Chapter Text
Arthur hasn’t seen Tommy since Sabini’s men took him. Polly won’t let him in the house, doesn’t let John and Finn take him to the shipyard anymore- he goes to see Gladys, but her mother hates him, and he gets the feeling Gladys hates him too, the way she looks at him. That’s ridiculous, the girl is retarded, probably doesn’t even know who he is, but he gets an uncomfortable feeling from her.
Today, though, he’s determined to see his little brother. It’s been too long, and Arthur has a right to see him, they’re blood kin. Even if it is his fault, he wants to see him. Before she disappeared like smoke in the wind, the lady of the night who always gave him a different name came to see him, ravishing in an obviously-expensive silk dress, and leaned out his window to light a cigarette.
“You can’t hide from it forever,” she told him, eyes cold. Her eyes were always cold- dead eyes, he thought, but not dead eyes like some women on the street had, like they’d been beaten down and were just waiting to stop breathing. She looked like she’d died a century ago, come back with something dark and ancient where her heart had been. “You’ve been a coward, all this time, crying to me, wanting to hear it’s not your fault, when it is. You held him down, you meant to kill him in your rage.”
Arthur opened his mouth to defend himself, but her gaze held him still and silent. “You were always jealous of him,” she continued, soft, dangerous. “He was smarter than you, more charming, better looking. You resented taking orders from your little brother, you knew it was fair that he take charge, but part of you always hated him for it- the part of yourself you don’t acknowledge, the part of you that smiles to see him so broken. Never going to boss you around again, is he?”
“Don’t-”
“He idolizes you,” she murmured. “Now, I mean. He loved you, before, but now he thinks you’re a genius. That’s what you always wanted, isn’t it, Arthur, for Tommy to look up to you? To need you? Well, you’ve got your darkest wish, and I hope it makes you happy.” She put out her cigarette and turned to leave, hesitating in the doorway. “Did they tell you what Sabini did to him?”
“They barely talk to me,” Arthur whispered. He couldn’t say what color her eyes were, he realized, or really describe anything about her appearance, except to say she was beautiful.
“Sabini raped him,” she said, disgust creeping into her level voice. “He held your baby brother down, and he raped him. Women always loved Tommy, didn’t they? That was another thing you envied. Maybe you’ll be pleased to hear he’s no idea what sex is, now. He couldn’t understand how Sabini hurt him, he’ll never understand. Go find him and see what you’ve done.” Then she vanished, there one second and gone the next, and when Arthur shook himself out of his trance to run after her, she was gone.
So now he’s here, in Polly’s Catholic church he hasn’t set foot in for years, looking for his aunt and his brother, proving to himself he isn’t a coward, he doesn’t take any pleasure in seeing his brother broken. They’re in the very back, as close to the door as possible, and Arthur’s breath catches in his throat when he sees Tommy’s hair. It’s cut the same as it was before, and he can see the awful raised scars on the back of his head, standing out in sharp relief.
The service is almost ended, so Arthur waits, waits until they finally stand to leave and Polly sees him. He sees shock register on her face, then fury, then simple hatred, and she tightens her grip on Tommy’s hand. He’s lost even more weight, but he looks almost like himself with his hair like that- until he, too, notices Arthur and grins, innocent and bright.
“Arthur!” he calls, too loud. Arthur hurries over while Polly hushes him, and several little old ladies gather around, smiling politely and unsubtly positioning themselves between the two brothers.
“Hello, Tommy, good to see you back,” one of them says slowly, waving to get his attention. “And you got a haircut, didn’t you!”
“Oh, you look so handsome,” another coos, ruffling his hair. Tommy pulls away from her, clutches Polly’s sleeve and hides his face in her shoulder.
“He’s shy, I’m sorry,” Polly mumbles. “Since the- he’s a bit stressed, lately.”
“Poor baby.”
“Should you get him home, then?” the oldest lady suggests, shooting Arthur a pointed look.
“Yes, I rather think I should.”
“Pol, wait,” Arthur pleads.
“I’m sorry, sir, do I know you? My nephew is tired,” Polly snaps. “He’s retarded, he gets scared around so many people.”
“Don’t be like this, Pol, come on. I’m your nephew, too, don’t be-”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. I’ve got three nephews, this one here’s the oldest, and I’m taking him home now.”
“You’re new to the church, aren’t you, sir? Let me show you around,” an old lady pipes up, grabbing Arthur’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip and leading him away. He looks back to see Polly coaxing Tommy out, walking slowly and trying to get him to stop clinging so tightly to her arm.
“They cut his hair back the way it was,” Arthur mumbles.
“Suits him quite well,” the old lady says, still pretending to smile. “Mr. Shelby, listen, we certainly appreciate everything your family does for us here in Small Heath, but perhaps… this particular church may not be the best fit for you.”
“I just wanted to see my brother.”
“You boys got in a fight in front of my house, once,” the woman says thoughtfully. “Some huge man, it was you and Tommy. He’d kicked one of the street urchins, and you cut his eyes with the razors in those caps. You gave the boy a coin, but Tommy saw me watching from my open window, he apologized for causing a scene in front of me, with that man still bleeding on the ground behind him. He had a silver tongue, he did, and cold, clever eyes.”
“He was- he was real clever, yeah,” Arthur manages.
“I think you’ve done enough,” the woman says quietly. “Just leave him be. Have a nice day, Mr. Shelby.”