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bluerighthand · 5 years

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Growing Up A Shelby - Chapter 6: 1904, part 1

Summary: The Shelby’s have got a wedding to go to. Jane’s stressed, Arthur’s angry, Tommy can’t find any smart clothes and Pol just wants to get married in peace.

Notes: Hello! I’m not dead - I’ve just been 1) travelling, and 2) hiding in a deep pit of writing despair. Big hugs to the brilliant @weeo who gave me a massive boost of encouragement today <3 Also: just to make my chapter titles even more number-y and confusing, 1904 is split into two parts. This is part 1! Please prod me until I post part 2 - I need prodding

Words: 4,809

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542805/chapters/44376328

(read Chapter One here)

Warnings: child abuse, blood, small mentions of homophobia

Turning over, Tommy groaned at the light streaming in through the window, throwing an arm sleepily across his eyes. He vaguely wondered why the curtains were open; Arthur never bothered with such things, but the thought drifted to the back of his mind, inevitably replaced by Freddie. Most thoughts were these days. They’d gone riding last night, racing up the hills of the pasture before returning to the river, splashing gleefully and dunking each other under the water to the sounds of complaining neighbours and faint police whistles. Tommy only regretted not being able to stay out later, having to creep home around midnight to be back in time for- oh shit.

Realisation hit, and Tommy’s eyes flew open. He was out of bed in an instant, glancing around the room in a panic. Arthur’s bed was empty. Had they left without him? Why didn’t anybody wake him? Head throbbing from standing up too quickly, Tommy rushed to the door, pulling it open and sagging in relief as voices drifted down the hallway.

Grabbing some socks as he went, Tommy found his siblings gathered by the stairs, all chattering excitedly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked accusingly, taking in Arthur’s smart, albeit moth-eaten suit, and combed hair. John was matching, though his shirt buttons were all done up wrong, and Ada was swishing the skirt of her purple bridesmaids dress. They fell silent as he spoke, his tone jarring the mood.

“We thought you were already awake” shrugged John, Ada nodding in agreement.

“Arthur?” said Tommy, his younger siblings taking the chance to escape his accusatory tone and hurrying down the stairs. Arthur hovered behind.

“You’re always telling me you don’t want my help” he said, slightly confused. The expression cleared from his face quickly, and he huffed an irritated sigh. “Just get ready”.

“Arthur-” Tommy started, but fell quiet as his brother ignored him, descending the stairs. Fine.

Tearing back to his room, Tommy ran a hand through his hair. Unlike the others, he hadn’t had the foresight to lay out his suit the night before. Or, more accurately, he’d missed his mother’s lecture about doing so. It became clear rather quickly that his smart clothes had either ceased to exist, or had been stuffed up in some draw to give to John. He went to his brother’s room, pulling open the dresser and rooting around for a suit. He found some grey trousers that looked like they might fit him, and a musty old jacket curled into a ball at the back of the drawer. Sneezing at the smell, Tommy flapped the offending garment about for a moment, trying to bring some life to it, but soon slumped in defeat. He couldn’t imagine the lecture he’d get from Polly if he wore that crumpled old thing to her wedding.

Pulling the trousers on, he peered down, relieved but slightly annoyed that they still fit him. Would he ever grow? Pol had promised him a growth spurt three years ago, and it was yet to arrive in any real force. Heading back into the hall, Tommy felt a sudden pang of sadness as he passed his aunt’s empty room, dark and vacant without the familiar furniture. The boxes had all been packed up in the past few days, shipped off to her and Eddie’s new house on the other side of town. Polly insisted it wouldn’t change a thing, that she’d be round all the time to see them, cook them dinner and read John and Ada a story, but Tommy wasn’t so sure. She was already spending less and less time there, and he saw the looks his new uncle gave her when she insisted on staying late.

Remembering his own lateness, he hurried downstairs in his night shirt and John’s trousers, the jacket trailing behind him. Ada was experimenting with their mother’s lipstick, laughing at the sight of her bright pink messy face in the mirror. Arthur scooped her off the stool she was balancing on, attempting to clean up her efforts as John fiddled with his shirt buttons, trying to align them correctly.

“Arthur, have you wrapped the present?” Jane called from the kitchen.

