#parentau

"Just a little while longer, peanut." Sungjin answered, slightly turning his head and sporting his best smile.

They have been driving for several hours by now but were still miles away from their destination. When he suggested visiting his mother for the holidays he had already dreaded driving the whole way instead of just taking a quick flight. But to his surprise it was oddly silent. No constant nagging. No annoyed pouting. Nothing. Instead she just sat there and read her book patiently waiting to arrive. She had been terrified of flying ever since she was little so his only option was to drive the six hours himself. But on the plus side he was now able to spend more time alone with her before his mother would snatch away her precious grandchild and dote on her for the rest of the week.   

"How are you holding up, sweetie?" Sungjin asked, focusing back on the road. She wasn’t used to spending this much time in the car since normally his mother would come to visit them in the city. She didn’t answer, which could only mean two things, either she started reading again or something was wrong. He could hear her let out an annoyed huff and quickly turned to her again. She scrunched up her nose and had her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Everything alright?" 

"No, nothing is alright!" 

Sungjin could feel his muscles already tensing again.

"I really do not get how the hero could be this stupid. It was definitely a trap. And he just walked right into it. He can't be serious."

Sungjin let out a small laugh and relaxed. So that’s what she was so upset about.

"Well, maybe he just made them think he fell for it. You never know. Keep me posted, sweetheart"

"I will dad. I hope you're right"

She let her eyes fall back onto the pages that were now illuminated by the warm light inside the car. Sungjin took a look into the rearview mirror and smiled softly. When he saw her sitting like this, crossed legged, her brown hair braided to the side and her glasses slightly sliding down her nose, he couldn't help feel his heart ache.

By now she was the spitting image of her mother. 

His wife had been just a few years older when he’d first met her. He would never forget the day he first saw her in the courtyard of his school, when they’d only been 15 years old. She had been sitting on the grass, deeply immersed in her book, not even looking up when people passed by close to her. Back then he couldn’t help but notice her, his friends desperately trying to get him to talk to her because they thought it was time for his first girlfriend. But Sungjin hadn’t been able to talk to her. He didn’t want to be the one ripping her out of the fictional world she seemed so lost in. Instead he just stole glances at her whenever he could. He was captivated by the way she carelessly laughed when she read something funny, how she turned the pages in a hurry when the suspense was building or how she sat there for a few minutes, leaning against the old willow tree, basking in the sunlight and contemplating what she just read. Each time she passed him in the hallway he tried his hardest not to be too obvious, making it look like he was reading the poster behind her or trying to find a friend. These brief moments gave him a chance to see her up close, to notice the faint freckles on top of her nose, the thin golden necklace around her neck and her small pointed lips.

Weeks went by until he finally mustered up the courage to approach her. But when he did he never would have pictured him being completely smitten with her within a few short moments. He casually asked her about the book she was reading, pretending to be cool while completely freaking out on the inside and she smiled as brightly as he had ever seen someone smile, her eyes starting to glisten as she told him the story of a long lost hero in a far away land. She talked seemingly without taking a breath, her arms wildly gesturing in the air and the joy clearly audible in her voice. The spark in her eyes made him fall for her almost immediately. In the coming days she kept him updated on the book keen to share her experience with someone who was willing to listen even though they’d been strangers back then. He made sure to meet her often, going out of his way to listen to her updates sometimes with hushed voices in the library, sometimes barely understandable while she was wolfing down the cafeteria food and sometimes just straight up ranting about the bad decisions the protagonist made on their way to or from class. Even when he had to go in the opposite direction. When he’d told her about this years later, she’d laughed at him, calling him an idiot before kissing him with so much love and affection that made him forget his embarrassment. 

He had been dead set on asking her out once she finished the book but she had crossed his plans effortlessly when she swung her arms around his neck kissing him in between the shelves of the library one day. It took him a while to comprehend what had happened, her sudden action taking him completely off guard. Without a care in the world she beamed at him as she placed another chaste kiss on his lips. The warmth in her eyes and her bright smile making him feel at home for the first time in forever. He clearly remembered the faint smell of vanilla and old paper on her hair, the green spots in her otherwise hazel eyes, the -

- "Ha! he did it." The triumphant laughter of his daughter made him jump in his seat and cut his reverie short. Good thing he had a death grip on the steering wheel. "Dad, you were right!” She held up her book, making sure he was able to see it in the rearview mirror while pointing at the golden lettering on the green hard cover. “He did it! It was all just an act."

