𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫
𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫
♕
𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴
Birmingham
Small Heath, 1919
Theo sat there in a daze. His legs dangling from the wooden chair he sat on, arms propped up against the table as his chin rested on his hands. The faint voice of Polly Gray scolding the youngest Shelby ringing in his ears.
His brown eyes darted to the plate sat on the table, crumbs scattering both the dish in front of him and the corners of his mouth where he had yet to wipe away the remains. But a strong boisterous laugh cut through air, startling the young boy to jump in his chair, the slamming of the door and thunderous footsteps.
Three men walked into the kitchen and Theo watched as Finns eyes beamed at them, pulling himself up in his chair and holding his head high as if to impress them. But while his friend held the confidence to do so, Theo found himself sinking into the chair, wanting nothing more then to be in his mother's embrace.
Yet his mother was not here, and he couldn't do anything but stare at the men as aunt Pol turned onto her nephews with a scowl which was once set for Finn. Smacking the upside of one of the men's head who held a wooden stick between his teeth.
His hands were now below the table, fiddling with his fingers, keeping his gaze directed at the gap between him and the table, hopefully going unnoticed- it almost brought nervous tears into his sockets at the thought of speaking to the intimidating men.
But luck was not on his side as another wave of gruff laughter rang through the room, however this time Theo could hear clearly the words being said, and he knew they were directed at him.
"Who's this then Pol? 'Nother one of Johnny boys long lost kids aye?'
"Oi fuck off!"
Shyly the young boy lifted his head, not quite understanding what they meant, but when he did he instantly regretted at as three pairs of eyes were boring into him. His small lips trembled as words failed to escape him, but to his left the ten year old Finn jumped up excitedly and spoke instead
"He's my friend!"
The one that seemed the eldest once again laughed, his face flushed red for reasons the boy couldn't understand, scruffing up the elder boys hair, "You? Friends? Ha my fuckin' arse!"
Polly roller her eyes at her nephews, stepping behind the young blonde boy and gently placing her hands on his shoulders. "You better fuckin' pack it in, don't you have somewhere to be?"
Ignoring his aunts subtle demands for them to leave he walked over the blonde, placing his large hands on his knees and slightly bet over to be at eye level, "What's your name then lad? Aye?"
He felt fingers gently squeeze his shoulders in reassurance as he turned to the eldest man, trying to think of the English words before he spoke them, not wanting to embarrass himself, though his beet red cheeks were saying different, "My names Theo, sir."
One of the other men in front of them cracked a small smirk at the formalities of the young boy, while the other just stood and stared, expressionless as if looking into his soul.
However the man in front of just nodded, standing up and filing out the room, through the door hidden by curtains, soon followed by others. But the one in the middle lingered however, his head ringing with the familiarity of the accent. Wetting his dry lips he pointed an arched eyebrow at his aunt who just waved him off. Letting him stalk off into the betting den. But Tommy couldn't deny the smirk that pulled at his mouth, because he just found another piece of the puzzle that is Dawn Johnson- a name or face he hasn't heard of before their bump.
♕
It was closing time at the store. The day had been uneventful ever since the morning fiasco. A few customers had filtered in and out but thankfully she was grateful for that.
A dull golden haze has enveloped Birmingham, and although she lacked a watch she knew it was almost five- meaning soon Polly would be waiting at her small flat with a happy and tired Theo. The sunset had leaked through the florist windows, radiating off the flowers and plants in a ray of solace, a blanket of comfort grasping the young woman as she filed out the little money she had made from the till.
A sigh left her lips when her peace was disrupted, the bell above the door jingling it's annoying and obnoxious alarm. And without lifting her head she sang out in a bored tone,
"We're closed."
"What? Even for me?"
The deep masculine voice tainted with its Birmingham roots quite surely sucked any ease out of the room, causing Dawn to tense and clench her fists as they dropped to her side.
"We're closed." She tried so hard to sound sure of herself, regarding the man with failed confidence and firmness, but her shaky undertone of her mixed French words told him another story, and he was just ravishing at the fact he could easily get under her skin.
"You know I met your boy today, Theo Johnson?" Quickly the shop fell into a tense silence, cocking his head at the petite woman who now was standing stiff, glaring daggers into his peaky cap- avoiding any eye contact possible. "That is your son, right Dawn?"
She knew it wasn't a question, but she was burning to answer. Because she was furious and was surely going to have words with Polly later on. Yet she kept herself composed- as best as shaking woman could. Gathering her bag and thin coat, brushing past him on her way to the door, not daring to look back at him. And through her best English spit out from her gritted teeth,
"I'm closing now Mr Shelby. Now you can either leave now or lock up the shop yourself. Votre choix."𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.
"A long way from home, you and your boy. France if I'm correct." She could feel his breath on her skin, although a few feet away, it was as if the force of his words had propelled forward, taking her back as she was under interrogation. But she promised herself she wasn't going to break and she wasn't going to back down from the game he was playing.
"Enfermez-vous, compris." 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘵.
Although serving in France he still didn't quite understand the full extent of the language, but a small smirk still toyed at the end of his lips, sensing the fire within the young French woman striding forward towards the now opened door and holding it in place before she could slam it. Watching observingly as the wind play at her platinum locks, and seeping underneath the loose material of her dress which seemed to hang on her bony frame.
"You never thanked me."
This time a scoff led her lips, a glare pointing at the man standing tall above her, "For what your charity? Vous piqûre égoïste." 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬. Though a tiny voice in her head called her hypocritical, who was she to say anything when she had stuffed that so called charity in her bag, accepting it like a present wrapped in a huge bow tie.
"No not charity. Call it a favour."
With that he stepped out of the florist front, and stalking off without even a glance towards the woman who stood in shock. Clenching her jaw as she watched him march through his streets, pride and a mission lapping his shadow which lingered shortly behind. Her watchful eye even caught sight of the glinting metal tucked into his suit as the wind blew at his jacket. And as his figure disappeared into the direction of the dock something deep in Dawn knew something bad was too happen. Someone was about to die. Yet she couldn't find any guilt that came with the thought, because she was still alive- miraculously of course, but her and Theo had pulled through the hungry society that had tired to eat them alive. And they survived.
Though she wasn't sure she would survive what was coming. Because she was now walking with the devil, an odd combination through the mix of an angel and it's fallen comrade- surely to pull her down to hell. Because a favour calls for a favour. And Dawn was now in his debt.
♕
𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