up and stepped over his sister. "I didn't do anything."

John glanced at Clara. She allowed her legs to straighten though she stayed there on the floor, head tilted back against the wall, her eyes closed.

"Right. What'd you do, then?" John asked.

"I didn't do anything either," Clara answered, her eyes opening and meeting his.

John eyed his sister before wiping his greasy hands off on a towel. "Well, one of you better go on. Don't want her coming in here and dragging me and my lot down."

"She'll give up," Finn offered.

John raised an eyebrow. "You're off it, mate. That woman doesn't give up, especially not if she thinks one of us needs a bit of God."

"She says the whole lot of us need a little more God, some of us more than others," Clara said, giggling a bit as she stood up and took the fork from John, picking her own bit of bacon out of the pan and passing half to Finn.

"Well, I went last time."

The twins said the words at the same time, both turning toward each other with the same expression on their faces, an indignant disbelief that made John start chuckling.

"No, I went!" Clara shouted, her voice beating Finn's by a fraction of a second. "After the gun and—" Clara glanced at John. "Well, maybe it's your turn since you left a loaded gun out on the sideboard."

"Christ, that was months ago," John said. "Finny boy, this girl would hang us out first chance she got, eh?"

"She probably would," Finn answered.

"Not unless you deserved it," Clara answered.

"And after all the fun we had last night, you think I deserve it?" John leaned towards her, tickling under the chin.

Clara let out a squeal and backed away, but John caught her, spinning Clara around so her back set against his chest, her arms trapped in his grasp.

"Alright boys, go ahead and get her. Let's teach our Clara not to be so smart and sassy all the time, not a good example for the little girls. They got enough sass from their mother."

Clara pulled against John's hold, thrashing about as Finn and Robbie came at her, the two of them laughing as they attacked and Clara let out a scream.

"Daddy, you're hurting her!"

John laughed as he glanced at the younger of his two daughters, the little girl still half-asleep as she rubbed at her eyes in the doorway.

"Just teaching her a lesson, Katie girl," John answered, grinning at his daughter as he reaffirmed his grip on Clara's hands, her attempts to pull away from him nearly successful. "You want a turn? Teach you not to be too like your cheeky auntie here?"

John dropped his hold on his sister when she plowed the heel of her boot into his shin, his arm grazing the hot pan as he backed away from her. "Fuckin' hell!"

"That's a bad word!" Robbie shouted and Clara used the distraction to push through the boys to stand near Katie on the other side of the room.

Katie pushed in front of Clara and put her hand up. "No more tickles, daddy!"

"Yeah, alright," John said, hissing as he touched the red skin on his arm. "You lot sit. No more fooling around the hot pan."

"You were the one fooling," Clara said as she helped Robbie back into his chair.

"You wanna go again, sweetheart?" John put up his fists. "We can go right out back and have a little match, just you and me?"

"You can't fistfight with a girl, dad," Joey answered as he came into the kitchen.

"I'm not gonna fistfight her, mate." John pulled Clara over, wrapping his arm around her. "Just gonna keep the baby in her place."

"But I'm the baby!" Robbie shouted.

Finn rolled his eyes, groaning. "Hush up, Robbie."

"You hush up," Robbie answered.

"Both of you hush up or I'll send you all off to church with Aunt Pol."

Clara fought at John's hold. "Let me g—"

John looked down at his sister. "And you pipe down."

"I'll kick you again."

"You bloody well will not," John laughed, mussing her hair before he let her go. "Come on auntie and uncle. Help get these wild animals fed."

"I was doing just that before you barged in here," Clara answered, taking back her place in front of the stove.

"Yeah? Cause it looked like you were cowering in the corner when I came in," John answered before turning to his kids. "You lot want eggs?"

Clara shook her head when they all started shouting, three sets of hands pounding on the table as they chanted. "Eggs! Eggs! Eggs! Eggs!"

John smirked at his sister's rolling eyes, reaching around her for the eggs and cracking them into the hot pan.

"Aunt Polly says you shouldn't have taught them those things."

"Are you planning to go all Aunt Pol on us?"

Clara's hands found her hips and John tried his best not to laugh. "I'm not like Aunt Polly."

"Sometimes you are," Finn said. "Bossy like her, and a know it all."

