All The Kings Men {Peaky Blinders} (Completed)

Twenty-Six

Lily stood in front of the shabby building. This, despite it no longer being something she can remember, was her home at one point. Then again, she couldn't remember quite as much these days. The grey building stood tall against the foggy background. Lily took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It took over three minutes, Lily had counted, for a nun to finally answer it. The nun stood in her habit, a smart frown dolled on her lips.

"Hello, dear?"

Lily wanted to shudder, but she held her spine in place and smiled sharply. Her time with, and without, the Shelby family had taught her something more valuable than school had ever taught her. And that was to hold her composition when facing a new threat. "Hello, I used to be a resident here. My name is Lily Sh - Lily Cotswold."

The nun's eyes glazed over for a second. "Lily Cotswold-" She racked her brains, hoping that the seemingly important name would inspire something hidden into her memory.

Lily cleared her throat. "Around twenty-three years ago I was brought here by the police. I would like to learn who my previous family were."

The nun slowly came too. "Oh, yes. Cotswold. That rings a bell. Please, come inside my child, I'll make you a cup of tea." She led Lily through the mouldy, damp hallway to the end office. The shadow of light under the door reminded Lily of something she had pushed down long ago, and tried to never think about. "My name is Sister June."

Lily sat at the desk. The dark oak wood was stained with years of use and multiple hot cups and mugs being placed on it. "Sister, I need to know who my family were." She clipped her accent and dressed down from the lavish silk and lace her family's fortune had afforded from the multiple years of being on the wrong side of the business. Her itchy shawl and potato smelling dress borrowed from the Lee boys made her skin crawl, but not as much as the sister that sat before her. "I have something in my blood that is an heirloom, but I cannot learn the truth of my heritage without knowing of my birth parents."

Sister June took a small breath, before folding her hands into each other. "The files of our children from before the previous ten years or so are in the basement. If you can spare me some decency, I can take you down there to see for yourself."

Lily nodded, too eager in her spirits to compile any sort of rationality. Hope, that was of the unrecognisable emotions she was currently experiencing.

She followed the sister through the building, past classrooms and the dining hall, and bathrooms separating girls from boys. The two came upon a set of frail iron stairs, and moved to the lower levels of the building.

Lily instantly felt her jacket for the handgun Tommy had given her. Its firm build and desirable coldness could be felt under the fabric of her coat. Her hand dropped as the sister opened a new door, into a room filled with drawers upon drawers of files and typed up papers. The sister moved to the back of the room, and pulled out a file that looked as if it had not been touched in the last eighteen years. "Cotswold, L. Here, I hope this brings you the answers you search for my child."

The sister pressed her fingers to her lips before pressing them to Lily's forehead, and leaving her in the dimly lit room. Lily felt the folder and the papers under her skin. She wanted to take it home, to keep the details of her could-have-been life to herself. It was something stolen, yet forgivable.

Lily mounted the stairs with the file pressed into her undergarments. The sister locked the door behind Lily and offered the girl a cup of tea before she left. Lily declined, and removed herself before she had the chance to ruin her own victory. The file, safely stuffed under her coat, remained in contact with her skin as she arrived back at the house she shared with Polly.

Her solitude of loneliness was draped with half finished drawings from visions and dreams, al growing stronger since her return to Small Heath. She uncapped a bottle of whiskey and sat it on the desk after a heartfelt swig of the brown liquid. It burned in a familiar and almost sexy way. It was home, these days. She lit a cigarette and rested against the headboard of her bed before reading through the file for the very first time.