Chapter 2

Tommy pushed open the door of the house, bringing him into the front room. Polly was standing there, waiting for them. She met his eyes, though the question in hers was answered by the sniffing Finn who came trailing in behind him.

"Ada's not home yet," she told Tommy, then, addressing Finn she barked, "Oi, you – through in that kitchen and sit at the table and I don't want a word from you until I come through and speak to you, got it?"

"Yes Aunt Polly," he mumbled, then walked more quickly than he had done the entire way from the school. Not quickly enough, Polly still managed to send him through the door to the kitchen with a stinging smack.

"How long did it take you to get it from him?" Polly asked.

He didn't respond verbally, just rolled his eyes.

"That quickly, eh?" Polly said, "I dare say Ada will give you a harder time."

"I saw her leaving the school, from inside the building," he told Pol.

"Crafty little madam," she said, then added, "Worryingly so."

He gave a slight nod in agreement.

"It could serve us well if you can get her to toe the line," Polly remarked.

Again, he nodded. That was true. But whether he could get Ada to toe the line was a different matter altogether. And whether Ada could get her head screwed on to serve the Shelby family business was another matter again. She wasn't as green as Finn, but the same went for them both - if either of them was to get involved he needed to get it legal.

It took the length of a fresh cigarette to dwindle before Ada eventually came through the door, grinning at her brother and aunt when her eyes fell on them, faltering slightly when she got two stony stares in response.

Tommy moved to stop her crossing the room and going to the kitchen and she gave an exasperated sigh, "What do you want Tommy?"

"Sit," he replied, indicating the couch.

Theatrically she threw her bag on the floor and fell into the place he pointed at. He flexed his hand, trying to shake out the itch to just grab her and put her over his knee and spank the attitude right out of her without even bothering to talk to her first. Hell, he couldn't even be bothered with the dance of the talk – he went straight to it.

"Finn's already admitted it," he said to her, standing over her, glowering down.

"Finn's admitted what?" she snapped back.

"I don't want to play games Ada, I've been worried all day and I give you fair warning, I'm out of patience," he said, his voice quiet, lowering his face to hers.

She shrunk back slightly in the sofa. He was glad, at least she wasn't entirely unaffected by him.

But she didn't give any admission of guilt, "I don't know what you're talking about," was all she said, albeit from that slightly reclined position.

"Ada, your brother's out of patience and god knows he's got more than me to start with," Polly cut in, "So unless you want me to wash your lies right out of your mouth with a bar of carbolic you best start telling the truth and have the good sense to apologise before it needs to be wrung from you."

"I'm not lying, I don't know what he's on about," she said, her head twisted to address her aunt.

Tommy grabbed her hair and pulled her round by it to look at him, his fingers threaded through, tilting her head back.

"Ada, I've had enough," he began, but she cut him off, her hands rising over her head to wrestle him.

"Tommy for fuck's sake, that hurts, and I still don't know what you're on about."

He released her hair and looked up to where Polly had been, but the door was swinging shut behind her already – she was clearly a step ahead of him.

"Right," he grabbed Ada's arm and hauled her to her feet, then pushed her in front of him, through the door into the kitchen, keeping her walking by applying his free hand to her rear end.

"Finn, what have you said you little shit?" Ada had started to demand on sight of their youngest brother sitting at the table, but Tommy didn't stop her to let Finn answer, he kept her going, through the doors to the betting shop – where Arthur and John were still finishing up. Neither of them said anything but Arthur looked up and gave a grim nod of approval at the dancing teenager's predicament. Maybe Tommy hadn't been alone in thinking Ada was due a good blistering.

He pushed her in the direction of the stairs and, realising where they were going, she redoubled her efforts to shake him off, but he had her in an iron grip. He twisted the arm he had up behind her.

"Ada, you think you're big enough to lie to us and swear, then you're big enough to take the fucking consequences," he snarled in her ear, "So don't make this harder."

"Tommy for – yowch – for fuck's – ouch, Jesus – sake! How come – yowch – you can fucking - ouch – swear and I – aow – can't?" she cried out, her question punctuated by jerks and cries as he reigned down smack after smack on her sister, keeping her moving up the stairs. He could feel both sets of his brothers' eyes following them.

"Because I'm a fucking adult and you're not, and I think it's high fucking time you got a reminder of that," he snapped, finally reaching the top of the stairs and pushing her along the landing, into the room that had once been John's.

