The bite of the freezing air nips at the back of your neck as you pace through the streets of Small Heath. You pull your coat up higher to cover the bare skin, which helps a bit, but a chill still runs through you when a strong gust of wind comes in from behind.
Winter in Birmingham is often brutal, bringing frost and damp. At least if there was snow it might be bearable but this year seems to have no place for such weather. Instead it's all rain and wind.
It makes you wish that Polly hadn't run out of potatoes last night and asked you to get some more from the market this morning, but it's not like you could say no to her. You'd do anything she asks and she's well aware of it. That's why you didn't complain when she trusted you with the task instead of one of her nephews. So, with your warmest coat wrapped on, you set out into the soot covered city, basket in hand.
The trip to the market is uneventful. The bitter cold wind keeps you from browsing like you normally would, eagar to find something useful and haggle with the seller. Despite the Shelby's making more than enough money to keep everyone fed and clothed, you still can't resist a bargain, war time rationing and poverty fresh memories to you.
Basket now carrying the bag of potatoes, you trudge back down the streets, already daydreaming about the warm fire in the sitting room, when a figure on the pavement breaks you out of your reverie. A young girl sits there, knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She looks down at the ground, paying no attention to the people around her. You take a quick glance around, searching for anyone else noticing the child, but no one seems to care. It doesn't look like her parents are among the few people walking the streets, but you wait anyway to see if someone will approach her.
You pull a cigarette from you handbag and light it, nervously sucking on it, trying to look busy. You don't want to startle the child by watching her too closely, but it doesn't feel right to just leave her here and hope someone comes along to collect her. Through your observation, you notice that her coat is filthy and ripped at the hem and sleeves, like she's been wearing it a long time and no one has taken care of it.
Most people in Small Heath struggle to make ends meet and take care of every article of clothing they own, unsure of when they'll be able to buy something new. It's how you've lived most of your life as well, until the Shelby's started earning big money. As a valued employee and Polly's partner, you've been well looked after by the boys and no longer have to sew patches onto your skirts when they rip. You're wealthy enough to replace anything you need to.
All too soon you reach the end of the cigarette. You drop it to the ground, using your shoe to put it out completely, and take one last look around. No one so much as glances at the young girl and you know now that if you don't help her, no one else will. Gathering your belongings, you approach the child carefully, not wanting to startle her. She doesn't look at you when you come near but you watch her tense up and hold herself tighter. At this you stop, not wanting to frighten her. You're six feet away when you speak.
"Hello." Your voice is soft and laced with concern. She finally looks up at you when she hears it.
"Hi." The word comes out in barely a whisper and you have to strain your ears to hear it.
"Are you out here all alone?" You ask, already knowing the answer. A child who simply got separated from their parents would not be so dirty already, so you're not surprised when the girl nods. She's still holding herself tightly and watching your every move. "Are you hungry?" She nods again.
The betting shop is within your line of sight, just a few doors down from where the girl is sitting. She wasn't here when you left, so she must have moved at some point after. With only a bag of potatoes in your basket, you have no food to offer her on hand. You know it's risky to ask her to come with you into the house. Has she been taught not to follow strangers into unfamiliar houses? From the way she looks at you and everyone around her, you assume she's at least somewhat aware of that rule. Yet you know you can't just bring her some food and leave her out in the cold. It would be inhumane. So, preparing for her to refuse or run away from you, you ask:
"Would you like to come to my house for some food?"
She stares at you for what feels like a long time but is probably only a few seconds. She can't be more than 6, but the look on her face as she contemplates your question is unnervingly mature. This is not a child who trusts easily or reacts impulsively. She thinks things through more than John and Finn do, that's for sure.
Finally, after an age, she nods, rising up to stand beside you. She's small and skinny, too skinny in fact. Her collarbones jut out from the thin material of her tattered coat, her cheeks lack the baby fat most children her age would have. You can't imagine when the last time she ate was or how much food it was.
