Thank you all for the kind reviews and for all the follows. It's pretty special to know there are people out there who are enjoying my writing and taking the time to let me know. This chapter didn't go where I expected. I wanted to get Rose back with her brothers sooner rather than later, but it didn't make sense to do that just yet. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Joan sighed loudly for the umpteenth time as she vigorously mixed the ingredients together for the sponge cake. It didn't make a difference. The girl sitting on the counter opposite her continued to kick the heels of her boots against the kitchen cupboard as she drank her milk.

"Miss Rose! How many times must I tell you to stop kicking the kitchen cupboards. You've already chipped the paint off in parts. What would your aunt say?"

"She'd say, 'Stop kicking the cupboards before I kick you!', but she'd swear too. And probably give me a clip on the ear."

Joan rolled her eyes. At least the child hadn't sworn herself. She'd threatened to wash her mouth out with soap the last time she had and it seemed like Rose believed her. The young maid never ceased to be amazed at the family who lived in this house and those family members who visited. They were the type of people her mother looked down on and called 'slum dwellers and thieves.' They swore like sailors, drank like Lords and had no manners whatsoever. Joan could only assume that the thievery paid well given the size of this house and the generous wage she was being paid. Mrs. Gray had been very awkward with her at first, like she'd never had a maid before. Joan assumed maids weren't a common sight in the slums. She'd soon got used to her though, and Joan held a healthy respect for her sharp-tongued, seldom smiling mistress. She was quite taken with her son, young Master Michael, however. Now, he'd been brought up properly. Joan was impressed with his easy manner and articulate speech. She was very interested in the relationship between mother and son. She overheard enough conversations to know the story of Michael's removal from his mother, his adoption and his return. He had Mrs. Gray wrapped around his finger; there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. And now, a new member of the household had been added – Rose Shelby. Rose was here to recover from a bad illness and was not happy about it.

As she continued to beat the cake mixture, Joan examined the little girl across from her. She looked bored.

"Miss Rose, do you want to help me make the cake?"

Rose flashed an angry scowl at her.

"Don't call me that!"

"But that's your name, and a lovely name it is too."

"I don't mean that and you know it. I've told you before, don't call me 'Miss'. I'm not one of the fancy folk who live round here. I'm just Rose."

"And as I've told you before, you're part of the family I work for and I'm supposed to call you Miss Rose. It's proper."

"Says who?"

"Says…" Joan paused. She wasn't really sure who said so, but she knew it was right. It was just the way things were. "Says everyone."

"Well, I'm an everyone and I don't say so."

"You're a child and your opinion doesn't count."

Rose stared at Joan, furious at this slight. Keeping eye contact, she began to kick the cupboard again with her heels, steadily and solidly.

Joan flushed red with annoyance. It wasn't that she didn't like children. She had younger siblings of her own and was quite used to them. It was just that she thought children should be seen and not heard, know their place and generally be compliant. Rose Shelby was anything but quiet and compliant.

"I think it's time for your lie-down now, Miss Rose."

"I don't. I've done nothing but sleep since I got here. I don't need any more sleep."

"Mrs. Gray's orders were that I should make sure you have a nap every afternoon."

Rose shrugged. "So, don't tell her. She ain't here anyway."

All the while, Rose's heels knocked deliberately against the cupboard, splitting the air with loud bangs and making it harder and harder for Joan to keep her temper.

Rose watched Joan struggling to stay calm. She knew she wasn't being kind but she enjoyed being in control. It wasn't even as if she disliked Joan; she actually liked sitting in the kitchen and watching her bake and sew and make tea. The kitchen was warm and always smelled nice. She especially liked it when Gladys, a local woman, came to help cook the dinner. Gladys had grown up in a place like Small Heath and was used to children like Rose. She took everything in her stride and always managed to distract her with a biscuit or a cup of sweet tea. But Gladys wasn't here right now and Joan was the unfortunate recipient of Rose's anger.

