The chime of the telephone had been muffled for some time until the sound caught her ear. When it finally came to her attention, however, Evie wished she had never answered.
"Polly, slow down— what are you goin' on about?"
"I know, Evie." She heard the older woman's stern tone as clear as day through the telephone, a tone that set fear into her niece and nephews.
"You know what?"
"I know about the arrangement you made with Solomons— and don't lie. I know when you are, even over the phone."
"How-" She breathed. Evie felt a lump form in her throat, taking the receiver away from her ear. Needless to say, what was said made her heart jump, but she took a deep breath to keep herself from stuttering. She wasn't an idiot. She knew there was no sense in arguing with Polly once she knew the truth, but with her, silence was worse than talking back.
"How in hell did you find out?" Evie asked, truly dumbfounded as to how Polly could possibly gather that information. She could practically see the older woman smirking on the other end once she heard her scoff. "Ada spilled. Incidentally of course, but nonetheless she let it slip."
Evie pounded the base of the phone onto the wood. "Ada." She muttered through her teeth.
"I heard that." Polly's voice rang through. "We'll talk about this later when I get there."
Without uttering another word, or giving Evie a chance to respond, the line went dead. She huffed deeply through her nose, gripping the receiver until she frustratedly hung it back onto the telephone.
It was now half past noon, which meant Ada would be home any minute. Maybe half an hour before Polly's unexpected ring had she called to let Evie know she would be at the library for only the morning. It worked out perfectly, actually, because Polly was driving up to London that afternoon to try on her dress for the charity dinner. The piece needed altering and the only tailor she knew was one who Evie had become acquaintances with after many ripped hems of her dresses. Although Evie failed to see anything perfect about this day now. Her foot bobbed in a silent rhythm for what seemed like hours, only stopping once she heard keys and the front door open with a creak.
"I'm back!"
The familiar toddle of Karl's feet nearly blocked out Ada's voice, until he greeted her himself and the sweet exchange between mother and son began. Evie never moved from her seat in the drawing room, on the couch, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Karl had already attempted to pry into what made her face look so angry and after her curt response he made it his priority to avoid her until 'the scary face went away'. She didn't mean to give him such a scare, but she felt annoyed beyond belief and growingly anxious as the minutes passed.
It wasn't long before Ada appeared from behind the large door with a content smile and short greeting, although that smile and delighted tone soon faded as she shed her coat. Evie's foul expression didn't go unnoticed. "What's wrong?"
"Polly knows." Evie stated.
Ada's brow creased. "Knows what?"
"Polly. Knows." She repeated, standing to her feet to meet her friend on the other side of the room. "Ada, she said you told her about my deal with Alfie— what the hell happened?!"
Her sudden confrontation left Ada with a dropped jaw. "Oh God, I was hopin' we wouldn't come to that." She faltered, the guilt clear on her face as she moved to one of the plush chairs. Evie groaned. "Ada why would you do that?" She dragged, watching her friends back as she sat.
"I don't know," Ada admitted in the same distressed tone, craning her head to look over at her. "She was curious about the club an' when I mentioned the extra security by accident she got even more curious and it... somehow slipped out. You know her, once she catches onto something there's no way we're gettin' out of it."
"Wel—"
Before she could make Ada feel even more guilt, and relay what she would more than likely be experiencing later, a knock on the door interrupted them. They didn't have to wait to hear a voice to know who was outside. Ada exchanged a nervous look with her before going back into the hall to answer. As expected, Evie soon heard Polly's voice accompany Ada's, and it wasn't long before she appeared in the doorway with her niece behind her. Polly looked at her knowingly as she folded her coat over her arm. "Upstairs with me. C'mon." She all but ordered, leaving Ada to stand in the hallway with a nervous demeanor.
The look that Polly gave was one any of the Shelby's would recognize and cower at— or at least be wary of. Polly was always softer with the girls, but it was that same look nonetheless. Evie followed her up to the second level, almost like a child who was waiting to be scolded. In fact, that was almost exactly what she expected was going to happen.
Once they reached the stairs Evie took the lead, guiding her into the room where she left the frock after bringing it home from the tailors. Polly immediately went to the open wardrobe where it hung, admiring the baby pink fabric for a moment while her counterpart took the time to close the door slightly and take a seat.
"So," She stated, tossing her coat on the bed before lifting the dress from its place on the wardrobe. "When were you going to tell us you were doing you're own business with Solomons?"
Evie hesitated, rubbing her fingers along her temple. "Oh wait, what am I talking about," Polly added, letting the piece drape over her forearm. "You were never going to tell us. Were you?"
Her quick interruption made Evie drag out a sigh. "No," She admitted quietly, sitting up from her reclined position. "But Polly I don't understand why I should have to run everything by one of you. The club isn't some property I share with Arthur or Tommy, it's mine. I own it. The decisions I make shouldn't concern you. I didn't think you would want it to."
Polly, against her assumptions, chuckled at her response. "Sweetheart we're all aware it's your club, and it's your business what you decide to do to keep that club." She assured her, disappearing behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. "But you promised while you were in London you would keep us informed about anything goin' on that could involve us. That's what you told me over the phone after Tommy found the both of you."