__________ 

­­

“So, how ye plannin’ oan us communicating wae that posh-lot o’ yurs.” Her father enquires, though it sounds increasingly cynical and the day hadn’t even begun.

“The same way we always dae,” the girl explains slipping on her heels then grabbing the keys from the bowl by the front-door. “Hivin’ a booze-up in Alec’s, prayin’ naebody phones the polis oan us. Again.”

“That’s ma lassie, talkin’ like a weegie,” He sounded rather chuffed. “-now that ye areny chasin’ yer man aboot.”

“Oh aye, ‘ve heard it aw before da; ye can tak the wean oot ae Glesga but ye canny tak the Glesga oot the wean.” she teases, naturally slipping into her mother-tongue, a strangely comforting action that unfortunately wasn’t an often occurrence in her own household, due to being heavily outnumbered by the rambunctious Brummies and their lack of interest engaging with phonetic dialect. Michael and Nora had already been through many heated discussions on whether George and Rosie should be learning Scots as a considerable amount of the family spoke nothing but.

She’d managed to get Polly on her side, but he refused to listen. ‘She barely speaks it, nor need it. Why would the kids?’ was his main point of defence but Nora was determined today, would prove him wrong that their children were as much Scottish, Romani, fucking Irish if you wanted to go that far back as they were English. It’d already been pretty successful over the past seventy-two hours. The Englishman was cracking up; lost in a new, decrepit environment hearing strange vocabulary that he just wasn’t used to; she couldn’t lie, it was rather humours.

Michael wasn’t wrong, every day the redhead felt herself drifting further from the upbringing she so dearly missed. The days of waking to the sound of a deflated ball hitting against the bricks followed by muffled cheers from the younger boys living up the landing or the seven o’clock buzz when there’d be a chain of ‘gardyloo’ warnings as she and her older siblings would run to the window, watching the human defecation splash on the concrete. Yes, it was cramped. Yes, it was dirty but there was a sense of community and unlike the rather luxurious bubble she now lived in; Nora as content being one of them.

It was something the Shelby’s could never understand.

Thomas Shelby claimed to be the man of the people, of the working-class populous and it was all a load of shite. The Shelby’s didn’t live in poverty, never did and quite frankly, never would. Tommy clearly hadn’t woken up to the sound of someone shouting that they were about to throw a bucket of faeces out the kitchen window, or even seen some elderly woman toss a sandwich from the top-flat, never shared a bed with four other people for six-years, and hadn’t gone to sleep wondering if tuberculosis would finally steal your last breath because the tenement block was built too close to the others to properly breathe or just by a pair of mothers blethering about how her wean got nits, aff Mrs. Morrison’s boy doonstairs and couldnae play wae him until it wis sorted.

So, this? This was home. Though, as far as the Shelby’s were concerned, it was were scum made their peace.

“An I wis right, wint ah? Wee shite.”

She smiles weakly at the endearing jab but spins to lightly dab at the rouge painted onto her plump lips in the mirror awaiting her sister bringing the children to them so they could all leave. There’s slight part of her that did want Michael by her side but with his cousins and mother newly arriving she couldn’t blame him for jumping with the chance to escape the damp, clatty flat.

“Jist,” Nora sighs, trying to be as diplomatic as possible, “jist be nice, they dinae mean any harm.”

“Ano, but I’m telling ye noo, if they start wae aw that Pikey-patter-“

“Da!”

Colin ignored her protest, continuing on. “Ack, I heard enough ae that crap fae yer mammy an her faimlie, couldnae staun it.”

“Here we go…” Nora murmurs to herself.

“Aw fuckin’ gibberish tae me. Didnae dae her any favours livin’ in Parkheid, did it?”

Glancing at her father’s sudden drop in tone, she can’t help but notice the detest, yet guilt behind his eyes as he looks to the dusty floorboards.

“Every, single, wan ae those neighbours, wouldnae talk tae us fur years because they heard yer mammy wis a gypsy. Thought she wis always gonnae nick somethin’ aff them,” he chuckled darkly, “as if they fuckin had ‘onything, we were efter, aw’us in the same boat; skint an jist wantin’ tae feed our wee-yins.”

