Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content

"Don't even think about it."

Clara turned toward her brother, finally pulling her gaze from the family car as it plodded around the corner, Tommy and Grace disappearing along with it.

"Don't think about what?" she asked, scuffing her feet as she stepped a bit closer.

John rolled his eyes, taking measure to be theatrical about it, before fixing his sister with a look. "Tom's done his bit. He's cheered you all up," he said. John would never admit that he was a bit hurt by the fact Tommy had managed to drop Clara off with a smile on her face—everything between the two of them seemingly fine now—and less than a minute after being left alone with John, the girl was already sulking again. He pressed his finger into the corner of Clara's frowning mouth. "Don't go getting all grumpy on me again."

Clara huffed, slapping at John's hand and he snorted, lifting his eyes above his sister's head as she started complaining.

"I'm not—"

"Well, hullo there, Lizzie," John said, interrupting Clara to greet the woman. John pushed himself off the brick to stand up straight, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping a bit in front of Clara as he observed Lizzie approaching. "Looking extra lovely this morning. Got anything special there in that basket for me?"

Clara spun on her heels, coming face to face with a blushing Lizzie Stark.

Lizzie shrugged. "Just some special treats for the kids."

John hummed, thinking but not saying the first few things that came to his mind—the first, that his little monsters didn't deserve any special treats and the second, that he wouldn't mind a special treat from Lizzie. John swallowed down both comments and set his hand on Clara's shoulder instead, maneuvering her to stand in front of him. "You've met my sister."

Lizzie nodded, offering another small smile, her face still flushed. Lizzie had been about to greet the girl properly, but John continued on without realizing he was interrupting anything. "Clara and I were just arguing about whether or not she looked grumpy." John shifted his hand beneath Clara's chin, smirking as he tilted her head back and leaned over to look down at her, going through the motions of giving Clara's face a thorough examination.

Again, Clara tried to push her brother's hands away, unsuccessfully in her attempts to put a bit of distance between herself and John. The struggle went on only a few seconds, but Lizzie could've sworn it felt like ages while she stood there watching. If Clara hadn't looked particularly grumpy before, she certainly did now with her arms folded over her chest and her face a bit red, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her features. Lizzie glanced away from the pair, down the lane, purposefully appearing to catch her gaze on a bit of movement in one of the houses near the corner.

John abandoned his attempts at handling his sister and glanced up at their guest. "What do you think, Lizzie? She look grumpy to you?"

"Oh, I—" Lizzie started, a bit flustered by the question. Her eyes darted from John to Clara and her face mirrored the girl's for a second, a small frown passing over her lips. "I um…"

"I told her the grumpiness is hiding here and here," John said, once again battling with Clara's hands to point out the grumpy corner of her mouth and the stubborn little line between her brows.

"John!" Clara complained. "Stop it!"

"Fine." John snorted, holding his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the brick. "Fine. Maybe you'll have better luck with her, Lizzie."

He winked at Lizzie and then he leaned to the side, reaching out to open the front door. He stopped suddenly before stepping over the threshold and turned back to the girls, Clara nearly bumping into him since she'd been following behind so close.

"And if she gives you any trouble—" John spoke directly to Lizzie as he reached out toward Clara. "—here's a little trick." Clara caught John's arm as he reached out to tickle her beneath the chin, quickly swinging under it and bolting through the open door. Clara figured she could just dissolve herself into the chaos that was John's children while her brother got on the road, avoiding him for the next few minutes, and ensuring that the children would eliminate any opportunity Lizzie might have to speak with her brother alone.

Clara made it up the first three steps before her brother's hand closed around her elbow. She tried to push him off, going so far as to lift her boot and sending it into his leg. "Oi! Enough. You take a seat," he said, with a nod of his head toward the stairs.

Lizzie quickly excused herself at that, moving past them to drop her basket in the kitchen. John watched her go, waiting for the kitchen door to swing closed before turning back to his sister. John ran a hand over his face before he spoke.

"Promise me you'll be nicer to Lizzie than you're being to me, eh?"

"I'm not being—"

"A brat?" John scoffed. "Could've fooled me." Clara was poised to protest, but John continued on. "And maybe you have every reason to be. Maybe where me and Tommy are concerned, you've got the right of it, but not with Lizzie and not with the kids. They don't deserve this, eh?"