"I know Pol," She replied, feeling as if she was repeating that phrase for the millionth time in the past few years. "But that's just it. It doesn't involve you. It's not Blinder business."
"The minute you agreed to a deal with that man, it became Blinder business."
"I really don't think it did." Evie argued calmly.
She could practically see Polly's eye roll, only to be met with an equally cross look once she appeared from behind the screen, now adjusting the gown she wore. That look, however, faded once Polly saw Evie's self-assured expression. "You really don't realize it do you?" She asked, but all Evie did in return was furrow her brow. "Evie, your name has been connected with ours ever since you came to Birmingham. Half the time people would call you 'Blinder girl' when they saw you on the streets."
"What does that have to do with my deal with Solomons?" Evie interrupted.
"It has to do with his past business with Thomas. He betrayed him, therefore he betrayed you. You're not a third party Evie, you're with us." Polly said a-matter-of-factly. "Or did you forget what he did to Arthur?"
She remembered perfectly well what happened to Arthur. In fact, it was one of the points she thought over the most before agreeing to go along with Alfie's offer. It was tough to forget, yes, but she needed the extra protection. And while she wouldn't mention it to Polly, Alfie was the one who gave her the keys. With that, and what he did for her on Darby day, she saw their deal as a debt she owed.
"Striking a deal with him makes others think that we chose a side again. Others like Sabini. They'll think the Blinders are back on good terms with Solomons— which we're not, despite the facade Tommy's been parading around. That's only to keep mouths shut and more blood from spilling..." She paused. "His facade won't continue to work if the wrong people find out you're working with Solomons."
The hard stare that was directed towards her made Evie turn her gaze away.
"What if Sabini finds out you've been visiting Camden Town? Hm? He could send men after you and use that against us. D'you ever stop to think about that? Or the possibility that Solomon's could be using you for his own personal vendetta?" Polly questioned with a raised brow. "Your deal was a simple exchange, I can see why you wouldn't think much of it... but he could use it to get to us— he could harm you, lock you away. All to make us do something for him that we wouldn't do otherwise."
"Polly I understand what you're saying but you're overthinking this way too much—"
"He's dangerous, Evie. Dangerous to you."
"They're all dangerous, Pol!" Evie argued harshly, glaring at the older woman. She had heard more than enough about 'danger' over the past few years and was growing tired of the scolding. "That's all our lives are is dangerous— all we meet are dangerous people whether they're on our side or not. If you call out Alfie for being that way but not your nephews then what do you think they are— a band of rowdy schoolboys?"
"Please," Polly scoffed, taking a cigarette from the bag she tossed on the bed, along with a lighter. Evie shook her head. "I know why you're upset that I didn't tell you but I can't see why you would make such a fuss. He's exactly like the boys."
Polly stared down at her for a moment, taking a drag of her cigarette before picking up the skirt of her dress. "That's exactly why I fuss, Evie. Because he is exactly like them." She explained sternly, coming over to sit on the bed in front of her. "I want you to be safe. I don't worry over Ada like this because I know where her interests are, and they have nothing to do with her family's dirty business. Yours, however, yours are and I know you enjoy it. Having something of a silver tongue and a father who indulges in the same things isn't enough to keep your hide protected. You have to be smarter."
Evie broke her gaze, looking over to the window across from her as she fiddled with her hands in her lap.
"I'm gonna say this once." Polly continued, moving from her place on the bed to find an ashtray. "Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with us. You lived with me for long enough to have the Shelby name branded onto your backside. It's both something that keeps you safe and something that puts you in harm's way." She paused, dropping her cigarette in the glass receptacle she found on the nightstand. "And because you wanted to live somewhere where you weren't in the middle of everything, but don't want to separate from us and the business that we do, I expect you to compromise."
"Which means?"
"Which means you tell us things. I didn't worry when you were in Birmingham because you were with us... but you're not in Birmingham anymore and that makes you vulnerable. Which means no secrets. Your personal life is your own, your business is your business, but you keep us informed on the important things. Things that could affect your safety." She paused, allowing Evie enough time to nod. "Like making deals with our ex-business partners."
Evie pursed her lips, giving Polly a knowing look, although all the older woman did was raise her brow. She huffed through her nose, placing her hands on her knees as she sat up. "I'm not going to break off our deal. I need the extra protection with all the attention the club is getting." She stated. Polly never moved to argue. "But I will keep you informed from now on, alright?" She bargained. Polly stayed silent, seeming to mule over her offer. Eventually, she nodded. "Alright."
"Only you though, Pol." Evie pointed, although all Polly did was hum in response. "For the love of God, please don't tell them..." Evie pleaded. "...or if you have to tell them, leave Arthur out. I have no doubt he'll string the man up by his toes and then come back to give me a bloody earful."
"He would." She agreed, but despite her choice of words, Polly's expression softened. "But only cos he cares about you." She conveyed. "They all do. They're too bloody proud to tell you but I'm not."