His head hung low. “Shunned by the lot, no even a tin a beans on a birthday, nothin’.”

“Then Agnes telt the whole blumin’ street yer ma wis magic because she fixed her sore tummy.”

She snorts at the image of her older sister galivanting her mum’s gift, which were obviously home remedies. “I mean…”

“That’s no funny hen, nearly got us aw killed.”

She took a sharp inhale.

Not remembering much about their time living in the one bedroom flat. Nora was only three when her mother convinced the family to regroup with the Taylor’s for a couple of years, until her father put a definitive foot-down, even so, from what information her siblings did relay, was pretty unpleasant.

Alec used to scare her with nightmarish stories – with varying degrees of accuracy but one had always just stuck, probably because she could vividly remember it; when one of the Billy Boys invaded their home, searching for trouble.

“He knew whit he was daein. Broke yer mammy’s wrist, an skelped yer brother.” Colin clenched his jaw, “fuckin’ had tae slice the bloke in half.”

Nora felt her stomach sink, there was a desire to pry but she could sense an underlying pandora’s box that just wasn’t ready to be forced opened nor did she think, she was ready to hear it. Unnerving as it was, the girl couldn’t help but wonder, perhaps her father wasn’t ashamed? You could hear the adoration in his tone, feeling like a protector. He loved Selina yet loathed her presence because unintentionally, she created a traitor among the community. Problem was, her own subconscious rearing its ugly head. Did Michael feel the same?

The twenty-year-old wasn’t oblivious, she could hear the somewhat brash behaviour hidden in Michael, expect her husband’s was significantly subdued, claiming it to be business related rather than anything personal, when she’d been gingerly forced to scurry out his office once the odd client appeared. “You know they’re all a bit funny with your type, sweetheart.” He’d try reassuring, closing the door. She was confused as to whether he was trying to convince her or himself.

Then, Nora realised. She couldn’t let history repeat itself.

__________

“Michael.” Tommy greeted, entering his cousin’s car, as Charlie babbled to himself in the backseats in Finn’s arms. “Quite a day you’ve chosen.”

The younger rolls his eyes at the sarcastic observation. It was downpouring and he could hear the raindrops pelting against the roof so the quicker he could start the car, the better. “Where’s Ada? Not coming from America?”

“Karl’s got the mumps, didn’t want to risk travelling far but she sends her good wishes Nora and the kids.”

“-and mum?”

Tom raises an eyebrow, lighting the cigarette whilst Michael starts to drive from the station. “With John and Arthur. Claimed it be fucking grand to drive down from the capital.”

“Let’s just hope it they’ve made it in one piece.” He mutters.

“A lot more colour, than what we’re used to.” He bitterly muses, taking a peek at the local pubs and shops they passed by, but most were decaying, and the streets appeared to be vacant.

“It’s a shithole Tommy, don’t think anyone’s bathed in months and the sights you see. They’ve all gone looney.”

“Yeah, well you married one didn’t you.”

Michael rolled his tongue. “Tossed a pile of my own piss out a four-storey window, cleaned the kids in a dirty sink and got woken up by two screaming pensioners arguing about who’s part of the washing-line it was.” He took a breath, “Nora wasn’t joking when she said their family were skint.”

“Scottish folk don’t exactly have an intellectual drive. Start wars over the same fucking god, regardless if he’s real or not.” He takes another drag before continuing. “Not to worry, you’ll be back down south after this is all over.”

“She wants to stay. Move into a bigger house and go back to work.”

“Not happening.”

“Try telling her that.”

“I fucking will.” He warned, “I ain’t losing my best accountant just because some woman wants to deliver kids again.”

“Tom.”

“There’s nothing wrong Birmingham.”

“Nora’s got no work for her to go back to because of us.” Michael groans, he couldn’t spend another day trapped in this sewage-ridden poorland. He knew he sounded like an arrogant prick and Nora would surely tell him off but a least back home he could understand the people shouting at each-other across the roads.

“The courts will allow it; you’ve got blood on your hands; new law says she can take the two and never look back.”

“I don’t want us separated; it could make them targets.”

“Then tell ‘er to wind her fucking neck in.” he scolds, “I swear, Michael you let that one run amuck.”