It had been Tommy and Polly's idea for Rose to move in with Polly and Michael after she returned from the Young camp. As children do, twenty-four hours after regaining consciousness, Rose had bounced back quite considerably. Arthur had stayed with her at the camp. Tommy had the business in London to deal with and had left as soon as he was convinced Rose was recovering. The rest of the family also returned to Small Heath. She stayed in the Gypsy camp for three days with Arthur until Greenleaf declared her fit to return home. Those three days were the best three days of Rose's life. She had loved life in the camp – the food, the outdoors, the music, the people - and Arthur. Three whole days with her eldest brother. She'd never spent that amount of unbroken time with any member of her family and she had revelled in it. Arthur had enjoyed it too if he could have admitted to it. He tended to look down on travelling Gypsies as being uncivilised and backward, but at the camp Arthur had been able to relax and find some peace for the first time in months. He too had relished being in Rose's company and was happy to see her recovering and getting stronger after they'd been so close to losing her. The simplicity of life over those three days had done them both a world of good.

Life however, as is its wont, came crashing in to interrupt. Rose was well enough to go home but still needed care. There was no one at Watery Lane who could provide that care and so Tommy and Polly made the decision to move her into Polly's house. Arthur had said he would look after her, but Tommy had looked at him and asked bitingly if he could stay away from the Tokyo long enough. Arthur had felt the sting of this accusation and shut his mouth again. The truth was, he didn't know if he could once he was back in Small Heath. As harsh as Tommy's words were, they were also true.

So, Rose had spent her recovery in Polly's big house and she hated it. This wasn't her home. This wasn't where she belonged. She missed Arthur and Tommy and even Finn sometimes. She didn't like rattling round in a house where the rooms were often silent and empty. She didn't like a stranger bringing her food and laying out clean clothes for her to wear and calling her 'Miss'. She longed for the noise of Watery Lane and the smell of the iron works and the busyness of life in a crowded tenement street – everything she was used to. She wanted to go home to see her friends and sleep in her own bed but no one would let her. She felt trapped and powerless, and she brimmed with frustration and annoyance.

All of which threatened to boil over as she locked eyes with Joan and kicked the cupboard louder and harder, daring her to react. Joan would have liked nothing better than to yank her off the counter and plant a firm smack on her behind. She knew it wasn't her place to do so however, and the standoff continued. Joan, furiously beating her cake mixture; Rose, calmly and with a hint of a smirk, kicking the cupboard.

It was into this scene that Michael walked, looking for something to eat. He stopped in the doorway and took in immediately what was going on.

"Is my cousin misbehaving, Joan?"

Joan turned to him in relief. He would rescue her from that little vixen on the counter. Michael knew exactly what Rose was like. In fact, Michael took in everything that happened in the family and seemed to store it away like a scholar researching a paper.

"Oh, Master Michael, I just told Miss Rose that it was time for her nap, but she's refusing to go. I think she's overtired. You know how children get."

Rose, not about to take another condescending dismissal from Joan, jumped down from the counter and balled her fists. She opened her mouth to say something but Michael spoke first, all too aware of her temper.

"Rose!" he spoke gently but pointedly. "I think we should leave Joan to get on with her work. We won't get to enjoy that lovely cake she's making if we keep interrupting her."

Rose scowled, "Joan doesn't make lovely cakes. They're always rock hard and taste of tripe."

Joan gasped at her rudeness and Michael moved swiftly over to Rose. He took her arm and led her firmly towards the kitchen door. She thought about resisting but found herself wanting to leave too. She'd stopped enjoying herself at Joan's expense and was now merely upset and cross. At the doorway, Michael turned Rose back to face Joan.

"Rose, you need to say something to Joan before we leave."

Rose looked up at Michael surprised. She knew he meant an apology but the Shelbys never apologised. Tommy had made her apologise to Aunt Pol every now and again when she'd been disrespectful to her, but she'd never had to apologise to a stranger before. Except in school; the teachers were always making the children apologise to each other. She'd uttered a few quick sorries to escape writing lines, but she'd never meant them.

"Rose, what you said was rude and hurtful to Joan. I'm sure you don't want to be someone who's rude and hurtful, do you?"

