Now You See Me | Thomas Shelby

six; whiskey skies

"All's I know, from Amber, is Mister Fentons let them use the private room in the Garrison for a few hours. Free of charge, something about helping the daughter of one of his countrymen, or whatever?" Arthur added, opening the door to a whole boatload of new and unthought of questions.

Countrymen? Mister Fenton was from Londonderry, and his Missus was a Galway girl, and as far as Thomas was aware, Anna's mother was a local...

But her father wasn't, Thomas always seemed to forget about the man that wasn't in the picture.

"I got an invite, so did Arf..." John teased, elbowing his big brother in the side.

What John had failed to mention, was that Amber had invited every single member of the Shelby clan, as well as Polly and Michael. It was going to be, if the Shelby's could help it, one of the best birthdays the Wallace girl would ever have. Amber made sure of that.

Before Thomas could reply, their mother Mabel walked into the room. Without saying a word, all feet were off of the table and their backs were suddenly as straight as the straight-stick they'd been hit with at school. Arthur was usually the one to come home with reddened hands, John was more of a lunch time rebel and Thomas didn't feel the need when he could show off intellectually.

"Boys, what have I told you about feet on the bleedin' table! We eat from here, do we not!?" Mabel scolded, taking a wet rag to the dirty marks that they had left in their wake.

Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes which displeased Mabel.

Instead of scolding any of the boys further, Mabel remembered the real reason she had walked into the kitchen. It wasn't for tea, no matter how much she probably needed one, and it wasn't to grab something quick to eat as she went on her evening journey to god only knows where.

It was for John.

Ever since he had become good friends, borderline best friends with Amber-Jack, that boy had been on more outings than Thomas ever had at his age. The boy hadn't been eight for too long and already he had been on more adventures than Arthur and Thomas combined.

"Amber-Jacks waiting. Polly-Anna's after something red. Remember that, John. Red."

The boy got up out of his seat quicker than lightening hit. The awful scrape of the chair against the floor sent shivers through the remaining three Shelby's bodys, and Arthur would surely be complaining that he could feel it in his teeth once the boy was out of ear shot.

"Red?" Arthur, instead, asked his mother.

A complex look of bewilderment etched its way onto a usually stone cold face of Arthur Shelby, what he hadn't been told was of the secret adventures Polly-Anna had tasked John and Amber with. It kept the duo out of trouble and - mostly - out of harms way.

Plus, it burned out so much of their energy that by the time they arrived at either house, they'd be flat out within minutes.

"Never mind that, we've got some party decorations to be making. It's not everyday a girl turns fourteen, now is it!"

Arthur was, almost as quickly as John, out of his seat and on his way out of the door before Mabel could say anything more. Thomas didn't have anywhere he could vanish to, Arthur did... but making decorations didn't sound too tedious of a job. It actually, almost sounded fun?

"You're going too?! How unfair is that! I—"
"We're all invited you bleedin' oaf!"

That was something to get Thomas Shelby to shut up, and Mabel took note of it, too. Her son was many things, and a talker wasn't one- so when something gave him the desire to talk, she always took note in a little black book.

"Do you think it'd be appropriate to wear the suit that she made to her party?" Thomas asked, standing up from his chair to grab the good scissors from the top of the cupboards, hidden away from Arthur senior.

They were good, because they were the best money could've bought back in 1870. Mabel had taken them almost everywhere she had ever been and if that rotten man had gotten his grimy little hands on them, well— hands would be up for sale on whatever black market she could find.

"It's a suit, Thomas. Just because she made it doesn't mean you can't wear it. In fact, almost everyone will be in a Polly-Anna Wallace original creation. We've just to get our Arthur to stand still long enough for someone to take measurements."

To say that Thomas hadn't taken notice of what clothes everyone had been wearing as of late would've been an understatement. If it wasn't a horse, or a book on mathematics, his eyes averted their gaze to just that. Maybe from now on he would pay more attention, looking out for the orange threading on everyone's necks.

"Yeah, right. As if he'd stay still long enough for us to tell him where to go." Thomas joked, placing a soft kiss to his mother's temple.

This was exactly what he needed. A little time to unwind, to think about something other than the stress he was giving himself. To forget about the early grave he was making, and to think about— paper chains.

Taking a step towards the window, Thomas placed his hands either side of the sink- staring out at the window.

The skies were scattered with burnt clouds, spreading across his view. The orange tones reminded him of her and how she lit up the room without having to try. The purples reminded him of... well, him and how he wasn't sure on what he wanted to do. Purple and orange weren't necessarily colours people would think complimented each other, but he did... and so did she.

"Away from the window, Tom. We've got a whole lot of work to do."