“John already did it” Arthur shouted back, grimacing at the shoddily wrapped package on the table. Tommy edged past them into the kitchen, avoiding Ada’s reaching pink hands.

Jane was slicing bread at the counter, and despite all the rush Tommy couldn’t stop himself from staring open mouthed at his mother. She was wearing a long navy dress, with little white flowers on the sleeves and her dark hair tied into a braid over her shoulder. The dab of blusher on her cheeks made her look healthier than Tommy had seen her in months, and he broke into a smile.

“Mama?”.

“Yes sweetheart?” she said distractedly, not looking up. He went closer, leaning in for a hug. The day was already so hectic Tommy couldn’t imagine what the actual wedding would be like. He just needed a moment. Jane stopped slicing, dropping the knife with a loud clatter as she looked at Tommy in horror.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” she cried. Tommy faltered, arms hanging awkwardly in front of him as his mother held him at arm’s length.

“I- ”.

“We have to leave in five minutes, what have you been doing all morning?”.

“Arthur didn’t wake me up” he protested, voice small. Arthur’s head appeared around the kitchen door.

“I did”.

“Liar” muttered Tommy. “You wanted me to be late”.

“What the fuck does that mean?”.

“Arthur” said Jane sharply. “Watch your language. Thomas, you’re fourteen now. If John and Ada managed to get dressed and ready on time there’s no excuses for you. You know what an important day it is, I need to be on my feet for hours. I expected you to be more helpful”. Tommy looked at the floor, ashamed. He hadn’t meant to let his mother down, or stay out so late the night before. But with the stupid beautiful summer night and stupid beautiful Freddie, time had run away with him. “What are you still doing here? Upstairs now”.

Tommy shoved past Arthur on his way out of the kitchen, their shoulder’s knocking together painfully. Following Tommy down the hall, Arthur gave him a hard push, Tommy barely catching himself on the bannisters and rounding on his brother.

“Why did you say you woke me up?” he demanded.

“I’m not getting into trouble because you stay out all hours of the night with him”. Tommy’s face became stony, and Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “I knew it. I’ve told you to stay away from him Tommy”. He hadn’t been sure then, not for certain, but Tommy’s expression had confirmed it. Anger ripped through him.

“It’s none of your fucking business what I-”

“That’s a bad word” Ada announced. She was peeking through the bannisters, watching the argument below. “Who was Tommy with?”.

“No one” said Arthur, harsher than he’d intended. Ada raised an eyebrow, a perfect miniature of her aunt, before deciding that John poking at the table with his pocket knife was more exciting than her brothers’ disagreement.

“John! Ada!” Jane called, emerging from the kitchen with the bread all sliced and buttered. “Come on, we’ve got to go-”. She stopped at the sight of her second son, still half-dressed and messy haired. “Tommy we don’t have time for this” she said, voice rising slightly in panic. “We can’t be late. Ada’s the bridesmaid for God’s sake”.

“It’s okay mum” said Arthur, taking the bread. Her hands were clammy and cold, too cold for a summer’s day. She pulled them away quickly.

“I’m going to see if your uncle’s arrived. Arthur, just help your brother will you? Fetch him a jacket or something. Honestly”.

“Go and get dressed” he hissed instead, shoving Tommy towards the stairs.

“But I can’t find any bloody clothes. Can you get me a jacket?”.

“You’re so helpless” said Arthur suddenly, the loud outburst taking both him and Tommy by surprise. “I try and help you with stuff, you know, the big things”. Tommy whipped around, relieved to find the hallway was still deserted. “-And you don’t want to hear it. I try and protect you out there” he gestured, pointing to the window and the city beyond. “And you always find ways to cause trouble. Always in the one place you shouldn’t be. I try and help with you and dad” said Arthur, almost shouting now, “and you continue to pick fights with him. You’ve told me you can handle all of that on your own. But you can’t get your own bloody jacket. And guess who’s in trouble for that, ey? Me”.

Arthur’s voice died away, an uncomfortable silence replacing it. Tommy didn’t speak, just stared. Arthur swallowed, hands twitching at his sides before he stormed through the open front door.

“No sign yet”, their mother was saying.

