The past few weeks had been a blur. Birdie had barely divided her time between seeing Ellis and rehearsing and opening Don Quixote, and she was genuinely surprised that the invitation to Cheltenham was still valid.
Birdie woke dreaming of a blue sky, only slightly disheartened to draw her curtains open and gaze out at a grey Small Heath. She let out a heavy sigh, one marred by the smoke that scratched up her lungs and settled like a cavity.
She rolled unceremoniously out of bed, joints clicking and begging to be stretched. Her mornings often begun like this, reminding her body that it had to remain intact. Just one more day, she beckoned. The first week of shows was always the hardest; her limbs often had to be convinced to spring in the morning.
Noah was already in the kitchen as she trudged in, pouring boiling water into two china mugs knicked from their family home.
"You're an angel." Birdie lamented. Noah jumped in surprise, leaping back so he didn't burn his hand on the water that flung from the kettle.
"You're an idiot." Noah said. He turned and passed her the mug of tea, and sat across the table.
Birdie took a glance at him and frowned. "How bad was it last night?"
Noah looked down, hiding the bruised eyebags from her. His hand shook as he reached for his mug. "Worse than usual."
Birdie reached over to grab his free hand, and squeezed it gently. This was not the first time either had woken to bruised eyes, or ran into the other's room in the middle of the night. They had been through the same hell, albeit a million miles from the other. The Brooks siblings only had each other in their quest to push towards the light again.
"What's the plan today, my love?" Birdie continued to hold his hand as she added two sugars to her tea.
"Bookkeeping until who knows when. Then I'm going to an art class." Noah's face lit up with a small smile, the first look of joy for the day. Birdie smiled at that too, giving his hand another squeeze.
"What kind of art?" Birdie asked eagerly. Noah had not talked a word about his past passion since before the war.
"It's just a sketching class. I saw an advertisement at work, thought why not," Noah shrugged. "Be good to get my mind off things."
"I'm really excited for you." Birdie grinned, shaking his hand. Noah chuckled, rolling his eyes.
"It's nothing that special, Birdie."
"It is to me," Birdie cast her eyes towards the clock above the fireplace and immediately rose from her seat. "And I need to get ready."
She kissed Noah's cheek as both siblings muddled around to start their day. Birdie washed herself and got dressed into her warm up gear, Noah tied his shoelaces and the pair left their dingy little home together.
—
Penelope slipped into Birdie's dressing room first, gasping loudly. Birdie, who had given the girl her key and chatted to Conor about how their matinee went, heard the noise and darted to the doorframe.
"Those are lovely, Birdie. Are they from Ellis?" Penelope asked. Her eyes were transfixed by the elaborate arrangement of roses and lilies.
Birdie furrowed her eyebrows, searching for a tag before landing her eyes on a simple white card.
Good luck, little bird.
"Oh, fuck me." Birdie whispered, ripping the card in half. She threw open the top drawer of her dresser, thrusting the pieces in and slamming it shut.
YOU ARE READING
VIOLENT DELIGHTS | TOMMY SHELBY
Fanfiction" these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume. " Birdie Brooks was a warrior who thought her fight was over. A lifelong connection to Shelby fami...
