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IT WAS A MISTY MORNING IN SMALL HEATH, BIRMINGHAM and Clara Shelby was completely and utterly fucking freezing. Her hands were covered with leather gloves to preserve the warmth while her peaky hat was pulled down firmly over her ears. Her nose and cheeks were tinted pink from the wind slithering through the factory-lined streets. The girl strode through the early morning hustle and bustle with her head held high. The route she took was a familiar one, each building being a building she'd passed over a hundred times before.
She exhaled a ring of smoke as she walked, her lit cigarette being brought up to her lips once more. Clara smirked as various eyes trailed after her whilst others seemed to avoid her at all cost. Her heeled shoes clattered against the road and her crimson dress rippled around her stocking-clad calves. Her black coat did little to stop the cold as it flapped behind her.
She lifted her gaze from the cobblestone pathway to directly ahead as the gates of Charlie's Yard came into view. Clara plucked the cigarette from her lips and carelessly tossed it off to the side as she grew nearer to the gates. She hadn't been to Charlie's yard for at least a week and a half. Between business trips to London and Tommy's wedding, she just hadn't found the time.
So, there she was at seven-thirty in the morning, with dark circles under her eyes and numb limbs.
As she entered the yard, the muddy ground instantly splattered around the outline of her black shoes, yet she couldn't find it in herself to care. Clara waltzed straight through the yard. Her eyes scanned the area for Curly or Charlie but they seemed to be nowhere to be found.
The silence of her morning was broken as she entered the loud stables. A small, knowing smile grew across her face as the horses whinnied and neighed. The stables were filled with a range of different horses. There were racing horses or working horses and then there, at the end of the stables was Cannon, standing proud at the stall door.
Cannon whinnied excitedly as Clara neared. She quickly shrugged off her coat and gloves and tossed them on a hook meant for leads. Her smile stretched across her face as her fingers nimbly trailed down Cannon's muzzle. She unlatched the stall door and entered before she latched it once more. The girl grew closer to the horse with a chuckle. She left one of her hands to reach up and scratch his neck while the other continued to rub down his muzzle.
"Hello, boy," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his muzzle. "It's been a long while, hasn't it?" Clara swore the horse neighed in indignation as she laughed and continued to rub down his neck and muzzle. "Miss me that much, eh?"
She chuckled as she continued to mutter and whisper words of admiration to her horse. She only parted with the horse for a few moments as she grabbed a brush from outside of the stall. Clara grinned as Cannon whined loudly and shook his head all around. She'd swear he was a real human with how responsive he was. The girl returned with an apologetic look and began to brush down his sandy coat. She talked to the horse like he was human, conversing with him as if expecting an answer.
As she brushed, her dress became more and more laced with stray horsehair and once she finished. her once neat hairdo had strands hanging down over her face. She looked a mess, but she was too happy and it was too early to care. She exited the stall and grabbed her jacket from the hook. The girl pulled out her pocket watch and checked the time before she let out a soft flurry of curses.
She'd been there longer than expected.
"Oh, my boy, where did the time go?" Clara whistled as she brushed down her dress and ensured the stall door was still locked. "I've got to get to work, but I'll be back later, eh? How about we go out past Small Heath? Would you like that?"
She reached out and patted the horse's muzzle one final time before she slipped on her coat. She held her gloves in her hand while she strode the stable exit. The once pristine quietness of the yard had now been shattered as she heard the faint noise of talking. Clara curiously stepped out into the crisp open air and turned her head towards the noise.
"What the fuck are you lot doing here?" She questioned with a raised brow as she approached John and Arthur setting up a fancy table. "Having a midmorning tea party, are we?"
"Fuck off," John scowled as the girl folded her arms. He sat down on the seat below him. "We're conducting business."
"Mhm..." Clara hummed, flicking her cigarette case open as she withdrew one and lit it.
"Don't you have work to be doing?" John added, his nose wrinkled as Arthur joined him in sitting.
"I'm not due in there for another—" Clara checked her pocket watch as the cigarette dangled between her lips. "—forty-five minutes, so I guess I'll just have to hang around here and watch until then."
"Oh fuck, John, here they come," Arthur huffed with an amused smile. He turned his gaze to the girl before his smile fell as he gestured behind them. "Go stand with that lot and not a word."