“Mum, Arthur won’t-” Tommy started.

“Tommy, I don’t want to hear it. Just put something on. I told you I need my strength, I can’t be going up and down the house to look for your clothes”. Another wave of guilt. Tommy fought the urge to cry as he was sent back up the stairs. It took him by surprise slightly; he wasn’t usually the first one in tears, but everyone seemed to be against him that morning. Arthur was angry with him, he’d upset his mother, Pol was moving out. Still, he supposed, it couldn’t get much worse.

“When are we leaving?” groaned Ada, swinging her legs on the sofa. Jane, who couldn’t sit still, paced in front of the door, checking the ancient cracked clock on the mantelpiece.

“We should have left already” she sighed, trying not to panic. “Uncle Charlie’s going to pick us up in the cart, but God knows where he’s got to. John Shelby don’t even think about it”. John pouted, but snapped his pocket knife back into its holder, another leg of the table remaining unharmed for the time being. “And no, you’re not taking that to the wedding, give it to me”.

“Why’s he late?” said Ada.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon”. She wasn’t sure at all. Though she’d tried so hard to make the day perfect for her sister-in-law, it was all falling apart around her. Her hands were stayed from worrying at her dress by the familiar trundle of her brother’s cart down the lane. At that moment she could have sobbed in relief, and there was a general rise in spirits as the Shelby’s rushed for the door.

“Where in God’s name have you been?!” Jane asked as Charlie pulled the cart up outside the house.

“I thought it was tomorrow” he huffed, hurrying to lift Ada up onto the back. “And then the invitation was right there on the table-”

“Tomorrow? Who has a wedding on a Monday you-”

“Yes okay, I know, I know” said Charlie, raising his hands in defence. “But I’m here now, and we’ve got plenty of time!”. Jane gave him a deadpan look. “Some time”, he amended sheepishly.

“Come on, quick quick” she called, gripping hold of the wooden posts.

“Careful mum” said Arthur, wincing as she struggled up onto the cart. She collapsed onto the bench gratefully, joints throbbing and knuckles white where she gripped her son’s hand. Charlie paused.

“Are you okay? Is it your hip again? Or your-”.

“It’s fine Charlie, just go. Quickly”.

“Go, go go!” cried John. It was always fun to ride in the cart, especially in the summer, the warm breeze dancing through their hair as the horse cantered down the lane. Jane allowed herself to relax slightly as they rounded the corner, looping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and admiring how grown up and handsome her two boys were looking in their smartest suits. Hang on a second-

“Stop, stop!” she cried. “Where’s Tommy?”. Arthur spun around.

“I thought he was-”

“Turn around!” Jane called, Charlie pulling the cart to a stop.

“Are we going to be late?” said Ada fearfully.

“No” Charlie insisted, craning his neck as if his missing nephew would appear at a different angle.

“He was right behind me” said Arthur, mystified. He must have stayed in the house. Bloody hell.

“Aunt Pol’s going to go mad” said John.

“Yes, that’s not particularly helpful darling” said Jane, hastily moving down to the end of the cart. Too hastily.

“Mum, don’t-” started Arthur, reaching out, but she was already dropping down onto the ground below.

Panting, Tommy appeared around the corner. His stomach dropped as he saw his mother pushing herself up from the ground, crying out as she took a step. Charlie was there in an instant, grimacing before lifting her as best he could back onto the cart. The children watched mournfully as she cradled her ankle, their perfect day crashing around their ears.

“On you get, son” said Charlie gruffly, patting the wood. Tommy clambered on reluctantly, clipping the side in place but making no move to shuffle closer to the rest of his family. Met with several accusing stares he shifted in his seat, attempting to tug down the sleeves on his ill-fitting jacket. Forced to use the musty old thing found in John’s room, Tommy resigned himself for a day of tutting and probably a smack round the head when Polly saw what state he was in.

“Are you okay mum?” asked Arthur. Jane straightened up as best she could, smiling to cover the rush of nausea.

“I’m fine Artie. Just a little bruise”.

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” asked Ada.

“No” said Jane, before Charlie could have a say in the matter. “We’re going to go to this damn wedding, and we’re going to give your aunt the best day she’s ever had”.