John said the words though he didn't quite know what this even was, still a bit confused by the course of their morning and his sister's shifting mood. A wave of exhaustion came over him as he looked at her, feeling as though they'd already lived a whole day in the last few hours. He could see she felt the same, another wave of emotion building up in her as she sat on the steps in front of him.

A lump was forming in Clara's throat, a few tears suddenly spilling out of her eyes as she buried her face in her arms. "I wasn't gonna—"

"Alright, alright," John said, sitting beside her and interrupting when he heard the strain came through in her little voice.

Clara looked up at him and John frowned, reaching out to wipe away the stubborn tears. "And you still don't want to just tell—" he started, raising his hands in defense as Clara shook her head and tried to shift away from him.

"How about a—" Clara smacked John's hand away as he tried to fit it beneath her chin once again. He nearly got a smirk out of her before Clara closed back in on herself, crushing her arms around over her chest and backing against the wall, putting as much space between them as she could on the tiny third step of the staircase.

John sighed and pulled her into his chest with an arm, half certain she'd fight him on it and push out of his hold, but Clara seemed to thaw a little instead as he held her. Only a few seconds passed before she was stretching out her arms around him and holding him back just as tight.

"I'm not a brat," she mumbled.

John snorted, shaking his head. "Yes, you are. But you know who else is?" he asked, waiting a beat before answering. "Tommy and Polly and Ada and Finn and Arthur…and your nieces and nephews, for sure."

"And you," Clara said.

"No, no," John said, shaking his head. "The rest of you lot, maybe…"

Clara smiled this time, but the moment was short-lived as Finn smashed through the front door, his cheeks red and his breaths huffing from running through the streets. "Arthur says it's time."

John nodded, some type of urgency and excitement shifting in him as he guided Clara up from the steps and moved all three of them toward the kitchen.

Finn eyed Lizzie as he came through to the kitchen a moment later, meeting Clara's eye quickly before John steered him out the back door, giving him instructions to tell Arthur he was on his way. Neither twin had gotten the chance to speak, but Clara knew they were both thinking the same thing—that Lizzie Stark being there was risky for them. And it was risky, but there wasn't much either of them could do about it, not now at least.

Clara and Lizzie watched in silence as John doubled back through the house to grab his hat. He stopped to kiss Lizzie on his way to the back door. Clara busied herself with studying her shoes, not looking up until John cleared his throat.

He stood at the threshold of the back door when Clara finally looked up. "You'll be good, then, yeah?"

Clara nodded. "What about you and—?"

John rolled his eyes. "Don't you go worrying about me," he said, though it wasn't quite possible. Clara knew she might be able to get lost in the chaos of John's kids for a bit, but she'd not be able to really stop thinking about her brothers—worrying about them and their absence—until they were all back home in Small Heath.

"Just help keep my lot in line," John said, lingering only long enough to get a nod out of his sister.

Just like that, Clara was alone in a quiet house with Lizzie Stark. As the silence stretched on, Clara started thinking to herself that today of all days must've been the first time in her memory that John's kids were sleeping in. Of course, it was the only time that Clara had been banking on their help for a little chaos—a little distraction, a little something to do other than stand in the kitchen alone with this woman.

Clara toed around the kitchen looking for something that needed doing—anything, really—but the room was already spotless. Clara imagined John had tidied up on account of Lizzie, trying to make a good impression.

"Have you had breakfast?" Lizzie's back faced Clara as she retrieved the bread and biscuits she had baked at home from her basket.

"I thought we could have something to eat and maybe some tea before the little ones wake?" Lizzie continued. "To fortify ourselves."

Lizzie giggled and Clara allowed herself a smile at that, something in her loosened by the woman's smile.

"Do you like tea?" Lizzie asked.

Clara nodded and Lizzie got to work on their tea and breakfast.

"They won't misbehave with you this time." A few moments of silence had passed before Clara directed the words to Lizzie's back while she settled the kettle on the stove. "They're right terrors when they want to be, but—"

"They're kids." Lizzie shrugged. "Kids cause trouble sometimes."

And adults, too, Lizzie thought to herself, but she wouldn't get into that—not with a kid, even if Lizzie had already known all about the trouble caused by adults by the time she was Clara's age and suspected the girl knew a fair bit as well. Lizzie figured she had to, having Peaky Blinders for brothers and all.

