☆

CLARA FOUND HERSELF DRAGGING JOHN TOWARDS THE STABLES. The wedding dinner had long ended and Clara had long consumed more cocaine. She felt energy coursing through her bloodstream, a cigarette lazily hanging between her lips. Her laughter was infectious as she and John quickly slipped into the stables where Curly was talking to the horses.

"Curly!" Clara exclaimed as she entered the stables. She tossed her cigarette to the floor and stamped on it before approaching the man and the horses. She bounded forward and reached her hand out to stroke down the muzzle of one of the horses Curly was tending to.

"Clara, hello," Curly greeted with a smile, his eyes flitting to John who leaned against the wall.

"Look at this gorgeous boy," she cooed, leaning closer to the horse. The girl tilted her head towards Curly. "This is Trigger and that's Glory Divine, am I correct?"

"Yes, yes," the man nodded excitedly.

"Good," Clara nodded before she turned to face John with a triumphant smile. "These are the ones!"

"The fast ones?" John questioned.

"Mhm...I rode Trigger around the grounds when Tommy was out on business, fast as lightning, swear it!" Clara grinned, her fingers nimbly caressing the horse, and lightly pinched his skin as he whinnied. "Aren't you boy, hm? And then Glory Divine is Tommy's second personal horse, after Dangerous, of course. He's nimble and light on his feet—I know that because I also stole him and rode him around the grounds when Tommy wasn't home but that's beside the point!"

"Right, Let's get 'em out, then," John instructed.

"Tommy said no racing, no gambling," Curly said worriedly, his hands stretched out on emphasis.

"Yeah, he's changed his mind," John remarked, grabbing Finn as he passed. The boy had stripped down to his undershirt as he prepared to race the horse beside Clara. As the two moved down the stables, John then grabbed Clara and walked the two out of the stables.

"Right, you to two. Don't worry, OK?" The older boy advised, glancing between them.

"Right," Finn said surely,

"Cavalry boys ride like a sack of stones, alright?" John leaned heavily against the two almost sending them sprawling across the floor.

"John. John, there's an awful lot of King's shillings around here today." Johnny Doggs interrupted, causing their brother to release his hold on the two youngest Shelby's. Clara immediately straightened up, her fingers ran nimbly across the lapels of her jacket before she pulled it off and hung it on one of the hooks attached to the stable walls.

"Bloody hell!" Finn's voice caused her to turn and face him as he gaped. "Your neck!"

"Yeah, yeah," Clara drawled, it seemed that the makeup slathered on her neck was not doing a good enough job. "Let's just skip the awkward questioning and get to the matter of winning this race." She rolled up her shirt sleeves as they followed after their brother and Johnny Doggs. "The horses are both doped up which gives us the advantage."

"They are?" Finn's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at the horses Curly was leading out.

"Mhmm...their skins are dehydrated, telltale signs of drug interference," Clara hummed, tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "One of us will win the race, but I think we need to make ourselves look useless— catch the cavalry off guard and get them to bet against us even more. Then we break all odds. Deal?"

"Deal," Finn nodded and spat on his hand before Clara did the same and they shook on it. "Which horse are you taking?"

"Trigger...the sandy one, he reminds me of Cannon,"
She answered briefly, pushing her peaky hat over her ear. She looked around for any of their family, only to see a sea of red coats. "You're on Glory Divine, little tip, before riding him, scratch just below his ear and he'll be a bit more lenient. It's how I gained his trust the first time 'round."

"Got it," Finn smirked, "I'm going to win, y'know?"

"Oh, baby brother, I don't like your odds," Clara whistled, "but one of us must win."

"Good luck," Finn nodded, as the two approached the lined up horses. "You'll need it."

"I'll admit that your confidence is impressive despite your record with horse races," She mused, running her hands over Trigger. Finn sent the girl a glare as he mounted the horse.

"I fell off one time," he hissed.

"Ah, one time too many then," Clara swung her leg over the horse's back, straddling the animal. She was more than glad she'd chosen to wear a suit to the event. She glanced around at the cavalrymen. Many of the red-coated men around looked at her in distaste as she leaned down and whispered reassurances to the horse.

"Right, place your bets with me. Your favourites. Your favourites." Johnny Doggs called out, "Come on, boys. 'Cause I hope my boy Finn and my girl, Clara don't fall off those fucking horses."

Clara grinned as the man weaved in and out of the racers and the watchers. She sat upon the horse, her eyes narrowed ahead of her as she prepared for the race ahead. Adrenaline was already beginning to sweep its way through her veins.