"Guess we know where Tom gets it from, too, then," John answered, flipping the eggs. He met Clara's eye for a moment and smiled. "But let's lay off it, Finn. Nothing wrong with being smart and there's nothing wrong with a woman who knows what she wants."

They all cringed at Polly's new round of shouting, this time a bit closer, the accompanying threat a bit more descriptive than the ones that came before. John glanced between the twins.

"Alright, really. Which one of you is going?"

"She's the one who's been making Tommy mad again," Finn said as he took a seat in front of a plate of bacon and eggs.

"And you've been in the shop and stealing cigarettes," Clara said.

"And you went playing by the Cut this week even though Uncle Tommy said to stay on the lane," John's oldest daughter added.

Clara nodded at John's oldest daughter as she came into the room, repeating the accusation for good measure. "Yes, Sarah's right. You went playing by the Cut even though Tommy said to stay on the lane."

"Well, since Clara making Tommy mad is nothing new, sounds like it might be your turn, eh mate?" John clapped Finn on the back and winked at Clara as they all tucked in to their breakfast, momentarily putting the conversation aside. Meals in John's house were often quick, done in the span of a few minutes as the kids shoveled food in faster than was likely safe, so John waited to talk to his sister until they were alone in the kitchen, with Finn and the kids off playing in the next room over.

"So, you're fighting Tommy again?"

Clara offered him a simple shake of her head as she focused on pushing the remaining food around her plate.

John raised an eyebrow from his spot against the counter, continuing to shovel eggs into his mouth while he cleared his plate.

"I'm not," she insisted.

"Alright, alright." John nodded, dropping the plate in the sink and sitting in the chair beside her. "Not that he wouldn't deserve it if you were still giving him a hard time. Though I suppose passing your days at Uncle Charlie's isn't such a bum deal, yeah?"

A smile passed Clara's lips as she looked up to him, setting aside the fork. "You should come to see the new horse, bring the kids."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Sarah's been asking," John said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice before he continued. "And I'm uh… I'll be taking Lizzie out today."

Clara turned to him. "Yeah? Taking her where?"

"A picnic, I think… out in the country. Maybe next time I'll bring the kids. She's helped with them a few times. Seems to like kids."

"Have you told anyone?"

John shook his head. For now, telling Clara was all the courage he could muster. "Not ye—"

John and Clara both flinched as they turned towards the back door and the woman barging through it. "Clara Elizabeth Shelby, were you ignoring me, or do I need to get your ears checked?"

"I kept her, Aunt Pol," John answered before Clara could, "needed her help with the kids."

Polly eyed her nephew before nodding once. Even if she knew Clara had her own agenda, her own mind, and her own manipulations, she wouldn't outright question the truth in her nephew needing help with his four young children.

"Martha's mum wants them for the day."

Again, Polly nodded. "Good. It'll give you a break and you won't be needing your sister anymore, so she can come with me to the church." Polly turned to Clara. "You go on, get back to the house and get yourself changed."

Clara made it clear that she wasn't thrilled about church, complaining about getting dressed up and whining about the tightness of the braids Polly weaved into her hair, talking about anything and everything in order to stop whatever conversation her aunt had queued up.

That all stopped once they stepped into the church building. It was nearly empty since it wasn't a Sunday and there were no services, but Clara's complaints still faded into silence as she slipped into the pew beside her aunt.

Polly gave the silence a moment, wondering if the quiet and the venue would compel anything from the girl, but when it didn't, she turned to her niece. "Right, out with it. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," Clara answered, her new boots rested on the pew in front of her.

Polly was unsurprised by the answer, used to hearing similar answers from the girl. Where her twin was an open book, Clara kept most things to herself.

"If there's any place where you can share your woes, it's here."

Clara maintained her focus on her kicking feet, barely acknowledging her aunt's words.

"You've been off all week."

Clara shrugged.

"Right, well, we can start with this business about your sister. I've just been to see her. She's fine. She and Freddie are going to be leaving Birmingham. I've been to the Cunard office, bought them tickets and—"

"What? But—"

"They're not safe here, Clara. You know that," Polly answered. "The options are they leave the city or they live underground, constantly looking over their shoulders, being hunted by that new Inspector and whoever comes next after him. What do you really think is best for them? For the baby?"

Polly took the girl's hand, patting it. "Ada and Freddie and the baby will come back to us."

"When?" Clara asked. "Tommy won't ever let them."

