nine; as the wind blows

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Today was the day that the four Shelby brothers enlisted into the army, voluntarily. Rumours were spreading quicker than a whisper in the wind, that a war was amongst them.

Six months at the most away, they were saying and Bash truly believed them. He knew he'd be able to cope being away from his normality for six months, he'd most definitely cope better than Arthur. Despite being in the same boat as John; with a wife he was leaving behind, Bash was more accepting of his fate. After all, he didn't have any children to worry about and he wasn't truly in love with Dora; she was nothing more than a sort of trophy wife. Her words, not his.

If John hadn't said he'd be willing to go, none of the other lads would've, not until much later on. They all had a nagging voice in the back of their heads saying that if they were to go, they wouldn't return.

Of course, voices were just that. Voices.

Theodora wasn't that much of a lovely woman, a bright intellect who could hold a conversation when held at knife point but boy did she have the worst personality known to man. Her voice was almost angelic, if you could ignore the nasally aftertaste it had and the way her voice changed octave more than it probably was necessary, but she was his wife. The co-inhabiter of his house, and thankfully it was inches away from the rest of his kin.

Dora's child wasn't his, and was going to have been a reason she would've ended up in hell after death, and luckily for Bash it had lived with its grandparents since birth. Theodora wasn't a maternally driven woman so this didn't affect her - at least not in a way that losing children had affected Polly.

In fact, she barely went down to visit her child. Whenever she did, the three times she had done since giving birth; she returned within a few days and said nothing of it.

Her other excursions to the other end of the country though, Bash found out she had been seeing another man. He expected nothing less, really, but for her to ask for the train fair was a little bit more than a punch to the gut.

"If you don't remember much about em' Dora, remember that Bash had amazingly these big dimples, Tommy had the brains and those crystal eyes, Arthur had the brawl and John; our lovely John, well he had all the kids. Didn't he, Martha?" Polly Gray tried to ease the situation as the women sat in the Betting Shop with glum faces.

Polly hadn't liked Theodora since the woman walked into her house and mocked its decor. But, she tried her best to be as civil as possible with her, after all, she wasn't going to be the reason the two divorced. That would've meant the money her family had put up in the agreement wouldn't be there's.

Polly always had an ulterior motive.

Always.

Martha; Johns wife, couldn't believe how upbeat Polly truly was.

She had the most to lose, all but one of her nephews were being sent to their deaths and she couldn't change a damn thing, so she didn't think of it like it was their deaths day. No, the boys were simply nipping out for cigarettes, more razor blades and a few pints.

They'd be back soon.
They'd better be back soon.
They had to be back soon.

"So, who's running what when our boys are gone?" Dora asked, showing her true intentions.

She only ever called the Shelby brothers "our boys" when it suited her, when it made her look good— when she wanted to make herself look less like a one dimensional bitch without malicious true intentions.

Dora barely cared about the Shelby men, and she didn't even carry the Shelby name. She had point blank refused to adopt it after the two were married and Bash didn't really care. All that Dora ever cared about was how much money she could take from them before they realised; and so far, it had been seven pounds and three shillings.

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