Lizzie sliced the bread loaf in silence, thinking of all of the things she'd learned about Clara Shelby over the years, but especially in recent months. Lizzie knew far more about the girl than just what John had told her. Far more than the things Tommy had told her about the girl, too. Lizzie suspected she knew more about Clara and Finn's scrapping than either of the brothers knew, which was partially her own doing. Lizzie had had the opportunity to tell both John and Tommy, but she hadn't told either.

Lizzie had decided quickly and without much debate that she would keep what she had seen to herself. And when Tommy had shown up at her doorstep not ten minutes after the kids cleared off the lane, she said nothing of what she'd seen of the Shelby twins. How could she? How could she tell Tommy without having to explain why they were there. And then if she told Tommy, John would be wondering why she hadn't told him…and why Tommy had been at her doorstep. Lizzie's secrets were somehow tied right up there with the twins' secret. There was just no way Lizzie could see for explaining what the twins were doing there on her lane without the details of her dalliance with both Shelby men coming out.

Lizzie turned to watch Clara. The girl was clearly lost in a sea of thought as she stared out the back window. Lizzie couldn't blame her, really. John had told Lizzie all that had happened to the girl recently. The constant back and forth with Tommy, Clara being dragged off to the police station...it sounded awful, even if it was something John had laughed at, like it was a right of passage for a Shelby and he was proud of her for it, but based on the bits and pieces of Clara that had been described by her brothers, Lizzie didn't imagine she shared John's sentiments.

Tommy rarely spoke about her—he rarely spoke of anything, but when Lizzie prompted, saying she had seen him out here or there with the little girl, keeping herself from further commenting that the sight of him with the girl by his side was a softer version of Tommy than she was used to so that she didn't risk him shutting down. After a note of quiet, Tommy would usually say something about her then. Just a few words, but they were enough that Lizzie felt she understood something about the youngest Shelby.

John spoke about his siblings often, loose with his words with or without liquor lubricating his memories. He told stories and he blew off steam, condemning and celebrating them all from one sentence to the next.

"First in line to Tommy's throne," John often joked. "Well, if she wasn't a girl. Been that way since she was born."

Lizzie had started to get the impression that John was a bit jealous, both of the way that Tommy doted on their sister and the way she reciprocated that care and attention. There was a part of John that wanted to be loved, wanted to be chosen. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, that part of John resonated with Lizzie, but whatever the brothers said, Lizzie got the impression that neither of them saw her quite right. They each knew her in their own way, but like anyone else, Clara was more than what she showed to any one of them.

Clara Shelby had always seemed so polite, a conglomerate of caution and wisdom that she wouldn't call exactly normal for a kid, but it was there, consistent whenever Lizzie read between the lines of a story delivered from one of the brothers or when she came across the girl in the streets. Almost like she was an adult, like they all believed because she was clever and well-mannered, she was mature, but Lizzie she was a kid. She seemed like a good kid, a thoughtful kid, but a kid all the same. That too, was a part of why Lizzie was keeping her secret. The other two boys had been fine, aside from a little blood. It was nothing to cause more trouble over.

"John says you're good with your nieces and nephews," Lizzie finally prompted, pulled from her thoughts by the steady whistle of the heated kettle.

Clara nodded as Lizzie pulled the kettle from the heat. "They listen to me," she offered. "Well, sometimes…"

Lizzie nodded, noting that the girl was still skittish, unsure of the woman and the tension of the power differential that thrummed between them. Lizzie knew exactly where it came from. She had seen the look pass between the twins as John had put Finn out the back door—the uncertainty, the fear.

"Just so you know, I didn't…I didn't tell your brother what I saw the other day. I won't tell—"

The kitchen door swung open before Lizzie could say anything more. Robbie launched himself into Clara's arms, shouting out her name as he latched onto her. Clara knew that was the end of their silence, the end of Lizzie's quiet assurances. The others would be up soon and there would be no more talk of secrets, no more time for worries about her and Finn being found out. That normally might have troubled Clara, but it seemed that bit of her worry was unwarranted, so long as Lizzie Stark kept her word, anyway.

Clara squeezed her nephew tight for a moment, realizing as she held him that he'd grown a bit. She hadn't seen Robbie in some time—far too long considering they lived just down the lane, but Clara had been staying close to home, caught up in her own troubles.

"Did you say hello to Miss Stark?" Clara whispered as the boy loosened his hold, looking about the kitchen.

Robbie buried his face back against Clara's dress without an answer.

"Oh, it's just Lizzie," Lizzie answered, stealing a glance at the two children.

