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CLARA HADN'T MOVED FROM THE WAITING ROOM. She'd forced herself into the ambulance beside her brother, refusing to leave him go alone. The girl's body was exhausted and littered with various bruises and cuts, yet she didn't budge from the uncomfortable seat in the waiting room. Her cheek was throbbing, and the blood from her deep gash stained her clothing. When they'd arrived, Tommy had been rushed off on a stretcher, his life dangling between worlds. The girl fought against the doctor's grasps as she desperately tried to follow the people taking Tommy away. They'd forced her to follow a nurse into another room so they could attend to her own injuries. Clara had ended up with five stitches across her face, trying to seal the knife wound.
The prick of the needle and the pulling of the thread should've been more painful, but the girl's mind was elsewhere. London was trouble...Esme was right. Her brothers had been in London for one single day, yet already one of them almost died. Her mind wouldn't focus nor could it at all. It had been hours since Tommy had disappeared behind the double doors yet the girl remained patiently. The sky was brightening in the far distance. She had to fill out forms upon forms earlier, her shaky hand scrawling all the necessary info onto the paper, she had shivered from head to toe, and every line of writing brought about waves of nausea and discontent.
Clara ran a hand through her hair and it was only then that it dawned on her that no one knew. No one knew Tommy had been cornered and beaten, no one knew they were in the hospital, no one knew. The girl shook her self pity and pried herself from the hospital chair, tentatively walking towards the front desk. The woman behind the desk was rapidly scribbling words into paper, her eyes flitting from book to book.
"Do you...uh, do you have a phone I can use?" The sound of Clara's rough voice caused the woman to look up. The woman scanned her small figure before nodding and pointing off the left. Without another word, Clara nodded and wandered down a hall, spotting the phone propped on a table instantly.
Her fingers traced the numbers before picking it up and dialling a few numbers. Lifting the phone to her ear, she let out a short breath as the operator began to speak. Clara mumbled the address, her fingers pinching her nose, blinking away tiredness. There was a beeping before the phone began to ring. Her eyes squeezed shut, hoping that the other line would ring through. The other end began to buzz, earning a sigh of relief from the girl.
"Pol..?" She carefully spoke, her hushed voice low enough for only the woman answering the phone to hear.
"Clara?" The woman's groggy voice echoed through the receiver.
"Something happened."
"Where are you?"
By the time Pol arrived at the hospital, she found Clara hunched over in a waiting room chair, her head hanging as her hands were clasped in front of her. The girl had resumed her previous position, opting to stare ahead. The woman hastily walked towards the girl, causing Clara's head to raise and watch the woman approach. The skin around her stitches had turned a violent pink, and bruises covered both her oesophagus and face.
"Oh my girl, what happened?" Pol immediately questioned, tilting the girl's head to aim each inch towards the nearest light. Clara shook herself out of her aunt's hands, her arms folding across her chest.
"He was attacked last night and I...I forgot to call." Clara took a deep breath in, trying to steady her exhausted voice. "Campbell's back and...they....they won't tell me anything."
Polly pursed her lips, rage coursing through her veins. Without another word, she stormed towards the reception desk. Her words may have been hushed, but Clara could sense the tension from halfway across the room. Her aunt folded her arms and strode towards Clara while the nurse at reception disappeared out of sight.
The woman sat beside her, crossing her legs. "You should've called me sooner." She sighed heavily.
"I forgot..." Clara mumbled, resisting the urge to scratch her cheek.
"And your face, what happened?" Pol demanded.
"Heard Tommy being attacked, ended up being dragged into his mess." The girl huffed tiredly, "They slashed me."
"Who was it?"
"Take a bloody guess."
The girl felt a soft whack across the back of her head. "You may be injured but watch your attitude." Pol chastised. "Now, who did this."
"London is trouble." Clara scoffed mainly to herself, her head shaking. "Bloody Esme called it, not even a day after they go to London, one of them is already in hospital."
"Clara—"
"Sabini...It was Sabini and his men."
