Chapter Seven
"What the fuck is going on?"

Arabella stood between Mason and John, fingertips skimming over the material of her dress as she took in her surroundings.

It was the day of the Epsom derby, and Arabella would be lying if she said she hadn't been enjoying herself even a little – though, she had made a conscious effort not to let her guard down too much.

She'd never been to anything like the races before, and was indeed always rather fascinated by horses. Everybody at the event was dressed in their best attire, boasting some of their most expensive suits or dresses. Arabella had felt a little self conscious at the start, having never dressed up so much for such an event. She'd even tied her hair back into a formal, and very complicated, up-do, decorating it with some dainty sparkly clips. The air had been nipping at the exposed skin on her neck all day though, and she wondered if she'd regret not bringing a coat when the cool evening air inevitably came.

"Keep looking at her like that and I'll make sure you can't have anymore bloody kids," Arabella heard Mason hiss at John as they headed towards the bar. She bit back a smirk, very aware of the attention she'd been getting from men all day. At first, she had been a little uncomfortable, especially by the ages of some of them, but she soon began to feel a lot more confident.

"I'd like to see you bloody try," John retorted back with a grin, causing a playful scuffle to break out between the two boys. Arabella rolled her eyes at their antics, walking a few steps behind Arthur, who she noticed had been very tense the entire day.

"You doin' alright?" Arthur asked suddenly, glancing round at Arabella.

"Great," she assured with a small smile, as he slowed slightly to fall into step with her.

"If anything feels even remotely off, you say something , all right?" He told her. Arabella nodded her head in response. "Good girl."

"Oi, Bells!" John called out, arm slung around Mason's shoulder, prompting her and Arthur to catch up to them. "What you drinkin'?"

"Gin and tonic, please," she responded, avoiding her brother's eyes at all cost, though she knew he was staring straight at her. Even though it had been a little over a week since their argument, the siblings were still not on the best of terms.

"John boy," Arthur began. "Why don't you and I go and get some seats and let these two get the drinks?"

"Yeah, all right," John shrugged, as Arabella quietly cursed, assuming the eldest Shelby brother was trying to get the Newell's back on good terms. Arabella and Mason watched as the Shelby brothers left, neither saying a word to the other as they both silently decided to head to the bar.

Mason slapped a few coins down on the counter, ordering their drinks, whilst Arabella checked over her appearance in the reflection of the counter, fussing with her white hat.

"You look nice," Mason commented, hugely aware of the attention his little sister had been getting all day. One more stare from John and he was one hundred percent going to be following through on his earlier threat.

Arabella heard her brother loud and clear, but did not respond, attention still focused on angling her hat. The siblings had barely said two words to each other in over a week, albeit, mostly because they'd been avoiding each other, but there was no avoiding today, as much as either of them wanted to.

"Really gonna be like that, eh?" He asked, as Arabella pursed her lips, turning to face him as the barman placed their drinks on the counter.

"What do you want me to say?"

"A simple thank you would suffice," he retorted back coldly.

Arabella scoffed, watching as he picked up his drink from the bar and brought it to his lips. "Yeah, and a simple apology from you would suffice too."

"I already bloody apologised," he snapped, slamming his glass down on the counter. He spared a glance around him, aware of the volume of his voice. His eyes shifted back to Arabella. "Look, we both said things we didn't mean the other day."

"Oh, I meant it," she told him, tilting her head back as she finished her drink in one gulp. She placed her glass back on the table, eyes watering slightly from strength of the burning sensation. Arabella waved over the bartender. "Another gin please."

"Trying to drink yourself under the table again?" Mason asked bitterly. "Yeah, Tommy told me all about how he found you at the Garrison last week."

"Don't be such an arse," she muttered. The barman slid another drink over to her and she took it gratefully, placing the money down on the counter. "Thanks."

"Heard Tom offered you a job," Mason started again, turning his body to face her. Arabella remained silent. "Presuming you said no."

"Course I did," she answered shortly.

"Un-fucking believable," he muttered. "You know, if you weren't so bloody stubborn, you might realise he's offering you a good opportunity," he spoke in a cutting tone, as Arabella lazily ran her finger over the rim of her glass, knowing it would annoy him even more if he thought she wasn't paying attention to him. "It'd sort your money worries, that's for sure. And you wouldn't have to keep working at the Garrison. Bloody hate that you work there." He looked up at her, having gained no response. "Are you even fucking listening to me?"

"I don't mind the Garrison," she replied, eyes narrowing. "At least it's legit."

Mason exhaled heavily, taking a long gulp of his drink. "I wish you'd think more about it. I know you've got this bloody pride thing–" Arabella scoffed, cutting him off momentarily. "–But Tommy wouldn't offer a job like that to just anyone, he sees something in you."

Arabella, having no valid answer, picked up her drink again. Mason studied her for a few moments, hating how much of a wedge had been driven between him and his sister. He knew it was going to take a long time to get past the stubborn barrier she had put up, and she was never going to make the first move.