Rose considered the question. She supposed she didn't. She looked at Joan's face, still flushed and felt a small pang of guilt. She shifted her feet and forced herself to speak.

"I'm sorry for what I said."

Joan cast a quick glance at her and looked away again. She wasn't convinced of any remorse in the child but politeness required her to respond.

"Apology accepted, Miss Rose."

"Thank you, Joan, that's very gracious of you." Michael smiled at Joan who promptly blushed. He turned to the angry little girl at his side. "Come on young lady, let's go and play a game in the living room." Michael let go of Rose's arm and led the way to the living room. Rose followed him, suddenly tired, having spent all her energy on the outburst in the kitchen.

"I don't want to play a game. Games are stupid."

"No, they're not. Games are fun." Michael was rummaging in the sideboard. "Me and my brother used to play games all the time. His favourite was Snakes and Ladders. Can you play Snakes and Ladders?"

"Your brother?"

Michael turned to look at Rose who was sat on the sofa regarding him curiously.

"Yes, my brother. He's a bit older than you."

"You don't have a brother. You have a sister, Anna. She's dead now."

Michael had found the game he wanted and went to sit opposite Rose, placing it on the low table between them.

"Yes, you're right. He's not my real brother. He's my adopted brother."

Rose thought about this. She knew the story of Michael's reappearance in the family. She'd known about Aunt Polly's real children all her life. Polly talked about them often and Rose had grown jealous of them over time. She'd never have told Polly but she didn't want them to come home. She knew that if Aunt Polly's children returned, she'd love them more than her. Arthur had told her about Michael's return in the Young camp. Rose had been shocked.

"Aunt Pol's Michael?"

"That's what I said, isn't it? Aunt Pol's son, Michael, has come back to her."

"Where from?"

"From the family who adopted him."

"Why?"

"Cos he wants to meet his real mum."

"Will he stay with her forever?"

"I expect so."

"Is he taller than me?"

"What?"

"Aunt Pol's son – is he taller than me?"

"Of course he is, why wouldn't he be? Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Is he taller than Finn?"

"Just about. Finn's quite tall."

"Will he go to school with us?"

"Rosie, what are you talking about?"

"Arthur! Will he go to school with us?"

"No, of course he won't, he's almost eighteen."

Rose frowned at Arthur, confused. Every time Aunt Polly talked about Michael, she talked about him as a small boy. She described his soft brown curls and the funny way he said things. She said he was the sweetest boy you could ever meet.

"But he's Aunt Pol's child. He's a child."

Arthur laughed, suddenly understanding her confusion.

"No, Rosie, Michael was born seven years before you were. He's a lot older than you now. He's almost an adult."

Rose's cheeks went red as she realised her mistake. Of course, that made sense. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. There was no child waiting to take her place in Aunt Pol's life.

As it happened, even though Michael wasn't a small child anymore, he might have well have been for all the ways in which Polly doted on him. As Rose got stronger and felt better, she became aware of how besotted Polly was with Michael. More and more she took Michael out in the car, teaching him to drive, taking him to places in Birmingham he hadn't been before. Rose had given up asking if she could go with them; she was never allowed. She had to stay with Moaning Joan and have her naps and get better. Another reason to hate being here.

Try as she might, however, Rose couldn't bring herself to dislike Michael. She'd been very cold with him at first, pretending he didn't really exist and only talking to Aunt Polly. She'd felt the sharp side of her aunt's tongue a few times for her rudeness to him. But Michael never seemed to mind. He continued to treat her in the same way he had from the beginning – with kindness and patience. He could see how hard it was for Rose to share her aunt with him and he wanted her to know that he wasn't there to take anyone's place. Truth be told, he appreciated the distraction of Rose's company. He was very happy to be back with his real mother but her attention was becoming too cloying. He welcomed the addition of Rose to the house and saw it as somewhat of a challenge to win her over.