As well as John's old bed and chest, which had never been removed, the family kept the tub and toiletries there now rather than in the kitchen; the kitchen was small and busy enough. Polly stood there already, the soap lathered up.

"Open up," Polly said, crossing the room to where the girl stood, still held tightly by her brother.

Ada shook her head violently and Polly raised an eyebrow.

"Ada, I've had enough of it – the lying, the answering back, the not doing as you're told, and now thinking you're an adult who can swear," Tommy said into her ear from his place behind her, his voice low and sharp, "So you can either get your mouth open and get on with it or I can put you face down on that bed and take my belt to you until you're willing to hold that soap in place – and that will have nothing to do with the arse tanning you're going to get once we've had our family meeting."

He felt her freeze in his arms. He was always easy on Ada, he always had been. Finn would get taken out the back for the strap as usual; as he had been, as John and Arthur had been. And those were amongst the more civilised hidings doled out by their father. But Ada had only ever had the flat of Tommy's hand, he'd told himself that was all she needed. He knew Polly had taken a hairbrush to her a few times, but he never had. And she'd never been belted. He didn't have the heart for it.

He couldn't see her face, but Polly had got the soap in, so she must have complied.

"Bite down," Polly instructed.

Ada moaned in protest but before he had to say or do anything Polly had crossed her arms, so his sister must have been holding the soap in place. He released the arm he had twisted and pinned into her back and she immediately shook it out then crossed it with the other in front of her, clearly keen that he wouldn't be able to grip her again.

He sighed and produced his pocket watch, going to sit on the edge of John's old bed, so she could see him looking at the time. Polly stood back, surveying the scene.

None of the three of them said anything. Tommy kept himself still, his eyes on the hands. He wanted to run his hands through his hair, but he wouldn't do it, wouldn't let Ada see how much she was getting to him. The glance he had taken at her before he had sat down had shown him a girl, albeit with a bar of soap in her mouth, who had a right cobb on. She hadn't given in yet. She might not be so old and grown up yet that the threat of a belt wouldn't get her to go along with things, but the fight already had been enough – and he could see that it was still there.

He remembered the child he'd left before the war. A single solid smack would have had that child wailing and begging for forgiveness. And she'd crawl into his lap afterwards and he'd hold her whilst she sobbed, and he'd hush her and cuddle her and say it was alright, that it would be alright. There had been times he'd almost worried that that child was too obedient, too soft. That that child wouldn't learn to stand up for herself. But then, war wasn't just the frontline where they had been. War had happened at home too.

He stood up and crossed to where the teenager who had replaced that child stood.

"Open," he said, taking the end of the soap in his hand. He began to scrub it back and forth, dragging it on her top and bottom rows of teeth, remembering how much he had hated it when their mother had washed his swear words and tales out of his mouth.

He was glad he had Polly to share the responsibility with, Polly would probably never know just how glad he was for her, but god did he wish they had a mother. Maybe not their mother, if she had still been alive but with all the same issues… He'd probably be in this position anyway. But he wished there was a mother figure he could pass all this over too. He wished he could stop feeling like he was letting his mother down with the poor job he was doing. He remembered the strong woman who had pinched his nose until he had to open his mouth and who had thrust that soap in there. God, he had hated it, but he'd soon learned not to swear at his mother. Still swore at his father though, at and about him. But there was no carbolic that would wash away that hatred or any expression of it.

He pulled the soap out.

"Spit," he said, indicating the empty fire place.

Polly held out a glass of water from the basin. It was the same water she'd used to lather the soap up with in the first place, but it would be better than nothing.

Ada turned from the fireplace to glare at him, but he pointed to the glass in Polly's hand.

Ada snatched it and turned back to glare at Tommy. He glanced and nodded almost imperceptibly at Polly, letting her know he'd seen the snatch. He was glad Ada seemed to know to wait until she was told she could use the water. It showed some kind of promise, even if her face was still full of anger.

"Rinse," he told her, and she did, sloshing the water around her mouth and then spitting it into the fireplace.

The taste wouldn't be gone completely, but the water would have done more than she'd have managed just from spitting alone. He didn't expect thanks though.

"Right," Polly said, then took the glass back and dealing her niece a good smack.

Ada squealed and her hands flew to her backside, shielding it from the further onslaught she was clearly expecting.

Pol raised an eyebrow, "For snatching," she said simply to the girl, "Shall we get down to the kitchen then, so we can get on with this?"