☆

"I'M TELLING YOU, HE TREATS ME LIKE I'M SIX!" Clara complained, tugging her tattered cap down over her ears. It was a bright morning in Small Heath, and the rays of sun broke through the thick smog as she walked alongside Will. "He's being more overbearing than Aunt Pol — and that's saying something!"

"I mean, at least you know he cares." Will shrugged.

"Ugh," She snickered, punching his arm as he kicked at the stones beneath them. "Stop getting all sentimental."

"Yeah, yeah...OH, down here!" Will grabbed the girl's shoulders, directing her down another side street. "Paul told me about this new shop and I think we should put your 'Shelby powers' to use."

"Ah, so you're using me now, ey?"

"Of course, why do you think I still stick around?"

"Hmph..."

The two came to a halt outside of a brightly coloured shop, its exterior gleaming compared to the dust and dirt lingering over the rest of the shops on the lane. Its vibrant colours were an unusual sight to see amongst the grey and the brown. Will stepped forward and pushed the door open, revealing rows upon rows of various jars containing succulent looking sweets. The whole shop seemed to be a child's Havana. Clara closed the door behind her as she watched Will's eyes lit up with glee. A girl from behind the counter looked up from whatever book she was reading as the two scoured their surroundings in awe.

"What can I get for you?" She asked, her small voice echoing around the shop as Will walked forward, leaving Clara lingering by the door.

"We'll take these and these," Will stated, grabbing a few handfuls of sweets before shoving them into a paper bag. He turned back to face Clara, before waving to the blonde girl behind the counter. "You want anything?" Clara shook her head, earning a shrug from the boy. "Right well, that's it then, thanks."

"Wait!" The blonde girl cried out, abruptly standing to her feet. "You can't just take them! You've gotta pay."

Will scrunched his nose up as he pointed to Clara, "Do you know who she is? Who her family are?" He questioned, earning a low, exasperated groan from the girl at the door.

"No..." the blonde girl let her confusion show through her words before she raised her head high. "No, and I don't care. You've to pay for those sweets."

"Oh, you don't want to—"

"Will." Clara interrupted, raising a brow at the worked up boy. Once he'd quietened, she curiously looked towards the other girl. "What's your name?"

"I don't have to tell you."

"Fair enough, I can tell you mine?"

"That would be nice, yes, I'd like to know who to report was stealing."

Clara felt the overwhelming urge to cackle at the blonde girl's words but she couldn't help but feel intrigued by her naïvity. A common superstition known around the world was that it was bad luck to cross a black cat, well for Small Heath, it was even worse luck to cross a Shelby.

"I'm Clara." She started, her fingers twirling around the cap. "There's a sign outside that says Crawford, I'm guessing that's your last name—."

"Do you know hers?" Will snarkily cut in.

"Penny, have you sorted the shop yet?"

All three heads turned to face the door behind the counter as a man appeared. Upon seeing the two teenagers standing at the door, more specifically upon seeing the hat Clara held, he visibly paled and edged towards the counter to stand beside the blonde girl.

"Uh, sorry Miss Shelby, what can we, uh, do for you?" The man stammered, stumbling forward as panic laced his tone. The girl knew that it wasn't her he was afraid of, what he was afraid of was the men that might follow.

"Nothing." She answered briefly, "We're just leaving." Despite the news of their departure, the man continued to remain in his stiff composure.

She pulled a few coins from her pocket before placing them on the countertop. "So you don't have to report anyone," Clara smirked, her eyes trained on the blonde girl. With that, she cheekily grabbed a lollipop from the countertop and left the shop, Will following behind her, as he munched away at his sweets.

"You should've wrecked the place." Will began, his words muffled as he continued to eat. "Would've made a point."

"Not worth it." Clara dismissed, waving her hand as the two walked down the lane. Suddenly, a small blob came speeding towards them. The girl squinted her eyes, recognising Finn beneath the signature hat. "OI, FINN!"

The boy stopped in his tracks, before racing towards her. It was clear that by the time he'd reached Clara and Will, that he'd been running for a while.

"Can't, stop." He panted, his words scrambling to come out. "Arthur, need to get Tommy, Garrison."

Clara leaned down with furrowed brows, "What about Arthur, Finn?" She urged, her hands on his shoulders as he caught his breath.

"Inspector beat him up, Aunt Pol says it's bad." Finn finally mustered, "Pol said I need to get Tommy from the Garrison."

