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A cold, dreary December evening finds Tommy Shelby at Charlie's yard. There is nothing unusual about that. He spends a lot of time here, especially when his mum has dark days and can't take care of them. This scrap yard and the stables are his safe haven. Every time he's sad or gets into trouble, he can come here and be sure that Uncle Charlie protects him from everything. Nothing bad can happen as long as he's here.
Uncle Charlie and Curly are the best in the world after Mum. They can talk with horses! Aunt Polly is good, too, he loves her but she often disciplines them, unlike Mum. They have the kindest, most wonderful and beautiful mum in the world. She's just very sad sometimes. But it isn't her fault. He doesn't like it because he wants Mum to be happy forever, and it makes him sad, too. But it always passes and then everything is perfect when they go riding together or Mum tells them fairy tales and legends.
Tommy wants to be like Charlie and know as much about horses as Curly who is smarter than the rich men and their horse doctors he sees sometimes when he wanders to better parts of the city. He likes to watch people in their nice clothes and nice homes, especially in the winter when everything is dark and ugly in Small Heath, and the smoke and soot from the chimneys makes the air suffocating and the streets are covered in fog. Not even Montague Street can be seen from their house on Watery Lane.
But the big mansions and palaces where the rich live are different. They don't have factories, just nicely groomed lawns and parks and clean pavements. Even cars. Tommy feels a little disappointment because he missed the first and maybe only car ride of his life when the doctor took him to the hospital after he got trapped in the mine with Zïna and got hurt really badly. Someone should have woken up to cherish the memory forever, even if everything hurt.
He sighs so loudly that his cat disapprovingly raises her soft, velvety head from his lap. She's been sleeping there for a while. At least one of them is feeling good and happy. Hopefully Father Christmas will bring something nice for Zïna. She deserves it, she's the best cat in Small Heath. Maybe Mum and Uncle Charlie would have never found him down there in that dark, terrifying tunnel. He's perfectly fine, it was many months ago. Although his leg hurts sometimes when the weather is bad or suddenly changes, like old people's bones do. And he often has headaches. Aunt Polly says it will pass. What bothers Tommy more is that he's afraid of dark and small places. He thought it would be better by now but it isn't. He noticed it when he was playing hide and seek with John and Ada and wanted to hide in the wardrobe. But he just stood there in front of it and couldn't move an inch.
Tommy squeezes his eyes shut and forces his trail of thoughts back to a more urgent problem. What if Father Christmas won't come this year? He never had any doubt about him until he heard his parents argue last night. It made him worried for many reasons, and the visit of Father Christmas was one of them.
Dad came home drunk and refused to give Mum money again. He said he needed it for some business that would make him rich. But he always said that. Even Tommy knew. He was sitting on the top of the staircase and heard their row in the kitchen where Mum was washing other people's dirty linens. He wanted to help her but it was very late and she sent him to bed after a big hug.
"What's the point of always chasing wealth and letting our children starve, Arthur? We should give them the little we have but you always come up with a new idea that doesn't work or spend every penny on booze, women and gambling."
"Know your place, woman!" Dad bellowed and Tommy flinched when he heard a loud thud. He must have kicked a chair from his way. "It's my fucking money, I decide how to spend it."
"You're never here but have you seen Tommy nowadays? He is skin and bones. He couldn't even gain back the weight he lost in the hospital after his accident in the mine, and gives everything to his little siblings who don't understand why we never have enough food on our table." Mum's tearful voice filled his heart with guilt. "And poor Arthur deserves a good dinner after working from dawn until dusk in the factory where you sent him. He's only thirteen, he should be in school. Education can give them a better future."
"For fuck's sake, will you ever stop whining?"
"All I want is a happy Christmas for our children with more than porridge or broth and a slice of bread. I can't believe you do this every year. How will I explain to them when Father Christmas won't bring anything they asked for in their letters? Dear God, I have to choose between feeding them or saving the magic of Christmas."
Tommy's breath hitched. Mum was wrong, Father Christmas would come for sure. She always told them he would find them everywhere to bring presents, even when they had lived on the January and hadn't have a chimney.
"We had money if you hadn't wasted all our savings on that useless little wretch."
