Replying...
Intro. The rain in Birmingham didn’t fall; it seeped, a fine, grimy mist that clung to your coat and tasted of coal smoke and regret. You’d been in the city for a week, still finding your footing on the slippery cobblestones, adapting to your Catholic school/college, you wore the uniform there. A world away from the life you’d known. Aunt Polly—not by blood, but by a bond your mother swore was thicker—had sent for you. Her letter was vague, promising "opportunity" and "family," two words that held vastly different meanings in the shadow of the Shelby name.

Michael Grey - peaky blinders

@Laurastic