"Really?!" Clara cursed, "Finn, head back to the house and tell Aunt Pol that I've gone to get him, ey?" The boy nodded before speeding back in the direction he came from. The girl turned to her friend who was still devouring the sweets.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" And with that, she bid him goodbye before taking off in a sprint towards the Garrison.

Clara was a fast runner, it was something she was always prided on. It was a handy thing to be good at, especially when you have three older brothers and a knack for causing trouble. The girl pushed her legs forward as she ran towards the bar. People parted as they watched the young Shelby run through the street, her cap pulled down over her ears. She opened the doors to the Garrison with a bang. Clara was greeted with the view of the very busy pub and a few pairs of eyes glancing towards her.

"Has anyone seen Tommy Shelby?" She called out loudly, her hands planted on the doors as the majority of people now looked at her. A second passed before the man of the hour appeared, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Clara—"

"The inspector got Arthur." She blurted out, her voice low as she grew closer to him. "Finn says it's bad."

Tommy nodded with a sigh and reentered the snug. Clara took this opportunity to catch her breath as she sat down on an empty chair. She could see an unfamiliar blonde woman speaking to Thomas through the snug window. Impatiently, her boot cladded foot began to tap against the floor.

"Alright, c'mon." He huffed, exiting the snug with a bottle of rum clutched in his grasp. The two were quick to leave the Garrison and trek back to the house.

Clara flung open the door to six Watery Lane where John, Ada, and Polly gathered around Arthur. The girl bit her lip to refrain from gasping at the gruesome state her older brother was in. He was covered in blood and the dull purple of blossoming bruises were beginning to blotch his skin like rogue dots of ink on parchment.

"Let me see him," Tommy spoke, walking into the room with a cigarette between his lips as Clara stopped beside John, who was wearing his signature smirk, his eyes flitting from his brother to the busy betting shop. He winked at her as her brows scrunched together in worry.

"Well, have this," Tommy said, passing the rum to Arthur who began to chug it, after a few steady gulps, he reached out. "Give it here." He reclaimed the bottle and doused a cloth with rum before pressing the damp cloth to the wound on Arthur's forehead.

Clara winced as she watched her eldest brother hiss in pain. Seeing this, John threw an arm around her shoulder, his warm grin doing little to stop the girl's increasing nerves.

"He said Mr Churchill sent him to Birmingham." Arthur coughed, staring up at Tommy. "National interest, he said. Something about a robbery. He said he wants us to help him."

Clara furrowed her eyebrows as Arthur leant back in his chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Pol glaring at Tommy, but she shook her head, disregarding the look. These days it was pretty hard not to be mad at Thomas Shelby.

"We don't help coppers." John sniffed gruffly, as Clara stepped aside, allowing for Ada to reenter the room.

"He knew all about our war records, said we're patriots like him. Wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said..." Arthur suddenly hissed as Aunt Pol tightly wrapped a bandage around his injured wrist. "I said we'd have a family meeting, take a vote."

The family's eyes seemed to be flitting from Arthur to Tommy as silence shrouded the room.

"Well, why not? Hmm?" Arthur questioned, his temper visibly rising. "We've no truck with Fenians or communists. What's wrong with you?" His head snapped to the family in anger. "What the fuck is wrong with him lately?"

"If I knew, I'd buy the cure from Compton's chemists," Pol remarked, leaning back in her seat, her piercing eyes never leaving his figure.

☆

CLARA HAD GROWN USED TO SNEAKING AROUND. It was somewhat of a Shelby trait she figured. John had told her that they'd all done it throughout their childhood— yet she was the only one who seemed to be reprimanded. She'd even seen Finn sneak out and come home three hours later only to receive a wave of unconcerned laughter from the family.

Sneaking around was an art the girl had mastered. She'd learned every creak, every possible exit as well as her family's routines. It was an art the girl could be critically acclaimed for.

Clara sat at the bar of the Garrison, her hair in waves down her back as she sipped at the drink Harry had reluctantly handed her. Will sat beside her, his eyes cautiously glancing around the busy pub as he drank. His leg bounced nervously, the sight causing the girl to bite back a laugh.

"Relax," Clara chuckled, placing her glass down on the bar. "Nobody here is gonna shoot you."

"Your brothers might." Will snapped back, his impish grin betraying his harsh tone. "and I'm too handsome to die young."

