Tommy looked around the dimly lit parlor, studying each person in the room. Arthur sat at a circular table, pouring himself a glass of Scotch from a large bottle he had commandeered from the Garrison. He was red faced, his eyes were streaming, and he was attempting to stifle a cough by smothering it in his shirt sleeve.
Drunk as usual. Tommy made a mental note to change the locks on the Garrison cabinets so his brother couldn't filch the bottles. It wasn't good for business and they weren't there for him to drink all evening.
Better than the cocaine.
Anything was better than the cocaine, even his brothers' stint at self medication was better than the drug. Arthur swore he was off the stuff. Tommy didn't have the time currently to believe or disbelieve him, but being a a betting man and an accurate judge of his brother's character, he doubted his brother was "off the stuff", as Arthur so bluntly put it.
"Pour me some of that will you?" John muttered from the other side of the table, inching his glass closer to the bottle. Arthur uncorked the bottle and poured the whisky into the glass all the way to the brim.
Michael sat on the edge of an armchair, fingers laced together, as if he were praying. An absorbed expression was on his face. Finn sat in the window ledge, legs outstretched, staring out into the night. He looked disheveled. Arthur had hauled him in from wandering the streets after stumbling home from the Garrison. If Churchill was going to pick anyone next, he'd search for the weak links, the ones that put themselves in jeopardy. Tommy couldn't have that.
Esme was putting the kids to bed. Tommy could hear her coaxing Katie to get under the covers a floor above. He expected her to come downstairs at any moment for the meeting. Esme wasn't one to play the mother and forego business. She wasn't like Martha. Soon enough, the woman was slipping into the room. Arthur grunted in acknowledgement. John wouldn't even look at her. Tommy gave her a curt nod as she sat in a chair against the wall.
Tommy cleared his throat. "Alright everyone, it's time we start."
"Polly's not back yet," Michael pointed out, glancing at Esme as she closed the door behind her.
She's been gone too long.
Normally, Tommy was perfectly fine with her coming and going at odd hours. That was just the way Polly was. She was quick to proclaim that she was an independent woman, but after what had happened with John, it was clear as day that they were all moving targets. By sheer luck, none of the children were home when the attack happened.
"Does anyone have any idea where she is?" Tommy asked.
Finn shrugged. Arthur did the same. John poured himself another glass of Scotch. Tommy glanced out the window. It was pitch black now, past midnight. If Polly didn't come back in the next five minutes he was going to send someone to her house to see if she had gone home instead. And if she wasn't at home then….
Right on cue, as if to spite his thoughts, Polly entered the room, probably drawn by the light shining under the door and the sound of voices at so late an hour.
"Christ Pol, talk about being late. Where were you?" Arthur asked. "Don't you know it's witching hour?"
"I've been out," Polly snapped. "And I'll have you know I don't have to explain my whereabouts to any of you." She paused, looking at them all for the first time. "Why is everyone moping about? Was there a funeral?"
Tommy could see the gears turning in her head as she searched their faces. Her own face was pale and drawn. Dark circles were under her eyes. They all must have looked more than a little grim.
"First thing's first, we need to talk about the fire." Tommy said, getting down to business.
"The fire?" Polly asked, startled. "What fire?" she closed the door quickly behind her.
"John's house was set on fire this afternoon," Tommy explained.
"Oh my God… Are the children safe?" Polly asked, looking at John with wide eyes.
No concern for Esme.
It wasn't a secret to anyone that Polly and Esme did not get along. Polly didn't get along with any woman. Not Esme, not Grace, not Lizzie, not even Martha.
Tommy thought of May coming face to face with Polly for the first time, briefly wondering what that encounter would be like, before snapping back to the present.
"Sit down Pol, everyone's fine," John said. Polly swung around looking accusingly at Tommy, as if somehow this was his fault.
In a way it was. He was standing in Churchill's path to Shelby Brothers Limited. He saw Polly's eyes swivel back to John and her mouth open slightly.