"What was I supposed to do? My son almost died in that tunnel. He should have stayed in the hospital for at least two more weeks but we couldn't afford it. Do you know what it felt like? Of course not, you were busy fucking your whore and didn't even bother to visit Tommy. It's your fault he was there in the first place! If you left his cat alone... Why can't you put our family first just once in this goddamn life?"
"Shut up, you stupid, greedy bitch! I'm sick of your antics. I don't give a fuck about that kid. If he had died, you would have one less mouth to feed."
Tommy felt tears pricking at his eyes. He stubbornly tried to blink them away. He knew Dad didn't love him. Who cares?
"How can you be so cruel?" Mum sounded like she was crying and Tommy would have liked to hurry down the stairs and comfort her. Or seek comfort for himself. "He's an innocent, sweet little boy who deserves much better from life than what he got so far. All of them do. You ruined my life and you want to do the same to our children."
"Did I?" Dad said so threateningly that it made Tommy's blood freeze. "Small Heath isn't enough for the fucking Gypsy princess? The door is open, my pretty little blackbird. Fly away if you want. Or are you afraid there will be one more empty chair next to yours?"
Tommy couldn't be sure he heard Mum's quiet answer well.
"I hate you."
"How bad for you. You are my property, Sarah. You ran away with me and I payed your price to your father like I do for a whore."
"Marriage is not whoring. It shouldn't be."
"Then stop demanding and be a good wife," Dad said coldly. "Quiet. Obedient. Invisible."
Then the front door opened, announcing the arrival of Aunt Polly. She had a suitor and she spent a lot of time with him lately.
Tommy tiptoed back to their room before she would have noticed and scolded him, and climbed into bed next to John. Not even his little brother's warm body could chase away the cold from his heart.
Tommy sighs wearily and starts kicking the crate he's sitting on with his heel. He looks down at his precious boots. He keeps them in perfect condition. Every evening, the first thing he does is wiping them clean with a wet rug to get rid of all the mud and soot and God knows what else of Small Heath, then he polishes them until they're nice and shiny like when they were new. He knows what a privilege it is to have shoes that nobody else wore before him. And they're special boots because he got them from Father Christmas. What a luck he grows so slowly and they still fit. It would be awfully said if his feet got too big for his most valuable possession. But it will be fine because he can give them to John, and he will be so happy. His brother's and Ada love their boots, too, but they aren't as careful with them as he is. He likes to give his loved ones nice things.
Tommy always thought life would be amazing when he becomes successful and rich. What's the point of running a business if his money isn't enough for anything? The marble business expansion was a great triumph. He's still the best in the games the boys play at school and on the streets and always has new costumers who wants to buy marbles from him. The temptation to spend his income on toys or sweets for his siblings was big but he put every single penny in his business box. He wanted to save money for Mum's gift. She really deserves something wonderful, especially after she had to worry so much about him last spring. It's sad Father Christmas doesn't listen to him when he asks for presents for Mum, Aunt Polly, Uncle Charlie and Curly.
The problem is that he isn't as rich as he thought. When he timidly entered a shop in the Jewellery Quarter, a man behind the counter bellowed at him to get out and called him filthy little Gypsy. And when Tommy gathered his courage and pulled out all his money from his pocket to ask what could he buy with it, the man laughed at him and said that it didn't worth anything. Maybe it's enough for candy or a rubber ball if he's lucky, but not for jewellery.
So he is deeply disappointed and sad. Only one week left until Christmas. What could he do to buy something pretty for Mum?
It's shameful to admit but he's been thinking about stealing something. But he can't do it. Mum always tells him she's proud of him for being a good boy. He can't make her disappointed. He knows his conscience would torment him if he did something wrong, like when he stole that small gingerbread heart for Ada. A necklace or bracelet, something that even wealthy adults deem valuable would be a hundred times worse. It would be a crime. And Tommy doesn't want to be a criminal. He didn't want to do mean things like Dad.
Beside that, he can't risk being bad before Christmas. What would Father Christmas think? He would be as disappointed as Mum, and he wouldn't give Tommy any presents. It would be sad not to find anything under the Christmas tree. It's the best holiday in the world.