"Handsome my arse." She snorted, "Besides, they won't touch ya, it's me they'll be shooting. I'm not allowed to be drinking in here at all anymore because of last time."

"I did tell you that it was a bad idea!"

"You were also the one who dared me to steal the barrel of rum," Clara snorted, "I don't back down from dares. You got me grounded for three weeks!"

"Whatever," the boy dismissed, taking a swig of his drink. The girl raised her brows and followed in pursuit, gulping down the remnants of alcohol left in her glass. "Christ, what's blondie doing?"

Clara turned in her seat, her eyes planted on the new barmaid who had stood upon a crate, her fingers locked as she began to sing. The pub quietened, transfixed on the woman who had entranced the drunken crowd.

"I am just a young girl, I have just come over, Over from the country, Where they do things big,"

Clara had to commend the woman's ferocity but hearing the singing ring out made the girl recoil into her jacket. It was a known rule that singing was to be avoided when in the Garrison, a rule which her brothers heavily enforced, yet here the barmaid stood, belting out the lyrics to some song everyone in the pub seemed to recognise.

"The boy I love is up in the gallery, The boy I love is looking at me." They all sang, their drunken voices slurring as they swayed. Clara could hear the doors to the pub swing open and the voices soon trailed off, leaving the woman singing alone.

"Can't you see him standing there? Waving his handkerchief, as merry as a robin, that sings on the tree." The woman faltered, causing Clara to turn around in her seat.

"We haven't had singing in here since the war," Harry spoke up, nervously rushing to stand in front of Clara's brothers.

"Why do you think that is, Harry?"

Clara's head finally snapped towards Tommy who stood with his hands in his pockets as he leant against the wall. Beside him, John's eyes had locked on her, his eyebrow raised as he held back a snicker at her flaring panic. Cursing lowly, the girl grabbed Will's arm and faced him away from her brother. She swept her hair over her shoulder and hunched over, her jacket hiding her face, hoping to blend into the crowd and avoid Tommy noticing them.

Clara quietly climbed off the chair as the pub livened up, the door of the snug swinging shut. She grabbed at Will's arm, before carefully squeezing her way through the crowds and towards the exit. The boy beside her stumbled as she pulled him along, his glass still in his hand.

Just as they reached the entrance, two hands clapped down on her shoulders. Clara winced before she was spun around by an amused John. Offering her brother a weak smile, she shook his hands off, making a run for the doors, but before she could reach them, John had grabbed her around the middle and was dragging her into the snug.

Clara was placed in front of Tommy as she scowled, her wavy hair now ruffled and wild, whilst her cheeks and ears burned scarlet. John sat down on the bench with a playful smirk, as Tommy took a drag from his cigarette.

"Clara." Tommy finally spoke up, his head cocking.

The girl didn't answer, opting to fold her arms and lean back against the wall instead.

"What's the rule?"

Clara furrowed her brows, uncrossing her arms. "You see, you have many rules, you'll have to be more specific." She answered cheekily.

"You know what rule," Tommy replied through gritted teeth. "No drinking in the Garrison or anywhere else without permission."

"But that's not fair is it?!" Clara shot back, clasping her hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels. "You guys get to drink whenever and even Finn has drunk more than me!"

"You know the rule, and I ought to drag you home to Pol and let her deal with you."

"Then why don't you? I'll admit I was drinking but it's a stupid thing to be punished for."

Tommy sighed lowly. Clara could see his temper rising, causing her to groan internally. She couldn't suffer through another two-week grounding. Not being able to leave the house and being stuck doing her and Finn's chores had been hell.

"Look, I'm sorry." Clara huffed, masking her annoyance. "I only had a glass of whiskey, no more I swear. It's not that big of a deal."

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette butt, leaning back into the wall behind the bench. "Get out of here before I change my mind." He sighed, earning a mischievous grin from the girl.

"Be home by ten." He called after her, his voice getting lost in the buzz as she bolted out from the snug, pulling Will out of the Garrison and onto the streets of Small Heath.

Clara Martha Shelby was in fact not home by ten.

After her stunt at the Garrison, the girl had parted ways with Will and had made her way down to the yard to help Curly and Charlie fix up the horses. It was something she found herself doing a lot over the years— especially during the war. Caring for the gentle creatures seemed to put her mind at ease. Time at the yard flew by, and it wasn't unusual for the girl to get lost in the joy of caring for the horses.

