The Hanging Noose

Fifty-One

Isiah stares across the room at Dottie, who sits on the sofa, with her legs checked up underneath her.
"I'm not moving to Australia, Dots," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mum wants to find where Sallyanna was buried," Dottie responds, leaning her head against her arm. "Somewhere near Melbourne she said."

Shaking his head, Isiah scoffs, "you can't seriously expect me to just agree to this, can you? What about my life here? Your life, Dots. Your family."

"It's not much of a family at the moment, is it?" Dottie replies dryly, "all being cooped up here. It's not right, the girls deserve somewhere better."

"And better is Australia, is it? Half way across the fucking world?" Isiah fires back at her, "they'll grow up in the same way you did, away from your family."

Dottie rolls her eyes.

"I'm not going to Australia, Dots. I refuse. And I refuse to let you take my girls."

"Micheal's agreed to it," Dottie says simply, "he's agreed to move once he's better."

Isiah raises his eyebrows. "I'm not leaving my dad, Dottie, and you know he's afraid of boats. I'm not leaving him, he'll have no one."

Dottie doesn't respond.

"I'm not letting you go either, Dottie. Your place is here, in Birmingham. By my side."

—

Dottie spent every day in the hospital with Micheal. She hated being cooped in in Small Heath, so the drive to the hospital every day was liberating. She was worried about Micheal somehow not recovering or making a turn for the worse. Especially with his two nieces blundering in on his stomach and chest every chance they get.

So the one day Jeremiah offered to look after the girls, Dottie took it, wishing the three of them a good day before driving off to the hospital.

She was greeted by the two peaky blinders situated outside to Micheal's room as she walked in, nodding her head as she took off her hat and shut the door with the back of her foot.

Micheal was doing better, thank goodness. He wasn't wheezing as much, nor was he complaining when the girls decided to jump on him. The bullet wound was scabbing up, the stitches due to be cut out.

Dottie smiled upon seeing Micheal. She places her handbag down on to the table along with her hat. She then unclips her handbag, pulling out small parcels and parchment pieces of paper.

"The girls did some painting," Dottie starts, walking over to the bed. She hands him the folded pieces of parchment.

He smiles fondly, unfolding them. The first is Eliza's, showing a house in a background with seven stick people and a dog.

"Eliza overheard Isiah and I talking about you needed a walking stick to get around," Dottie explains, seeing the stick beside the bed as she sits down beside him, she nudges her head towards the stick man with a thin stick in his hand, "that's you, Mum, Jeremiah, Isiah, me and Florence."

"She's quite talented," Micheal muses, he carefully folds the picture up and then looks at Florence's painting. One of a dog.

"I'm not sure what Florence was thinking," Dottie reveals, "I said to them paint something for your uncle Michael and she painted a dog. Take that as you will."

Micheal hums, "maybe she's trying to say something."

Dottie nods, "maybe she is. Anyways, I brought you up some food," she says, placing the small wrapped parcels on to the bed. "Mum made you some sandwiches, and i made you some cakes."