It hadn't taken long. Rose found herself warming to Michael over time. He was happy to just sit in the same room as her and read. Sometimes he asked her a question and sometimes she answered him. He always saved the last part of his cake for her and sneaked it onto her plate when Aunt Pol wasn't looking. Cake was her weakness and turned out to be the sure-fire way to her heart. Before long, Rose accepted that Michael was part of the family and relaxed with him. He was different from her brothers, less rough around the edges, less inclined to dismiss her as a silly girl. He was interested in her and wanted to know all about her life in Watery Lane. He was especially interested in the family business. Rose told him everything he wanted to know, though she didn't know everything. Why wouldn't she? He was family. She did notice that he changed the subject when Aunt Polly came into the room but she was happy to share a secret with Michael which Polly didn't know. It would serve her right for preferring Michael to her.

Rose watched as Michael set out the Snakes and Ladders board. She'd never played it. The Shelbys didn't own board games. John had taught her to play poker and she knew a few other card games but family games nights weren't part of her upbringing.

"Right, what colour do you want to be?"

Rose wasn't interested in any snakes or ladders.

"What's it like having two mums?"

Michael shrugged. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. He wasn't quite sure himself how he felt about having two mothers and he didn't really want to discuss it with an eleven year old.

"It's alright. I'll be blue then. Do you want to be green?"

"I don't even have one mum. She died when I was a baby. I suppose Aunt Pol was like my mum but she's not really my mum, is she? She's your mum. What was your other mum like? Was she nice? Did she make cakes and pies and sew your clothes and things? That's what mums in the books at school do. I think if my mum had lived she would have done those things. Arthur said she did when he was little."

Michael gave up trying to engage Rose in the game, put the playing pieces down and sat back in his chair.

"Polly looks after you like a mum."

"But she's not my mum. She's your mum."

Michael recognised the hurt just below the surface of Rose's statement.

"My adopted mum wasn't my real mum either, but she took care of me like a mum. She was as good as any real mum and she loved me. She still does. Polly is like your adopted mum. She's not your real mum but she takes care of you as if she were."

"Did your adopted mum have any real children?"

"No, she couldn't have any. That's why my parents adopted me and my brother."

"If she did, do you think she would have loved them more than you? Would she have spent more time with them whilst you had to nap?"

Michael smiled. Rose wasn't being subtle.

"Rose, Polly loves you as much as she loves me. I can tell she does. You should have seen how worried she was when you were ill. She barely had time for me then."

"Really?"

"Really. Polly wants to spend so much time with me at the moment because she hasn't seen me for so long. She's trying to make up for lost time. Imagine what it was like for her to have her children taken away from her. How do you think she felt?"

"Her heart broke in three pieces and one piece went with you and another piece went with Anna."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yeah, loads of times."

"What about the third piece of her heart? What happened to that?"

Rose looked away from Michael. "Show me how to play this game then. I'll be red."

Michael moved forward on his seat and ducked his head to try and get eye contact with Rose.

"Rose? What happened to the third piece of Polly's heart?"

Rose paused, then slowly looked at Michael.

"She said the last piece of her heart belonged to us. To Arthur and Tommy and John and Ada and Finn and me. She said it was the biggest piece and that there was plenty of room for all of us and that my place was right in the middle."

Michael smiled broadly at her. "Then why are you worried that she doesn't love you?"

"Because"

"'Because' isn't an answer. Why don't you think she loves you?"

Rose sighed. She wished she'd just started playing that stupid game with Michael now. She didn't want to talk about these things anymore.

"Rose?"

"Because she's not like the mums in the books at school! She doesn't bake and she doesn't sew and she's not always at home and she doesn't call me 'darling.' And in normal families there's a mum who calls her children 'darling' and there's a dad who goes to work and comes home and brings sweets for the children. And all the children wear nice clothes and eat supper together."

Rose took a deep breath after her long speech. She swallowed the tears which threatened to rise and looked at the floor. She felt exposed and silly now. She waited for Michael to laugh at her like her brothers would have. Instead, she spoke to her gently.

"And your family doesn't eat supper together but you'd really like them to."

Rose looked at Michael, surprised at his words.

"Yeah." She paused. She'd already said too much. What if Michael told the others? "But I don't care. I'll be grown up soon and I'll join the family business and I'll see them all the time then."

