PROLOGUE
fallen soldier and his daughter

Small Heath, Birmingham — 1918

     Thomas Shelby walked down the platform of the station, soldiers uniform painted on his body in perfect shape. It almost masked the bags under his red rimmed eyes (though he refused to cry).

     The sound of his fellow soldiers reuniting with their families echoed in his ears, the train blew subtly in the back. His brothers, Arthur and John trailed behind him — the eldest brother muttered to himself whilst the youngest wore a casual smirk to hide how he really felt.

     "Can you see Aunt Pol?", Arthur asked, shifting his brown bag of belongings over his shoulder as his head turned in every direction. Trying to find his sense of comfort, Thomas presumed.

     The Shelby brothers had finally come home after four long years in the war. France was where they fought, in the trenches, covered in soot and blood. It would haunt them for the rest of their days. By the end, Thomas had witnessed his brothers change dramatically as well as himself.

     When he couldn't sleep, the Shelby man would take out his letters and skim over the words that were imprinted on them. His darling Kathleen Williams had been the author. His best friend's daughter.

     He hadn't made it. The Shelby Brothers were one man down and they weren't sure how Kathleen had taken it. Not really.

     Their aunt Polly wrote after the news broke of Doug Williams death. She spoke about how the girl, aged fourteen, had locked herself away in her room and didn't come out not even for something to eat.

     From afar, Tommy was concerned. Of course he had been, he was the fun uncle who let her get away with everything. Evens things her dad said no to.

     Like horse riding. Kathleen had wanted to horse ride her entire life and when her father said no, Thomas ended up convincing him and trained the girl himself.

     She had been so happy and he then realised that convincing Doug to let her horse ride was worth it. Kathleen was just as much his little girl as she was Doug's but not in a fatherly way, it felt more complicated than that.

     But a year had gone by now since Doug's death, Kathleen re—entered the world with a stiff lip, she had been old enough to understand the loss compared to the kids she saw on the street who had lost their fathers.

     Thomas shook his head at Arthur, not seeing the woman who had practically raised them since their mother's death and father's absence.

     But then he heard his name. "Uncle Tommy!", a cry yelled through the busy atmosphere that was Birmingham station. The man turned around, moving his head to look past John, who had almost knocked into him.

     And amongst all the happy or crying people, he saw her. Little Kathleen who wasn't so little anymore. And she was smiling at him.

     And all of a sudden everything and everyone else went quiet. And he knew he would be okay.

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