You lead her to the house, careful not to touch her in case she gets startled. You're thankful that it's early in the morning and that the shop won't open for another hour. With John living in his own house with Esme and the kids, and Polly meeting with her nephews in the Garrison over some issue, the house will likely be empty. The only person possibly home at this time is Finn, who could also be out causing trouble with Isaiah. You're glad because you doubt the young girl will feel safe surrounded by so many strangers.
Once you've unlocked the door and let yourself and the child in, you lead her to the kitchen, with patience and gentleness.
"Take a seat, love," you encourage. She sits down at the table and watches you put down your basket and open up the cupboards. Ideally, you would make the child a hot meal but that would take time to cook, so you pull out a loaf of bread and some butter. Cutting her some slices, you put them on a plate.
"Do you like butter?" You ask her. She nods, so you grab a butter knife and begin coating each slice with butter. Once that is done, you put the slices together, cutting the two sandwiches into triangles for her.
You set the plate down in front of her and she immediately reaches out for one and takes a large bite out of it. This must be the first thing she's eaten all day, maybe the first thing she's eaten in a few days. The thought makes your heart ache for the poor thing. It's likely that her parents are either dead or have abandoned her to survive on her own in the streets. You realise then that you know nothing about her, not her age, why she was outside, or even her name.
Pouring her a glass of milk to help wash down the food, you plop down in the seat beside her and wait for her to finish. Once she does, she looks up at you, as if she's expecting your questions.
"I forgot to introduce myself, silly me," you giggle, trying to put her at ease. You think you see her lips twitch upwards, but it's so quick that you can't be sure. "I'm Y/N, what's your name?"
"Elizabeth," you have to bite your lip to stop you from grinning. Polly's gonna love this.
"Nice to meet you, Elizabeth," you hold your hand out to shake, and she puts her much smaller, dainty hand in yours, shaking it lightly. Her grip is practically nonexistent. "I have a friend called Elizabeth, but everyone calls her Polly." Given how most people react to your relationship, you decide that calling Polly your friend is probably easier, even if she is only a child. "How old are you, love?"
"Eight," she tells you after she drops your hand. Eight. God she's small for her age, you think to yourself. Most children born during the war are small though. The food rations were barely enough to keep everyone going, so children often didn't get enough to help them grow at the normal rate. But still, her current situation probably has a lot to do with her height and weight. Each of these realisations has you close to tearing up. That's why the next question is painful to ask.
"Do you know where mummy and daddy are?" Her face goes back to looking as sullen as it did when you saw her for the first time, making you feel sick to your stomach. She looks down at her lap and fidgets with the hem of her brown coat.
"They said there was too many of us and that some had to leave. So they told me to go." She doesn't cry but her voice breaks. Overcome with emotion yourself, you wrap an arm around Elizabeth. There's no way in hell you're leaving this girl out again. You'll raise her yourself if she's willing to allow it.
Elizabeth rests her head on your shoulder, relaxing against you. You lean your cheek against the top of her head, not even caring about how dirty her hair is. All you can think about is how to ask her if she wants to stay with you, and of course, how to tell Polly.
The second part comes a lot sooner than you expect, as before you can even plan the conversation with your partner, the front door opens.
"Love," you hear Polly call, startling Elizabeth, "are you back?"
"Don't worry," you whisper against the girls hair, "that's my friend, Polly." She doesn't have the chance to say anything, because Polly walks into the kitchen, a relaxed expression on her face when she spots you that quickly morphs into surprise when she notices the child. You unwrap your arm from Elizabeth's shoulders and stand, approaching the woman you love with a nervous smile.
"Hey Pol," you greet her.
"Hi, love," her wide eyes briefly flit to meet your gaze before returning to the little girl, who shrinks against her chair at the attention.
"Polly, I'd like you to meet Elizabeth," you gesture to the girl, turning to look at her, "Elizabeth, this is Polly." The Shelby matriarch looks at you again, confusion in her eyes, before smiling at the girl.
