Just Words

FINN SHELBY NEARLY BLEW HIS BRAINS OUT ON A QUIET NIGHT.

The usual loud streets of Small Heath seemed somehow muted as the usual industrial smoke clouded the last of the sunset into nothing but grey beams of light.

I’d spent all day tucked into the back of Dr. Anson’s practice stocking and doing an inventory of supplies between patient visits. My eyes felt tired from focusing for so long, my feet sore from standing all day, but my mind felt at peace as it usually did after a long, exhausting day of work.

However, that inner peace didn’t last as long as it usually did. Most nights – most good nights – I could walk back to my apartment, make myself some dinner, prepare for the next day, and settle into bed all without thinking about war zones and bullet wounds before falling asleep. The gunshot that rang out from just ahead and across the street shattered the perfect illusion I’d created for myself in the month I’d lived in Birmingham.

The instincts I’d thought I’d buried after the war surfaced immediately, my head snapping toward the sound before doing anything else. I looked up just in time to see a boy – about the age of ten or so – stumble back against the side of the road, blood running down the side of his head, and his cap knocked from its place. A gun fell from his hand and landed beside him with a clatter.

The few people that were out and about had immediately ducked to the ground at the sound of the shot, hoping to avoid being hit if there were any ricochets, while his friends had run off the second that the gun had fired - all afraid of consequences.

Without thinking, I hitched the skirt of my dress up and ran across the street.

Crouching over the boy's motionless figure and pulling his head into my lap, I felt the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding release when I saw that it was only a minor flesh wound. He’d knocked himself unconscious and there was superficial bleeding, as there often was with head injuries, just above his ear, but he hadn’t shattered his skull.

He needed stitches, a good talking to for messing around with a loaded gun, and some rest, but he would be fine. With that knowledge in mind, I couldn’t help but to hug him closer to me in relief. I’d been desensitized to men dying, but not children - never children.

“He alright, Miss?”

I craned my head up to see a man carefully studying me as I cradled the strange boy in my lap, his hands fiddling with his hat nervously. Nodding, I searched myself for anything I could use to temporarily stem the bleeding. “I need your handkerchief,” I demanded, meeting the eyes of the man once more when I found nothing on me. He obliged, fumbling with slightly shaking hands, before handing it over to me. “I work in the physician’s office around the corner. That’s where I can help him. Will you help me bring him there?”

The man only nodded, confirming that he would help, before taking the boy from my arms with an ease that I never would have been able to manage on my own.

I stood, scooping down to swipe up the boy’s hat but felt myself hissing and dropping it back to the curb. A cut, not deep, had been slashed through the palm of my hand.

“He has razor blades sewn into his hat,” I commented after carefully picking the fabric back up and studying it.

“He’s Finn Shelby, Miss. A Peaky Blinder…” the man seemed more nervous at this discovery, but I didn’t dwell on it. The boy needed medical attention, and that was what demanded my focus.

Before hurrying off to the practice, I picked up the gun that Finn had dropped in his misadventures and tucked it carefully into my purse along with Finn's hat, afraid that someone else would pick it up the weapon and cause more bloodshed.

My time in Small Heath hadn't been spent getting acquainted with the neighbors. The practice was freshly opened when I'd arrived and demanded a lot of time to organize things. I'd set myself on a routine of going to work, then home, with only a few market runs in between to make my days a bit more interesting outside of my work. Despite my unfamiliarity with the people and the community I lived in, I'd heard murmurs about who the Peaky Blinders were and what they did.

They were rumored to be criminals and not to be messed with.

I'd taken the words with a grain of salt. Rumors, after all, were only rumors until confirmed. Too many times I'd been burned during the war as empty promises circulated about the near end of the fighting.

After unlocking Dr. Anson’s practice, I instructed the man to lay Finn on the examination table in the back room as I quickly washed my hands and wrapped up my palm. By the time I made my way back to the boy, he was starting to stir.

“Don’t touch,” I insisted as he reached up to his head. He groaned as I carefully guided his hand back down to his side, but he did not open his eyes. “Do you know where to find his family?” I asked the strange man who was now stood in the corner to avoid getting in the way.

He’d taken his hat in his hands once again, fumbling with it nervously. After a few long seconds of torn mental debate, the man nodded his head. “Yes, Miss.”

“Please find them and tell them what’s happened.”

The man hesitated for a second more before nodding and hurrying out into the street.

When I turned my focus solely back to Finn, his eyes were opened and he was squinting painfully, a bit disoriented. I smiled, hoping not to worry him.

“It’s nice to see you awake,” I admitted as I searched for the medical supplies I needed. “When I saw you fall down, I thought that you’d killed yourself playing with that gun.”

“I thought I had too,” he admitted, groaning.

It shouldn’t have been funny, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s your name, soldier?” I asked as I applied some clean dressings and pressure to the side of his head.

He hissed in pain, but answered as he opened his eyes and looked at me fully for the first time. “Finn, Miss. Finn Shelby.”

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Shelby. I’m Evelyn. I’m a nurse here in Small Heath. Dr. Anson isn’t available right now, but he’s taught me everything he knows so I’m going to take care of you, does that sound alright?” When he nodded and I smiled again. “Great. I’m going to have you sit up for me, okay?”

He nodded again and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position on the table, his skinny legs dangling off the edge.

As I was in the process of stitching him up after cleaning his wound - which he sat like a champ through - he hissed through his pain, “My family’s going to kill me.”

“I doubt it,” I said honestly. “They might be mad, but I think they’ll be very happy that you’re alive. You’re very lucky, Finn. Have you thought about putting any money down on a horse lately?” I teased.