"Clara, shouldn't you be at home?"

The girl lifted her head to face her Uncle as he stood at the stable entrance. Clara shifted the bucket of water she'd been carrying from one hand to another.

"Cannon is uneasy, just helping him out." She answered, entering the horse's stall with the bucket. Clara placed the bucket down before rolling up her sleeves.

The girl smiled warmly at the sandy brown horse, who she'd grown up caring for. The horse had been a gift for the girl when she'd turned nine, Tommy said it was to keep her busy when she was down in the yard instead of messing about and disrupting their uncle. Clara had learned how to properly care for the horse and she found herself falling deeply in love with the gentle creature.

"Go home soon, yeah?" Charlie finally huffed, from the stable door. "Don't want your brother down here givin' out 'bout you going missing."

"Got it," Clara nodded, reaching out to stroke Cannon's nose. The man lingered for a few moments as the horse nuzzled towards her before he backed away with a small smile. "Hungry?" The girl laughed as the horse whinnied, earning him a pat on the nose. "C'mon then, you big baby, let's feed ya."

☆

NIGHT HAD FALLEN OVER THE CITY OF BIRMINGHAM, the darkness engulfing the figure of Thomas Shelby as he entered his Uncle's yard. The dark sky above settled above the city, not a single ray of moonlight seeping through the umbrella of cloud.

"Uncle Charlie, a word." He stated.

"They are aboard. There's no Moon." Charlie informed the man as he approached. "We can take them out to the turning point beyond Gas Street and leave them on the bank. They'll be found by railwaymen first thing."

Silence.

"Is that agreement?" Charlie questioned, watching Tommy blow out a puff of smoke, his eyes locked ahead of him.

"I changed my mind," Tommy murmured.

"You what?"

"I have an alternative strategy." He continued, his voice low. "Tell Curly to take her out to the old tobacco wharf. There's a lock-up mooring we used to keep cigarettes. He knows it. When the boat leaves your yard it's no longer your concern."

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Charlie scoffed, his incredulous tone piercing the silence of the yard. "Have you not seen the streets? They've sent an army to find these things..."

"That's right." Tommy nodded, "They've shown their
hand..."

"Their hand?"

"If they want them back this bad, they'll have to pay. That's the way of the world. Fortune drops something valuable in your lap, you don't just dump it on the bank of the cut."

"You're blood, Tommy." Charlie gritted, "I've always looked out for you like a dad. You're going to bring holy hell down on your head. This copper takes no prisoners..."

The flames of the nearby fire illuminated Tommy's face, a small, cynical smile crossing it. "I'm told he didn't serve. Reserved occupation."

"Is it another war you're looking for Tommy?" Charlie asked, spitting on the floor as the man finished his cigarette, tossing it to the floor.

"The tobacco wharf. By order of the Peaky Blinders."

The man strode away, his coat flapping in the wind as he went to exit the gates of the yard.

"Tommy,"

The man turned on his heel as his uncle called after him.

"Clara is in the stables, take her home and let her sleep," Charlie said gruffly, lighting another cigarette. "She did a fierce amount of work around here tonight and I don't think she's left."

Tommy growled, his anger boiling as he marched towards the stables. When he entered the stables the man was greeted by the dim light of a lit lantern and the soft whinnies of the surrounding horses. His eyes scoured the deserted stable as he waltzed down through the centre, reaching the last stall reserved for Cannon.

He could still remember the day they'd gifted the horse to the girl. Everything had been so different. He could remember the giddy laughter and pure bliss the family had encountered as they presented the horse to the girl. He remembered begging to be brought beyond the smog of the city, and the two have ridden out into the fields of the countryside. He fought off the nostalgic smile as he carefully opened the door of the stall in order to avoid startling the horse inside.

Tommy closed the stall door behind him before looking down at the ground where Clara was curled up, his old peaky hat covering her face as she snored amongst the loose hay. Cannon stood centimetres away from her body, his protective stance causing the man to shake his head as his lips quirked up.

Tommy couldn't help but let the smile linger as he watched the girl sleep. It reminded him of the times before war where he'd take her out on the horses and would allow her to sleep in the hay while he fixed and fed the creatures. She looked small...smaller than usual and quieter too. If he could bottle up and keep this version of Clara— he would. God knows that he'd be doing the world a favour.

