When The Boys Are Away

Part 78

Driving back into Small Heath was the most surreal experience, yet nobody felt very optimistic. Emmie was fast asleep in Polly's lap, having struggled to get any rest on the ferry. Harlow glared out the window anxiously, never taking her eyes off the road the entire way back from the docks.  

It was weirdly quiet for their usually bustling town. The streets were soundless, yet just as dirty as when they had left. Jay said they were going back to Watery Lane, that would be the safest place given that they had men all throughout the surrounding areas to protect them. 

When they finally pulled up in the garages beside The Garrison, Harlow's heart was in her mouth. She wanted nothing more than to be back in Canada, shielded from this world that she had so desperately tried to forget. But that wasn't realistic. In Small Heath, if you faltered; you died. 

"We're going to go straight to the betting shop, Polly still has a key. Stay off the streets until we find out what is going on." Jay declared, squeezing Lizzie's hand as he looked around the car. Harlow felt sick to her stomach, but nodded in agreement nonetheless, refusing to fully meet her brother's eyes. There was a tense silence as Jay tucked something under his coat, the easy assumption to make was that it was a gun. It still didn't make anyone feel any better. 

Lizzie took her sleeping daughter into arms from Polly's lap, careful to keep her head still to ensure she stayed resting. Polly tucked Emmie's coat around her, not wanting the cold air to give her a chill. As Harlow jumped out the car, following Michael, she noticed Jay had appeared at her side. 

"Are you armed?" He mumbled close to her ear, waiting for the slightest nod or shake of the head. It was the latter. 

"Do you want to be?" Jay questioned quietly, insinuating that he had multiple weapons on him. Harlow wasn't shocked in the slightest, but she truly believed no weapons gave them a chance against the Italian mafia. Someone had bitten off more than they could chew, and now they all had to face the consequences. 

To his surprise, Harlow shook her head, causing him to furrow his eyebrows. "Let's just get inside first, then we'll start dishing out weapons." She responded with a reassuring glance. The garage was feeling more claustrophobic by the second, she needed some avail. 

"Okay, let's go." Jay led, falling into step beside his wife and Polly, keeping one hand close under his jacket. Michael and Harlow followed reluctantly. This was far from what they wanted.  

"Everything will be fine." Michael muttered under his breath, and Harlow was sure it was more for his own reassurance than hers. Warmly, he grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly to confirm his statement. After all, what was the worst that could happen? 

***

"Let's just hope nobody has changed the locks." Polly addressed the potential issue that nobody had thought to consider. Death, guns and gangs had been on their mind all morning, but nobody thought about the practical aspects of their return. 

As she twisted the key in the latch, she breathed a sigh of relief when the loud click was heard. Jay placed a hand on the older woman's shoulder, instructing that he would go first. This was somewhere they once called home, now it felt foreign to them. 

The door creaked open in an eerie manner, Lizzie kept her arms tightly wrapped around her daughter. She didn't want this life for her, that was the reason they'd gone away. 

The betting room was dark, the windows had been blacked out with what Harlow assumed were sheets; it was too dark to confirm anything. 

"Say something." Lizzie urged her husband in a barely audible voice. He took a step forward obediently, but before he could open his mouth, a barrage of footsteps could be heard.