"Oi, Princess! Get down off the horse, love!" A drunken cavalryman jeered, "leave the men to settle the score." Clara tilted her head towards the man, looking him up and down in disgust. "C'mon sweetheart!"

"Why should the men have all the fun?" She answered. The man stepped closer as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Listen, how about we make a wager, eh? I win and I get to shoot you in the foot, I lose and I get to shoot you in the head...I think it sounds rather fair."

The man was silent as if contemplating whether or not she was joking. The girl slowly cracked a smile and began to laugh lightly. Her airy laughter harmoniously floated through the air. Soon the shocked cavalryman joined in on her laughter.

"So, do we have a deal, hm?" She smiled a sickeningly sweet smile, her teeth bared. The man blinked as he seemed to sober up instantaneously.

"P-Pardon?" He spluttered.

"Do we have a deal?"

Clara was no longer laughing, her stone-cold eyes sending metaphorical shards of ice towards the man. She watched as his mouth opened and closed repetitively as if trying to form words. "No?... I thought so." She tutted while she shook her head. "You see the problem with letting men 'settle the score', is that they usually do a shit job. So maybe you should step back and fuck off before I make my own bet and see how fast I can shoot you between the bloody eyes."

The girl smiled sinisterly before she turned so she was facing forward once more. Her hands wrapped tightly around the leather reins, her fingers stretching as she clenched her jaw. Clara met her younger brother's wandering gaze which earned him a small nod at him before she focused on the horse below her.

The girl heard a sharp whistle from Johnny Dogg's mouth and the race commenced. The girl led Trigger into a gallop. The wind whipped at her face, her eyes ahead of her as she focused on the course they were supposed to run. Each time Clara rode or raced a horse, she was reminded just how much she adored the feeling. It was the closest thing to dreaming she could get whilst being awake. She could feel the muscles of the horse through the saddle. Tendrils of hair framed her face while the majority of it was pushed back as she urged Trigger to go a bit faster.

The world around her deafened, the only sound she heard was the sound of her heart beating in her ears. Her cheeks flushed from the cold air which nipped and bit at her skin. She felt like she was flying and the temptation to just close her eyes and trust the horse completely was overwhelming, but this was a race—a race she had to win.

"On, boy!" She muttered, lifting the reins as she turned a corner. Behind her, the world began to explode in a flurry of noise. From men who yelled at their horses to the thundering sound of hooves that clattered against cobble, the girl gritted her teeth.

Ahead, a cavalryman was only inches away, looking quickly behind him at her before hurriedly pressuring his horse to hurry. The girl's eyes locked on the man and horse in front, out of the corner of her eye she could spot a flash catch up to her. She spared a glance at Finn and an unspoken pact was made. She squeezed her legs ever so slightly causing Trigger to gallop even faster. Finn did the same until they were on either side of the cavalryman. The older man seemed to be sweating buckets in comparison to the two youngest Shelby's. He angrily looked between Finn and Clara, the former who tipped his hat at the man whilst the latter winked and sped forward.

The finishing point appeared from around the corner, the sounds of men cheering and leering echoing mercilessly around the courtyard. Clara tightened her grip on her reins and straightened up. The voices got lost in the wind. She loosened her shoulders. Horses were her thing, she'd be damned if she lost a bloody race to men.

Beside her, Finn and Glory Divine were galloping, both of the Shelby's had left the cavalry in the dust and as they crossed the finish line together, roars of glee from the Shelby inclined side of the wedding party erupted. Clara tugged on her reins with a victorious smile, slowing Trigger to a canter before a trot until he'd slowed down enough for her to bring him to a complete stop. The girl was practically dragged off of her horse by Will was grinning from ear to ear in joy.

"Fuckin' hell you Shelbys can ride!" He laughed, "thought you would win, but a draw is just as good."

"It's all in the horse rather than the rider," Clara mused, running a hand down Trigger's muzzle as they walked towards the stables. "You did so good boy, so good!"

Finn led Glory Divine towards the stables with Curly and Charlie, upon spotting her, he handed the reins to Curly and allowed him to take control of the horse. Clara watched with a smile as her younger brother stalked towards them as Will wandered over towards Isiah who handed him some coins.

"Told ya you needed luck," Finn's face was flushed from the race. Clara handed Trigger's reins to Charlie who reached out to bring the horse back

"Little brother, the odds weren't in your favour, we both prevailed," Clara drawled,

"I fuckin' hate when you get all sophisticated, bloody stop!" Finn scoffed, Clara let out a genuine laugh and swung her arm over his shoulder.

"Oh you love me, brother, admit it!" She cried as she pulled him down to her level and snatched the hat off of his head. She ruffled his hair whilst he tried to tackle her to the floor.