Clara moved to stand between the Peaky boys gathered as she puffed out small clouds of smoke. Her eyes were drawn towards Vincente Changretta being led into the Yard by Finn and Isiah. She took another deep inhale of chemicals in anticipation. Arthur stood to his feet as the three Italians stood in front of them.
"You asked for a meeting out in the open." Arthur stated, "Fresh air and the fine aroma of shit. 'Neutral ground', you said."
"This is hardly neutral ground." Vincente gruffly replied,
"Well, it's what you've got," Arthur shrugged, "So, por favor, sit down." Clara hid her wince at the butchered language.
"Where is Thomas?" The older Italian man asked while Arthur took a seat.
"He got called away." John shrugged nonchalantly,
"He'd said he'd be here."
"Yeah, he is busy." Arthur scratched his jaw.
"And I just told you he got called away." John quickly sniped, "What do you want?"
"There has been a peace between the Peaky Blinders and the Changretta family for two years now..." Vincente began before John snickered.
"Do you want some tea or not?" John interrupted, "Here, Finn, pour the Italians some English tea. Go on." Finn moved forward and poured out the cups of tea. Clara's nostrils flared, whatever game her brothers were playing, she didn't like it.
"We don't want fucking tea!" The Italian snapped, "We want an explanation."
"Well, I'll have fucking tea." Arthur piped up, as he picked up the cup.
"Explanation for what?" John briskly questioned.
"The Little Venice Restaurant on Forge Street was burnt down."
"No. No. Couldn't have been us, we was at a wedding." John dismissed, shoving a finger in his ear to scratch it as if this was the most casual meeting of his life.
"You burnt it down to stop my son being at that same wedding." Vincente gritted.
"He wasn't missed," Arthur commented as he sipped the tea. John let out a short laugh. Clara gripped her cigarette with her eyes narrowed on her brothers as if trying to telepathically urge them to shut up.
"You are such big boys now, but once you borrowed clothes from us to look like men." The Italian man mused.
"How's the tea, Arthur? Is it..." John cut in once more, turning to the eldest Shelby. The elder of the two tossed the contents of the tea to the stony ground.
"It's cold," Arthur grimaced,
"Please tell Tommy that we pay him whatever he asks us to pay. We stay out of the city and off the tracks. But you tell him from me that my son will walk with any woman in this city." Vincente said calmly, "Any woman he chooses. Even if that woman works for the emperor, Thomas Shelby. My son is in love..."
Clara had half the mind to whip out her gun and shoot John in the balls as he snorted at Vincente's words.
"Sorry. Do excuse me." John said between muffled chuckles, "Carry on." Vincente shot him a look of warning.
"And if he wishes, he will walk with the woman he loves." He finished.
"Okay, you know..." John reached forward to pour out some tea. "It would be hard for your son to walk anywhere with a bullet in each knee, wouldn't it?"
Clara's breath caught in her throat at her brother's threat while her jaw clenched in anticipation. She watched Vincente Changretta's face screw up in pure fury.
"Too much." The Italian man spat out, "You said too much, my friend. Sabini says, 'Suck and swallow.' But no. Too much. I spit."
Clara watched with bated breath as the man hissed in Italian to the two men that flanked him while they proceeded to smash the wooden chairs placed at the table intended for their use before they stormed off. The girl gritted her teeth in frustration as Arthur called over Isiah and lowly instructed him to place more men on the pubs in Nechells. She looked to her brothers as they quietly argued with each other before Arthur stood up and promptly stormed off.
"We're not scared of fucking wops!" John called after him. "Arthur!"
Clara took one last irritated inhale of her cigarette before she tossed it aside and silently strode out of the Yard. John's eyes trailed her retreating figure with a low curse.
☆
WHEN CLARA HAD EVENTUALLY ARRIVED AT WORK, she'd walked off her anger and now mentally prepared for the day ahead of her. The girl passed Lizzie with a courteous nod before she walked straight towards her office. Clara entered her office with a sigh and shut the door with a soft click. She took off her hat and hung it on the coat rack along with her jacket. The girl sauntered toward her desk before sinking into the leather seat tucked in behind it.
