𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙮, John Shelby

- 19

- CHAPTER NINETEEN -

- IN WHICH THEY CELEBRATE

. . .

MOURNING WAS ALWAYS a strange feeling to behold. It's the feeling of dawn before light can cascade over a horizon, the soft and low lullaby that promised the healing of wounds before life could continue. Mourning was always partnered with grief, the idea that a human form is removed from the world they know, that they have to reconnect and weave themselves into a new way of living.

It was ironic for Lorelai Miller. Because for mourning and grief to take place, someone has to have died. And in the most literal of ways, Billy Kimber, the smug man who had always been at her side since the moment she was born, had died.

But Rory couldn't mourn him. She couldn't because dawn had fallen above her when she was lodged into a deal created between rival gangs. She had mourned the loss of her cousin months before his time ended. Not because she knew he was going to die, but because it became obvious where his priorities lied.

Polly Gray had told her to forgive Tommy that very morning. She knew all along that Billy Kimber couldn't and would never survive what the Peaky Blinders had in store for him. She knew that Rory was on their side, that she would of course be drenched in sorrow after the events took place, for that was what always happened when a family member died. And she knew that Tommy would be to blame for the cousin's death, that Rory would have to forgive him eventually for doing what had to be done.

But he had been forgiven months ago. When she was shipped off to Small Heath to act as an insider for Billy, Lorelai knew that her hatred for her cousin was burning more than usual, that he wasn't someone she would be surrounding herself with in the future. For that she had forgiven Tommy. Because she would do whatever it took to bring Kimber down, and time and time again she found herself throttling her mind for feeling guilty.

Rory couldn't mourn Billy Kimber because in her mind he had been killed by Thomas Shelby many months ago.

What was left now was the feeling of grief. Grief that she gave herself for detaching from the world she was oh-so familiar with, grief that tore away at her insides for letting herself feel even the slightest bit upset with the situation.

It was natural to feel upset, natural to be unsure of where she lied in the world that was no longer painted the pretty picture of contentment. Everything that was left in her mind was resentment that she held for her forever changing thoughts.

And it was preposterously loud.

John Shelby could see Rory was hurting. Whilst everyone else rushed around, pushing the elation down as they first prepared for the funeral of the beloved Danny Whizz-Bang, he couldn't help but watch impotently as his wondrously charismatic yet slightly ditsy friend sat atop of The Garrison's wooden staircase and attempted desperately not to slip into a world of darkness.

Sympathy had always fled through him like a waterfall when it came to thinking of her situation since living in Small Heath. The way that she had been sent there as if she were a prize being sent to its winner, how she behaved as if the world was normal whilst she tried to make do with living in a small room above a pub and worked far too many jobs.

It seemed she was always destined to have a horrific fate. And as she sat upon the steps, hands rested in her lap and gaze steadied on the wall opposite, it was all so very clear.

"Come on," He didn't remember allowing his legs to move across the room, leaving the create of ales askew on the bar to instead find himself stood at the bottom of the stairs, hand held out to offer to pull her up. "We can't let Danny have a bad send off, can we?"

Rory was hesitant, he could see that. And he almost felt bad ever thinking it was a good idea to encourage her to attend a funeral at the given time. But nonetheless she reached out and clasped onto his hand, letting him pull her up and envelope her in a hug.

"It'll get better." He promised, arms wrapped gently around her neck. "Just think of the jazz music and the drinks." A small smile was plastered onto his lips as he moved away, leading her over to the backroom where everyone else was slowly arriving.

Rory stood with Ada and Polly by the doorway, arms folded across her stomach, fingers clenching onto the sides of her blouse as John spoke again. "Now we can bury him properly. In a grave we dug for him."

"Yeah." Tommy nodded, the Miller's eyes avoiding the corpse on the table. "It's high on a hill. He'd like that." He lifted a bottle to his mouth, teeth pulling out the cork sealing it and then raising it into the air. "To Danny Whizz-Bang. May we all die twice." It was quiet for a minute as various members took sips of alcohol in cheers. "Come on, the day is ours. Let's celebrate."

Rory slowly made her way back into the main room, sliding into the bar with Arthur coming up beside her and a crowd of joyous men and women crowding the surface in hopes of getting their drinks before others. She couldn't help but allow a small smile to slip onto her lips as the faint rhythm of jazz music reached her ears and some of the crowd suddenly dispersed to dance horribly to the music.

"Get it down you Rory!" Arthur yelled above the noise as she passed a glass to Esme, the girl turning to be met with her own glass of scotch. She took it, raising the cold material to her lips, head falling backwards as the vanilla taste melted onto her tongue.

She shook her head as a solidifying burn fled down her throat, the girl's smile widening as she passed another glass across the counter.

Soon the bar was opened up for everyone, the girl climbing over the surface as people fled in to make their own drinks. A laugh emitted from her lips, dark eyes connecting to the gramophone at the back of the room, Sadie sprawled out across the laps of John's kids as they played card games with Finn.

"Rory!" The woman sat down beside Katie, gaze dancing over the cards in her hands. "Finn and Ben keep beating us."

Rory planted her hands into her lap, eyeing the cards on the table before the ones in the girl's hands. "Do you want some help?" She asked, smile widening as the boys protested.

It was funny how horrible she'd felt not even an hour ago. But now, with her gaze settled on the cards, Rory couldn't feel more content.

✧

A.n
That's the end of act one! It's only short
but due to setting the scene for Rory's character as
opposed to much else I'm not too upset about that.