The silence descended on the two as a nurse approached them with a file in hand. "Mr Shelby is still in surgery," she began, flipping through the file. "Three broken ribs, a shattered cheekbone, multiple contusions, and suspected internal bleeding in the abdomen."
Clara sat with a straight face, while Polly's face dropped. "When is he expected to be out?" The older woman questioned, her lip furling.
The nurse glanced at the papers before glancing at a clock in the corner. "Roughly an hour...maybe two?" She answered. Polly nodded silently, her chest rising and falling in a sigh. She said something else to the nurse their conversation leading into the aftermath of the surgery but Clara wasn't listening. Her droopy eyes threatened to close at every slight tick of the clock. Her body was worn out from the night's events. Her mind kept drawing her back to when she was attacked by the canal...hell, she hadn't thought of it properly for at least a year. It would pop up every so often in scattered nightmares, but the girl repressed the majority of it.
This time had been different. This time instead of pleading her way out of danger, she ran headfirst towards it...and then was eventually beaten. Clara kept thinking about how easily she'd been overpowered by the two men. It was something she'd have to work on. The girl felt her head being moved onto Aunt Pol's shoulder whilst she whispered incoherent yet soothing words.
And so Clara Shelby fell into a dreamless sleep, her turmoil ridden mind diving deep into the depths of nothing.
And what bliss it was.
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CLARA WAS SHAKEN AWAKE BY A PAIR OF HANDS on her shoulders. She let out a loud yawn before groggily rubbing her eyes. In front of her, Arthur was crouched down, his head tilted as he tried to wake her. It was bright outside now, and as the girl went to scratch the itch on her cheek, her hand was promptly whacked away.
It seemed as if the night had come flooding back, as the girl suddenly sat up straight. "Woah, take it easy!" Arthur chuckled, patting her shoulder as he stood.
"Where's Pol?" Clara questioned, looking around for their aunt.
"She's with Tommy now," Arthur let out a huff as he sat down beside her.
"What?!" The girl jumped to her feet, hiding her wince at the ache of her body.
"Clara, c'mon, sit back down." Arthur urged, his usual gruff tone soft.
"No! You didn't see him, Arthur!" Clara rose as she began to panic. Her guard was down, unable to lift itself in her worn state. "He looked dead! I need to know he's alive...is he dead?! Is that why Pol went in first? God, he's dead isn't he?"
"Clara, calm down," the man stood up, placing his hands on both her shoulders once more, grounding her. "He's fine, when has Tommy never made it through something ey? Now, come on, sit back down and wait for Pol." Dejectedly, the girl nodded, biting her lower lip while Arthur swung his arm around her.
They sat down beside one another, Arthur's arm still lingering on her shoulders. Clara's leg bounced, her teeth gnawing on her lip anxiously. Her cheek was unbearably itchy from the stitches but she couldn't scratch them. It was a horrid feeling of built-up anticipation and the worst decline.
It was thirty minutes until Pol appeared through the double doors, her hat and coat in hand as she walked towards them. Clara shot up to her feet, rocking on her heels.
"Well?!" She burst, unable to hold back her questions. Arthur stood up beside her, as they both looked towards their aunt for answers.
"He's fine, banged up but fine," Pol replied, shrugging on her jacket, she looked straight at the anxious girl. "He wants to see you."
Clara paled ever so slightly, as Arthur squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "What about Arthur?" She asked, glancing towards the doors.
"He's to come with me."
"Well, Where's Tommy's room?"
"I'll get a nurse to bring you." Pol nodded, gesturing for a nurse who was about to enter through the double doors. The woman told the nurse the room and before she knew it, the girl was being ushered through the double doors, following the nurse in front of her through the windy hospital corridors. Clara fiddled with her bloodstained cuffs as they came to a sudden stop outside a large room. The nurse poked her head through the door with a smile.
"Someone's here to see you, Mr Shelby." She told. From inside came a voice, but it was too quiet for Clara to hear. The nurse turned expectedly towards the girl before gesturing her head towards the open door.
The room was huge, light streaming through two, large windows and onto the two beds— one of which, Tommy lay in. The girl felt a sudden wave of nerves engulf her as she stepped inside the room. Clara suddenly felt small, as if she were a child being somewhere she shouldn't be. She wanted to look at her brother but she couldn't bring herself to.
"Well..?" Tommy's voice broke the silence.
"Pol, uh...Pol said you wanted to see me." Clara stammered, her sleeves pulled over her hands. Tommy let out a loud sigh, causing Clara's eyes to lift slowly. She gulped as she took in the sight ahead. The man was bandaged around his chest, cuts littered his face and the majority of it was swollen. He looked directly out of an old bonfire horror story.
"Sit," He weakly gestured, raising his hand to point towards a singular wooden chair. Clara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before sitting down on the chair, her thumbs fiddling, her gaze cast downward. She bit on the inside of her cheek as she felt her brother's eyes on her.
"How many stitches?" He questioned, Clara looked up, locking eyes with her brother.
"Five," She breathed out, before shifting her gaze. "One of them nicked me with a knife."
"Why didn't you run?"
Clara's gaze snapped to Tommy, his eyebrow raised– well, she assumed it was, it was quite hard to tell with all the swelling.
"I had a gun,"
"And you thought you could fight them off?"
"I–"
"Answer the question."
"So, you called me in here to scold me?" Clara scoffed, letting out a coarse laugh. "Tommy I've been out there all bloody night and morning wondering whether or not you were bloody alive. If that's all you have to say to me, then I'm going to go, because I'm not going to sit here and take it."
"Clara—"
"No, I was a coward once...not again...never again."
"Clara I didn't call you in here to scold you," Tommy winced as he tried to move up in his bed. "C'mere."
Clara tentatively stood, shuffling towards the bed, her head was down, the prominent bruises shining through. She dreaded what would come next but to her surprise, Tommy reached out and squeezed her hand lightly. Perhaps as an apology. He didn't apologise much these days. The girl sniffed, her finger brushing against the bottom of her nose as she avoided his gaze.
"I didn't call you in here to give out to you...Yes, I think what you did was stupid, you are a child...one child with a gun. There were eight men, Clara. However, you tried, and now look at you, ey?" Tommy half-smiled, his eyes tracing the wound on her cheek. "You never bloody listen do you?" Clara shook her head with a weak laugh, sniffing once more.
"Nurse said it'll scar...something about the knife tearing too much tissue— I don't know."
"It will fade, they always do."
"Do they though?"
Tommy looked ever so slightly taken aback.
"Maybe not," he answered slowly, "—but yours will, and if not, it'll be a reminder to not run headfirst into a fight."
Clara nodded with a breathy laugh, her hand still in her older brother's. She felt as if she was a child again, clutching her brother's hand as he told her stories. She could tell he was still trying to apologise, or at least soothe her nerves.
"No more 'saving me', got it?" Tommy suddenly spoke up, his voice rather serious. "Can't have you getting yourself in all kinds of trouble for me."
"And why not?"
"Because I'm older."
"Well, you definitely look it."
Tommy shut his eyes with a small smirk as the girl's hand dropped from his. "What are you going to do about Sabini?" Clara asked tentatively.
Tommy didn't answer as he shifted in the bed. Clara was too tired to press him for answers, so the two lingered in the silence, the light flooding in on top of them. It was a comfortable silence, one that eased her mind rather than muddled it. And so they sat and they basked. Clara's foot tapped ever so slightly against the floor, her head on her shoulder as she tried to fight off her sleep.
"Y'know if you're that tired, bloody take the other bed," Tommy spoke, "Looking at ya is like looking a wounded pup."
"Take that back!"
"No, go... I'll get Pol to wake you when she comes back."
Just as Clara stood up, the nurse from before peeked her head in once more. "Ready for another visitor, Mr Shelby?" She queried chirpily.
"No," Tommy grumbled, whilst Clara merely stared towards the entrance to the room. A man strode in, the sight alone made the young girl's blood chill. She dared not to glance back at her brother, her stoic face threatening to crumble.
"I'm here on the King's orders." Campbell boomed, his cane tapping against the wooden flooring. "I'm afraid I must insist."
"Clara, out," Tommy ordered, his gaze flitting to his sister before refocusing on the Inspector.
Clara didn't argue, instead, she listened and hastily left the room, her body aching for rest yet she did not dare stop walking. And she did not stop walking until she was out of the hospital, and down the road. The rain came down in a drizzle, the dampness causing the girl's mood to worsen. Her fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, as she sucked in a harsh breath.
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IT WAS DARK ONCE MORE, and Clara stood in the stables beside Cannon, her shirt sleeves rolled up, brushing the horse as she hummed quietly. Her body ached and begged to lie down and sleep, yet she pushed back the feelings focusing solely on her horse. The horse whinnied as she took the brush away, she smiled, leaning closer to his face and gently caressing his nose.
"I wish I could stay longer, boy, but I'll be killed if I'm not home anytime soon." The girl chuckled, leaning her forehead against him. "I'll come back tomorrow, take you out for a ride?"
Clara backed out of the stall, shrugging on her coat which she'd hung on a hook outside the stall. She fixed the collar of her jacket and her gun which she had retrieved from the garage floor. The girl glanced around before slipping out of the stables and into the Yard. She faltered in her tracks as Curly rushed past her, whilst Charlie stood by the open gates talking to a man sitting on a chair. The girl's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of his face in the firelight.
"Fucking hell," Clara swore, walking towards her brother and her uncle.
"London will take four days," Charlie spoke.
"That'll do. Can you spare Curly?" Tommy asked, "He'll be my doctor."
"Then God help you,"
"Tom? What are you doing out?" Clara finally made herself know, causing the two startled men to turn. She raised an unimpressed brow, her arms folded.
"Clara, go home." Tommy sighed, wincing as he shifted.
"No! Pol will go bloody mental!" Clara exclaimed, "And you're meant to be in the hospital."
"I don't have time to explain things to you," her brother huffed.
"You're leaving?" Clara scrunched her nose as she spoke, "For London?! After everything that's happened?"
"Clara, go home." Tommy was gritting his teeth now. Whether it was out of anger or pain— Clara didn't know. "You have tobacco, Curly?"
"You'll be running around like a colt." The man replied, his hands full of horse remedies.
"Get him aboard," Charlie ordered, glancing between Curly and Clara, "I'll fill her up." Reluctantly, Clara stood on Tommy's side, allowing him to lean on her and Curly as he stood.
"If I sleep all the way, it's Camden Town." Tommy breathed out, his face contorting with each laboured breath.
"What business do you have in Camden Town, Tommy?" Charlie questioned.
"Tell Polly she's in charge while I'm away." Tommy continued, ignoring the question. Moving his head ever so slightly as he spoke to his sister. "If I don't come back, tell her she's in charge for good."
"Are you insane?" The girl seethed, "She'll kill me if I told her that!" She reached out, steadying her brother as Curly bore most of the brunt weight. She climbed onto the boat, helping her brother to sit down in the underneath of the boat.
"You better not bloody die!" She hissed angrily under her breath, yet her eyebrows were scrunched in worry. Tommy let out a short breathy laugh, but he didn't say anything in response. Clara nodded towards her brother before re-emerging from the boat and stepping back onto the safety of the Yard's mud and gravel.
Clara's jaw locked as she glared at her brother from the side, Charlie returned, standing beside the girl as Curly revved 'the January's' engine. The uncle and niece watched as the boat slowly sailed down the canal, before disappearing out of sight.
Without another word, Clara turned on her heel and stormed out of the Yard. As soon as she was out of view, she pressed her hands to the side of her face, she rubbed her face viciously, before yelling in pain at the remembrance of her stitches.
"Fuck! Shit! UGH!" She cursed, her anger and pain morphing into a ball of annoyance. She pressed a hand to her forehead, leaning against the wall. She had to go home and face the wolves and tell them of what she'd seen.
And my God was she not ready to do so.
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HELLO U AMAZING READERS!!
How is everyone on this fine Friday?
I for one am very happy that it's now the weekend because unfortunately, it hasn't been the best of weeks for me.
I love you all and here's your mandatory meme:
(Me rn as we speak 😍)
BYE and TY FOR READING ♡