Unbeknownst to them, John, Arthur and Tommy all stood off to the side watching as the two celebrated their victory.

"Fucking beautiful horses, Tom." Arthur whistled as he glanced at the horses being led into the stables. "Beautiful."

"Those two are naturals," Tommy monotonously commented, bringing the attention back towards Clara and Finn while he took a long drag of his cigarette.

"Yeah." Arthur agreed as they watched the two wrestle. "Good posture." He winced as Finn shoved Clara away, only for the girl to kick the younger boy in the shins. "They ride like Dad." Tommy hummed in agreement.

"Nah...Clara rides like mum," John smirked, "has the same look in her eyes too." He let his words linger as the three watched the two youngest slipped on a puddle and tumbled to the floor in a heap. Their muffled moans and laughter drifted through the night air as they struggled to push themselves up from the ground.

Tommy shook his head and cleared his throat "All right, listen to me..." he began, diving headfirst back into business.

☆

ONCE CLARA HAD BEEN TORN OFF OF FINN BY WILL, the two friends found themselves inside the large ballroom. They both held their second glasses of champagne in their hands as their eyes darted around the busy room.

"What about him?" Will suggested as the two eyed up an older cavalryman. He held a glass of whiskey in his hands and from his staggering posture, it was safe to say that it wasn't his first drink of the evening.

"Nice watch, gold lighter in the back pocket" Clara observed, her eyes flitting over the man's rounded figure. "He looks easy to distract."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Deal,"

"Rock...paper...scissors,"

Clara clenched her fist in front of her at the same time Will's flat hand shot out. He covered her fist with his hand with a smug smile.

"No!" She groaned loudly, "it's always bloody me!"

"Because you're shit at rock, paper, scissors." Will grinned, "Now off you pop, Shelby, put those feminine wiles to good use."

Clara whined and downed the rest of her champagne before she grabbed Will's and finished his off too. She fixed her hair over her neck and fixed her collar before she sauntered towards the man. As she approached, she could hear his gruff and arrogant tone. A musty smell of alcohol surrounded the man and engulfed the girl as she grew closer.

Clara suddenly tripped and fell against the back of the man. Her hands darted out to catch herself.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm such a clutz!" She frowned dramatically with a pout as the man helped her regain her balance. Her voice was more pitchy and her face more expressive. "I knew I shouldn't have had that champagne. Are you alright, sir? Please tell me I did no damage!"

"All is well here, sweetheart," the man answered, his hands wiping down his red coat.

"No, it's not!" She exclaimed, grabbing his hands to hold them reverently. "I can't imagine doing any damage to this uniform, it must be such an honour to wear it!" Clara giggled with a naïve smile as her fingers fiddled with his sleeves whilst the man stammered out a reply.

"I'm so sorry again," she faked an apology as she tried to make her face as sorrowful as possible. "Please, if you find any damage at all, come look for me, my name's Mary Thomas! I'd hate to do any damage to the coat of the courageous!"

The words felt bitter on her tongue as she feigned a smile. Before the man could reply, she staggered away as if she truly was just a clutch little girl.

As soon as the crowd grew more clumped and hid her from the view of the man, she immediately stood up straighter and wiped her face of any emotion. Her hands were in her pants pockets when she returned to Will's side. The boy had grabbed another two glasses of champagne and was quick to hand one to the girl once she appeared again.

"I have to admit that you do put on quite the show, Clara Shelby," Will whistled, "you could give Greta Garbo a run for her money!" Clara choked out a small laugh at the mention of the famed movie star.

"It's a talent," she sombrely spoke, taking a long sip of champagne. One hand reached into her pocket and pulled out two items. "Here, the gold lighter and watch as expected." She dumped the two items in his hands. "The helpless maiden act always works without a flaw."

"Well, it's also very entertaining to see you be so expressive," Will commented as if he was the world's most influential movie critic. "You usually only fluctuate from scheming to bitter rage."

"Hah, hah!"

Just as Will went to tuck away the stolen items, a hand grabbed his wrist and held it in a tight grip. Clara's eyes widened at Polly's stern expression.

"Clara Shelby," the older woman kept her voice deadly low. "Were you, or were you not told to keep your hands to yourself?"

Clara hesitated to answer as she quickly gulped down another mouthful of champagne. "I can't remember," She finally uttered, "I don't listen to a lot of things Tommy says, he gets boring way too quickly."

"Give me the watch and lighter," Pol demanded, holding her hand out while Will sighed and dumped the belongings into her palm. "Do I need to find you two a babysitter? You're both as bad as each other!"