Through some miracle or another, they made just in time. Polly had chosen a grass clearing in the country for the wedding, near Eddie’s family home. Decorated with bunting hanging between wagons, it made for a beautiful setting in the warm morning light.

With the exception of Ada, the Shelby’s gathered at the front of the crowd, Charlie and Arthur supporting Jane between them. There was a throbbing in her ankle; sharp and insistent, and her knee joints were also protesting at all the movement, but despite this she was determined to see the day through. She couldn’t ruin it for Polly. Leaning on Arthur’s arm, she felt a sudden surge of pride at how strong he was, how much he’d grown in the past few years. He was seventeen now, almost a man.

“Look at you” she said, managing to straighten his lapels one handed. “So handsome”.

“Mum” Arthur groaned, but was unable to help a smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” whispered Charlie. “You don’t need a doctor?”. The blusher on her cheeks masked how pale she’d become, but Charlie knew his sister well.

“I’m fine” she insisted. “Just…maybe fetch me a chair”. John ran off to complete this task, and Tommy busied himself by poking at the grass with his foot. He knew it was his fault his mother was injured. Everything seemed to be his fault today. But apologising in front of Arthur? He had to speak to his mum alone, she’d understand then, that he hadn’t meant it. Whatever the intent however, the action was still the same.

Taking her brother’s hand, Polly stepped out of the cart onto the grass below with a smile, arranging her dress around her, heart warming as she saw the painted wagons and wildflowers in the field. Arthur Snr nodded to the driver, who trundled off back down the lane with a coin in his pocket. They had a while, twenty minutes or so, to appreciate the view, waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive. Polly watched the small figures in the valley below, and wondered which was Eddie. Her brother cleared his throat.

“Give us a spin then” he said. Polly was half expecting him to make some comment, some jibe, but so far none had come. She knew he didn’t entirely approve of the marriage - mainly because they hadn’t asked for his permission, but Jane had managed to talk him round. Soften him into acceptance, if not approval. After all, a steady job and a loving family to marry into was more stability than he’d ever had. Polly obliged his request, though couldn’t pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself as she spun around, dress fanning out. It had been their mother’s; high collared and lacy, hugging at the waist and trailing all the way down to her feet. A veil flowed behind her, clipping into her ornate bun and framing her face beautifully. Red lipstick completed the look, and she wore a bracelet of Jane’s around her wrist where the sleeves ended.

“Quite something you’ve grown up to be, ey?” said Arthur. Polly gave him a small smile, looking back to the valley quickly. Her fingers pressed against the palms of her hands, the big-day nerves she’d been supressing almost bubbling over at the sight of all the tables and chairs, people rushing about below them. “I know you think I wasn’t around much to look after you, Pollyanna”. She raised an eyebrow.

“I think?”. Arthur sighed.

“I might not have been at home, but I’ve always tried to do what’s best for you. Starting a business, sending money back-”.

“Arthur, don’t start” said Polly, grimacing. Despite insisting that she didn’t get nervous, a recap of her brother’s failed business ventures would surely push her over the edge.

“Polly- listen” he said, taking her hands. She swallowed, meeting his gaze. “I know I wasn’t around, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you”. Polly didn’t need the words; she wasn’t ten years old anymore wishing her big brother would come home, and couldn’t quite shake the lingering trepidation that Arthur was tricking her in some way. But she appreciated them nonetheless.

It felt like a goodbye, and Polly beamed as she headed down the hill, dress flowing out behind her as she ran towards her new life.

A dusky purple had spread over the sky, lanterns and candles lighting up the scene as people danced and weaved through the darkened field. No one had much to spare by way of money, but the tables were laden with an ample amount of food, including more cakes and confectionaries than the Shelby children had ever seen outside of a bakery. The music was lively, fiddles striking up a quick tune and people were soon gathering round to dance. In a quieter corner of the field, Polly plopped down beside her sister-in-law, letting out an exhausted laugh and taking in the night sky.

“Happy?” Jane asked. Her legs weren’t paining her as badly as she feared they would, but she thought it better to rest them. Tomorrow would likely be a different story.

“Happy” Polly confirmed. Jane gestured at her husband, who was currently holding two different bottles and trying to tell a complicated story of his own magnificence at the same time.