"Hello, Elizabeth," she says softly, trying not to scare the child or let on how much her presence has surprised her.
"Hi," the girl's voice has become as quiet as it had been when you first approached her, though she looked less unsure when you smiled at her. You turn back to Polly then, knowing that she wants answers.
"Can we talk out there?" You gesture to the hallway. She nods, leading the way. You turn back to Elizabeth before you follow her out.
"I'll just be a minute," you tell her. She nods, watching you leave.
Once in the hallway, you leave a crack in the door so you can keep an eye on her, scared she might hurt herself if she trips or tries to open a cupboard and something drops out. Polly notes the gap and makes an effort to keep her voice low.
"Who is she?" Polly whispers, maternal instincts making her glance through the crack in the door as much as you do. So far, Elizabeth is just sitting there.
"A girl I found out in the street, Pol. She was thrown out."
"She has nowhere to go?"
You shake your head glumly. "I think she's been out there a while."
Polly nods in agreement. "She looks like she hasn't had a bath in a few weeks at least. What are we going to do about it?" The look on your face tells her all she needs to know, and she raises her eyebrows in alarm. "Are you serious?"
"What else can we do, Pol?" You try to stay quiet but the emotions running through you make that difficult. Polly shushes you, checking to see if Elizabeth heard. It doesn't seem like she did.
"I'm only asking because a child is a big responsibility, especially one that's already been abandoned." She explains. There's a sadness in her eyes as she looks at the girl, and you're aware of the reason why. With dark hair and dark eyes, Elizabeth looks a lot like the way Anna has beem described to you. She also has the street smarts of a Shelby kid. This whole situation is bringing up many painful memories for Polly. You feel like an arse for putting her through all this.
You rest a hand on her shoulder, drawing her tearful eyes to your desperate ones.
"She needs a home, Pol. We could raise her here, together." She stares deep into your eyes, watching to see if you're sure about this. Sensing no hesitation, she finally nods, giving you a watery smile.
"We should do it," She decides, smile broadening when you nod. Polly pulls you into a hug, squeezing her arms around your middle. You two hold each other for a few moments longer, before you pull back, but only to plant a soft kiss on her lips. She reciprocates with passion, her hands on your back pulling you as close as possible. Your own slide up to cup her cheeks gently, holding her to you.
The joy you feel at starting a family with your love is immense, and makes you want to take your actions further, but the child inside the kitchen still needs someone to look after her, so you pull away, panting and slightly reluctant. The gleam in Polly's eye shows you she's much more sure of this now.
The front door opens, and the loud voices of Polly's oldest and third oldest nephew boom through the house, only silenced by the much quieter voice of the second oldest. Polly and you pull apart completely.
"I'll get them to keep it down and tell them what's happening," she tells you with a look of determination on her face.
"What do you think they'll say?" You wonder. Polly looks unperturbed.
"I don't care," she says, "they'll just have to accept that they have a new cousin." You can't hide the grin that covers your face at her protectiveness of the child. She's already taken to mothering the young girl before she's ever really spoken to her.
Before she goes to her nephews, she peaks in at Elizabeth again, who still hasn't moved from her seat. "Take her upstairs and give her one of Ada's old dresses to put on. Try to give her a bath if she'll let you as well, and get some of the old toys from Finn's room and keep her upstairs until the shop shuts," she instructs, "I doubt she'll be able to handle all the noise down here." With that, she goes into the shop part of the house to her family.
You watch her leave with a grin still plastered across your face and excitement bubbling inside your chest. A family with Polly is something you've always wanted and you may be getting it now. As you hear the voices lower, you turn back to the kitchen door and enter, taking in a nervous breath as you do. Elizabeth turns to look at you and your smile softens as you hold your hand out to the young girl.
"Would you like to come upstairs with me? We have toys and you can wear a clean dress." This time, there's very little hesitation at your question. Elizabeth takes your hand and follows you along, smiling as she walks.
Maybe this will work out after all.