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ON THE OTHER SIDE of town, John Shelby was walking through the bustling betting shop and into the kitchen where Polly Gray was sat smoking a cigarette, her eyes flicking through the newspaper on the table.
"Polly. Did he say who did it?" John asks his Aunt, talking about the explosion of the Garrison, the woman doesn't look up at him to acknowledge him.
"He's gone to the Black Lion." Polly says instead, not answering John's question and her answer being the only acknowledgement he would get.
"On his own?" John asks in worry.
"Of course not!" Polly chides as she taps the ash from her cigarette. "Tommy does everything either with his El or on his own, and El is nowhere to be seen so, who do you think he took?" Polly asks dryly.
John pauses, Polly's words settling in his head as he waits to try and come up with an answer. As John thinks, Polly's eyes briefly look over him, before she looks back down at her paper and continues to smoke.
"Should I go to the Black Lion?" John asks Polly suddenly, causing her to sigh as her eyes rolled. Polly's head tilts as she blows out a cloud of smoke and she looks up at her nephew.
"What?" She asks him confused.
"Should I go there and see them?" He asks, adding more idea to the question.
"No." Polly says as she takes a drag of her cigarette.
"Where the fuck is Arthur?" John asks annoyed.
"Protecting the Garrison's whisky from the police." Polly says simply, ignoring the boy's growing anger as John's hand runs over his face.
"For fuck's sake!" John curses quietly, he looks back at his aunt. "Polly, it feels a little bit to me like things are getting out of hand." John rants.
"So get 'em in hand." Polly tells him calmly.
"Do you know what Ada said to me this morning? She said we all look like we work in a factory under the ground. She said we look like ghosts." John tells Polly.
Polly knew he and Ada were both right. John had never looked worse. His cheeks hollowed, body thin from the weight he had lost because of all the late nights, and face pale from spending too much time stressing. His eyes were far too old for his age.
"She'll be back." Polly states knowingly.
"When?" John asks throwing his hands up.
"When she needs us." Polly states again and John scoffs at that waving his hand which Polly ignores as she stubs out her cigarette.