“It’s not just Nora. Mum wants me to go, if it’ll keep me away from you.”

“After the ceremony I’ll deal with Pol, you just keep an eye on your missus.”

__________ 

The small group push open the double doors, Nora goes first, noticing each Shelby pottered about the small room. George is the first to announce their presence when he rips from his mother’s hand.

“Nana!”

Everyone turns to look, as the redhead quickly runs after her son down the aisle to greet her family.

Polly places George on her hip and began giggling away.

“Oh, look at them all dolled-up, aren’t they cute?”

“Ack, we hid those lyin’ aboot since ma wee-yins were wee.” Agnes commented, gently caressing her niece’s gummy cheek as she gargled in Nora’s arms, referring to the pearly-white outfits.

Polly eyed the woman, attempting to cling onto every word she spoke, having some experience with her daughter in-law’s drunken speech. Though taking the passive route she simply nods along.

“Me an Alec an Nora wur christened in here tae, though that wan had a right whinge, didn’t ye?”

“Aye, probably cause I hid tae listen to yer shite when ma let you push the pram oan the way. ‘Magine crashing a bairn into a fence.”

Nora looked to Polly for input, she shows a sympathetic smile.

“You understood none of that, didn’t you?”

“Sorry love, I’m sure I’ll pick it up eventually.”

“Well, that’s still more than Michael.”

“Speaking of-“

“Picking up Tommy.”

“Of course, he bloody is.”

__________ 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Nora exclaims taking the fag from her lips eyeing up the Shelby boys making their way round the large gate. “Ma da’s ripping his hair out and John looks like he’s gonnae shite himself.”

They’d arrived to a rather relaxed welcome. Esme had already befriended Agnes quite quickly having already met when they were younger and John had gravitated towards Alec, until her brother opened his mouth and the blinder had little understanding of what he was saying. Polly, quickly taking Rosie from her and George began pottering around the parish with his toys allowing her to slip out into the bitter air and escape her dad’s complaints about Michael’s tardiness.

Finn quickly scurries in, Charlie in his arms.

“Calm it love, a’right.”

She scowls at the man taking off his flat cap, who teasingly smiles at her though it seemed significantly more sinister than it appeared. Nora looks to her husband hearing the heavy doors shut behind.

The couple look to one-another, knowing they should be on their way in too.

“Hey, stranger.”

The redhead giggles before slipping into Michael’s warm hold, inhaling the comforting sent of tobacco and a hint of ginger, resting her head on his shoulder and he gave her a quick peck.

“It’s pure Baltic.”

“Nora.”

“Fuck off,” she playfully whines, “it’s freezing, and you’ve got a jacket and all I’ve got it this.”

The crushed velvet dress was nothing compared to his usual cosy trench-coat.

“Tommy’s on edge.”

“When isn’t he? Crabbit bastard.”

“He wants us to stay in Birm-“

“Michael.” She sighs.

“Look. just think about it, that’s all I’m asking.”

“I have. I lost you once, next time it could be for real.” She pauses peering up at him. “Not like he wants to see his bloody god-weans for christsake, have you even told your mum?”

He ignores the enquiry because he clearly hadn’t. “Nora, you know my job is important, so can we just not push this right now?”

“Is your job more important than us, and our wellbeing.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Well prove it.”

Nora raised a brow after seeing his jaw tighten. “Seriously Michael, you haven’t shown so much as one ounce of interest since we’ve been here. I don’t get home often so the least you could do is show a bit of respect.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“Eh naw, am no.” She deadpanned. 

“I’m doing all this shit for you, aren’t I? You think I fucking want my kids anywhere near that shithole, or any church for that matter. I’ve gone two weeks of listening to absolute nonsense for you.”

“You’re an arse, d’yknow that.”

“-and yet you married me sweetheart.”

She scoffs, “I don’t remember marrying Tommy Shelby’s lapdog.”

She stares him down before getting back on topic.

“So, what Michael? They’re christened. Big-fucking-whoop, who says we have to go back? This is fur ma da. No, me. But unlike the hoose of god or whatever pish. This is their home just as much as Small Heath is and yet you can’t accept that, which is what I want.”

He remains silent, but Nora can see him gritting his teeth.