IN BAD FAITH | peaky blinders | T.S

TWO

LONDON, ENGLAND

MARTHA

2.

Even now, Bessie stood mesmerised at the way her older sisters looked so similar, with their brows furrowed in anger and their jaws clenched in frustration. Uncle Ed had always said that Martha and Jo were twins, separated somewhere in the clouds before they were born, and he'd always say that she herself had arrived in a little basket on the doorstep, somewhere from a different country. Her skin was fairer and her cheeks heavier and her hair a pale blonde, nothing at all like her mother or sisters -- though she could not even remember the sight of her mother, or the smell of her, or the glint of her smile that Martha and Jo always talked about. "Don't be so daft," Josephine would scold her when she got upset over Edward's tasteless jokes. "Look at your nose, Bug," Martha would exclaim. "Look at your eyes and your lips and the way you walk. You're our sister through and through."

She had stirred twice that night, woken up the first time by the sound of Josephine slipping from beneath the bedsheets beside her. Bessie had kept her eyes clenched shut, her breath slow and steady as if she was still sleeping, like she always did, because Josephine always sneaked away, and every single time Bessie would strain her ears to try and listen for any sign of where her sister was heading, but it was never any use. Josephine was always silent, always up to something. Since she could remember, Bessie had just assumed that Jo was sneaking downstairs to the kitchen to steal some bread, or make some tea, or fold the laundry to busy herself from sleeplessness, because every morning she'd find her sister sitting in the kitchen as dawn crept in. Now, though, it was clear that Josephine had been leaving their home entirely. She wondered whether it had something to do with the man that stopped them yesterday.

The second time she had stirred that night was when Martha rose, much earlier than she ever usually did, and once again Bessie kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep as her eldest sister stroked her face gently and pressed her lips to her forehead. She'd have that feeling forever if she could, Bessie thought, listening to Martha's soft whimpers as she scaled the stairs toward the kitchen. That's when she heard Josephine come back through the front door, climbing out of bed in just her thin nightgown to listen to their voices from the very top of the staircase.

Now they both stood staring at her; confusion pooling in Martha's eyes and panic dancing across Josephine's. 

"She didn't steal it Martha. I know she didn't."

Martha hadn't expected her youngest sister to be stood there, arms wrapped around herself, shaking slightly in the cold air of early morning. Bessie had always been short and thin and bony, like a little sparrow bird, their mother used to say. Even the thought of Diana not being able to see her youngest daughter now broke her heart.

"What are you doing up, Bess? It's so early," Martha started, her voice laced with instinctual worry.

"I heard Jojo get up, and then I heard you get up, and then I heard you both arguing and you didn't leave the candle in the bedroom and I didn't want to be alone," Bessie blurted all-at-once, her tongue drying in her mouth. 

"Nice one, Marth," Josephine muttered.

Martha shot a glare at Josephine before pulling Bessie over to the kitchen table and sitting her close to the fireplace, lighting it impatiently. "Does Jojo wake up every night, Bug?"

Josephine widened her eyes at her youngest sister, begging internally that the gentle little girl would not say anything to give her away, but she knew even before she did it that it would be no use. In everything that was wrong with the world, Bessie was right. She did not have it in her to lie about anything.