A Respectable Neighbourhood

I never planned to lead the life I have. Never intended to end up on the streets working corners, eventually ending up under the ‘protection’ of Richard. I’d never intended to rob the place and flee to Birmingham either, but sometimes life takes turns no-one expects. And it had continued that way when I met Michael Gray, married him and shut my old life firmly behind bolted doors never to be thought of again.

At least, that’s what I had intended until Richard appears on my doorstep, dressed dashingly enough that his seedy personality and profession would seem unbelievable if you knew no better.

“Evening lovely,” he says with a smile, removing his hat and slicking his dark hair back as he takes advantage of my shock and pushes through the front door. “Been a long time,” he continues, making his way through my house and into the living room. “Oh well this is just fate ain’t it lovely? Jane’s here as well!” Richard walks over to Jane who sits, as bewildered as I am, in the high backed armchair. “Saves me an extra journey. Cracking. Now move,” he orders, gesturing for Jane to evacuate her chair.

“Jane, don’t-“ I start, but the habitual need to follow Richard’s orders, the fear he spent months instilling into our psyche, is still strong enough that she shoots out of her chair and across the room before the words even leave my mouth.

“No need to be like that lovely, I bet she’s ‘ere all the time, being married to a Peaky lad, I’m a guest ain’t I? And I’m getting on a bit, you won’t begrudge me the comfy chair will you Jane?”

She shakes her head, face pale as she wrings her hands nervously in her lap.

“You’re not a guest Richard. Don’t think you can get comfy here, Michael will be back soon,” I say, placing a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder. This is my house and despite the churning in my stomach, the wrenching of nerves and fear, I need to at least paint a strong and commanding exterior.

“Ahhh Michael.” Richard plucks a folded piece of paper from his jacket and flicks it between his fingers. “Is he a Mike? Or a Mick? Maybe a Mickey with that baby face-“

“Why are you here Richard?” I interrupt, eyes never leaving the paper now gripped in his fist.

“You know, I did you a lot of favours lovely. And you can’t say I didn’t,” he adds quickly, catching the twitch of an argument on my lips. “I took you in when you were nothing, when you were vermin crawling the streets and I gave you shelter, food, a clean change of clothes, steady income and protection. I transformed you. And you-“ he points to Jane, leaning forward to glare at us, “don’t even get me started on what I did for you. But what did I get for all that, lovely? Ay? Well you fucking robbed me didn’t you?”

“I earned that-“

“Earned,” Richard scoffs. “Earned by arse, all you ever had to do was lie on your back and suck a few dicks, you’re lucky you got everything you did.” He waves his hand and reclines in the chair, the folded paper reappears between his fingers. “Forget all that, you robbed me of much more than you were entitled to even by your workings didn’t you? But what did I do when I found out? I let you go with it, as a favour to my favourite girl. And now…”

“What do you think you’re doing?” I shout, whirling round ready to scream at the intruder. But I think better of it when I realise it’s Polly Gray.

Although we’ve never officially met, Polly is someone you recognise if you have any dealings in Small Heath.

“What do I think I’m doing?” she echos, a devilish smile tugging at the corners of her lips upward. “That’s rich coming from you, you whore.”

In all this time I’ve managed to avoid an outright confrontation such as this. Snide remarks whispered behind my back as I walk through the street, a general look of disdain, of course, but never someone so blatantly calling me out to my face. It seems fitting that it’s Michael’s mother who breaks that.

“I hope you realise what you’ve done, the upset you’ve caused Michael,” she adds, calmly and slowly. Much the same way Michael speaks when he’s trying to intimidate someone.

“The way he spoke to me the other night gave me some indication, yes.”

“I could have told him straight away, I’d have known as soon as I laid eyes on you,” she continues without even registering my reply. “Nothing good comes from lying and deceiving people, but I suppose this-“ she waves around the dilapidated flat, “is comumpence enough.”

I ignore the blatant hypocrisy in her statement.

“I know. I should have told Michael I was married from the start.”

“But what gets me is that even after all the trouble you made for yourself, you’re straight into the arms of another bloke-“

I splutter out a laugh at her assumption. The same one Michael jumped to the other night. They even have the same look of crippling disappointment on their face.

“I appreciate that Michael is your son and it must be difficult to see him upset, knowing that I’m the reason for it, but I’m not in a relationship with the man Michael saw me with, which he’d have known had he given me even a second to explain myself. I-“

“So he can listen to your lies some more? Not a chance.”

“I’m not lying! I’ve never lied to Michael!” Her eyebrows flick higher and I’m sure she’s calculating a scathing remark to put her back on her high horse, but I don’t give her chance to voice it. “I may not have expressly told him every detail about my life, but believe me when I say that to begin with, Michael wouldn’t have given a shit that I was married.”

