A t h e n a | "you weren't the only one who changed after the war, Thomas."
-in which Athena Falcone returns from the war as someone the Shelby's hardly recognized.
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
"she's going to rip your balls off next time she see's you."
Two lines of two storey terraces form the long street I walked down, Watery Lane. Children who were, seconds ago, running together down the street were now standing quietly, watching me. I didn't need to look at them to know that. I could practically feel their tiny little eyes on me, but I ignored it as I made a steady approach towards the Shelby house.
On the front door hung a horse shoe for luck-from Polly, of course. Much like the door, the interior of the house was also done by the older Shelby woman. The home was decorated like a gypsy caravan, or a boatman's barge with lots of roses, elephants and castles. It very much screamed everything Polly.
I walked through the hallway and parlor until I reached the opening for the kitchen. Inside, sitting at the table, was little Finn Shelby, the youngest of them all. Although younger in age, he was not much different from the rest of them in any other aspect. He was currently leant against the flames of the coal fire, blowing out the smoke from the cigarette in his hand. He tried to hide the cigarette from me, and even though I so very clearly saw it, I decided not to comment on it.
"Arthur's mad as hell," he told me, trying to push the attention onto something else so he didn't get caught. Yup, very much a Shelby.
"What does a ten year old know about hell?" I commented.
"I'm eleven on Sunday."
"And come Sunday, you still won't know," I walked past him, ruffling his hair in the process causing him to swat at my hand.
"Hey!"
I let my lips slightly quirk upwards, but immediately wipe it away once I pass through the pantry which had been opened out to form a small back room. Instead of a back wall, there was a black curtain and once I pushed through it, it gave way to the fully functioning-very illegal-betting shop.
The large room was dominated by a huge blackboard on which bets and odds we being chalked by two Runners. They stood on stepladders to reach the top of the board. The room swirled with cigarette and cigar smoke and there were half a dozen men queuing silently at a desk to lay bets. In the corner of my eye I could see Scud-boat taking the bets in the form of coins wrapped in scraps of paper.
I paused and peered up at the blackboard to see twenty bets, all for the same horse: Monaghan Boy.
Good.
John Shelby was standing at the blackboard, but when he spotted me he didn't waste anytime coming over. He had always been one of my favorite Shelby's, surprisingly. I think it had something to do with his relentlessly uplifted attitude. No matter what was happening-even after the war-he always managed to stay optimistic. It was a skill I envied, but being around him made up for it.