"Pol, I technically didn't steal those," Clara bargained, "they slipped right off of him, he's practically asking for me to borrow his stuff with no intention of giving it back."

"I don't want to see or hear a word out of you two for the rest of the night...understood?" Pol's eyes darted between the young adults.

"Understood," the two chorused. The ringing sound of a microphone crackling caught their attention as the announcer cleared his throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the bride and the groom will now dance alone!"

Polly moved away from the two as Tommy and Grace danced in the centre of the room. Clara nudged Will in the side and tilted her head towards the unmanned door.

"I see a waiter abandoning a tray of six glasses of champagne and an unmanned front door..."

Will's smile stretched across his face as he nodded,
"I always did like ditching weddings," He mused.

The two looked around before approaching the abandoned tray. Clara carefully picked up the tray, cautiously glancing around as she watched for wandering eyes. The music easily hid the rattling noise of the glasses as they snuck out of the double doors and around the side of the house.

The girl placed the drinks down onto the stone ground as she and Will collapsed against the wall on either side of the tray. The girl wrapped her jacket around her tightly as the cold swirled all around her. Will had already picked up his glass and was drinking it as the stars shone above them. The girl crossed her legs and leaned further into the wall's coarse embrace.

"Today has been too long," she drawled, her hand stretched forward to pick up a glass.

"Well you know the solution to that problem," Will chuckled, tossing a familiar blue cylinder her way. "Time for you to speed up."

Clara let out a faint laugh, her breath curling around the cold air in a cloud of white. "You, my friend, are single-handedly saving my night," she praised as she twisted the lid of the bottle.

"Well, what else am I good for?"

☆

THE SOUND OF A TRAIN WHISTLE PIERCED THROUGH THE VEIL OF NERVOUS CHATTER. The smoke weaved in and out of each person, illuminating their figures before it wholly engulfed them. The faint sounds of crying sounded like the most melancholy harmony as women clutched each other awaiting for the people to get off the train.

Clara had been here before.

She sluggishly looked around, her eyes darting over the crowd as the doors to the train shuddered open with a deafening screech. People began to pour out of the train in a sea of dark uniforms. Some men ran. Others walked slowly and unsteadily as if unsure whether or not home was a safe ground or if trouble lay over the hills in the forms of bombs and many men with many guns. Clara's head swivelled as the crowds grew larger.

She was alone on the platform.

It hadn't been like that before.

She could remember the day so vividly, yet now everything felt so wrong.

Her icy eyes drifted over the heads of hundreds as she closely watched and waited for familiar faces to appear through the smoke. She spotted a black-haired man through the crowd beside a lanky man and a shorter, younger man. Her body carried her towards the figures in a mechanical sort of way, the familiarity of the three bridging the gap between the unknown.

She raced towards them but as she grew closer she faltered. The hairs on her neck stood straight up and as they turned around she knew why.

There Arthur, Tommy and John stood lined up in their uniforms. Their eyes were hollow empty pits of blackness that leaked the most violent crimson tears. Around their eyes were vicious scratches as if they'd self-inflicted their injuries. Clara stood rooted to the floor as they inches closer. They weren't walking. They seemed to be hovering less than a few inches off of the ground which caused them to tower over her in height.

She tried to speak but her words came out garbled as of her tongue had been cut straight out of her mouth.  Her brother's haunted, soulless pits for eyes stared her down as they grew even closer to her.

"Claraaaaa," they menacingly hissed in unison, their words serpent-like and laced with poison. "Run..."

The girl stifled her cries of horror as she wriggled her feet until they unlatched from the ground with a loud pop. Clara ran. She ran as fast as she could, her lungs filling with lead-like oxygen as she ran through the parted crowds. All eyes followed her, their hollowness and lack of empathy slithering like thorned tendrils around her heart. Her feet with heavy as if bricks had been strapped to the soles of her boots to slow her down.

She pushed the watchful people aside as she frantically weaved through the never-ending train platform. Her heart jumped out of her chest with each laborious pump. She felt the shadows and heaviness growing closer as she hurriedly stumbled and tripped over her own feet.

She yelped as hands reached up from the cement and latched around her ankles and yanked down. She felt her knees hit the hard ground with a sickening crack, the hands holding her body still as it wormed and shook to be free.

"No, no, no, no," she whispered desperately as the three shadows engulfed her in the darkness. She looked up at her lifeless brothers, their anger seeping off of them in shades of dark red. "Please, please, please!"

She watched in horror as Tommy flicked open his gold lighter, one which she'd stolen many a time. Clara shook her head in fear, tears welled up in her eyes. Her teary eyes met Thomas'. Flashes of harsh and green fire, nooses, rain, guns, hauntingly large churches, dark horses, knives, trodden grasslands and images of shadowy figures crossed the bottomless pits of his eyes.