"He will," Polly said, her voice nearly a whisper, "once this copper's gone and everyone's cooled down, but you'll not speed that along by instigating things with your brother. You've been badgering him about Ada, and then Tommy's told me you—"

Clara had heard enough, knew quite well where the conversation was headed and she took a chance at diverting them. "Why didn't Finn have to come today?"

Polly scoffed. "Because you're the one in need of a little confession. Been back and forth and up and down across Birmingham going toe to toe with your brother, even still. Tommy was expecting you to be home last night, not spending the night at John's. I thought the two of you were past this."

Clara put her feet up on the back of the pew in front of her again, scuffing the bottom of her new boots and Polly tapped her once on the knee.

She obediently let her feet down, folding her arms over her chest. "I didn't do anything. Maybe you should've brought Tommy to church."

"Don't think I didn't already drag him in here," Polly answered. "Didn't seem to solve the problem though, so I'm thinking this is on you."

"I didn't do anything."

"Mhmm. You never do anything wrong, eh? You or your brother. Never like to be corrected either, but it's best you learn to handle it now. Lord knows your brother still hasn't," Polly answered. "I can understand you fretting about your sister, but all the trouble over the tutor I don—"

"I don't like her," Clara answered.

Polly nodded. "Yes, your brother's told me all the ways you've shown you don't like her."

At Polly's comment, Clara gritted her teeth, about ready to tell her aunt everything, but she barely got out the first syllable of her brother's name before Polly cut her off.

"You fight because you're so like him," Polly said. "In a few ways, at least. Painfully stubborn. Far too clever for your own good. Far too aware of it, too. And you never have liked girls being around your Tommy. You've been lucky to have his attention all to yourself for quite some time now."

Clara's mouth fell open as she scoffed. "It's not like that."

"Right. Yes, of course, that's not it," Polly answered, rolling her eyes, "but whether it is or isn't doesn't much matter. The woman's teaching you, so you'll show her a measure of respect. She's done nice things for you, finding that school, convincing your brother about the outings and the books. You didn't mind her so much then, so behave yourself until you get set up with the new school and you'll be rid of her."

Clara slumped down in the pew. She'd thought of that, thought for a brief moment that finally gaining entrance to the school would mean Grace Burgess would be out of their lives, but the more she watched Tommy with her, the more Clara questioned if she would ever be free of the woman. "What if he falls in love with her?"

Polly exhaled, watching her niece for a moment. "So that is what this is all about, then? You're worried your brother will fall in love? That's a rather foolish thing to cause this much trouble over."

"It's not foolish," Clara answered, sitting up straighter. "It's just like with Ada and Freddie."

"It is not," she answered. "And who says your brother even likes this girl?"

Clara huffed. "Do you remember how he was with Greta?"

Polly looked at Clara with a sad smile. Of course, she remembered the girl, Tommy's first and probably only love. It was hard not to remember the girl, would've been a hard person to forget even if things hadn't ended the way they had.

"He's a bit like that," Clara said.

"How would you even remember? You were just a baby."

"I wasn't a baby. I was four."

Though tempted, Polly didn't argue the point. "Either way, your brother's love life, or lack of one, is nothing for you to worry about."

Clara started scuffing her feet again, mumbling her words with her chin against her chest. "But what if he gets hurt?"

Polly tilted her niece's chin up to meet her eye. "Listen to me, love. I know you worry after our boys, but your brothers are grown men," Polly answered. "There's no need for you to be worrying over the state of your brother's heart."

Polly's words came out as close to convincing and Clara nodded, settling back against the pew as she closed her eyes. Clara hoped her aunt would understand by the gesture that she wished for the conversation to be over. She did and Polly's demeanor echoed that of her niece as she closed her eyes, the two of them sat very still in what looked to be meditative prayer. And while Clara was sorting through whether or not to truly accept Polly's assertion that Tommy's situation didn't warrant her concern, Polly was thinking on her family, thinking on her nieces and nephews and the holy hell that Tommy seemed keen to bring down on them all.

And now there was this girl. At that thought, Polly took a deep breath. Though she dismissed Clara's theory, instructed the girl not to worry about her brother or his heart, the idea of Tommy falling in love on top of everything else did bring Polly a bit of pause, rinsing her in a wave of concern. Despite the venue, or maybe because she knew God was listening, Polly took a moment to silently curse each and every one of the Shelby men for their lack of control over their single-minded, untiring cocks.