Evie couldn't help but smirk, imagining how John would look if he tried being sentimental and caring to anyone but his kids. Arthur was easier to picture now that Linda was around, but Tommy and John? Not even in her dreams. "I want you to know something, Evie." Polly began, gaining her full attention once the cigarette in her hand was put out in the ashtray. "When those boys came back from the war, you managed to make them feel happy when Ada and I couldn't. You barely knew them, you weren't asked to, and yet you were determined to bring a little hope back to their faces because you knew what they went through was terrible. Even if it was just a hint of a smile, you were satisfied because you knew that for a moment you helped... that's something I'm forever indebted to you for. Which is why I will never stop trying to protect you as I do with them. No matter how ridiculous you may think my reasons are."
A small smile tugged at her lips. Polly had always held herself as the protector of her family, despite Tommy's protests, and that protectiveness never excluded Evie when she suddenly came into the picture. She was aware that Polly's friendship with her mother ended badly, but how bad exactly, that she never knew. This was why, at first, she wasn't sure why Polly went out of her way to act as if Evie was apart of the family. Perhaps, she thought, Polly saw it as repayment. The sadness that showed in her eyes and made the corners of her mouth twitch down didn't go unnoticed when Evie first asked her the burning question many years ago. To end on a bad note, then find out Elizabeth had been killed? Evie could completely understand why Polly would feel some sense of guilt, even if she didn't admit it. She supposed she would never truly find out what had caused them to part ways, but she didn't need to. Polly wanted to remedy it, and she did.
Evie narrowed her eyes, thinking back to those moments when she tried brightening the brother's moods. She couldn't remember why she had tried to do such a thing so soon after they came home. Maybe it was just in her nature. Even now, that urge to help would tug at her heart. The only difference was that she knew when and when not to do so. Evie couldn't deny that she enjoyed helping people in any way she could, even if that meant helping an old man carry a trunk through the rain and muddy streets after it proved to be too heavy for him to carry. Arthur had laughed once he was told the story behind her ruined shoes, but she was never phased. It made her happy to know she made someone's day better.
"I must've looked silly." She thought out loud, watching as Polly stood to look for the gloves which accompanied her gown. "A Scot they knew nothing about trying to cheer them up."
Polly paused, messing with the gloves that were now squished between her hands. "I think they found it rather endearing, actually."
"Is he afraid?"
The man shook his head, letting the light that peered down onto them through cracks illuminate different sides of his face as he moved.
He stood in apparent contrast to the light above, dressed in all black, all the way from his polished shoes up to the fedora on his head. Like the devil had invaded the heavens, almost. The jailhouse, however, resembled nothing short of a trap, a suffocating confinement made of brick. But with those it now contained, to him, it was like entering a paradise.
A hint of a smile played on his lips as the door opened before him, and once he saw the one he expected to see, the expression nearly etched into his features. In this moment, Father Hughes had the upper hand, and he would relish in it. The Doberman held closely to his side followed him faithfully into the cell, remaining the Blinder's center of attention.
"Sit." The dog did as heard as he removed his hat. "I'm talking to you, Mr. Shelby." He corrected. Choosing to finally acknowledge him, Tommy huffed, sitting down on the bench behind him.
"So, the Oddfellows want you to know that any deviation from your instructions will have consequences." He addressed. "You visited your sister."
Despite the obvious fact that he was speaking to him, Tommy's gaze stayed on the dog in front of him. "What's your dog's name?"
"Your sister is a potential security breach. She has connections with the Bolsheviks in London who have connections with the Soviet Embassy." He continued, ignoring the irrelevant questions that followed. "Understand this. You have the local police in your pocket. We have Scotland Yard."
"Ya know," Tommy nearly interrupted, lifting a finger towards his company. "I find it interesting that you haven't mentioned Anthony Cardone. He has a great hold on the Scottish police. Now you say you have Scotland Yard in your pocket. Yet, his daughter tells me he is alive and well."
"Unlike you, Mr. Shelby I do not need to draw blood to strengthen my influence." Hughes almost spat out his words. "Mr. Cardone grows weaker by the day, as does his hold on the law. His absence from the church and amount of unforgiving acts only push him to spiral into downfall. Something he deserves, I would say."
Tommy smirked. "If I didn't know better, I'd say your words come from a personal perspective."
"We all have our enemies, Mr. Shelby." He proclaimed calmly, the same pompous, unwavering expression still etched onto his face. "Those apart of Scotland Yard who favor him are small. The masses will do what I tell them, just as surely as this dog."
Tommy looked to him challengingly. "Let him off the leash."
"Are you hearing me Mr. Shelby?"
"I can charm dogs. Gypsy witchcraft." He stated. "And those who I can't charm, I kill with my own hands. You learn it when you have a dog on the boat. They go fucking mad in tunnels. I feel like I'm in a tunnel now. Ya know that feeling when you have to kill or be killed."
Hughes gripped at the strap of leather he held in his gloved hand, not uttering a word.
"Let the dog off the leash." Tommy continued. "Give the order you give in Gaelic. Like I'm told you do when someone displeases you, when someone reports you."
His words were disregarded. "Visit your sister again and she will die crossing the road." