Barely two whole weeks had passed from their first encounter, Polly-Anna found Thomas Shelby insufferable.
It was as though every corner she turned, there he stood. Staring down at her with those big blue eyes. He hadn't known about the Wallace girls plans to bake his family a cake, so it wasn't as though he was there to collect an imaginary debt that was owed.
At first, she was convinced that he could read minds, see the future, do things the average Joe couldn't. Until she rationalised, realising he was nothing more than a thirteen year old with a rather large family, so he probably had to be in every corner of the earth to provide for them— just like she did. Then, she had come to the conclusion that he was just there to get on her nerves.
From her job, as a sew-girl within the small tailor shop on the corner of Garrison Street, she could see the Shelbys, including Thomas, play with an inflated bag- not quite a football, but it was close enough, and sometimes she wished she could go out and play along with them.
But one particular Tuesday was incredibly different. Not only was she late in dropping off Amber at the school, but now, sat at her work bench, she watched as two Shelbys walked through the door.
Mrs Shelby and one of her sons, this one— well, this was the one she had been actively avoiding, but failing at doing so.
"Mabel! Ah, it's lovely to see you, on time too!" The head seamstress joked, welcoming the elder Shelby into the shop.
Had Polly-Anna been the head seamstress, she would've acted with an ounce of decency, conveying a version of herself that she wished she was. Educated, poised, calm- collected. Everything that she couldn't be. She was too irrational, quick to react purely on emotion- something that she didn't witness the well educated doing, at least- not in public anyway.
Polly-Anna watched as Mabel stepped upon the pedestal in the middle of the room, three people with flexible roped measuring tape circled round her, but only she took the initiative to walk up to Thomas Shelby with a forced smile.
Somehow, she knew it wasn't just Mabel who came in for items, what teenaged son would willing walk into a predominant women's tailors with his mother if it wasn't for a selfish reason. As she began to walk towards him, his comically large brows began to furrow together. Confusion lacing his appearance, features growing curious with each step.
"Your Amber never said you'd be working today." Thomas was the first to speak.
For the love of all things holy, Polly-Anna thought, forcing her face to contort into confusion instead of irritation. Amber knew she wasn't supposed to talk too much about their lives to people who didn't know of their circumstances, and how she had stumbled upon the boy in front of her— well, she had no idea.
"I hadn't known she was such a talkative creature." She replied rather bluntly, causing one of the older women in the room to turn and glare at the boisterous blonde.
"Our John has a way of getting people to begin talking."
John? Since when did Amber have any time aside from schooling and homework did she have time to meet and then spark conversations with anyone!
"Oh- they share a class, someone decided to rid the school of separate classes... speaking of, how come I've never seen you in my class?" Thomas answered before giving Polly-Anna a chance to reply.
Obviously, her face was easier to read than she had hoped for.
Whilst that wasn't necessarily the case, Thomas Shelby had developed the knack to read people when they were displaying something inauthentic. Somehow, he managed to decode her emotions to find out the ones that were true.
"You clearly don't look hard enough, Thomas." She replied curtly- a harmless little lie slipped so effortlessly from her serpent tongue, she took hold of his arm (as gently as she could), to pull him over to his mother.
His mother, Mabel, had actually heard almost all of their conversation and couldn't believe the smile that the girl had managed to paint on her sons face. It was a smile that could be nothing more than a glimpse into the future. For a moment, she recognised the girls face- but the last time she had seen her, she had been with an almost identical woman.. that was, if she was seeing the same girl in front of her as she had done in 1895.
The likelihood of that, though, was incredibly slim.
"Tom, are you going to introduce me to your new friend?"
A heavy sense of awkward silence drifted upon the newly formed trio, Polly-Anna and Thomas kept glancing at one another- hoping the other would be the first to talk.
Alas, neither of them did.
"Thomas, I asked you a question." Mabel broke the silence with a motherly stern voice, one Polly-Anna hadn't heard since her own mother.
May God rest her soul, Polly-Anna quickly thought to herself as the thought of her mother came and went as quickly as she had done in real life.
"I'm Polly-Anna—" the girl in question finally answered before Thomas had been given the chance to open his mouth. "but, most people call me Anna... or- or, Wallace, depending on whether or not they knew my father when he was around."
Thomas held in the urge to crack a small, human, smile as he listened to the poor girl ramble as though she had just been asked to solve a war. It was at that very moment, that Thomas had become almost infatuated by a girl who caused him so much inner turmoil. For two whole weeks, he had tried his best to drive her insane, but he had never met a more resilient woman in all of his existence. Fierce wasn't quite the word he had been searching for, but it was damned near close enough.
Not once, did he witness her crack, or have any other look than a scowl on her face and to see her like this- raw and unfiltered, he felt honoured to the highest decree.
Though, had Mabel Shelby been listening to the girl properly instead of glancing between the two teenagers, she would've realised that in front of her stood the same girl who had first told her to name her next son after Saint John, the patron Saint of friendship. As her mother, Anna, had been one of Mabels closest friends. At lot had changed over the years, but the glisten in her eye rivalled that of her mothers when she was first introduced to William Wallace, the poorly named man who was nothing like his namesake.
Before anyone had chance to add into the conversation that had been momentarily paused by three separate trails of thought, the head seamstress burst their somewhat private moment with her overly loud voice.
"Your suit and dress will be ready by Monday, is that sufficient time?"
The two Shelbys quickly began to shake their head, at first Polly-Anna had a sudden curiosity as to why they were both getting such fine clothing when they lived where they did, but it wasn't her right to ask questions or judge. She was just there to assemble the items and send happy customers away, praying for positive word of mouth.
"Is there any possibility that they'll be ready for Tom to pick them up by Saturday evening? My nephew Michael is getting christened on Sunday." Mabel asked with a pleading look across her face.
That's why, Polly-Anna thought to herself. She had never been to a christening, but Sundays were the day of the lord and it was a rather fitting day for a christening, in her opinion anyway.
"Wallis," the main woman in-charge, who also never got her name right, regardless of the amount of times she was corrected, "you're working until it's done."
Great, babysitting expenses too!
All she had ever asked for whilst working in that tailor shop, was just enough time to make sure Amber wasn't constantly alone. If wasn't much of an ask, and the poor girl never asked for a pay rise which she was more than entitled to, and this was how she was repaid.
Instead of arguing, she nodded her head- agreeing to gruelling hours that she knew would surely send her into an early grave, but it was important for her to show her skill... and to have Small Heath dressed to impress.
"And no more silly little orange threading, Wallis. It was a dangerous stunt you played and you're lucky they thought it was hidden enough to not ask for their money back." The woman, hellhound, banshee, and any other evil woman in mythology, sprouted.
The little orange thread that Polly-Anna had used fo distinguish her items from everyone else was usually hidden under collars or on the hems of dresses, she had been doing it for years. It was almost like her signature, minus the ink and paper needed to make it a proper one. Plus, the orange thread had been bought from her own pocket and was at no extra cost to the tailors and she always asked before adding it on. It wasn't like it would come to a shock for the customer, unless they were intentionally setting the girl up to be fired. Nothing would surprise her.
"I promise, no orange thread."
At least, not until the witch left.
"So— can I add orange thread, or will you rattle me out to the old hag?"
Well that was ruder than I anticipated, Polly-Anna silently scolded herself, watching as the Shelbys attempted and failed to suppress their laughter.
"You add as much orange thread as you want to, flower." Mabel added before wandering back off to the middle of the tailors shop.
Thomas stood, hands awkwardly in pockets that were too shallow, rocking on the balls of his feet. Silence once again settling between the two, but neither seemed to care this time. It wasn't often that Thomas found himself in silence that was comfortable, and welcomed by both parties, but her eyes looked almost lifeless- drained of all of their beauty.
"Can you do me a favour, Thomas?" Her, now, timid voice broke the silence after a minute.
He nodded, though keeping his mouth shut incase she hadn't finished speaking. He imagined interrupting her, and then picturing her face- but for once he didn't want to irk her more than her job already appeared to be doing.
"Can you... babysit Amber-Jack for me this weekend, please?"