ashes - michael gray

six

"Look who it is! The two teenagers!" John bellowed with a toothpick between his lips. He sat with a kid on one knee and a woman next to him. A few more children ran about.

"Look who it is! The most annoying lad I've met in my life," Maeve joked back. John rolled his eyes at her.

"You speak Romani?" piped the woman next to him happily.

"I'm from the Boswell camp," Maeve smiled as finally there was another Gypsy to make company with.

"I'm a Lee! Bloody hell I've been missing Gypsies! I'm Esme," the woman said, quickly standing to hug her.

"M' names Maeve."

"See this, Mickey? We should drop our wives off together to have a play date next time we wanna go to the pubs," John snickered.

"Shut up," Esme shot back. John and Michael smiled at each other.

"Speakin' of which, Maeve, do you drink? I was thinkin' bout havin' a welcome home party for ya at the Garrison," John said. "I was only
giving you a hard time yesterday 'cause you need thick skin in the Shelby family."

"I haven't had a chance to drink yet, I'm only 16. It sounds lovely enough," Maeve shrugged and sat down on the couch across from John.

"Now you've done it," Michael chuckled, taking a seat next to her. Maeve raised an eyebrow at him.

"What Mickey means to say is they're going to get you absolutely fucked up," chuckled another voice. Maeve turned to see another handsome boy with darker skin, wearing the same cap as her and John. "I'm Isiah."

Maeve shook his hand. "Maeve."

Isiah flicked her cap. "What's this? You a Peaky girl now?"

"I gave it to her so nobody would mess with her. Some idiot Blinders tried earlier," Michael said.

John leaned forward. "Blinders tried to get at her?"

"Yeah...well...followed her. Probably were going to try somethin'" Michael shrugged. Fuck I really need to keep my mouth shut, he thought. "I handled it, it's alright."

Maeve stared at Michael for his sudden urgency in his voice. John stood up and straightened up his jacket.

"You have any names, kid?" John asked.

"I recognized them. They work at Charlie's Yard. It's alright John, really."

"Be right back," John said, walking away.

"Fuck," Michael said, leaning back into the sofa.

"Now you've done it, Mick." Isiah took John's spot on the sofa. "Can't have anyone disrespecting a future Shelby, can we?"

"What's he going to do?" Maeve asked. She was so lost in the conversation.

"Probably shoot them and throw them into the cut," Isiah responded. Maeve laughed, but went silent when she realized he wasn't joking.

"Oh...you're being serious."

"Welcome to Birmingham," Michael groaned.

Isiah slid a cigarette box across the table. "Mickey, have a smoke. You too, Maevey."

"I told you, I only smoke when I drink," Michael sighed.

"I don't smoke." Maeve shrugged.

"Both of you are probably stressed as fuck. You're getting married. Have a smoke."

Michael looked at Maeve and then grabbed a cigarette. Lighting it, he made a face as he exhaled the smoke.

"Try it," Michael coaxed. Maeve placed the cigarette between her lips and took a deep inhale. Instantly, she coughed a little.

"You get used to it," Isiah laughed.

Michael smiled at her as he took another hit.

Everyone's heads shot up to the sound of glass shattering.

"Oh fuck me!" Esme yelled. "Kids! What did I bloody say about playing in the kitchen!"

* * *

"I'm scared to meet everyone..." Maeve whispered unsurely. Michael and her had barely spoken, both too overwhelmed and awkward to talk anymore.

"They'll love you. I swear. Let's go in." Michael pushed open the doors of the Garrison. The room was booming with boisterous laughter. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes filled their nostrils. Everyone gave Michael a nod as respect as he guided Maeve into the side room.

"Hey, hey, hey! It's the guest of honor!" yelled Arthur. The room cheered for her as she sat down into the chair John had pulled out for her. "What is the lady going to drink tonight?"

"I dunno. I've never really drank," laughed Maeve.

"Whiskey!" John suggested, earning a smack from his wife.

"Gin and lemonade." Tommy slid her a freshly poured drink. "It's what the ladies drink in London now."

Maeve smiled a thank you to him before raising the glass to her lips. It wasn't horrible, so she was content.

"Whiskey please. Irish," Michael said into the window. The bartender slid him a glass of honey colored liquid, as the room stared at him. "What?"

"You're too much like Tommy," tutted Polly. Tommy looked over defensively and rolled his eyes.

"Pol, I've just signed his life away to this lovely girl right here. Let 'im indulge a little, eh?"

"He's only 18, Tom."

"I'd killed a hundred men in war at his age. Drinkin' is nothin' Pol," piped John. Polly shot him a glare.

"Mum, I rarely drink. It's alright, really." Michael grabbed his mother's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"To Maeve! Welcome to the fuckin' family," Arthur said, raising a toast.

"To Maeve!"