“You’re no good. I wish I’d have known about you from the start then I could have fixed this before he got hurt. I think it would be in your best interest to leave the city.”

I know this trick: not an outright threat but the promise of harm hangs heavy over her words. Nevertheless, Polly Gray and the Peaky Blinders don’t scare me. Perhaps they should, perhaps Polly may even have a point, a fresh start could fix everything. But I’m too stubborn and I know too much about the Shelby business for it to be clever for them to threaten or harm me.

“I’ve lived here my entire life. My family have lived in Birmingham for generations, which is more than you can say. I’m not going anywhere. I made a choice and it was the wrong one, now I have deal with that. Because that’s what you have to do in life, you have to deal with the consequences of your actions. Although, I’m sure it’s safe to say Michael’s not facing as much backlash as this is he?”

“Michael’s not the one who’s been having an affair and then-“

“I’ve said I’m sorry! I know that not telling Michael was the wrong thing to do, it was deceitful and it hurt him and if I knew the way I’d end up feeling about him, and the way he felt about me, I would have told him straight away!”

“Well that’s lovely, but actions speak louder than words and your actions are less than savoury,” Polly snaps back.

“The bloke Michael saw me with isn’t someone I’m stepping out with-“

“If it’s money you need to leave just tell me how much,” Polly interrupts.

“I don’t need money, because I’m not leaving, because I’ve. Done. Nothing. Wrong.”

Polly chuckles. “Perhaps you should try speaking-“

“You’re not listening to me! Have you even listened to a word I’ve said?”

“I have-“

“No! You stop talking now! You barged your way into my home, throwing abuse and accusations at me without giving me even the slightest chance to explain myself! Gray, Shelby, whatever you are be damned, you will listen to me.” I take a step towards her, emboldened by weeks of near solitude and exile. “I made a mistake that I’m paying for. I’ve apologised as much as Michael will allow me to, and if I could go back and do it all again, I certainly wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. But Michael is far from innocent and, most importantly, THE MAN MICHAEL SAW ME WITH WAS MY BROTHER!”

As my angry words register with her, a wave of emotions flit across her face; confusion, realisation, embarrassment, until she regained control of her features and sets her mouth back in a straight line.

“You want his address? Here, I’ll write it down for you,” I add, smug that I finally have the upper hand as I scrawl his street and house number onto a scrap piece of paper. “Maybe you can send some of your goons round, give him a good questioning. Or, perhaps I could give you my mum's address and she can-“

“That’s enough,” Polly says, snatching the piece of paper from me.

“Then get out,” I order, exhausted with the flurry of emotions Polly’s presence has elicited.

She listens, however, and barges past me towards the door, pocketing the scrap of paper as she goes. In the quiet she leaves, my emotions overtake me and I collapse into bed.

I hear nothing more from Polly, nor anyone else for the next few days, so when a tentative knock sounds on my door I practically hurl myself across the room to answer it.

“Hello.”

“Michael,” I reply, barely believing the sight before my eyes.

“Can I come in?” he asks after a few seconds of heavy silence and I step aside. He glances around the meagre flat, his hat balled in his fists, until I gesture to the sofa and he takes a seat on the edge of the cushion. “I owe you an apology,” he says, pausing as he awaits a response.

I stay silent and standing, watching as his gaze flits everywhere but me.

“The way I handled things wasn’t… I should have… there were much better ways I could have reacted,” he settles on finally. “You’ve had a lot to deal with, some of which I could have stopped and none of which you deserved, so I’m sorry that I let that happen. Since I spoke to my mum I’ve been trying to smooth some things over so you can go back to your normal life.” There’s a strain to his voice that I can’t place. Somewhere between anger and upset. Every word he speaks seems to weigh on him until he can’t even lift his eyes from the floor.

“I appreciate you coming here to apologise, and for trying to help me out. But it’s my own burden to bear, I should have been honest with you from the start. In fact I should never have even been with you, I was married, I shouldn’t have been so selfish. I should have been a better-”

“Don’t say that,” Michael interrupts. “Don’t even finish that sentence.” He runs a hand through his hair and shoots up from his seat like he’s about to take my hands before he catches himself and stops. “Look, I’ve been asking around, talking to some people and they’ve told me about your life, stuff that I didn’t know, that I didn’t even consider when I kicked you out. After everything you did for me, you deserved better than the way I acted and you deserved better than the way he treated you. I’m sorry.” The rehearsed words tumble from his mouth, hurried as if he’s worried they’ll escape him if he doesn’t get them out.

“Michael-“

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right now, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for hurting you…” He finally looks at me, his eyes glossy, and takes one of my hands in his, rubbing soft circles across it with his thumb.“Just give me a bit of time, a chance to make everything right, because I will. I promise I will.”  

“You don’t have to do that Michael.”