“My brother won’t let me,” he grumbled lowly.

I felt my brow furrow in confusion and was almost tempted to question him on his comment, but the front door banged open, bouncing against the wall with such force that it was a miracle the glass window in it didn't break. A tall man dressed in a nice suit hurried inside. His eyes were a shocking bright blue against the darkness of his hair and the paleness of his face. “Finn,” was the only word he breathed out before crossing the room to us, coattail flying outwards.

It was perfect timing, really. I tied the knot on my last stitch just as the man - presumably, one of Finn’s family members - wrapped his arms around the boy and pulled his head to his chest in relief.

Making myself scarce so they could have their moment, I took the opportunity to start getting rid of the bloody bandages and sterilizing everything once again.

“It was an accident, Tommy, I swear,” Finn was saying into his chest.

Tommy took the boy by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “I know, but you never should have been messing around with a gun in the first place. I never want to hear about an accident like this again, you hear me?”

Finn nodded.

Tommy stood to his full height once again, nodding, before looking at me for the first time since he’d barged in the building. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something when the door flew open again. This time a woman with frizzy, dark hair hurried in, immediately pulling Finn into her arms. Heavy worry lines ran through her forehead and her eyes were watery with relief. “Christ, Finn. I thought I’d lost you!” she said, voice surprisingly even despite the emotion written over her face. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Aunt Pol,” he answered immediately.

“Are you sure?” she asked, taking his face in her hands to study him fully, examining my handiwork.

“He is,” I stated, catching everyone’s attention. “It’s just a flesh wound, thankfully. He’ll have a headache and might hear some ringing in his left ear for a while, but he’ll be fine with some proper rest. Finn is very lucky.”

Everyone stared at me before Finn piped up, “Aunt Polly, Tommy, this is Evelyn. She helped me.”

“You’re a doctor?” Polly asked.

“A nurse,” I corrected. “I was walking home from here when I saw Finn shoot himself.” I felt suddenly like I needed to explain myself to them under their very serious gazes. “I assure you though that I know how to tend to this kind of injury.” Hesitantly, I added, “I-I served in the war.”

Polly’s hard stare seemed to soften and she focused her attention on running her fingers through Finn’s hair. “Thank you.”

I smiled softly, nodding. “It’s no problem. I assure you, Finn’s been the best patient I’ve had all day.” Polly smiled down at her nephew, nodding with pride. “He’s free to go. Like I said, he just needs some rest. I’d put a clean bandage over his stitches to avoid infection, but they can come out in five or six days.”

Polly only nodded once again before meeting my eyes.

I had the strangest feeling that she didn’t show gratitude often. It felt like the moment was one that I should remember. “Let’s get you home,” Polly said, helping Finn stand up.

“I’ll be home shortly,” Tommy said as his family paused to wait for him.

With only a grateful look from Polly and a small smile and wave from Finn directed towards me, the duo took their leave.

Being alone with Tommy felt intimidating to say the least. His bright blue eyes - the brightest I’d ever seen anyone’s - could cut through a person like a knife (or a razor blade).

Trying to hide any sense of nervousness I felt, I smoothed the front of my dress down. The blood that had not yet dried into the fabric stained my hands once more.

“From my brother’s misadventure?” Tommy asked, nodding towards my stomach. When I nodded, he pressed on, “I’ll have it replaced.”

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary.” My voice came out even, but something inside me was buzzing with frazzled energy - something that I’d not felt in a long time. “It’s all in a day’s work.”

Tommy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He looked almost amused by my words, but he had yet to crack a smile. Lighting up, he took a puff before facing me once again. “You were walking home for the day, isn’t that what you said?”

I nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going.

“Let me give you a ride home. My car is out front.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I have a few things here that I need to take care of. It’ll take me a while.”

“I can wait.”

“You shouldn’t,” I insisted.

I could feel a tension starting to blossom between the two of us. It wasn’t that I was opposed to getting a ride with a practical stranger (although I probably should have been). It was my pride that was at fault. I’d made a promise to myself when I moved to England that I wouldn’t become dependent on anyone. I didn’t want help from anyone in my quest for finding my own happiness. I’d been given great opportunities, it was up to me to make something out of them.

That, and I had a practice to clean up again.

“Go tend to Finn; I think he’d enjoy your company,” I added softly.

Tommy clearly wasn’t sure what to make of me, but he couldn’t exactly force me into his car. “Very well then.”

“Before you go…” Reaching for my purse, I pulled out the gun that I’d taken from Finn and his hat. “I believe you’ll want these back.”

I held them out to Tommy, careful not to touch the razor blades and pointing the gun at the floor in any case of a misfire.

We stared at each other for what felt like a long time. In reality only a few seconds had passed, but I could feel the static in the air between us. I felt like every part of my body was suddenly on edge – and not necessarily in a bad way. It was apparent that this man was not one that many people said no to.

Tommy was the first to give in. He blinked, licked his lips, and gave the faintest of smiles directed at his shoes as if I really had amused him before crossing the room. Slowly, he reached out and took the objects from me.

When the tips of his fingers brushed over my hand, I wanted to jolt back, but I wasn’t about to let him see me react to him. I had a feeling that the man thrived off of other people’s reactions, and I was not about to fuel the fire that existed within Tommy Shelby.

I watched him walk to the door in his silent gait. He paused just as he was about to leave the practice and his icy blue gaze met mine once more. “Pleasure, Miss Walsh,” he said before taking his leave officially.

As the door swung shut behind him, I shivered and rubbed away the sudden chill that caused all the hairs on my arms to stand on end.