IN BAD FAITH | peaky blinders | T.S

THIRTEEN

SMALL HEATH, BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND

MARTHA

13.

The days dragged and dragged until the week blurred into one, and that's what Martha wished more than anything - for the days spent stuck in her room to have felt only like a blur.

But they didn't.

Every painstaking second that passed without progress stabbed her. Her mind raced constantly, never ceasing. Every creak of a floorboard from the room upstairs, every bang of the cookware from the kitchen below made her heart race. Paranoia slipped through her bloodstream like poison. Not even sleep would relieve her; instead, she would plummet hard and fast down a never-ending hole of blackness, the faces of her sisters screaming at her along the way. Infinite pain - that's what she would suffer until she saved Josephine.

Martha had looked out for Thomas all week. She weaved her way through the Garrison countless times, only to be met with a drink from Arthur, who of course, was as drunk as the rest of the men in there. She wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even know her name once the whiskey had worn off.

She hated the stuff more than anything, but it dulled the pain in her chest slightly and she couldn't say no to the eldest Shelby. Now she sat at the bar with him to her left, drinking glasses of it on the house, until the liquid made her head spin and her throat burn every time she coughed. He was always kind to her, always made her feel welcome, but there was something in his eyes. Like he was scared and confused. She wondered how much Arthur knew about Sabini, whether he knew trouble was coming. But then, she thought, Tommy probably didn't know all that much himself either. It was just her, waiting on the impending attack. Guilt wriggled in her chest.

"I see you've become quite fond of my brother," somebody spoke from behind her, yelling slightly over the roaring noise of the pub.

She turned to see John, her eyes immediately rolling in her head. She hated the way he spoke to her, about her, even whilst she was stood right in front of him.

"You know you shouldn't look so eager to see me. People might start talking."

He smirked as he leaned over the bar and took a bottle of whiskey without so much as a glance from Harry the bartender. In the background, Arthur slurred something loudly to his friends, who cheered in agreement. Whether it was the drink or the heat or the laughter of the men around her, Martha started giggling at John and his cocky smile. As soon as the noise hit her ears, she felt sick, as though she had betrayed her sister. When would this constant state of shame end? When could she laugh and smile again?

She already knew when. Once Josephine was safe. Stupid question to ask - so fucking selfish, she thought, as she knocked back another glass of liquor, hating herself.

"Tommy told me you weren't a whore," he continued, sitting beside Arthur.

Martha narrowed her eyes. "Because my word for it wasn't enough, was it?"

He smirked again, winking at her playfully. "There's giving me your word for it, and then putting a fuckin' gun to my head."

"Shit," she breathed sympathetically. "I am sorry about that, but you did deserve it."

John laughed, looking down at his glass. "Us Shelby's deserve most things we get." A look swirled behind his eyes, the same as Arthur's did this late at night. "But I have to say, not many people point a bullet at my skull and still manage to walk out of the room afterwards."

She swallowed loudly, remembering Tommy's threats. 'If you ever raise a gun to my brother's head, I'll have to put a bullet in yours.' Images of Tommy shooting Sabini's man days ago ricocheted in her mind - he had killed a man so easily. Were John and Arthur the same?  "So how did Tommy convince you that I wasn't a bloody whore?" she asked after a moment of silence.