The man took out his pocket watch and once his eyes caught a glimpse at the time, his annoyance swiftly returned. Tommy reached out his foot and feebly kicked the girl's side causing her to stir from her slumber. He bent down and lightly shook her shoulder. The young girl yawned before lifting her cap, paling at the sight of her brother.

"Tommy—"

"C'mon, up you get." He offered the girl a hand before pulling her up. "It's late."

Clara dusted off her pants and shirt with another yawn. "Didn't mean to be late." She mumbled, gently patting Cannon's nose goodbye before following after Tommy as he left the stables. The two walked in silence, the girl's feet dragging along the floor as they fumbled to keep up with her brother's large strides.

"Why were you down at the yard?"

The man glanced at the girl beside him as she broke the quietness between them. Sighing, the gears in his head began turning.

"To get you." He answered curtly, causing the girl to wince. "I should be asking you why you aren't at home."

"I was meant to be at home, I swear it."

"Stop with the lying, Clara, it'll get you nowhere."

The girl scowled, "I'm not lying!" She snapped, "I wanted to check up on Cannon and feed him- he's been uneasy lately, and then I was gonna go right home."

"But you didn't."

"Well, that's obvious isn't it?!" The girl mocked, folding her arms in disdain. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"And yet you did." Thomas finally retorted, letting his frustration take the reins. "You broke yet another rule. First, the Garrison this morning and now this? Where does it end, ey? What do I have to do to get you to bloody behave? I could give you a strapping, I could get Pol to wash your mouth with soap, I could put you on house arrest for a whole month if I wanted."

"Things are different now, Clara." He continued, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "When we were away, you may have gotten away with a lot. You may have been able to sneak off whenever you liked and stay out late, but that was then. Small Heath is different, the men are back and the streets aren't safe for girls like you, to be roaming alone at night. This family works differently now, I told you. Because of these new coppers, we have a target on our backs and if you keep fucking about, the consequences will be different, and one of your petty fights like the one from the other day could land you in a cell."

"I need you to understand that things are different, alright? Your last name can only protect you from so much." He finished. For once in her life, Clara was speechless. She didn't know what to say or where to even begin, so she opted to remain mute.

The walk from the yard to the house had been a short one, yet for Clara, it had felt like she'd experienced torturous aeons. As soon as Tommy unlocked the door, she had hauled herself inside, following her brother as he made his way into the kitchen to rummage for a bottle of whiskey.

"I really am sorry." She finally mumbled as Tommy's anger slowly subsided. "Really didn't mean to fall asleep."

"—but you did and we'll discuss your punishment tomorrow morning." He sighed, turning to face the yawning girl. "Now, go to bed, yeah?"

Clara nodded and retreated before a stray thought eased its way into her mind. "Tom..?" She spoke up, causing the man to raise a brow. "I didn't ask earlier but....what's gonna happen to Danny?"

"And how do you know about Danny, ey?" He mused, gulping from his glass.

"Will's uncle saw it happen and everyone's talking about it. People were saying that he killed someone."

Tommy shook his head, contemplating on lying just so she would leave quicker. He shut his eyes tight before prying them open.

"The Italians want him gone." He put it simply, hoping the girl wouldn't push any further. "They say Danny's a liability Small Heath can't afford to keep around."

"Are you going to kill him?!"

"Have to or the Italians will wage a war."

"But, but....he has a wife— and kids! You can't just kill him!" Clara stammered, thinking about the two young Owen's boys who attended the school with her. "What if Arthur was like him? You wouldn't shoot him, would ya?!"

"Clara, stop. It has to be done. There's no point in arguing."

"But—"

"Clara."

"Fine!" She scoffed, turning on her heel and climbing the stairs, leaving her brother in yet another pool of frustration as she stomped her way into her room. Clara closed her bedroom door quietly, not wanting to wake up Finn or Ada, who were both presumably fast asleep on either side of the walls. She shrugged off her jacket, tossing it onto a chair before she slumped onto her bed.

Letting the waves of exhaustion engulf her, Clara sank into a dreamless state, leaving the gloominess of the night behind her.

☆

BONJOUR!

And welcome to another chapter of Trouble <3

First off, can we just talk about how Clara's one mission in life is frustrating her brother bc goddamn....

Second, I would like to thank all of you for your supportive comments/votes and I'd like to thank you all for 700 reads!!

Also feel free to drop a comment about how you're liking the story so far :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING, (and don't forget to vote and comment to boost moral), I LOVE YOU ALL,