"We should get these drinks back," she eventually replied, moving away from the bar.

"Look," Mason started as he followed her, both siblings heading to find the Shelby's, drinks in both their hands. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Peter Morrow. I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong to do that."

Arabella slowed her pace, almost about to double over in shock. Mason had apologised, properly apologised, and admitted he was wrong.

"And I'm sorry I called you a bitch."

Arabella's lips tugged, a smile forcing its way into her face. "You weren't completely wrong on that one," she said, turning to look at him. "I'm sorry for being a bitch."

"You had a right," he told her, watching her closely as her eyes locked on John as Arthur at a table in the distance. It looked as if Lizzie had just joined them too. "Arabella," Mason said as he bumped her shoulder with his, the two of them coming to a stop. She followed suit, eyes flickering back to him curiously. "What I said about dad, I didn't mean it. I– I loved him, yes, and I know everything he did, with the business, with Tommy, with everything, he did it for us. But he wasn't always there, you know, in the head, and after the war–" he shook his head, swallowing thickly. "He lost himself after the war. And I'm sorry, that I wasn't there for you the way I should have been after that."

"Mase–"

He lifted a hand up, almost spilling his drink. "I wanted to be like him. I've always wanted to be like him. I just didn't have the brain or...or the determination that he had to be a business man, so I joined the Blinders, because I thought– I thought that it would make him proud," he explained to her. "He was always in talks with Tommy, they worked together, so I joined the gang, because that's the closest I could get to being the son he wanted me to be."

"Hey," Arabella said softly, meeting his golden brown eyes. "He was always proud of you. Always."

"What would he say now, huh?" He shrugged, his jaw tensing. "After the way I've treated you. The way I left you to grieve all by yourself. And I just worked, and worked, and worked, and left you alone in that house– that empty fucking house that's too big for the both of us, and I–"

Arabella placed the drinks down on an empty nearby table, moving carefully to take the glasses out of Mason's hands, and place them down too. He breathed in deeply, his head turned away from her, not wanting her to see the tears in his eyes.

Arabella gently reached out to touch his shoulder. "You worked, so that we could have money. So that we wouldn't starve, so that we had everything we needed," she placed her hand on his other shoulder, stepping round to face him fully. He still wouldn't meet her eyes. "I wasn't alone, you know. I wasn't. Because if I was alone, I wouldn't be standing here right now...I wouldn't have made it without you. I still won't," she moved her hand to his cheek, and he slowly turned his head. Arabella sighed heavily at the aching look in his eyes. "You're my big brother, and I love you."

Mason lowered his head for a moment. "I love you too, Bells."

Arabella wrapped her arms tightly around him, and he wasted no time in holding her either, both siblings relieved to be back in each other's arms, the place they both felt safest. Together, they felt like they could make it through anything. Together, they knew everything was going to be okay.

The two of them pulled away, smiling weakly at each other, tears unmistakably pooling in their eyes. But, by the time they'd grabbed the drinks and headed to John and Arthur's table, there was no evidence whatsoever of the tender and emotional moment they'd shared.

"'Bout bloody time," John said, taking his whiskey from Arabella's hands.

"Thanks Arabella, oh, you're welcome, John," Arabella muttered sarcastically, taking a seat beside him.

"You two alright?" Arthur asked, glancing between the Newell siblings. He'd kept an eye on them the majority of the time, but didn't want to intrude too much as they seemed to be reconciling.

The truth was, there had been no word on Morrow and his men lately. The decision to bring Arabella with them to the races was Mason's idea, as he knew his sister would be safer surrounded by the strongest of the Peaky Blinders. Truthfully, neither the Epsom Derby or Small Heath were any safer than the other, with a threat constantly lurking around the corner.

Small Heath was protected heavily, but there were still ways Peter Morrow could slip in whilst they were away. And although there were men specifically on look out for Morrow and his men during the derby, with the place being a much more open target, there was still a lot going on with the assassination, with Sabini, that Tommy, Arthur, John and Mason could easily become distracted, and things could go sideways.

But, Mason felt more comfortable knowing he could protect Arabella if she was with him, and, if the worst case scenario did happen, knowing he might have the chance to give his life to spare hers.

Arabella titled her head, looking up at her brother with a small smile. "We're good," she replied.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Mason said, placing a hand on Arabella's shoulder momentarily. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she assured, taking a sip of her drink. She caught Lizzie's eyes over the table, and the woman smiled warmly at her.

"Make sure one of the boys is watchin' you," Arthur said, nodding over in the direction of a few Peaky men dotted around nearby. "Not watchin' you have a piss, obviously, but–"

"I'll be all right, Arthur," Mason chuckled, sharing a laugh with John, who was shaking his head with a grin of amusement. Arabella smiled at Arthur, appreciative of how careful he was being. "I'll be back in a bit."

Mason left the four of them at the table, and John and Lizzie quickly engaged in conversation, so Arabella turned to Arthur.

"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate you watching out for us."