Her office could only be described as uniquely Clara. One side of the room held cabinets upon cabinets of archived material and relevant documents, each pile of papers bigger than the last. On the other side, there were shelves from the floor to the ceiling filled with countless books she'd filled out with numerous details about the business, all of which were locked behind glass. Some of the shelves held scattered novels which lay dust-free as the girl tended to alternate books each day.
And then there was her desk. Her magnificent desk which she'd craved to own since she was fourteen. It was a dark mahogany and stood firm and proper in the centre of the room. On top of the table lay strewn documents and forms to be filled out and approved along with a clock, a typewriter, a glass ashtray atop a golden tray and a lamp.
The girl leaned back against the leather as she unlocked the drawer of her desk. Her fingers locked around one of the many small blue bottles she kept hidden. She brought one out and unscrewed the lid before she shut the drawer and locked it once more. She tapped out a small bit of cocaine onto her golden tray, a tray she'd specifically bought for the powder, and promptly sniffed it up.
There were easier ways of taking cocaine. She could've rolled up one of the many money notes sitting in her drawer to sniff it up, she could've rubbed it along the back of her gums but she chose to stick to her old fashioned ways of consuming the drug.
What could she say? She was anything, but classy.
The girl sniffled up the white remnants, her index finger brushing away any existing powder on her nose. Clara tucked the bottle into her pocket as she shook her head. She glanced down at her work journal with the agendas of the day written down on the pages. Her hands shuffled through a stack of papers with lists upon lists of potential clients and order forms waiting to be viewed and approved.
Clara sighed and stretched her hands before getting down to work. The cocaine pumped adrenaline through her veins as a motivator as she looked over each form ensuring everything was in the correct place. Her hand scrawled across the page as she filled in missing details. She couldn't comprehend how anybody could mess up such simple forms. They only required the bare minimum, it was harder to mess up than do correctly.
She tutted as she grabbed a blank form and refilled out every detail to perfection. Clara's finger tapped relentlessly as she continued to shift through the stack. As her eyes flitted over the contents she scoffed and stood up from her seat. With the paper clutched in her hands, she exited her office and walked the short distance towards Michael's office.
Within the enclosed room, giggles and chuckles resounded. The girl knowingly rolled her eyes as she knocked loudly on the door. All noise within ceased as she stood with her arms folded. The door eventually slightly opened up as Michael popped his head out of the office, his dishevelled hair a dead give away to what he was doing.
"Clara, look I'm really busy right now—" Michael began, as he scratched his head.
"Yeah, I gathered," Clara hummed, she pushed the paper through the gap. "I'm not filling out your fucking paperwork. Fill it out properly and then give it back to me."
"Right, will do," Michael cleared his throat.
"And tell whoever's with you that I said hello," The girl smirked, as she glanced at the shadow behind the cloudy glass. She turned on her heel and entered her office once more, closing her door with a loud click.
As she returned to her leather seat and sunk into its worn embrace along with the sight of more stacks of forms. Clara buried her face in her hands as she scrubbed her eyes tiredly. She had so much to get through and so with an exhausted groan, she stretched her arms out before she buried herself in her work.
☆
IT WAS MANY HOURS LATER WHEN CLARA LOOKED UP FROM THE FORMS. She had opted to work through her lunch break and it had grown closer to the day ending so there was really no point in stopping. Her hand faltered as her office door swung open and then shut quite promptly. Her eyes drifted up from the paper as Tommy sat in the seat opposite her. She hummed as she pushed her current work off to the side as her brother lit a cigarette.
"I presume you're here for a reason?" Clara mused, leaning back against her seat. "What? Was Michael preoccupied?"
"Yes, I met Miss Murray a minute ago," Tommy nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "So...what did you see at the Yard this morning?"
Clara's lips curled up, "This morning?" She queried as she raised a brow.
"Don't act clueless,"
"Oh...the yard!" She raised her eyebrows as she pushed herself towards the desk. "You mean the gained enemy?"
"Just get on with it," Tommy sighed.
"You shouldn't have sent Arthur and John to settle affairs this important," Clara grimaced, "they said and did all of the wrong things. Even I couldn't make the mistakes they made and yes, this is me slandering them. They acted like little children discussing matters of war."
"And it's a war is it?" Tommy questioned, his eyes narrowed as he shook his head in amusement.
