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Birmingham, 1914
Isabella had locked herself in her room – well she had lost the key so there was currently a chair in front of her door – ever since her brothers told her that they had volunteered. They had stupidly volunteered to serve in the stupid war that could probably be prevented if the leaders of the stupid countries just sat down and talked their issues out, instead of having their citizens fight their stupid fight.
She wasn't crying, no she was angry. She was furious at her brothers. They had always promised her they would never leave her, that they would always be there. Now they had gone and broken their promises. Just like their mother had. Katarina had promised to always be there for her, and she had gone and died, and now haunted her every move.
She refused to listen to her brothers stupid reasonings and excuses. She didn't care about their reasoning, they couldn't possibly have good enough reasons to leave their family. What reason could warrant John leaving his three children and pregnant wife? What reason would possibly be good enough for Tommy and Arthur to leave herself, Finn and Ada to raise themselves? What excuse could possibly warrant the boys leaving their family to fend for themselves, during a time where the only way women could possibly earn enough money was by selling her body?
It didn't matter that the family now had the Peaky Blinders and the betting shop. Isabella knew that without the protection from her brothers there was no guarantee the betting shop was going to keep standing. That some man wouldn't believe he would be better suited running the Shelby business. That a man wouldn't realize that a shop run by women and children would be easy to rob.
Who were going to protect them? Who's going to threaten the men who would catcall Martha? Who's going to threaten the boys who would be mean to her?
Isabella knew there was a war, she knew exactly what that meant, she just didn't comprehend why her stupid brothers had to volunteer. She knew it was about honor, and serving their country, and keeping their families safe. But why did they have to fight for their lives to serve their countries? Why didn't the stupid King go and fight for his country? Who would keep them safe? Who would guarantee that her siblings would come back home? That they wouldn't die in France, and leave Isabella with another funeral and possibly another ghostly form haunting her.
On the other side of the door the future soldiers stood. They had been knocking on the door, called on Isabella for hours and Arthur even tried to kick the door in, but Isabella refused to listen to them. She ignored their begs and bribes and left the chair under the door handle.
