𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫
𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧
♕
𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘱
Birmingham
Small Heath, 1919
There was something in the air. Something that crashed through Small Heath with unease and uncertainty. Or perhaps it was the pointed stare glaring into her body.
"Oui?" Dawn slyly asked, placing her jacket on the coat stand behind the counter. Faux confusion laced on her features.
"Don't." Polly replied, stern as she purses her lips. "Nothing ever escapes Aunt Polly."
Dawns head ducked down, a blush coating her cheeks, a grin eating its way into her face as she chuckled, "Je n'ai aucune idée de ce que tu fais." 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵.
Polly let out a sarcastic scoff, huffing at the younger woman behind the register, "Oh don't give me that shit!" She started, shaking her head, "Or maybe I should invite my nephew over to translate for me."
Letting her sight fall on the flowers, her nimble fingers fiddled with the petals, skimming the velvety texture as she arranged the bouquet. "No that is not necessary.. it would be rude to trouble him twice in one day, let alone in the span of an hour."
"Oh that bugger-" her ageing eyes set upon the cheeky smile on the frenches lips, "He's already been over."
"You could say that." She rolled her eyes at once again the woman's heated stare, "He walked me here, warned me as well."
Polly furrowed her eyebrows, "About what?" Though at Dawns expression she knew that she too was puzzled, scrambling over her words,
"Something about.. black star day? Told me he'll find me when it's safe?"
She heard a annoyed groan, turning to face her with confusion, "Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me."
Just as she muttered the florist bell alarmed, a blonde head of curls bounced into the room running straight for his mother, Ada following closely behind with a baby held to her chest, "Who are we on about?"
"Your brother." Sharp and pointed. But a look of glee at the sight of her niece.
"Tommy?" Ada asked.
"Tommy." Polly confirmed, watching as the brunette handed her son over to Dawn, a toothy grin radiating from the blonde.
As the Thorne(née Shelby) girl pulled away, she sent a scrutinise look to the women in the room, "What about him?"
Her aunt chuckled, shaking and pointing her head to the blondes direction, "Ask Dawn over there, she'll be able to tell you."
Disgust passed through Ada, grimacing at the realisation of her friend and her brother. Not at all wanting to ask what was going on between the unlikely pair. Instead motioning over to her son who was rocking in Dawns arms, changing the subject hand, "His names Karl. After Karl Marx."
Her eyes looked up from the blabbering baby in her arms, his small body moulding into the plush of her skin, "The famous communist?" Dawn grinned earning one straight back, confirming what she had guessed. Of course she would.
Minutes swept by with the woman chattering and a bored Theo tugging on the material of his mothers skirt until they had to leave. A 'family meeting' they called it, leaving Dawn to begrudgingly hand over the infant and bid goodbye to her friends.
It left a small puncture in her heart, deflating her. Her maternal instincts scurrying through her like the way wind carried a paper bag, weaving its way through the streets. The feeling of holding such a small life in her hands, the way she did five years ago, and it was funny how time replayed on itself, for how a war was days away from starting on the twenty third of July 1914, and just around the corner the Birmingham gangs were about be face to face with only one thing in mind. Death.
♕
Loyalty was a fickle thing.
To choose between right or wrong, it really puts to test where real loyalties lie. Which is why Polly Gray sat in the corner of the room, locking onto the eyes of a liar.
"Going for good?"
"I heard there was trouble." The woman caught red handed replied. Fidgeting with the strap of her purse as it laid on her shoulder.
Polly ignored her, "Funny thing, instinct. See, I can normally tell about a person, but with you-" Though rudely interrupted by the barmaid who had now dropped her facade, itching to get out of Small Heath as quick as possible.
"-Look. There's fighting about to begin, we should get out of here."
Polly scoffed, "We know who you are." Blunt and straight to the point. Freezing the golden haired, "I know..Tommy knows, about your dirty little secret. Turned out that copper as good as told him this morning." Reaching back and extracting a large needle from the back of her bun, it's metallic glint snapping the gloomy room into one of thick tension, "But I wanted to hear it from your own lips."