"Tommy's orders," Arthur shrugged, though, in all honesty, he was keeping on high alert for his own reasons too. He'd known Mason for a long time because of his friendship with John, and his eventual joining of the Peaky Blinders. He cared for him, almost like a brother; and despite not knowing Arabella closely, he had still known her for a long time, he'd seen her grow up, and he didn't want any harm to come to her either.

"Well, still, thanks anyway," she smiled.

"Oi, Bells, have you met Lizzie?" John asked.

"Not properly, I don't think," Arabella answered, offering the woman a smile. "I'm Arabella, Mason's sister."

"Nice to meet you," she responded. "I've heard a lot about you."

Arabella raised her eyebrows, looking to John. "Good things I hope."

Lizzie chuckled. "Great things, I promise."

Arabella sat back in her chair, wondering what stories John had decided to tell people, but her thoughts were soon interrupted by Arthur. "What's the fuck is going on?" Arabella snapped her head up, watching as Arthur turned in his chair, whole body tensing. "Where have our bloody men gone?"

The others followed his eyes, all scanning the surrounding area momentarily, Arabella taking a few seconds longer to actually locate the commotion, but when she did, she could have sworn her heart stopped.

"Mason Newell?" A dark haired man asked as he approached the eldest Newell sibling. He wore a sharp black suit with a red tie, and he kept his hands in his trouser pockets as he sauntered over.

Mason frowned, his head a little hazy from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed throughout the day. "Who's asking?"

A gun cocked loudly behind Mason, and he slowly turned around, coming face to face with someone he recognised all too well.

He was tall, taller than Mason expected, with olive skin and thick, dark hair. His angular face wore a tense, stony expression, his almost black eyes wild, and burning with a raging hatred. Mason's eyes were drawn to a thin scar running from underneath the man's eye to his nose

Arthur and John were both up in a flash, Arabella a few seconds behind, the men furiously reaching for their guns. Aside from the beat of Mason's heart, no other muscle would move, and all he could do was watch Peter Morrow's finger inch towards the trigger.

"Peter Morrow," the man answered with a crooked smile. His eyes darkened, there was nothing behind them anymore. "My father sends his regards."

Desperate shouts filled the air, but the sounds soon became as if they were underwater, time slowing as Peter Morrow pressed down on the trigger. The bullet sliced through the air with a loud bang, and Mason Newell fell to the ground.

Arabella's world stopped and fell into a stunned silence. But that silence was soon broken by a shattering scream.

"No!"

Arabella lunged forwards, and John instantly flung his arms around her waist, tugging her back as she screamed out for her brother.

Arthur turned around, blocking Arabella's way forward as she flung her arms out, trying to claw out of John's grip.

She could hear the Shelby boys shouting her name, but the sounds became dulled by the noise of the sobs wracking through her entire body.

Arabella's shoulders shook violently as each wave of emotion hit her her mercilessly, the strength eventually leaving her legs. She sank to her knees, ignoring the pain as they dug into the uneven ground.

John went to steady her, but gave in, dropping down beside her, feeling the girl's whole body tremble in his arms.

"John!" Arthur shouted loudly at his brother, who had suddenly been hit by his own forceful wave of shock. "John! Get her out of here! Get her out of here, now!"

The desperation in Arthur's voice was heard by both of them, but Arabella remained unmoved. There was nothing left, nobody left, no reason to move.

"John!" Arthur snapped, seeming to snap his brother back into action suddenly. "Get her out of here before they come back! Come on John, you gotta go!"

As Arthur left to stop Morrow from fleeing, John slowly released his grip on Arabella, shuffling around so that he could face her. And when he did, he could feel a part of him break at the look of devastation on her face.

Arabella cried heavily, her breathing ragged as a thick and fast flow of tears continued running down he face. "Arabella, we gotta go." John's voice was hoarse from the tightness in his throat. "Bells, listen, we gotta get you out of here." He reached for her, rough hands cupping her face. "Arabella, listen to me."

She shook her head, her agonising cries interrupted by her need to draw breath, as she gasped for air that wasn't there.

"Arabella," John's bottom lip wobbled, and he quickly swallowed the thick lump in his throat. "Come on, love, come on. We've gotta go." His voice cracked, his chest beginning to tighten. "You have to come with me. Please, Arabella."

The desperation in John's voice seemed to somewhat register in Arabella's brain as her instincts finally began to kick in. He took her hand, holding it tightly in his as he lifted her from the ground.

Arabella stumbled weakly, and he wrapped an arm around her to steady her. She let out a small gasp, her breath hitching in the back of her throat as she caught sight of her brother's body in the distance.

"We have to go," John told her, gently tugging her away as he desperately blinked away his own tears. "We have to go."

Arabella, with her heart shattering to pieces, allowed herself to be led away from her brother, who had done the one thing he promised not to – he'd left her all alone in the world.

A/N

Rip Mason, gone too soon :(

I'm excited for how this moves Arabella's character forwards, and I have finally finished planning the season 3 and season 4 arcs.

The season 5 trailer came out the other day and honestly? I'm still screaming about it.