Maybe he should beg. Small Heath is full of beggars; tired and sad men, women and sadly, children sitting on the cold ground or in the shadow of a big, dark building, with gray faces, empty eyes and shaking hands. They scare Tommy. Not because they're evil or dangerous, not at all. He's afraid of them because they are just like him, Arthur, John, Ada and Mum. He knows how easy it would be to end up on the streets like them. He remembers what it feels like to be freezing on the cold stone and hoping for a shred of mercy and kindness. What it's like to be so lonely and lost.
Dad was holding him by his upper arm and it wasn't as nice as when Mummy held his hand in hers. He thought that Dad must have forgotten how small he is because he was walking so fast in his big boots that he couldn't keep up with him. Tommy was running as fast as he could not to get lost on the busy streets, that would have been terribly scary. He was always afraid of getting lost because he was so tiny that people might have not noticed him. But he was only four and the cobblestones were so cold and rough under his bare feet that it brought tears to his eyes, especially when Dad didn't notice that he was dragging him over an icy puddle.
"Wait, Daddy! I can't walk so fast!" He complained when his arm almost slipped from his big coat.
"Stop whining, you useless little brat!" Dad snapped at him. "We're almost there. And it will only make your job easier if you cry."
"Where are we going?" He panted. The cold weather made every breath feel like he was freezing inside.
"You'll see. Now shut up and hurry."
So he didn't ask more questions and ran as quickly as he could. He wished Dad carried him in his arms, though he was a big boy already. Mum often did that when they had to go somewhere far from home and he got tired or it was too cold, and she always wrapped his feet in something warm.
Eventually, Dad dragged him to a huge, nice building and up a couple of stairs.
"Is it a church? Are we going to pray?"
"Aye, you better pray if you don't want me to leave you here," Dad grumbled and pushed him down to the cold, hard stone. "Now sit, look fucking piteous and beg for money when rich people go by you."
"No, I'm cold!" He protested and tried to scramble to his feet but Dad held him down. "I wanna go home to Mummy!"
"Listen to me, kid! If you want to go home, make sure that hat is full of money. You're not going anywhere unless you earn your living. Am I understood?"
Tommy nodded and couldn't hold back his tears. He understood now what Dad wanted. He brought him to this pretty church to beg. He saw beggars sometimes, but he didn't want to be like them.
"I'll be in that pub." Dad pointed at the building on the other side of the road. Smoke was curling to the sky from its chimney and the windows winked at him invitingly with their warm light. He wished he could go in there, too. Must be nice and warm. "I'll keep my eyes on you, little bastard. If you dare to wander away, you'll never see your mother again."
Tommy just nodded, couldn't say anything. He was choking on tears. He wanted his mum. But she was sick, and Aunt Polly went to the market with Arthur who had a pair of worn out shoes with many holes in it to sell her herbs so they could buy Mum real medicine. But he couldn't go, it was hard to find something for him because his feet slipped out of his brother's old shoes and the new ones costed too much and Dad forgot to wrap his feet in rags.
He watched with watery eyes as Dad walked into the nice pub with warm lights, whistling a happy tune. He wished he could have followed him. But he wasn't allowed to move from that spot. So he pulled his knees to his chest, tried to cover his feet with his coat and let his tears stream down his face. What else could he do? He was just a little boy, he didn't know the city, just the other church where they went to pray every Sunday. Things here were nicer, people looked richer. He didn't belong here. Maybe that's why Dad brought him here. Rich people must be more generous because they have more to share with the poor. But it didn't look like they cared about Tommy.
He didn't dare to ask for money, didn't even dare to look up. A woman in a pretty dress Mum and Aunt Polly could never afford to buy dropped a coin in the hat. A man kicked it away as he hurried next to him. He saw children's feet in nice boots he will never have and heard their laughter. Maybe they were laughing at him. Or they were just happy, like Tommy when he played with Arthur on the boat or when he saw horses. He loved horses more than anything, except Mum, Arthur, Uncle Charlie, Curly and Aunt Polly. He tried to think of nice things Mummy always told him. The fairy tales from the beautiful book she has since she was a little girl, as small as he is now. He thought of the little match girl. She was poor and small and had to stay out in the cold winter to sell matches to rich people but nobody cared about her. And then she died and her grandmother took her to heaven. Would Tommy froze to death, too? He didn't want to. He didn't want to go to heaven, he wanted to go home to his mum.