The Irish barmaid reacted, pulling her gun defiantly to the older woman, "I'm an agent of the Crown. I have the power to arrest and the right to use force. So please. Step out of my way."
The Gray woman didn't step down, stalking forward with her words, "Like I said instincts a funny thing." Cocking her head mocking the woman, "You fell for Tommy for real, didn't you?"
Graces voice trembled, betraying her fierce persona, "This gun is loaded, I am not afraid of you."
"I feel sorry for you. Slip of a thing."
Polly choked her head, still sat calmly and carrying on, "Thought you could come in here and stitch us all up? I mean, we've had some copper's narks in here, but you?" She huffed, "You're the queen of them all. So who are you?"
Her beady eyes glaring over the woman's appearance, cogs working in her brain, "Rich girl, I'd guess. Unionist. Ulster volunteer. You thought Fenians, communists, low people are all the same." She listed, like knives scathing the barmaid sears, "Scum.. Then you met Tommy."
The insulted woman rolled her sleeves, as if to prove herself to Polly- who would have none of it. Placing down her gun with a slam, "I'll fight you with my fists and show you how a rich girl fights. I'm from a tough family too."
"Nah." Waving off her attempt of courage, sliding the pin back into a brunette locks tied at the back of her head. Stalking forward to the bar, "We woman have more sense. Why don't you pour us both a drink."
Taking a seat on the stool, watching as hesitant hands poured two glasses of whiskey, slipping a cigarette into her lips and lighting it, smoke bellowing from its nicotine tip, "So am I right. Did you fall for Tommy."
"Yes." Her voice confirmed, small and fearful, a drastic change from her faux persona minutes before.
"Then I pity you."
"I think he'll try and kill me." Her confession was lost as Polly denied her pity attempt.
"He's too soft." Shaking her head and looking into her glass.
"Soft?"
"Soft like you. He's not the one you should worry about." Her words shooting chills across the barmaids spine, like someone trampling on her grave, which she had been digging for herself the moment she fell for the book teller.
"You saved his life the night the coppers came. That's why we're drinking, not fighting."
Grace shook her head, slightly rejected from the thought, "He didn't stay. He ran away."
Polly smirked into her glass, side eyeing the woman next to her with proud humour, "And I thank the Gods he did. He was in better company."
Piercing her heart Grace knocked back the glass, letting the burn trickled down her throat, yet finding the courage to ask her next question, "What was he like, before France?"
A strange smile worked itself on the aunts face, "He laughed a lot. Wanted to work with horses." Though the tug of her lips fell slightly, "He was dead silent when he got out of that train, threw his metals in the Cut. But then he met someone."
Although her gaze was directed over the blondes head, she could still see the slight hope cross her face. Pity, for what she was about to say.
"Didn't think it was ever going to happen nor did I want it to. But he smiles more, I see it. Dawn Johnson did something to him, and I am thankful for it because she's happier too."
She hardened her stare, modelling at the Irishwoman, who had now adorned a downcast look, whether from jealousy or just pure rejection- maybe both.
"I will never forgive you. I will never take you in." Polly calmly started, "You come to small Heath, a snitch from the Parish. Worm your traitorous way into our lives only to stab us.. in the back. You stood in the path of redemption for your own personal gain-"
"-I will never forgive you. I will never accept you. And it's me who runs the business of the heart of the family."
"If you haven't left by tomorrow then I will kill you myself. If I find you've stayed and meddled then God be with you Grace."
The woman left the stool, picking up her belongings and fleeing, though not before leaving one fleeting look at the intimidating gypsy matriarch. Confidence trying to regain her dignity, "Maybe what really upsets you is the thought that one day you might lose him."
With that she left. An angry burn in her chest, from both Polly and the 'Dawn' woman that had stolen Tommy's heart before she could. Yet the older woman sat satisfied, a smirk lining her lips as she lit another cigarette. A job well done.
♕
That was a lot of speaking. Soz
𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