TROUBLE - peaky blinders

61. cursed to hold a weight you can't bare

Clara had sworn she'd seen Esme's lip tremble at the words. The older woman looked conflicted as she glanced between her dead husband and his little sister. In a swift motion, the younger of the two had been dragged back to her original spot, close to Esme's chest. Clara's breath caught in her throat as a cool metal was slid onto her trembling fingers. She had felt her throat bob as she gazed at the ring, her heart falling to her stomach at the sight. It was a piece of her brother, of her John. Tears had been quick to spring to her eyes once more as she accepted the gift.

"Oh, Esme," Clara's broken voice had whispered, her voice choked with gratitude and sorrow.

Esme had managed to pull together a weak smile through her tears. "He always loved that one," she sniffed. Clara had nodded in agreement through her tears as the gold hung heavy but familiar if it had always belonged there.

The two women had held each other's gaze for a moment, understanding passing between them without the need for words. They were bound by their shared loss, by the love they had both held for the man who had connected them. The pain of separation was palpable, but inevitable. With a heavy sigh, Clara finally broke the silence.

"Esme, I don't know how to thank you for this." She had murmured, glancing at John who remained still on the table. She was pulled back into focus as Esme gave her enclosed hand a gentle squeeze.

"You don't have to thank me, Clara. We're family, and John would have wanted you to have it." She had sniffed sadly, her thumb brushing over Clara's knuckles.

Tears continued to stream down their faces as they embraced once more, clinging to each other for support and solace. Esme's hug was warm and comforting, it was what Clara would like to imagine her mother's hug would feel like.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Clara had spoken up, her voice small and meek as Esme gently brushed a strand of Clara's hair out of her face. Esme's eyes had drowned in a salty sea of tears as she pressed her forehead to Clara's once more.

"Oh, Clara," she had whispered, "I'm going to miss you too." There was a slight pause as the older of the two had peered towards John in sadness. "But you'll always have a place with me, and distance won't change that." Clara had nodded, her heart heavy as the reality set in that the only comfort she knew was leaving her, and she'd let it.

"I think I'm scared, Es," Clara had been reluctant to admit with a croaky voice. "I don't...I can't..." Esme swiftly pulled back from the embrace, holding Clara's face in her hands.

"I know, my sweet girl, just know that I'll be here whenever you need me and I will welcome you with open arms. Take care of yourself, Clara."

"You too, Es...Until we meet again."

Clara swallowed her nerves, her fingers wrapped around John's gold ring as she slowly pushed open the door to her childhood home. Number six Watery Lane hadn't changed much. It was slightly older looking, the stones and drain pipe mossier with taints of ivy crawling up the sides. The wooden front door still creaked, quite like it always had, as Clara stepped inside.

She felt out of place. Like her skin and body weren't hers, at least not the body and skin of who she was once. She felt like a splatter of red against the purest of whites— so violently there and not at all meant to be.

A rush of sudden fear swiftly swept over her body, its claws embedding themselves into the flesh of her back and tearing into it as if it were the last meal it would devour. The fear encompassed her despite the swell of familiarity that threatened to soothe her. This had been the place where she had died–literally. It was the place where she'd had countless nightmares and sleepless nights, the place she'd suffered and the place she'd once cherished.