Michael opened his mouth to speak but Rose jumped up before he had a chance. She was putting a stop to this conversation.

"I'm going up for my nap before Aunt Pol gets back and I get in even more trouble." She turned and headed out of the door before her cousin could stop her.

Michael watched her abrupt departure and shook his head. He wanted to tell her that there was no such thing as the perfect family, but he understood her longing for the family she'd pictured in her head. After all, that was why he'd left his perfect family and his perfect village in search of something different, something authentic, something real. Both he and Rose wanted something other than what they'd been given. Maybe it would turn out that what they imagined to be the perfect family didn't exist after all.

The next morning, Polly wiped her mouth on her napkin and replaced it on her nap. She watched her son eat his breakfast and smiled. She still wasn't used to having him back in her life. She imagined she never would be. She could stare at him all day and still not have taken enough of him in. Her son. A slurping noise drew her attention to the little girl next to him. Rose had jam all round her mouth, even some on her nose and she was loudly slurping her tea. Polly tried to frown but couldn't bring herself to. She suppressed a smile.

"Rose Shelby, where are your manners? Use your napkin, that's why it's there. Wipe all that jam off your mouth and stop slurping that tea. What on earth will your cousin think of you? That you were raised by apes?"

"Michael slurps his tea too."

"He does not! He has manners and knows how to behave at the table. Now pick up that napkin and wipe your mouth!"

Rose reluctantly took her napkin and wiped her mouth on it. As she did so, Michael picked up his tea and took a very long, very loud slurp. Rose burst into giggles and Michael laughed with her. Polly rolled her eyes and shook her head, but allowed herself a quiet chuckle too. She hadn't been this happy in a long time. This small family unit brought her a lot of joy. She wished life could continue in this way forever. But life wasn't a compliant mistress however and she knew better than to expect happiness in her future. In fact, her very near future was a case in point.

"Right, go and get ready then. It's time to go."

Rose reached for another piece of toast. Polly slapped her hand away.

"What are you doing? I said, get ready to go out."

Rose blinked at Polly, confused.

"I'm going too?"

"Yes, you're going too. There's a family meeting."

Rose gasped in delight.

"We're going to Watery Lane?"

"Yes, for our sins."

"Can I go and see Eliza whilst you're in the meeting. I haven't seen her for ages."

"No, you can't"

Rose's face fell. "But why? I'll just stay in the street, I won't go far."

"You can't because Tommy wants you in the meeting."

Rose's jaw dropped. She stared at Polly. Surely she hadn't heard correctly.

"What?"

"Don't say what, say pardon. And you heard me – Tommy wants you in the meeting. For some reason, he thinks it's time you came too. He seems to think you'll behave yourself if you're given more responsibility. I tried to put him straight but he wouldn't listen…"

Polly was interrupted by Rose's arms being thrown around her neck and a loud squeal in her ear. She recoiled and peeled Rose off her.

"That's enough, Rose. Go and get ready. We're leaving in five minutes."

Rose squealed again. She was overjoyed; she was going back to Watery Lane, she'd see her brothers and she was being allowed to join in a family meeting. It was like her birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. She practically jumped up and down on the spot.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Aunt Pol."

"Don't thank me, I don't think you should be in there. And you won't be if you don't go and get ready. I won't wait for you."

Rose turned on her heel and dashed out of the room. She wasn't about to get left behind.

Michael looked at Polly who was still shaking her head.

"That's the happiest I've ever seen her."

"The child wants nothing more than to be like Tommy. She thinks she'll be wearing a flat cap and smoking a cigarette soon. Truth is, being part of the Shelby business brings nothing but pain."

"Can I join the family meeting?"

Polly stood up. "Of course you can't. There's still hope for you!"

Michael stood up too. "But…"

Polly looked at him sharply. "I said no, Michael!"

She turned abruptly and walked out of the room. Michael frowned as he watched her leave. He resented being treated like more of a child than Rose. He sighed and followed her out of the room. If he'd wanted a quiet life being told what to do by his mother, he'd have stayed in his village. He needed to take control. Maybe this family meeting might prove to be a good time to claim his place.