"even when she was lying, there was a certain truth she always told"
A pretty girl, a deal gone wrong, an ultimatum, and a death...
Another average week for the Peaky Blinders.
[T. Shelby]
[Under Editing]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Polly and Thalia left the church just before sunrise, both women wrapped up in as many garments as they could find, partly to protect from the strikingly cold wind but mostly to conceal Thalia from any prying eyes that might happen upon them even despite their early morning departure. It had been several hours since Thalia had slipped out of her bedroom window, and Théo would soon check in on her, only to find the room empty and her bed cold. With his deal to expand his arms dealing empire (how bitter in her mouth the word "his" tasted when the company was theirs, had always been theirs) hinging upon her participation, he'd be on the hunt for Thalia as soon as realized that she was gone.
"Keep your head low, love," Polly reminded her, looping her left arm through Thalia's right one. "We don't know who's watching."
"Do not worry," Thalia said with a small smile that she knew Polly could not see, as it was hidden beneath her heavy cowl, "I am not unused to slipping by unnoticed."
Polly gave her a knowing look, one Thalia assumed she'd would have to get used to, what with Polly knowing about her less than perfect past and with—run away.
The instinct are at her. Would Thalia even stay long enough to get used to Polly before she ran away from all of her problems again? When the dust settled and the sun rose on her third morning would she still be in Birmingham, still be in England, even?
Would Tommy still want her, after she told him her truth, after she she'd her skin—run away, run away, run away— and bared the most horrible, most honest, most human parts of herself?
Thalia took in a deep, controlled breath, staggering along with Polly in the dark like a fugitive fleeing the fight of her hometown, and forced herself to focus on what she could control in the moment. She needn't spend hours agonizing over what would come. Thalia had no reason to doubt Tommy's loyalty to her. Thalia knew he cared for her. She hoped she did not stretch that admiration past the point of breaking, but she was prepared for the strain that bending it would take.
When they reached the gambling den, Polly banged on the door with a surprising strength. The noise, cutting through the silence of the cold morning air, seemed louder than it should have realistically been. Polly waited a moment and then, with an open palm and a scowl, knocked on the door again.
"Oh, you idiot boys," she muttered, more to herself than to Thalia, "surely one of you is awake."
As if summoned by Polly's words (or, more likely, by the absolute racket she was making), the sound of footsteps clomping towards the door echoed out to them. The door was wrenched open. Thalia stared up from beneath her hood, and she smiled once again.