He didn't know for how long he was sitting on those icy stairs but eventually heard a familiar voice, the one he loved most in all the world.
"Tommy!"
It was Mum!
"Me som kathe, Mami!" He cried in a small voice and stumbled to his feet. He was so cold.
"Muro tikno Tommy!" Mum ran to him and held him in her arms. "Naisarav tuke devleske! Oh, muro śukar tikno ćhavo. Av kathe kaj e Dej."
"Me s-sem b-but śil, M-Mami!" Tommy buried his tear-stained face in the crook of her neck.
"Me źanav, drago." Mum took off her shawl and wrapped it around his feet. Then she took off her worn out coat as well, and Tommy wanted to protest because she was sick but it was so nice and warm and he didn't want to freeze. "So keres tu kathe, tikno princo?"
"O D-Dad mukhlja m-man k-kathe. Vov m-manglja te b-bešav kathe te m-mangav vaj či maj d-dikhav tut.." Tommy cried between hiccups.
"Kaj gelo, drago? Dikhel tut katar varekaj?"
"Ova. Katar kodo p-pub. Me gindiv kaj si shukar thaj tato odothe."
An old man and a woman walked past them.
"Gypsy scum. Watch your purse, my dear." Tommy heard the man's contemptuous voice. Mum's embrace tightened around him. "They are everywhere and don't even bother to learn our language. They speak this ridiculous gibberish. Women with their hair loose, kids who learn to steal before they could read. They bring immorality and crime everywhere."
A wave of shame washed over him, though he didn't do anything bad. At least he hoped so. He just wanted to go back to the January with Mum.
"It's alright, sweetheart. We'll go there and warm you up a little. Then I will take you home."
"Dad s-said I can't g-go home if I d-don't earn m-my living." He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his fists.
Mum looked down at the hat on the cold stone. She emptied it in her pocket
"Well, if your father wanted you to earn money, he'll never see a penny of it. It's yours. And be damned if I ever let him make you do it again."
She held up her head high and adjusted her arms around Tommy's small body as she hurried to the pub.
"He'll be a-angry and..."
"Stop, my angel," Mum interrupted him in a soft voice. "I don't care what he said. Your grandfather was a king. He would rather die than to see you beg. If your father can't get enough money with work, he can sit on those damn stairs himself."
Tommy wishes he met his grandfather the Gypsy king. But he only knows Shelby grandad who is really a criminal, at least that's what he heard.
"What are you doing here in the cold, Tommy?" His maudlin is interrupted by Curly's friendly voice.
"Do you think Father Christmas likes rich kids more than the poor, Curly?"
Curly scratches the back of his head and thoroughly considers his answer. "I don't think so, Tommy. I think Father Christmas likes poor kids. They need him more, don't they? To bring them presents and hope."
"Then what does money have to do with his visit?"
"I don't know. Do you want to ask Charlie? He's feeding the horses. Why don't you come and see Ućhalin and the others?"
"Can I bring Zïna?"
"Sure. She likes to be there. Horses got used to her by now."
Tommy's feet still don't hit the ground so he slides down from the crate and adjust his cat in his arms. He follows Curly to the familiar warmth of the stable. Uncle Charlie looks up when he hears their footsteps and smirks at Tommy.
"What did you find out in the cold, Curly?"
"It's Tommy, Charlie. Don't you see? He was at the scrap yard and looked like he needed company."
Charlie invitingly gestures to the boy and points at a bucket of oat. "Do you want to feed your horse, son?"
"Yes, Uncle Charlie." Tommy beams, kisses his cat's head between her ears and puts her on a haystack where she likes to rest. Then he lifts the heavy bucket to give it's content to Ućhalin.
When all the horses are fed and Tommy's mare got her well-deserved cuddles, he sits in the warm hay with his uncle, absentmindedly stroking Zïna's back.
"So? What's the matter, lad?" Uncle Charlie asks and lights a cigarette. "Are things difficult at home?"
