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Polly-Anna Wallace first met Thomas Shelby through her younger sister, Amber.
Polly was thirteen, and Amber was seven, she had just ran full-force into the back of John Shelby who was, at the time, carrying a loaf of bread home to his mother, Mabel. Since Thomas was older than the two crumpled up on the floor, he went on the look out for whoever the blonde haired (almost strawberry, actually), hoodlum belonged to and came across another blonde, but less energetic woman at number 4 Artillery Square.
Thomas had always been grateful for growing up on Watery Lane, anything beat the drab looking block of flats that was Artillery Square. Nothing was unique, less so than his street, and everyone just looked so... done with their existence.
She looked, to Thomas, tired and older than what she actually was. Like a mother who'd been trying her best to hold down the fort whilst their husband was away at work. In reality, she was just a thirteen year old who was trying to keep her ill step-mother a secret, to keep the family as one.
If she had lost her sister to the system, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself, or her father for abandoning the families ship.
"Amber, what in the good graces have you—" Polly-Anna cut herself off, staring up at the taller blue eyed boy with confusion. "Sorry, can I help you?" Her voice, in that very second changed from a caring tone to one of accusation.
Thomas stood, hands clasped quite firmly behind his back. The woman, or at least the pathetic attempt of a child pretending to be one, made his blood almost boil. How could someone let a child of no older than eight loose in the streets of Small Heath without a care? How could—
forgive me father, for my thoughts are not pure. Thomas thought to himself, hands wiping down the sides of his trouser legs before extending one towards the grumpy girl.
Simply to be polite.
Polly-Anna glanced down at his hand before finding his eyes again. But she didn't leave his hand in limbo for long- but the shake was just a formality. Those two still had a look of hatred and vengeance floating in their eyes.
"I'm Thomas Shelby, and your sister— I assume she's your sister, ran into the back of our John. Thought it'd be polite to bring the crying child back here instead of leave her out by Comptons Chemist."
Christ, Amber! Polly-Anna thought, pulling the girl into her chest once she had dropped the hold she had on Thomas Shelby's hand.
After a quick once over to make sure the girl with the puffy pink eyes and tear stained cheeks was mostly okay, she sent her on her way to their shared room. If anything happened to Amber, anything serious and needed medical attention, the hopes of those two staying as a family would quickly wash down the drain like dirty water from the sink.
Had their mother not been plagued with an affliction of the mind, then it wouldn't have been such a scare that Thomas Shelby stood in her kitchen after her sister ran into the back of his brother. It wouldn't be what caused the pit in her stomach to grow.