Clara tried to shift her nephew around, tugging him from his spot, but he held his positioning.

"Are you hungry, Robbie?"

"Robert," the boy quickly corrected, pulling himself from Clara's side. "Robbie's a baby's name."

"Robert it is, then," Lizzie amended. "A very strong name. Would you like some breakfast, Mr. Robert Shelby?"

The boy nodded, a sly smile creeping onto his face at being called a mister, at being taken seriously by an adult.

"Maybe you'd like to help?" Lizzie suggested, reaching out for one of the kitchen chairs and pulling it over to the counter.

Robbie glanced toward his aunt as if asking permission. Clara nodded, guiding him forward with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Clara left the kitchen to go check on the other three and Robbie was already giggling as he and Lizzie leaned over the eggs, something very sweet and almost conspiratorial there in the way their heads bent toward one another, the whispers passing between them quiet enough that Clara couldn't hear a word that was being said.

The moment had her thinking suddenly of Martha. Clara had always held a certain love for her sister-in-law, but she didn't remember many playful moments where Martha was concerned. Her brother's wife had been a smart and swift sort of woman. She had been a carer in all the most efficient ways. John had never had to lift a finger in the home while Martha was alive. Clara remembered her laughing and smiling when she was very young, being playful with her, but that was before the war…back when Clara was very young, the memories fragmented by time.

The Martha that Clara remembered best was the woman who'd raised four kids alone during a war, the woman who'd grown sick while she was still raising them alone. Clara remembered that woman as one who tolerated very little nonsense. Polly had once told Clara that doing it alone could change the type of mother you planned to be and Clara had to believe it was true. Martha had always been caring and efficient and kind, but there was a certain strictness in her during the war that didn't seem to really be part of her—something foreign or imposed on her, incongruent with the core of her. Martha hadn't had the time or energy for something like allowing the kids to help with breakfast.

She certainly hadn't been baking cookies for the kids as a special treat…

Clara wondered what Martha would think of the way John let them run wild now…letting them live without structure, letting them lead things a bit. Clara didn't imagine she'd like it, but Clara thought maybe she might understand.

As Clara came up the stairs, the door to Robbie and Joe's bedroom was wide open, the room beyond empty aside from a bed with messy covers, so she proceeded to the girls' room. The door was ajar, only just, and it was quiet—a quiet Clara wasn't used to in her brother's house, not when her nieces and nephews were awake, at least.

As she reached the door, Clara could discern that quiet was only made possible because the kids were whispering—Katie, Sarah, and Joe all speaking over each other though little more than an indiscernible hum reached Clara's ears as she pushed the door open.

"Lizzie and Robbie are making—"

The kids all jumped apart, startled by Clara's sudden presence there. Clara recognized something in the air—a familiar tension tingling in her limbs—the tension of being caught doing something wrong, a bit of fear and defensiveness and secretiveness pushing and pulling in the space between them. Clara had experienced enough times to know. She was close enough in age to John's kids that she and Finn were more used to being a part of it rather than being the one to set the tension into the air. Clara, Finn, and John's kids all usually played together as something close to peers. John's kids recognized Clara and Finn as having some slight, nearly insignificant bit of authority over them. They knew Clara and Finn were their aunt and uncle, but most often it didn't matter.

They played and got up to trouble together. There weren't many secrets between them.

"What are you doing?" Clara asked.

"Nothing," Joe answered, the word coming out so quickly that Clara imagined that it would've been the answer regardless of the question. He'd stepped in front of the girls and shot a glance back at Katie now.

"Your dad said you have to be good for Lizzie today. Better not be—"

"We're not doing nothing," Joe interrupted.

"Just talking," Sarah added, her tone a bit softer than her brother.

"What's for breakfast?" Katie stepped around her brother, coming to stand by Clara at the door. "I'm starved."

"C'mon, Katie," Joe said as he moved across the room, pulling on Katie's hand and taking her from the room.

When Clara turned back to the room, she watched as Sarah busied herself with pulling up the covers of her bed before moving on to the girls' toys scattered across the floor, making the room a bit neater as she went. The girl was dallying. Sarah was usually quieter than the others—more sensible, Clara thought, more like their mother. And Clara thought of her differently than the others…thought now that they were alone, Sarah might say something more, but the girl stayed quiet and on the other side of the room.

"Are you coming?" Clara asked.