“I’m sorry about all the-”

“Stop” said Polly, grinning. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for”.

“But you’ve had a good day haven’t you? Was the dress okay? And your hair? You look so beautiful I can hardly take my eyes off you”. Polly laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Jane wasn’t done though. She worried too much, that was her problem. “And you like the decorations? And the music? What about the food? I was so worried about getting here on time I didn’t have time to think about anything else”.

“It’s all perfect, really” said Polly. “Thank you. For everything”. Jane gave her a fond smile, and Polly hugged her close.

“You better go” said Jane. “Ada’s got a stick and she’s heading for her brothers”.

“Oh God” said Polly, pressing a hasty kiss on Jane’s cheek in goodbye. Thankfully, she managed to catch Ada and wrestle the large branch from her niece before she could inflict any stick related injuries. By the time Eddie grabbed her hand and whisked her away to a quiet spot behind a wagon, she’d gotten three lectures in: one about cigarettes, one about their clothing and one about fighting. Tommy seemed to be the main culprit on all three counts, though his sister was a force to be reckoned with; especially when there were sticks involved.

“Eddie, what-” she cried, as the bright lights and crowd fell out of sight.

“I can’t wait any longer” whispered Eddie, grinning as he held her close. “Let’s just say fuck it all and go now”.

“We can’t just disappear” she laughed back, quieting as his mother passed by their hiding place.

“We can if nobody sees us” he countered, leaning in for a kiss. He had a point, thought Polly, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck. Her husband.

Yeah, she decided. Fuck it all.

“Stop taking my fucking cigarettes” said Arthur, once their aunt had vanished. Tommy scowled at him.

“It wasn’t yours”. In actual fact, it was Arthur’s; he was the easiest to steal from, but he didn’t need to know that. Deciding he’d rather skulk around the edge of the reception than talk to anyone, Tommy slipped away from his siblings. He caught a glimpse of two figures in the distance, running up the hill, a veil flying behind one. That was that then. Pol was gone. It was hard not to feel morose and sorry for himself, with all the events of the day. Kicking viciously at another poor clump of grass, Tommy continued along the outskirts of the party, until an arm landed heavily around his shoulders, steering him towards the lights and music.

“Tommy!” his father exclaimed, voice loud and slightly slurred as he gripped his shoulder. “Come over here and have a wrestle with your old dad, ey?”. He smelled strongly of alcohol, and Tommy wrinkled his nose.

“Aunt Pol said no fighting”.

“Polly’s not here” Arthur countered, releasing him but stepping in front of Tommy deliberately when he tried to move to the side. “And you haven’t been down to the ring in a while. Why’s that then? Too busy-” he snorted “-picking fuckin’ daisies or whatever it is you do?”.

Avoiding you, Tommy thought, but said nothing. His mother always said his cleverness (or his smart mouth, as Polly called it) would get him killed. More than anything tonight he just wanted to be left alone. Arthur, clearly growing bored with his son’s lack of response, rolled up his sleeves.

“Come on” he goaded. Tommy watched his fists warily. When he was drunk, his father’s aim was usually off, but he hit harder. What few inhibitions he possessed were all washed away with drink, and he didn’t care who saw the bruises. Nobody would say anything.

Arthur lashed out, missing Tommy’s face by a few inches. Tommy took advantage, turning and sprinting towards the crowd, hoping to be swallowed up before his dad lunged again. He smacked into his brother’s chest, stumbling backwards and landing hard on the ground. Arthur Jnr let out a surprised yelp, and held out a hand to Tommy before recognition hit. Half retracting it, he shook his head.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“Arthur, it was an accident, I didn’t mean-” Tommy’s air was cut off as his father grabbed the back of his collar, wrenching him to his feet.

“You’re a fucking disgrace, you know that?”. Tommy grabbed at his throat, fingers tearing at the fabric choking him. “No son of mine runs away from a fight”. Tommy gritted his teeth. He was one to talk about running away. How many times had he abandoned them? A well placed kick to his father’s shin sent Tommy crashing to the ground again, spitting out a blade of grass as he scrambled backwards, Arthur towering over him.

“Get up. Fight like a man”.