"Claraaaa..." the three breathily hissed once more as Tommy grew closer and dropped the lighter on top of the girl's collapsed figure.

Clara felt the searing warmth seep through her clothes as she screeched in agony. The fire blazed and burnt her skin, melting her on both the inside and out. Her fingers clawed at her ground as she begged and pleaded for mercy. The fire licked her in waves of white heat, its smoke polluting the air around her head as she rocked back and forth amongst the hands that still clutched her. Through the flames that shrouded all of her limbs, she met Tommy's not-so-eyes once more. Shadows stemmed from his mouth as he opened it to speak.

"Remember..."

Before he could finish, Clara awoke with a sharp inhale. Sweat rolled down her forehead as her body shook and trembled. Her clammy hands scrawled at her clothed chest as the overwhelming feeling of encasement set in. Clara tried to take in air but failed as her shaking fingers fumbled at the collar of her shirt. She swung her legs over the side of the bed while her hands locked around either side of her neck.

Her knees hit the wooden floor before she could process what was happening. She felt the impact but no pain followed. She didn't know where she was. She blinked hard and fast in an attempt to clear her clouded vision, she pulled herself across the creaky floor as her head raged an unbearable siege. Her hand hit a wallpapered wall as she slumped herself against it. Her back pressed up against the sturdy infrastructure. She drew her knees close to her chest as she buried her head in her arms and choked in as much air as possible.

Her fingers tapped against her knees in a rhythmic pattern. Her mind narrowed in on the pattern and focused on perfecting it rather than the feeling of impending doom she was shrouded with. Slowly and ever so carefully, her foggy vision began to clear as her chest sluggishly reached a normal pace. Clara remained curled up at the wall, the stale and familiar smell of alcohol and sweat engulfed her.

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Clara to get nightmares. It wasn't odd at all, but her daily concoction of cocaine and alcohol tended to present her with the priceless gift of a dreamless sleep. Her nightmares tended to be quite harmless and often they were silly. One time she'd dreamt that she was drowning in a sea of pink flowers with Charlie Chaplin doing a silly little dance above her whilst she was dragged beneath the flowery surface.

A nightmare that starred her brothers was not all that uncommon and many times she ended up dying at their hands. Her nightmares never repeated themselves. They were always changing and shifting. Each dream held unique sequences and consequences. The ones with her brothers shook her up the most. They were the nitty, gritty detailed dreams that shocked every nerve.

Those were the dreams that stuck with her.

She raised her heavy head, her eyes shut tight as she propped her head on her knees. Clara took a few deep breaths in before she cautiously re-opened her eyes. She steadily glanced around the room as the piercing bright light broke through the closed curtains. It was the guest room she'd usually stay in when in Arrow House, the stack of half-read books on the bedside cabinet being a dead giveaway. Her eyes flitted towards the bed where a snoring Will lay fully clothed and sprawled across the sheets. The girl did a double-take at the sight of the boy and it was only then that she realised that her memory of last night was as foggy as her mind had been only minutes ago.

She had a faint memory of dancing wildly to the classical music outside in the stones with Will and an even the fainter memory of watching Will beating the crap out of a Burgess in a boxing ring? The girl held her forehead in her hand as her brain thrummed and demanded she remained seated on the ground.

Clara did not give in to the demands as she pushed herself to her feet while she continued to nurse her dreadful hangover. She dragged her limbs towards the bed before she used all of her might to shove Will out of it. The boy tumbled to the floor with a girlish scream which caused the Shelby girl to wince and groan loudly.

"Fuck you, Shelbyyyy!" Will whined, his face smushed against the wooden floor as Clara slumped across the bed with her head over the side to look at Will below her.

"I've to drive you back to Small Heath," She grumbled, "which means I have to go to London to get my car and then to Small Heath for a meeting."

"And you couldn't do this in another three hours because...?"

"It's not entertaining to watch you not suffer," Clara huffed, rolling over on the rumpled bed. "I'm getting coffee from the kitchens." She lazily dragged herself up and towards the door, each limb dangerously heavy to lift.

"You're cruel, Shelby, you're cruel!"

☆

HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL READERS!

Let me start by saying that if Clara seemed out of character this chapter, it's because she kind of  is! Clara on cocaine is slightly different to sober Clara, so any major personality changes are products of addiction 🤝 also the fact she's now 18 does contribute to it.

ANYWAYS HOW ARE YOU LOT ON THIS FINE FRIDAY?

I love you all and here's your weekly meme!