far from home. peaky blinders

THIRTY SEVEN

THIRTY SEVEN

When Anna closed her eyes, instead of the blackness of sleep, she saw the barrel of a gun pointed at Michael's head.

She had never been a violent person, never by choice, and yet after that day in the hospital, she'd imagined herself launching onto Luca Changretta, wrapping her arms around his neck, scratching with her nails until there was blood under them. It was uncivilised, completely without method, but it was more than what had actually happened. When she closed her eyes to sleep, Anna saw herself doing nothing as Micheal lay between the balance of life and death.

Ever since she was little, she'd had the same problem with her dreams- using them as a means to escape, as a way to change reality. They were inescapable.

Her eyes were dark when she pulled herself from bed, her mother shouting at her from down the stairs. Tommy was at the door, his car parked on the curb outside, annoying the neighbours apparently. He'd promised to take her to the gym, meeting Finn later.

Mr Gold stood by the boxing rings when they arrived. Tommy found him straight away, leaving Anna to trail slowly behind, taking in the sights as she did so. Last she had seen of it had been sleeting and much quieter.

Bonnie was in the ring, still reeling from a victory of a fight. His grin lit up his face, making him look warmer than she'd once remembered him to look. His father was preening by the side, arms crossed as he watched impressed. Tommy only nodded, hands stoically in his pockets.

"You're not in the fucking fairground now, son," the coach said, leaning against the ropes, his weight making them sag and bend. "Get down and give me 200 for taking the piss out of a fine fighter."

Anna didn't listen to them, only watched as Bonnie bent down and rolled out upon the floor, pushing himself up over and over again. He made it look easy, his arms thin but lean, managing to carry his weight with comfort.

"So who am I fighting first, Mr Shelby?" Only his voice could bring her out of the daze.

"When you step in the ring, Bonnie, who do you see across the canvas?"

"I see myself," he said. His grin had not faded, only brightened under his sponsor's attention. "Forty years old having done fuck all except tramping the lines. See my life wasted. I won't let it happen. Me? I'm going to be a champion."

His words settled deep within her. She'd once had such determination. Her dreams had been to return home to her family. Now that she'd made them come true, there seemed to be an emptiness inside that she craved to fill with such enthusiasm.

Bonnie went back to his practise punches, Mr Gold began to talk with the coach, and Tommy left her with a reminder to call Finn should anything happen. But watching Bonnie in the ring, she knew nothing would happen as long as she remained by his side. That thought weighed heavily.

Bonnie found her sitting by the ring, eyes watching him carefully. His hands were still wrapped in the bandage, his skin smudged with dirt and grime from the hard day of fighting. Somehow, he never got bored. There must have been a flood of rage in him, to have him fighting day and night, the punching bag just as good as the Italians he went after with his father. She could see it in his eyes- the anger that didn't seem to want to leave.

He didn't say anything as he took her to the bag in the corner. It was the only space in the gym that still held a hint of daylight, streaming in from the thin windows by the roof. Anna felt small next to his lanky presence.

With the gym abandoned for the evening and Finn left with no knowledge of her lie about his taxi services, the two were left to business. Bonnie positioned her in front of the bag, his hands taking her hips and twisting. He was too casual about the motion and Anna felt embarrassed by her flush.

He began by taking her hand, arranging her fingers so they sat in a fist correctly and then he angled her toward the target, one hand on her shoulder, the other wrapped around her knuckles, and made the motion of a hit. It felt awkward. Anna shuffled from his hold and looked up at him, fists dangling by her side.

"You seem angry," she said before he could get any further.

Bonnie looked down at her, eyes dark and telling, but his face seemed to soften, his hands remaining on her waist. You're angry with me, Bonnie seemed to believe she was implying, though it was not the truth. The gentleness of his hands said so.

"It's nothing," he said, brushing it off and focusing on her stance in front of the punch bag again.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," Anna said, a frown tainting her voice. "Surely we've gone through enough now that you can tell me what's bothering you."

She turned around, ignoring his attempts to position her correctly so that she faced him. Bonnie's hands stayed on her waist. Her back lay flat against the punching bag. He was so tall, that she had to look straight up at him.

"The bastards are still out there," he said. His eyes were closed so he didn't have to look at her, but Anna wanted to see his eyes, to see the truth behind them. "The bastards that almost hurt you."

"I'm fine, Bonnie," she said. Her hand moved to touch the side of his face, so gently that he stared down at her in confusion. The movement felt strange, foreign, but she knew it was right. "They didn't get to me. They won't."

"You can't know that," he said, pulling his face from her hands, stepping back from her as if he didn't deserve her touch. "My father has me working in here day and night while they're still in here."

"It's his job-"

"That's the thing," Bonnie said, shaking his head, cutting her off. "It's a job to him. But it's not to me."

It seemed all too sudden, despite all she had told herself. She barely knew him, he barely knew her. Her mother would murder her, should she find out the words that Bonnie mumbled to her. A sudden set of anxiety gripped her stomach, making her feel ill, like she might faint. Too sudden, too much, but what scared her most of all was that she wanted it.

Anna did what Anna did best: she ran.

*
Surprise!