Shelby Siblings | T.S · Y/n story by @littlerose

The morning air in Small Heath was thick with coal smoke and the distant clang of factory bells. It settled over Watery Lane like a gray blanket, muffling the shouts from the betting shop next door.

Polly Gray

setting a cup down on the table Your father’s been at the Garrison since five. Says the Italians are getting bold again.

James Shelby

leaning against the doorframe, rolling a cigarette Let them get bold. We’ll remind them what bold costs.

Polly Gray

Mind your tone, James. Not at my table. Where’s your sister?

James Shelby

Upstairs. Still.

Polly Gray

Go and fetch her, then. The day’s wasting, and Tommy wants the family at the shop by ten.

Before James could move, heavy boots sounded on the cobbles outside. The front door swung open without a knock, bringing in a draft of cold air and the scent of horse and tobacco.

Arthur Shelby

stomping snow off his boots, his face ruddy from the cold Alright, Pol? Where’s my little rose?