" I know who was behind it," he said, cutting off further questions from Polly who remained standing by the door. John didn't look like he wanted to go into details and Tommy did not blame him. The nanny was dead and the house was nothing but ash. He and his kids were homeless and he was married to an unfaithful woman.
They all looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue.
"There's a man who calls himself Churchill. I was introduced to him this morning and he made it very clear that he wants to take over our business. As you know, we get threats all the time, comes with the territory."
Arthur nodded emphatically. John turned and glared pointedly at Esme. No one had forgotten the stunt her family had pulled at the Garrison. Esme leaned against the wall, her arms crossed.
" However, this time it's different. Women and children were involved. They meant for there to be casualties."
There was no provocation.
With the Lees it was retaliation. The Peaky Blinders attacked them, so they would give them a taste of their medicine. There was a reason and Tommy had been able to make peace. Churchill had acted in cold blood. There was no eye for an eye. It was a downright attack, an attack that could potentially have gotten his brother and his niece and nephews killed. There would be no peace.
He looked over at John who was drinking more and more of the scotch and looking more glum by the minute.
"John and his family lost everything. They could have lost their lives."
"Tilda did," John said. His face darkened and his lips trembled. Tommy saw Esme's face whiten.
Silence fell over the room.
" But, you can stop him right?" Michael asked, looking at Tommy then at the others. Tommy heard the uncertainty in his voice. "I mean, he's just another mobster and you said you get threats all the time. Can't you stop him?"
"I will stop him," Tommy said, his voice firm.
I' will kill him. Don't you doubt that.
Doubt on their part was just as dangerous as Churchill's men. Tommy didn't doubt himself, but he could not afford his family to doubt him because it would lead to fear, and when people were afraid, they made themselves vulnerable.
"John, the kids, and Esme are staying here," he added. As for the rest of you, you'll need protection wherever you go."
He looked pointedly at Polly, who stared evenly back at him.
"Why isn't Ada here?" she demanded. "Surely she and Karl need protection as well." Once again she sounded as if she were blaming him.
She's scared. Polly lashed out when she was angry or frightened. The reaction was the same no matter what the reason was, except when she was happy, but Polly was rarely, if ever happy. He couldn't say any of them were ever truly happy for an extended period of time.
Comes with the territory.
"I'll take care of Ada and Karl but you're right Pol. They'll need to be relocated. That house isn't safe…."
The telephone on the desk behind him started ringing. Tommy picked it up after the first ring.
"Shelby."
"Solomon's been hit." Tommy recognized the voice as belonging to one of his men on patrol in Camden Town.
That wasn't what I expected.
He thought back on his meeting with Churchill and his taunting questions.
"I see the wheels spinning in your brain. You're asking yourself, who do I protect? Is he bluffing? Should I call in the Jewish baker with the hammer to pummel the bad man's face in?"
"Is he dead?"
"No, he was wheeled off in a gurney. Still alive, but he was in bad shape, last I knew." Tommy heard sirens in the background. "I'm outside the hospital," the man explained. "Wanted to see if the bastard croaked. Guess he's steady now." He sounded disappointed.
Tommy spent a minute or so gathering information as to where Solomons was being held, instructed the man to call him again if reports came out that Solomons was dead, and hung up the phone.
"Alfie Solomons was attacked," he said, facing his family again, and thinking that if Solomons died, he would carry out a takeover of his own, possibly an expansion. The "bakery" would be of use to him.
"By God that's fantastic news!" Arthur crowed. He had every reason to despise the man who got him tossed into prison after shooting Billy Kitchen point blank in the head.
"He's still alive."
Arthur's face darkened.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled. He snatched the bottle away from John and poured himself another drink. Tommy changed subjects. Solomons wasn't his family's concern and was lower on his list of priorities at the moment.
