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"Dearest Lucas"
The sound of yelling awoke Mallory from her deep and extremely comfortable sleep. Wherever she was it was definitely not her room. The bedding was nicer and at the end a beautifully knitted dark purple blanket with a little lamb on the far right hand corner. A babies old Moses basket in the left corner sat still simply collecting dust and on the opposite side a small armoire that had obviously not been opened in months possibly even years.
It was near mid day as the light shining through the curtains had reached its peak and was directly above the beds headboard.
Her eyes stung from the unusual amount of sleep she believed it was the fact that she had spent the night in a relatively nice place. Suddenly a loud bang was heard from downstairs and Mallory jutted slightly at the noise. "What the fuck," she whispered to herself in shock.
She quickly rose from the bed and stumbled tiredly down the stairs.
A group of people, probably all family, were crowded around and fussing about someone in the middle...
Oh my god she's in Polly Gray's home!
A now very awake John looked to who had just entered and once he noticed it was Mallory he moved to reveal the horrid sight.
"Arthur?!" She yelled as his bloody screwed up face came into view.
He scrunched his mangled face up and looked away. "Fuck is she doin' 'ere, Pol?" He asked with a venomous tone.
With a harsh scowl Polly began wiping away the dried blood that had crusted around his eyes and nose. "She dragged your drunken idiot of a brother home at god knows what time in the bloody morning, that's what!"
Mallory quickly rushed to Arthur's side and grabbed a cloth that lay on the table trying to gently stop Arthur's bleeding "fucking 'ell, love, watch me fookin face!" He then quickly tried to slap her hand away but everyone froze when the door slammed open.
In walked Thomas Shelby, looking as mundane as ever, with a cheap bottle of rum in his hands. He walked over and handed it to Arthur who was quick to take a thick chug of the liquor. Tommy then planted himself against the wall opposite the commotion.
A small short haired girl, with only a nightie and a robe on, snatched the bottle and began to pour some of the run onto a white cloth. She began to dab it over Arthur's face.
So this must be their younger sister, Ada. Her eyes were soft yet strong and she had very pale freckles dotted around her milky white skin.