Sarah dropped the toys she was considering and nodded, passing by Clara without a word. As Sarah made her way down the stairs, Clara's eyes swept over the room searching for some indication that the kids had been doing something more than just talking, but nothing was odd or out of place.

Clara was tempted to keep looking, but then she remembered that her being upstairs left Lizzie alone with the lot of them, a situation she didn't imagine yielding anything positive.

The kids were yelling as Clara came down the stairs, their voices carrying over each other and conglomerating into one big indiscernible sound, just as their whispers had done upstairs just moments before.

Sarah and Joe were arguing over setting the table of all things and Clara's voice got quickly lost among all the shouting while her niece and nephew tugged a stack of plates back and forth between them.

Clara made to step forward and separate them, difficult as it would be considering it was the two oldest ones fighting, but Lizzie beat her to it, grabbing the plates and setting them aside before pulling the two kids apart.

"Dad said no fighting," Robbie said, still standing on the chair by the stove, watching over the food.

"Shut up, Robbie ," Joe answered. "Quit being a baby."

Sarah reached out and smacked her brother upside the head, an attack that he quickly returned, but it didn't matter that they were fighting because the damage was already done, with Robbie's tears already clear by the time he hopped off the chair and ran out of the room.

"I'll see to him," Sarah offered, but Lizzie shook her head.

"You three sit and eat," she said. "And I hope not to hear a sound other than the sound of forks against plates."

Joe laughed. "Or what?"

Lizzie's mouth opened and closed, and Clara sensed she hadn't been anticipating having to give such an answer. Lizzie had figured her sharp tone would've been enough, that the kids wouldn't be bold enough to argue.

"Or Aunt Polly'll hear about it," Clara answered as she took the stack of plates. "And if Aunt Polly hears about it, then—"

"Stop fighting! The eggs are getting cold!" Katie interrupted, already in her spot at the table, leaning across the space in front of her to scoop food into her mouth straight from the pan with her fork.

"You've got this?" Lizzie asked, waiting only for Clara's nod before exiting the now silent room.

Clara was surprised that the threat of Aunt Polly was enough to bring John's kids to behave themselves, but they all sat nearly silent at the table for the short minutes during which Lizzie was off with Robbie. None of the kids said anything when their younger brother came back into the room, his eyes still a bit red as he hopped up into his chair.

"Eat up," Lizzie said, when she realized all except Katie and Robbie were simply pushing their food around their plates. Clara and Sarah were studying Robbie for their own reasons. Joe was glaring daggers at Lizzie, defying the woman though he was starved. "We've got loads to do for today."

"Like what?" Sarah asked.

"It's a surprise," Robbie answered between bites, a conspiratorial grin shot towards Lizzie.

"Oh! I want to know! I want to know!" Katie answered as she shifted out of her seat and moved to Lizzie's side, giggling when Lizzie leaned down and whispered in the little girl's ear.

"And what about you three?" Lizzie asked, looking at Sarah, Joe, and Clara. Would you like to—"

"No, Lizzie!" Robbie answered. "It's a surprise."

"What do you think, Katie?" Lizzie asked, the conspiracy quickly growing to include Katie.

"Surprise," she agreed, sliding back into her chair to resume eating her eggs, rather pleased with herself that she and Robbie and Lizzie were sharing a secret and for once, and that the two youngest had the upper hand. It was so rare that the two of them knew anything before their older brother and sister, or their aunt.

Clara didn't say anything though she didn't love being on the other end of a secret or being lumped in with the kids, especially not when Clara was meant to be helping Lizzie. Clara didn't like not knowing, but some nagging part of her said she could trust Lizzie, both with this and with hers and Finn's secret. And anyway, Katie and Robbie's smiles put her at ease. Surely, if those two were happy about it, Lizzie's plan for the day couldn't be too bad.

As Lizzie slid into the last seat at the table, the one just beside Robbie, Clara took a sip of her tea. Joseph was watching Lizzie, watching as she sat there smiling at Katie and Robbie, watching as she brought a piece of bread to her mouth.

"That was my mum's seat," Joseph said as he continued to stare at her.

Clara nearly choked on the hot liquid in her mouth. Lizzie's face colored at the boy's words, her cheeks full as she stopped chewing. Silence held over the table as each of them considered what the boy was saying...the meaning there between the lines.

Lizzie Stark was in his mum's seat, but Lizzie wasn't his mum...and Joseph Shelby didn't want her to be.