"Churchill wants the family business and he wants to scare me into giving it right to him. He threatened to target us and judging from the fire, that's what he intended. He wants to scare us into handing everything over, but we aren't going to let him or give him any ground." He proceeded to provide the details of the fire, the explosives, the men in the car, how as he spoke his men were combing the streets for them.
He looked at each one of his family members' faces when he finished speaking, gauging their reaction. Michael seemed hesitant, uncertain. Polly looked skeptical. Arthur was the epitome of implicit trust. John looked as if he had faith in him, a begrudging faith, but faith nonetheless, and Finn looked satisfied. Esme's gaze was cool, expressionless.
"Would you care to explain how exactly you intend to do that?" Polly asked, the skepticism audible in her voice.
"All in good time Pol." He turned to Arthur. "Arthur, round up the boys. They need to hear what I just told you."
Arthur nodded and staggered to his feet, swaying slightly. The others began to stir. He could see his words were moving them into action.
"What can I do to help?" Michael piped up, unlacing his fingers and straightening his back as he lost the absorbed expression.
"Keep working on the books. Keep everything in order. John you can give him a hand after you help Arthur."
John nodded. Arthur clapped him on the back.
"Come on John, pull yourself together. We're going out." John stood up, scraping the chair behind him.
Maybe it was the war, but Tommy knew how to delegate tasks and get people moving. As a tunneler that's all he did, move forward. He didn't stop. He didn't get so caught up in his head that he didn't see what was right in front of him. Now was the time for action.
"I will let my family know as well," Esme said. Tommy nodded. Her connections were always useful. That was the reason why he made John marry her and why he continued to tolerate her presence.
"Tommy, let me help." Finn said, speaking for the first time. He hopped off the window ledge and strode over to the table, reaching for the bottle of Scotch.
"Absolutely not," Polly interjected, stepping further into the room and whisking the bottle out from under Arthur's red nose, and out of Finn's reach.
"You're not getting involved. In fact, you're going to stop running around these streets."
"Polly," Finn began, but Polly silenced him with a withering glare.
"Pol.. The bottle," Arthur said.
"You've had enough," she snapped. Her eyes softened somewhat when she looked at John who had hooked his thumbs in his pockets and was looking down at the table, biting his bottom lip.
"I'm sorry John."
John nodded.
They all filed out of the room. Only Polly remained. She looked at him, suspicion in her eyes.
"You don't have a plan do you."
"There are a few details I need to work out."
Why did she always doubt him?
"I'm assuming you didn't get married this morning," her voice was dry.
"Our nuptials were put on hold."
"Ah..Well, one less distraction for you then." She raised the bottle to her lips, never taking her dark accusatory eyes off him as she swallowed the last of the whisky.
Are you still upset with me about Michael?
"I look forward to hearing your plan," she said before turning on her heel and walking out of the room. Tommy was surprised she hadn't pushed him further into divulging his plan. Tommy waited until her footsteps had receded down the hallway, before picking up the phone. He dialed Ada's number, disregarding the time. As expected no one answered. He dialed May's number and the result was the same. He knew it was late, but he also knew the two women stayed awake through the night hours.
They are also avoiding me.
He thought Ada had relented somewhat in her anger towards him when he had given her that letter, but apparently their relationship wasn't mended. He hadn't seen head nor tail of her since the races and May….
May will come around. That's what he kept telling himself.
So would Ada. Under normal circumstances, he'd wait it out with Ada, let her have her way, but not when someone was after her and Karl. As for May, Churchill didn't know she was connected with him so it was probably best to give her space until Churchill was dead. Churchill wanted his loved ones so he could use them to twist his arm into handing over the company. Tommy wasn't going to give him that power.
No one mentioned May. No one knew he was going to the court-house to marry May. He wasn't followed to her home. He had made sure of it. Now he had to make sure he kept his family and his business safe, and that all the pieces of his plan ultimately resulted in Churchill's swift death.