In Small Heath | Peaky Blinders

nineteen; in floods they come

The Shelby brothers returned from France, in stages, gradually throughout most of the first third of the new year.

They were all going to return to Small Heath, but it wasn't exactly like how they had left it. People moved, passed away or became vacant in the absence of their partners, brothers, fathers, sons- the war tore away many people's sense of hope and belief, but not Polly Grey.

As the 1/1st Royal Warwickshire Regiment returned, met by loud cheering in the Birmingham train station. The Shelby family patiently waited until they saw Arthur un-board the train with his hat between his arm and a wide grin glued onto his face. Finn, the youngest of all the Shelby's, was just happy that he no longer had to be surrounded by women. Ada was just happy she had one less person to worry about on her ever growing list of things to stress about, though she'd never admit it.

"I missed this shitehole of a place." Arthur's first proper words were, spoken loudly and with all of his chest.

After being scalded by his aunt Pol, he decided that the war would only have the affects on him that he allowed and that was rather philosophical of him to think. It could've been the Tokyo- or maybe the alcohol, but he'd try and stand by that, until death tore him from it.

The pout that grew on Finns face was almost able to rival that of a sad dog. Almost.

"I'm sure your brother missed you, Finn, he just needs to get used to it all again." Ada whispered to little Finn who was sad that Arthur hadn't verbally said that he'd missed him.

A small smile began to regrow, helped more so by the army hat placed upon his head by the eldest Shelby boy.

It was good to have one home, but Polly knew in her heart that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The boyish twinkle of mischief that Finn had, had almost vanished from Arthur - as if it had been swapped out by a look of vacancy.

Polly was glad that God had answered at least one of her prayers for Arthur, the most important one, but not the one that Polly might've taken priority with; after all, they were of Gypsy Royalty. That gave them an edge, a better chance; in Polly's mind, anyhow.

However, he had no news of his brothers; which only made Polly worry. He was fine; physically, though he seemed to spend his first week in the whore house with a bottle of rum in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other and a common whore on his dick.

Nothing for Arthur had changed; yet, anyway.

Anxiousness didn't seem to float over Arthur, not like it did with the others. He knew in his gut that his brothers would come home, and the excitement all but grew when the news of the next wave of  soldiers passed through the household.

He'd been making bets with the lads he went to France with, that the next lot would contain a Shelby. Sure, it wasn't the most meaningful bet to make, there were three other regiments that contained a Shelby but that didn't stop him. He'd placed a crown that it'd be Tommy next, and half a crown for Bash, but he'd heard through the grapevine that they weren't shipping people back in any particular order.

Maybe he should've bet on John first, eldest then youngest — then the other two could fight it out to see who's last. That would've made more sense.

The second to return was Thomas, who looked as glum as he did on the day that he left. Polly knew that he had become a tunneller quite early on during his time at war, closest to the action and the opposition but she was just happy to see him walk off of that train without help and with himself fully intact.

When he saw Finn for the first time, was the only time Polly and Ada both saw him do something he had done before the war. The smile was small, but real, and it was all that they could've hoped for.