"Honestly? The way it's going I won't be surprised," Clara answered, "John threatened Vincente Changretta's son, despite the meeting being to make amends. Think if Vincente threatened Charlie, what would you do?" Tommy refused to say anything else as he rose from the seat and stubbed out his almost finished cigarette. "Are you going to Watery Lane?"
"I called a family meeting, so yes," Tommy huffed as he opened the door to leave.
"Well, bloody slow down," Clara stood from her seat and grabbed her coat. "I'm coming."
"You have work to do," Tommy dismissed as she followed after him.
"Work that I've been doing all morning and afternoon, now I'm taking a break," The girl shrugged, as she fixed her coat. "Thomas Shelby, are you denying me my basic worker rights?"
Her brother didn't respond but didn't say anything more. The two walked alongside one another out of the building, the backs of their coats flapping in the bitter wind. Clara's leather-clad hands were shoved deep in her pockets to generate heat as she jumped inside of Tommy's parked car. Her brother soon followed and started up the engine before they eventually drove through the streets of Small Heath.
Clara Shelby kept her dazed eyes focused on the outside of the car. Her eyes trailed over each passerby and each building that crossed her vision. Buildings she'd seen hundreds of times before, people she vaguely recognised from around
the place. She and Tommy rode in an agreed silence, neither one making any attempt at small talk and once they reached number six Watery Lane, Clara climbed out of the vehicle without a word.
She strode confidently into her home. The only people that remained in the house of her youth were her and Finn. Clara kept her coat wrapped around her as she entered the kitchen where Pol sat down with a cup of tea while Arthur paced impatiently.
"Pol, Arthur," Clara greeted as she pulled out a chair. She plastered a knowing smile across her face. "Fine day for a family meeting, isn't it?"
Just as she lowered herself into the chair, John and Finn entered the room, the former looked sombre, his eyes glued to the floor.
"All right, Finn," Arthur nodded as he sniffed, "Thanks for coming...fuck off." Tommy pushed himself off of the wall he leaned against and stormed towards the gathered family.
"Finn, you can stay." Tommy allowed, which caused Finn to shoot Arthur a rather smug look. Clara's lip curled in amusement. "Sit down, John. Sit down."
John pulled out the seat beside Clara's as Tommy stood in the doorway of the kitchen. The girl shifted in her seat as a brief silence fell over the family. Her brother seemed to continue to stare into nothingness.
"John, you cut Angel Changretta," Tommy huffed, "Even though Arthur told you to apologise." Arthur hummed in acknowledgement. "Polly told you to compromise. You chose not to listen to Mr Apologise or Mrs Compromise. And now I have got an Italian walking around my backyard saying he's going to kill my brother."
Tommy paused as he scanned John's nonchalant demeanour.
"So what do we do, John?" He continued, "Do we apologise or do we compromise?"
"Oh, it was just something John said as a joke." Arthur waved off dismissively, breaking the tense silence.
"Yeah, but he's your brother as well, Arthur."
"Yeah. I know I didn't want to start a war over something John said without meaning it." Arthur tutted.
"So, should he apologise in Italian or in English?" Tommy asked. Clara raised her eyes to meet Tommy's as he sceptically looked down on them all. "Or should we ask them which fucking language they prefer? I'm not clear."
Clara shifted to meet Pol's disbelieving eyes as the woman placed down her teacup and did a slight double-take.
"You said while this business was going on in London, you wanted peace at home." The older woman argued.
"And the only way to guarantee peace is by making the prospect of war seem hopeless," Tommy stated.
"Or it guarantees even more sparks of rage that can fuel a rebellious fire-" Clara countered, her jaw set.
"If you apologise once, you do it again and again and again." Tommy cut Clara off. "Like taking bricks out of the wall of your fucking house. Do you want to bring the house down, Arthur?" Her eldest brother grunted in annoyance.
"If you're soft on rebellion, it'll grow." Tommy reasoned, Clara let out a breathy laugh as she leaned back in the wooden chair.
"Bloody "soft on rebellion"." Arthur mocked as he stood up from the chair in anger and for once, Clara agreed with his rage.
"You did the right thing, John," Tommy acknowledged while he stood tall. "Now, we go on the offensive. We take two of the Changretta pubs, and we take them tonight." Tommy nodded as he began to leave. "That's it."
