Lucille

The smoke and smog of Small Heath were relentless, even on the most depressing of days. The skies grew as dark as the funeral clothes the Shelby family wore, as they slowly exited the graveyard, pressing down toward the fancy cars that were parked and waiting. Lucille held Ada's arm, Karl waddling on the other side. Her daughter Adds clung to her hand too, bright eyes pooling with fresh tears. The young girl had grown up to be far too sentimental for her own good.

"Thank you for being there for me, Lucille," Ada said with a sigh, as she placed a kiss on her cheek. "It means a lot. Karl loves having Adds to play with. It gets lonely sometimes."

"It's no problem at all. I just wish I could see you all the time. Like the old days."

Ada smiled sadly. "You'll come to visit soon?"

"Definitely."

Lucille hugged her one last time and watched as she moved along, only to be caught by Tommy and Polly. It had been months since she last saw them. It was regretful that it was under such somber circumstances, but neither Ada nor Lucille wanted to abandon what meant most to them. For Ada, it was her values. For Lucille, her family.

"Good God, Dawson, you've been with us in Small Heath for two bloody years," Lucille said, pulling him back by the collar before he could wander too far in the wrong direction- Ada's direction.

In those two years, he'd not changed at all. He was just as naive when it came to women, and just as nervous when it came to guns. The problems with Sabini and the London gangs hadn't cleared, but he was fine as it was in Birmingham.

Dawson smiled cheekily, pressing down the folds of his smart jacket. "And who knows how long I'll be with you? Make my move now before it's too late."

Lucille's eyes narrowed. "It's her husband's funeral."

"I wasn't going to intrude," he said, seeming to actually be offended as he held his hands up.

Lucille sighed. She'd realized that Jack Dawson was scarily close to being madly in love with Ada Shelby shortly after he'd decided to stay in Birmingham. It was just another thing to add to the list of worries that were slowly building in her head.

"I know. But sometimes I can't tell with you," she said.

Dawson shrugged. "The whole London business makes me nervous."

"Some days you're running riot and other days you're soft as clart," Lucille said, clutching for the thin purse that rested in the crook of her elbow. "And some days I haven't a clue what to do with you."

"'Soft as clart'? That has Polly written all over it." Dawson chuckled. "Still sounds funny with your accent."

Lucille scowled playfully, handing over a handkerchief to Adds as she began to bubble again.

"I daren't tell you what they say about your accent down in the Garrison then."

Dawson started. "What? Who?"

Lucille shushed him quickly, watching Arthur as he stormed over from the cars. His hands were painted a permanent purplish red, bruised and battered from hours of hitting punching bags, both human and inanimate. His lips rolled over each other, biting and gnawing. Lucille's stomach sunk, head snapping to search for Tommy. Yet another thing was wrong.

"Arthur. What is it?"

Dawson and Lucille met Arthur's side, walking in a line.

"You'll want to hear this. Where's Tommy?"

As if summoned by his name, Tommy appeared by their sides, picking Adds up and placing a peck on Lucille's cheek, not taking notice of Arthur's stern gaze. The eldest brother cleared his brother, shifting between his two feet.

"It's the Garrison," he began, teeth gritting together angrily. "Someone's fucking blown it up."

"What like a - like a bomb?" Lucille coughed out.

"Did he say who did it?"

Lucille startled slightly as John stuck his head through the door into Polly's office where she was searching for some papers. It was like a pig stye on the nicest of days, unorganized and filled with the musty smell of men.

The Garrison actually had been blown up. Polly described it like a warzone- not that she would know too many intimate details about one. As soon as the word bomb had been uttered, Dawson had excused himself, dropping away from the pathway to the pub and instead making his way back to the betting den on Watery Lane. Lucille followed with a hand on his shoulder, watching Adds run in zig-zags up ahead.

"He's gone to the Black Lion," she said, before adding a mutter. "Not that I know what that means entirely."

"On his own?"

"Tommy does everything on his own," Polly cut in, nodding her head for them both to follow.

"Should I go to the Black Lion?" John asked, nodding his head as Dawson finally joined them.

"What?"

"Should I go there and see him?" John repeated, eyeing her warily.

In her black clothes, Polly looked positively deadly, with charcoal rimmed eyes giving a glare that could cause the death of even the bravest of men.

"No!"

"Where the fuck is Arthur?"

"Protecting the Garrison's whiskey from the police," Polly said as she pushed open the doors into the living quarters of the house, shutting the doors to the betting den behind them all.

"Fuck sake," John snapped, throwing himself down onto the chair by the unlit fire. Lucille and Dawson shared a glance. "Polly. It feels a little bit to me like things are getting out of hand."

"So get 'em in hand," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Know what Ada said to me this morning?" He said, head prodding forward. "She said we all look like we work in a factory under the ground. Said we look like ghosts."

Ada wasn't exactly wrong. With business expansion looming on the horizon, all of the boys had been working twice as hard, and twice as dirty. Tommy, most of all.

"She'll be back."

"When?"

"When she needs us."

"And anyway, who the fuck would blow up our pub?"

Polly sighed and threw down her things to the table.

"Six."

"Six what?"

"Six questions since you walked through that door," she said. "Soon you're gonna have to start being the man with the answers."

"Why?"

"Seven," she added, shooting him a glare. "Because when London happens you'll have to hold up your end."

Polly's gaze moved to Dawson momentarily, meaningfully.

"For more than just the sake of business," she said, letting the room fall quiet. "Or we'll find somebody else who can."

"Go. There were important papers left in the back office in the Garrison. Try and get them back without killing yourself," Polly said flicking her fingers toward the door.

John paused, waiting for her to say something. When she didn't, he groaned, saying goodbye to the other two before leaving through the door.

"And take him with you!"

When Dawson realized she was talking about him, he stood quickly, scurrying to catch up to John outside. Lucille moved to stand by the fire, letting Polly hand her a cup of tea.

"You don't think that was too harsh?"

Polly snorted. "No, not at all. The only way to get anywhere is to be the best. We can't have that without being even a little bit brutal," she said, watching her for a second. "Where's the little one?"

"Upstairs with her dolls. She's obsessed with a new one that Ada brought from London," Lucille said with a smile. "You aren't at all worried?"

"About what?" Polly asked.

"Dawson is getting death threats. There's practically a price on his head that will be taken the minute he steps into London."

Polly dismissed her with a shrug. "Once Tommy takes control, that will all go away."

"And what until then?" Lucille asked, biting her lip. "Finn wants to be apart of everything already. I don't like it."

Polly placed down her cup and put a hand to her cheek soothingly. "My darling. Don't worry. There'll be a bullet between a man's eyes before he can even think about harming you and his family," she said. "You don't mean to, but don't underestimate him. He does what he does for us all."

Not loving this chapter but... we're back for another part! Season two isn't my favourite but nonetheless, I'm excited to start this part as it has a large focus on family and Dawson!
What is everyone expecting from the next chapters?