Cruel World - Thomas Shelby

In The Blue Of My Oblivion

My mother was out of town, she had decided to visit one of her sisters - or some other relative who I had met once as a baby, and never again - down in London for a few days, my sisters, obviously, had their own lives and houses, as did my brother, who had decided to go to New York, with the promise to visit for Christmas. I wasn't sure what exactly my Father's job was, just that it was physical labour and he usually worked into the early morning – unless it was a holy day - and often more, just to avoid me, I think. So since early afternoon, the house was mine.

It was November and I had spent the last month feeling sorry for myself and sleeping. I always thought I was quite ambitious, that was until I left school and got fired from different jobs waitressing and such, so, naturally, I didn't understand why I was so eager to do nothing. Perhaps, my subconscious (as well as the entirety of my family) was waiting for some average looking man to decide he was going to marry me, but I didn't appreciate the thought of marriage and never planned on willingly going through with it. I thought I could be a poet, or pianist or something, but I wasn't sure how to achieve that, and any desire I had to do anything scientific or mathematical was washed down the drain by the fact I was a woman.

Despite their wiggling and squirming, I pushed my obsessively depressive thoughts to the back of my mind and decided I was going to go out, to the small bookshop a few streets away.

*

'I think she almost killed me.'

John was old, and I wasn't sure how he was breathing still, but he made for very interesting conversation. Despite being a native to Birmingham myself, his accent was so thick, often I found it hard to understand. The walls behind me and to my right were hidden behind shelves of dark books with heavy covers and in front of me sat the grey man. I had my head down, as I browsed through the stack of books piled on a wooden table in the middle, occasionally I added a 'gosh' or 'yes' to our mostly one-sided conversation about his five daughters. A light blue novel sat on the table, like a sinking ship on a brown and beige sea, and fingers eagerly grabbed it, like a greedy child with sweets. I harshly skimmed through the pages, as if I was undecided on whether I should buy it - I knew I was going too regardless of what I found.

Trying to hide my avidity, I leisurely lifted my head to meet Johns chubby face and warm, insightful eyes. I knew he knew I hadn't been listening to his endless stories, but we were both equally grateful for the company.

'Just that then.' he concluded, nodding his head to the book I had grasped, before we shared a sincere smile.

I made my way around the table and to the counter he was sat behind.

'Yep.' I made sure to make to my voice seem as cheery and grateful as I could, because I really was, and I wanted him to know. Two pennies rolled from my hand and onto the counter.

'Until next time.' He winked at me, and I nodded my head, whilst making my way out, book in my hand.

The wind was cold but forgiving. I looked up past the rows of houses, to the bright limitless grey-white sky and cupped my hands around my eyes, so that it was all I could see. Now, I was anywhere in the world, the humming business of the streets seemed to quiet down, and my mind was stuck in the haze of the sky.

'Oi, Nellie!' I quickly got sucked out of my mind and snapped my arms down and head forward. I tried to figure out who the two figures walking towards me were, but I became rather dizzy, and my eyesight tilted left and right. The one on the left ran towards me, and it wasn't until he put me in a headlock, that my eyes adjusted, and I realized who it was.

'Will,' I managed to sputter out 'fucking let me go you knob.'

After a moment's hesitation, he loosened his grip around my neck, and pulled me up. Obscenities were muttered from my mouth, before I kicked him in the shin. I had known William Douglas since I was four, our mothers were friends - at least, as close to friends as two judgemental women could be - but we didn't get along until I was 12: we just started hanging out one day. He was tall and skinny, with fine but dark features and thin, pasty looking lips. Throughout school, Will had managed to make himself an abundance of friends, most of which I wasn't particularly fond of - fortunately, he often chooses to hang around with me, smoking and laughing and occasionally getting into arguments with drunk men, who usually assumed we were some devilish creatures of the night in their intoxicated haze. The figure next to him happened to be our friend (well actually, she was mine first) Alice: a small, hollow ghost of a girl. Dark hair and a pale face, with long, elegant tobacco-stained fingernails. She was far gentler than Will and I but, still, I was proud of how I had managed to rough her out around the edges during our friendship.