Yellow Roses // Thomas Shelby

Chapter Twelve

August 26, 1914.
7:30 p.m.

Steve walked behind me as we got out on the docs. The sky was dark and everybody got off the boat in a hurry. There were posters about Germany all over the place, saying a war was going to happen.

I keep saying Polly is right- nothing is going to happen and this is all talk. My gut is screaming at me for believing her. I've never witnessed a war before. I wouldn't know how to react with one.

My shoes dug into the gravel as I made my way toward the cobblestone. I could see Thomas standing before the mud, keeping his shoes clean. I wouldn't blame him. Small Heath is a fucking nightmare.

"There's my beautiful girl," Thomas smiled, handing me flowers and pulling me in for a hug. Arthur came up behind me, giving me a pat on the back.

"Where's John?" I asked, pulling away from Thomas. Arthur looked at me, then his brother with a smile.

"You're back just in time. He's finally getting married."

-

I walked into the small Heath house, seeing John and his kids laughing and singing and dancing together. Polly had a drink in her hand, spinning around and laughing with John's kids. He has four. Can you believe it? 20 years old and he has four kids?

"Look there kids, your Aunt Natalia is here!" John pointed towards me, making them all run in my direction.

Florence and Katie were twins, William is the second youngest and George is the youngest. Martha just had George a few months ago. It looks like she has recovered quite well.

I stood on my knees and hugged the two four year olds. They looked exactly like John, just a bit more feminine. Their eyes were the same sky blue John's were.

"Aunt?" I asked Arthur, but he just shrugged like it was nothing.

"It's going to happen sooner or later, so why not start now?" He retorted, handing me a glass of scotch.

I furrowed my eyebrows at his statement, not having a clue on what he meant. Thomas hesitantly took the glass out of my hand and set it down on a table, then put his arms around my neck and rested his chin on my shoulder.

"I'm guessing I missed the ceremony," I looked over at him, and he smiled.

"It was actually a month after you left. They waited until you got home to celebrate." He told me, standing beside me once again. "Well, celebrate with drinks, that is." That is so disgusting.

Thomas walked over into the kitchen, seeing what food was still there. We both knew when his family wasn't working, they ate like they hadn't had food in weeks. There was about a quarter of a cake left, and some mystery food in a pot neither Thomas or I recognized.

"You do know you can have a drink if you want to, I won't judge you for it." He cut himself a piece of cake, looking at me as he put it on a plate.

I shook my head. "I don't plan on ever drinking it."

He poured a glass of whiskey, filling it about a quarter of the way up. "Just try it."

I looked up at him, then took the glass from his hand. The brown liquid in the glass smelled like litterial trees. I gave Thomas a quick glance before putting my lips on the glass, taking it.

I wanted to tear my tongue out.

I shoved the glass back into Thomas's hand and quickly poured myself a glass of water and downed it in a second. Thomas was laughing as he watched me, finishing off the glass and placing it in the sink.