peaky blinders imagines

your mother's pearls; michael gray

A crusted old mascara wand, one you thought you might have bought even before you met Michael, sat on the dresser next to your gramophone. It was playing an old jazz record that skipped every few seconds, so it sounded more like saxophone hiccups than anything else. A pearl necklace was halfway off the side, having lain there since you threw it in frustration. You were to be married in three hours, and you had never felt more confused about the woman you saw in the reflection. The dress was lovely, the shoes were comfortable, and Ada had braided and pinned your hair to perfection.
Something was missing. Maybe it was that you were so alone on your wedding day; Ada had bustled away an hour ago to get herself ready, and you were left to do your makeup and get dressed yourself. That wasn't how it was supposed to be, but your family had dispersed to different corners of the world years ago, and so here you were, in a drafty upper room of Polly and Michael's house, with wooden walls, a painting of a young boy with a pipe, and a window that wouldn't close no matter how much force you exerted upon it.
A knock sounded on the door, startling you out of your melancholy.
"It's me, love," Polly said. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," you told her, swallowing hard.
Your attempts to look calm were fruitless. She saw through you right away, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and asking what was wrong.
"Something's missing," you told her in frustration. "I don't know what, but I keep looking in the mirror and something is definitely missing."
To her credit, she didn't immediately call you an emotional fool, meeting your eyes in the mirror and looking you up and down.
"Well, Michael would think you were beautiful if you cut holes in a flour bag and wore it, you know that. But I think I may be psychic or something, because I came up here to give you something."
She reached her hand into a pocket on the side of her cardigan and pulled out a small, ornate box. It was a deep blue, and you imagined the sides were gold-lined at one point, but it was so faded from age the varnish was barely visible.
"Go on, open it," Polly urged.
It was a necklace. It took your breath away, dripping with pearls and diamonds, and you had to squeeze your fists together so you didn't lunge at Polly and hug her to death.
"C'mon, you lovely bride, let's put this on."
"Polly, thank you s-"
"Shh, love, let me tell you a story," she admonished, clasping the jewelry around your neck. "I was about your age when I got married, and somehow, in all the festivities, they forgot about the bride and I nearly had to walk down the aisle alone. But my husband's mother found me, God rest her soul, and gave me a pair of her old earrings, and told me she couldn't have found a better bride for her son if she'd ordered me out of a catalog."
"Is this-?" You were suddenly breathless.
"Yes, love, it was mine, and it's yours now."
She gave you a kiss on the cheek, and gestured to the mirror. You were too overcome with emotion to say anything, but you nodded frantically, and she knew whatever pre-wedding jitters you had were gone.
"He loves you, my Michael."
"I know, Polly."
"He didn't shut up about you for the first month you were together, and I was dreading meeting you because I was so afraid I'd hate you. But I loved you like a daughter from the day I met you, lovely beautiful bride you, and I knew you were it for him."
She stopped for a moment, and ran her hand down your arm in a comforting motion, looking off to the side as she searched for words.
"I'm not much for metaphors. I'm a Shelby woman, Christ almighty, but that boy looks at you like you put the bloody stars in the sky or summat. So you go out there and you marry the hell out of him, you hear me?"
"Yes ma'am," you told her, smiling so hard you could barely breathe from the joy of it all.
"I love him too, Polly."
"Oh, sweetheart, I know."