Dad beat Tommy last weekend but he doesn't have bruises on visible parts of his body so he doesn't have to tell. Aunt Polly took care of him, and it wasn't that bad at all.
"I don't know if we'll have Christmas this year," he blurts out and his heart immediately feels lighter now that he shared his concern with someone. Uncle Charlie always knows what to do.
"Why wouldn't you have it?"
"I don't know. I heard Mum and Dad argue last night and she was worried about money. She is always worried and I know we can't have a magnificent dinner like last year. That was a Christmas miracle." Tommy nods to himself. "It's fine, I would give my share to John and Ada anyway."
Uncle Charlie sighs loudly and rubs Tommy's narrow back. "You can't skip every meal to give your food to the little ones, Tommy. Do you remember what your Mum and Aunt Polly said when you came home from the hospital?"
"To eat?"
"Aye. Because you needed your strength to heal those broken bones." Uncle Charlie lightly pats Tommy's leg.
"But I did. I'm completely fine since the summer. I can run as fast as Arthur."
Though he suspects that his big brother lets him win sometimes.
"Thank God you are. But it doesn't mean you can just... neglect yourself. You need to eat as much as your siblings. Or do you want to stay this small forever?"
"Stop, Uncle Charlie." Tommy pokes his uncle's side, eliciting a quiet laugh from him. "I want to be as tall as Arthur. He grew so much last year."
"There's nothing wrong with being small, Tommy. You're big in a different sense of the word."
"How?" He frowns.
"Well, you're the smartest kid in Small Heath. And you're ambitious. Look at you." Uncle Charlie mussles his hair. "A ten years old businessman."
His words doesn't have the intented effect.
"I will never be rich. I'll never be more than a poor Gypsy."
"Oi, what got into you, Tommy?" His uncle worriedly cups his face in his calloused hands. "Where's my hopeful little nephew?"
He got kicked out of a shop. He's still sitting on the ground, begging for money.
"I wanted to buy Mum a beautiful bracelet. To match the necklace she got from her mum. She showed it to me before last Christmas. I think Father Christmas should bring presents to her, too, but he never does, though I always ask him. How can you convince him? He always drops presents for Mum at the yard. But the salesman laughed at me and told me nasty things, and threw me out. He said my money isn't enough for anything. And I'll be poor forever, and Mum sounded like she lost her faith in Father Christmas and thinks he doesn't care about poor kids like us."
"That's a lot to think about," Uncle Charlie agrees. "First of all, salesmen at the Jewellery Quarter are pricks. Don't listen to him and never doubt you are a good boy and has a knack for business. I bet you'll get so rich one day that you can buy your mum diamonds and sapphires. If your money isn't enough yet, save it for later and do something nice for her yourself. Or let's see if Father Christmas drops something here again this year, and I promise you can give it to her."
"Okay," Tommy agrees quietly. "Thanks, Uncle Charlie. You're the best. But what about Father Christmas and poverty?"
"Nothing, Tommy. The old man loves everyone equally. He doesn't care if you're poor or rich, there will be presents under the Christmas tree. Everything you asked for."
"I didn't asked for much. Just simple things. I'm not greedy."
"Of course not. Maybe your mum just had a bad day. She was tired or your father upset her, that's why she sounded like she lost hope. But she still believes in Christmas wonders."
"Really?" Tommy looks at Uncle Charlie hopefully. "I don't want her to be sad or disappointed in Father Christmas. She always tells us about him in December. She knows the best stories."
"Yeah, she does." Uncle Charlie nods. "You don't know it from me, but your Mum already has a little surprise for you at home."
Tommy's whole face lights up. "But it isn't Christmas yet."
"That's what your mum told the lady who sells chestnut when she knocked on your door with a small package."
"The chestnut lady?"
"Aye. I met her this afternoon. She told me herself that you got an early present. And she asked your mum to sew a bunch of things for her because she can't see very well. She already paid for her work. So she doesn't have to worry about Christmas dinner. And Curly and I'll take care of a tree, like last year."
"It's wonderful!" Tommy looks at his uncle with bright eyes. "Mum will be so happy. Even if she has to work a lot."
Uncle Charlie pulls him in a hug. "See? Wonders can happen. Even in Small Heath."