People were stopping to watch now. The dancers were faltering and the violinist missed a few notes, drawing attention to the disturbance. Tommy caught sight of his mother just as his father’s boot came down on his nose, the crunch loud and sickening.

“Pathetic” said Arthur, spitting into Tommy’s hair before turning away. Tommy clutched at his nose, eyes squeezing shut as the shouting started. He could feel the crowd ebbing and flowing around him, but when Tommy opened his eyes again he found the masses had followed his parents a short distance away, screaming at each other on the hillside with Uncle Charlie between them.

One of the tables had been knocked over, old family crockery scattered across the grass. He was glad Polly wasn’t here to see it. Reaching up, Tommy almost gagged in revulsion as his fingers slid through his father’s spit, uselessly attempting to wipe it away. He swivelled to where his older brother had been, but Arthur was gone, leaving Tommy small and alone on the hillside. Hunching over, his blood dripped steadily onto the grass. Pathetic. There was a rustle beside him, and his little brother regarded him warily.

“Tommy?”.

“It’s late John” said Tommy, voice muffled. “You should be at home”.

“Nuh uh. Dad said I could stay”. He smiled proudly, but it faded as he remembered his question.

“Tommy, why didn’t you try?”.

“I did try” said Tommy, pushing himself off the ground and wiping his face, starting off down the slope.

“No you never” cried John, running after him. “Arthur says you do it on purpose”. Tommy stopped.

“Do what on purpose?”.

“Make dad angry. Then he hits you and then-” John frowned, trying to remember. “Then it makes dad look bad, ‘specially when you don’t try. But he’s not bad, not really. That’s what Arthur says”. Tommy pressed a hand to his face again, though it had less to do with stemming the blood and everything to do with the stinging in his eyes.

“Go home, John” he muttered, breaking into a run. Soon the shouting had faded away, but Tommy didn’t want to stop. He kept running, right across the field, and over the fence they’d been told not to go beyond. Instead of grass, Tommy trampled over growing vegetables heart racing when a light flicked on in the farmhouse. Vaulting over the next fence, his shoe caught on a nail. Ripping, the material fell away, lost somewhere to the lettuces below.

Tommy came to a clumsy stop, but a door had creaked open and the farmer was really coming now, so he left it. It was ancient anyway. Wouldn’t last till the winter. He slowed to a walk two fields over, a dark thicket of trees separating him from the dirt track that led to the city. It was hardly a forest, but Tommy supposed he could still get lost in there. It would be nice, that. Disappearing.

Leaning heavily against a trunk, Tommy slid down the rough bark until his knees hit the ground. The tears came easily, after such a long time keeping them at bay. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed at the base of the tree, head in his hands and shoulders wracked with sobs as the city lights flickered off in the distance.

Pathetic.

Something was poking into Tommy’s side, and he eventually shifted, pulling some folded paper from his inside jacket pocket. Opening the crumpled sheet, he found it to be some sort of shipping form. It was hard to read in the dark, but he squinted, making out an address at the bottom. Some place in Camden.

He almost tossed it aside then, let the chilly night breeze carry the meaningless paper across the hillside, but his fingers brushed over something. A hard indent of some letters, pressed through from the other side. Turning the paper over, a pencil scrawl stared back at him.

A. S.

Reaching into his trouser pocket, Tommy pulled out a penny. It wasn’t real of course, Arthur had made some for him a few years ago, out of thin scraps of wood he’d attempted to carve into circles. To pretend. Tommy still liked to fiddle with them, flick them into the air. He’d picked it up that morning, just out of habit, but now it would be useful.

It wasn’t weighted like a proper coin, but it still landed one side or the other. Heads or tails. Should he or shouldn’t he. Tommy’s gaze slid back to the address at the bottom of the page.

He balanced the coin on his thumb, heart thudding in his chest. Could he really do this?

Tommy took a deep breath, before flipping it high into the air.

Thank you for reading! I hope this come-back from the writing despair wasn't too terrible, and that you enjoyed! x

#peaky blinders fanfiction #guas au #everything i write is boring and awful i want to banish myself to some distant cave with no internet access #sorry i'm being dramatic in the tags #i think i've somewhat crawled out of the despair pit #who knows

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