Vera ; Thomas Shelby

03 ; A horrible date

The next morning, I woke up early enough to catch the sunrise, or what could be seen of it through the smog of Small Heath. My first instinct was to get ready for work, having slipped so far into my usual routine but after a few seconds I remembered that I had finally gotten a day off.

That evening I had planned to meet an awkward Ron Hurtle for drinks in the Garrison, but before that I had a few errands to run. My first stop was to find Polly, in order to borrow a pair of heels that she said would make Ron speechless. I wasn't sure how exactly shoes were going to make that happen, but I needed all the help I could get with my track record.

I left my flat with half a piece of toast stuffed into my mouth, as I walked at a slow pace towards the betting shop. I smiled at all the peaky blinders I came across, even if they didn't always return it only so they didn't start to see me morph slowly into Tommy.

When I arrived at Watery Lane, only Esme was inside controlling the masses of men hoarding around the tables.

"Esme, have you seen Pol'?" I asked, having to raise my voice over everyone else in there.

"She went home, I think." Esme replied, clearly distracted with all her work and I felt bad leaving her to struggle, considering ditching today's plans in order to help her out. But in the end, I thanked her, pushing my way back outside and made my way to find Polly.

Outside her door, I knocked twice before the door swung open and there stood a very drunk Polly, leaning against the door frame with a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

"Vee! Come and have a drink! God knows Tommy works you too hard," Polly shouted for the entire street to hear.

"Hi, Pol'?"

Whilst wondering why Polly was pissed at nine in the morning, I was pulled inside the house and sat down in the parlour in front of another empty bottle of whiskey.

Polly grabbed a teacup and filled it to the brim, her hands wobbling.

"I know I helped you get the job, Vee, but the way my damn nephew treats you-"

"Polly?"

"He works you day and night, expecting you to be at his every beck and call-"

"Polly, really-"

"I'll find you a new job, eh? How about that and-"

"Polly!" I shouted, in a final attempt to silence the rambling woman, which seems to work quite well. "What's going on?"

With those words, this seemed to break the dam holding back all of Polly Gray's emotions.

She told me about how she visited a gypsy, who told her that her daughter was dead and she told me about her children were cruelly taken away from her, all whilst sobs wracked through her frail body.

I sat there, listening to her patiently knowing that if I was Polly, I would have broken down a long time ago.

At the end of her speech, I stood up and rushed towards her to envelope her in a tight hug, in an attempt to comfort her in any way that I could.

"Polly, I am so sorry. You are so strong."

Polly laughed, wiping her tears away from her face. "I'm not strong, Vee. I'm a mess. It's been fucking years now."

"Your children were taken away from you and a part of you was taken with them, Polly. This is grief and it doesn't just expire. So what if it was years ago? You're grieving. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." I told her firmly, releasing her from my grip only to look her properly in the face.

"You're too good for this family, Vera Richards. You're like a bloody angel."

I shook my head, dismissing her words instantly, although used to hearing words of the sort from almost everyone.

"I'm going to sober up, tell me what you came here for." Polly said, returning to her demanding persona.

"Pol', I should stay here with you just-"

"Vee, don't spend your day on me. I need to take a fucking nap." She interrupted me and her tone suggested that I had no other option but to comply with her.

"My date, tonight? Can I borrow your heels?" I asked.

This immediately made Polly perk up, heading to her bedroom and grabbing them.

I thought I looked rather good when I checked my reflection in the mirror for maybe the twentieth time before Ron knocked on my door and picked me up.

It's not that he wasn't nice, but I couldn't hep but pick apart every flaw I found in him. He was attractive enough, but he wasn't striking like Tommy.

Why was I thinking of Tommy?

And geez, Ron could talk. This was coming from me, someone who was constantly told to shut up and quit rambling on. I think I preferred it when I was with someone who didn't talk a lot, so I could constantly fill the silence. Someone like Tommy.

Jesus Christ, Vee! You can't just compare your date to your fucking boss!

In the Garrison, I slowly sipped on my drink and tried to pay attention to Ron's chatter. What was he even going on about?

That's why I considered almost a blessing when a young peaky boy ran into the pub, instantly spotting me and pulling me to the side, much to the dislike of my date.

When I got the news that Tommy had been attacked upon returning to Small Heath, I didn't hesitate to bid Ron a sudden goodbye with a brief explanation  and run towards the hospital.

What had Tommy gotten into?