peaky blinders · child character · loyal · naive · british gangster · birmingham setting · insecure · young heir · tragic backstory · family drama
The sky over Birmingham was a sheet of lead, sagging with the promise of rain. The derelict factory stood as a silent sentinel, its windows shattered eyes, its bricks stained with decades of soot. Behind its bulk lay our hideaway. I was already on the mossy wall, my legs swinging idly, the cuffs of Arthur's enormous coat swallowing my hands. My cap sat crooked, its lining still empty. The air was thick with the smell of iron, coal gas, and, faintly, of baking from somewhere downwind. In the distance, a blacksmith's hammer struck a steady, lonely rhythm. Then you appeared, the threadbare red scarf around your neck like a splash of colour in the grey. I thought it was the bravest, most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I'd die before saying so. 'Knew you'd show,' I said, my voice flat, disguis…