Yellow Roses // Thomas Shelby

Chapter Five

"Where are you going?" My father slurred, looking at me as I had a sunday dress on and my hair done up neatly.

"Going to church. You should try it sometime." I looked at him as I fastened the clasp of my bracelet. "Doc goes when he can."

"Well Doc has the fuckin' flu, Natalia. Why dont you help me fuckin' take care of him? He pays the bills around here." He told me, pointing with his fingers and his beer bottles. He always put me on edge when he held the bottle like that. Its like he could put an end to me the first chance he got.

"I can pay my share." I put my earrings in.

He scoffed, giving up on arguing with me. "If your going with that Gypsy family- Shelby's- youre going to be on my last fucking nerve, girl." boy howdy I love a loophole.

"I'm going with Polly Gray. She's a friend of mine." It was a loophole.

I walked out the door to the church. It was about a five minute walk to the cathedral, which I didn't mind. Small heath didn't exactly have the most dangerous men on the streets at 7:30 on a Sunday morning.

Polly met me right as I came through the door, engulfing me with a hug. She always smelt like cinnamon and sugar- pure happiness. She always gave me the warm reassurance that I was worth more than an income in this world. She reminded me that life was worth living even if you have horrible people in your life daily.

We sat down in the pew, waiting for the sermon to start. The priest walked up to the stand, looking out over the crowd. It was silent. You could hear a sewing needle drop and echo because of the 100 foot tall ceilings.

"We come here today to rejoin the Lord." The priest started out his sermon. To be honest, I don't listen at all. The catholic religion doesn't interest me at all. Most religions don't cross my mind one way or another. All that consumes my mind is money, how to get money and how to make my father sober. The Shelby's come in there every so often.

"Mothers and daughters, Fathers and daughters, mother and fathers. They're all such precious feelings, we must not ruin them. We must not forget what true happiness feels like." The priest said, catching my attention. "Families bring true happiness all over the world." he went on.

I suddenly thought of my mother. I thought of what our life would be like if she was here right now. We would still be living in New York. I would not know Doc. Shirley. I wouldn't have gotten involved with dance. I would have never met The Shelby's or The Gray's. My father would be sober. I wouldn't have to contribute towards the bills when I'm 15.

Tears began to form in my eyes. Would my mother approve of what I am? Is she looking down at me, seeing me involved with such things she would never wish on her child. Does she see the women my father brings home to the house I stay in? Does she hear the profanity leave my lips every so often? Can she sense the feelings when I'm around people I adore? Would she approve of the people?

"Let us bring them together in joy," The sermon went on. I remembered what my mother looked like. She had a thick Italian-New York accent. She was from Brooklyn. She had jet black hair, which she usually kept pinned up. When she let it free, the length of it hit the lower part of her hips. She had the most gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. When I was a little kid, my father always told me I had her eyes.

Tears welled in my eyes as the thoughts kept coming into my mind. I remember how pretty she used to get dressed up for my father. She always wore deep red clothes,", complimenting her darker skin tone. Her smile always lit up the room. She had a signature look when she did her makeup and hair. She always wore a bright red lip and her hair in a lower bun with braids. It didn't matter what the current fad was. It was her specialty and she didn't care about what anybody thought.

Polly obviously noticed the priest's words were making me emotional. A tear slipped from both eyes as the priest continued talking. I wiped them away as soon as I could. There was no reason to cry. Definitely not in a church and definitely not in front of Polly Gray.

Her head turned towards me, seeing my glossy eyes and streaky face. She took a cloth from her purse and handed it to me, letting me dry my face.

"Im sorry." i whispered towards her. She looked me in the eyes, then smiled a bit.

"Dont be embarrassed, Natalia. When i said you needed it, this is what i meant." she told me. I focused my attention on the priest again, keeping myself composed as he continues to talk about happy families. "You're not alone."

The sermon ended, and the people started to flood out of the cathedral. Polly walked beside me, holding her hands together as she walked.

"Do you go every Sunday?" I asked as we made it outside. She lit up one of her cigarettes, looking at me.

"Yes. Unless one of the boys are sick, then I stay and take care of them." She told me. I was a few inches taller than her, but her heels made up for it.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" I asked her softly. She looked over at me in shock. I doubt any of the boys or Ada wanted to go to Church. She was surprised I wanted to.

"Are you sure you want to do that, darling? People your age describe it as the most boring thing on earth." She looked over at me as we walked. I shrugged.

"I felt closer to my mother. She went every Sunday." I said blankly. The thought of her didn't really affect me now. She was just a memory.

"Went? Doesn't she still go?" Polly said, looking back at me. I hadn't talked about my mother at all when I was in their house. The thought of her brought me into a terrible mood. The Shelby house was a place of happiness for me.

"She died when I was five." I looked over to her. Polly didn't resemble my mother in any way, but she was always there for me like a mother should be. She listened to some of the problems I had with my father. She gave me advice like a mother would.

"I'm so sorry, dear." Polly gave me a look. The look said she was empathetic about what happened, but couldn't do anything about it. She was like that. If you couldn't change the past, why complain about it?

"I'm sure we'll see each other between now and Sunday, but anyways." She pulled out another cigarette. "You are always welcome over for dinner. Please come if your father gets too out of hand. I know how it is."

I nodded, looking at my door. "I'll do that, Polly. I might even come over for your cooking. It's better than anything I've had." I complimented her. It wasn't a lie. I loved her food.

We both waved to each other as I walked up into my place, shutting the door behind me. Doc was sitting in a chair, smoking a cigar. I only saw him smoke when his life got stressful or when he was overwhelmed. He just looked sick this time.

"You alright, Doc?" I asked, undoing the clasps of my shoes.

"Yeah. Just a headache. How's Pol?" He asked. I smiled. Doc was more of a father to me than my own dad was. He didn't judge like my dad did.

"She's great." I answered, taking my shoes upstairs and into my room.

Not even five minutes later, my father was pounding on my door three times before coming in, a scotch glass already in his hand.

"Ivanov wants you at the studio in half an hour." He told me, then left my room, stumbling around in his pajamas.

My father is a real fuck off when he's not driving.