"Oh! Right." Pol exclaimed, "For Christ's sake, why?"
"Eh?" Tommy called back angrily.
"Why?"
"Why? Because we fucking can!" Her brother yelled, "Because we fucking can and if we can, we do. And if we lift our heel off their necks now, they'll just come at us." He glanced angrily at all of the family gathered. Remember these are the bastards that wanted Danny Whizz-Bang dead." Tommy stopped as he looked at the unnerved Arthur.
"You're getting soft, brother," he said quieter and calmer than before. "Soft and weak. Save the Bible for Sundays, eh?" Clara shook her head with a sigh.
"Finn? I need to get to Hockley and then home. It's been a long day."
Clara watched as Finn obediently left the house to retrieve the car.
"You take the Wrexham, you take the Five Bells. You get them signed over to us in the morning. You make sure the coppers stay away." Tommy furthered, "Don't use the fucking phones, alright? There's someone listening."
Clara watched as Tommy disappeared out of the house after their youngest brother. She looked towards Pol with a look of 'I can't believe these idiots', a look which Pol echoed.
"Well done," Arthur scowled at John before he stalked out of the home.
Once Arthur was gone, Pol picked up her book to read once more and loudly and obnoxiously slurped her tea. Her harsh eyes bore into John as his eye twitched ever so slightly. After another minute or so of awkward silence, Clara let out a laugh as she pushed herself to her feet.
"Great meeting, team, well done!" She jeered, and with a roll of her eyes, she left the house to go back to the workload stacked in her office.
☆
"I DO THINK THAT JOHN MIGHT BE ONE OF THE biggest idiots I've ever met in my entire life! I mean, seriously? That man has less than one brain cell and I swear it is passed around between him, Finn and Arthur!"
Clara let out a small chuckle as Cannon jutted his head forward and tugged the reins. Her laughter filled the dim street as the sun began to set over Birmingham. The girl cherished moments like these, the moments in which it was just her and her horse and millions of thoughts being spoken aloud with no consequence.
"And don't even get me started on Tommy," She drawled, leaning closer to her horse. "That's an entirely different story, boy...oh!" She straightened up in disappointment as the gates of The Yard obstructed her free thoughts. "A story which I must tell you another time it seems."
Clara led the trotting horse into the darkened yard. Curly ran towards them with a smile as the girl continued to talk lowly to Cannon.
"Curly!" The girl smiled as the man took the reins and allowed her to jump off the horse and dust herself down. "It's alright, I can bring Cannon in...good night!"
"Good night," Curly nodded as if he pondered the statement. Clara took the lead and made her way toward the stables.
"C'mon, let's get you unsaddled," She mused as she ran a hand over Cannon before she securely tied his lead to the hook on the wall. Her fingers worked quickly and nimbly as she unlatched straps and pulled the weighty leather saddle off of the horse. "Bet that felt relieving, huh?"
She continued to hum as she worked. She brushed down the horse and continued to talk to him like the friend he was. Just as Clara led Cannon into his stall, she heard an abrupt yell from outside.
"CLARA? WHERE ARE YOU? OI! I SAW YOU COME HERE! SHELBY COME OUT!"
Clara raised her eyebrows as she patted Cannon once more before she shut the stall door tight and exited the stables.
"CLARAAAA! CLARA MARTHA SHELBY!"
The girl rolled her eyes as Will stood at the gates and yelled. "Quit your howling," she scowled as she approached the boy. "You could have easily woken up the entirety of Birmingham—no, the entirety of Great Britain!"
"I wasn't THAT loud," Will emphasised, "besides, I have news that you're gonna want to hear..."
"Then tell away," Clara leaned closer to the boy as he spoke as her jaw dropped to the floor. Her stomach fell as it churned and swirled sickeningly at the news Will had come across.
Well...
How...interesting...
☆
HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL BABIES, HOW ARE YOU THIS FINE FRIDAY?
Well, What do we think the news is?
THIS BOOK IS SO CLOSE TO 200K AND I'M SO INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL FOR EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU WHO READ THIS BOOK ♡ THANK YOU SO MUCH!
I love you all and I shall see you next week and without further ado, here's your weekly meme!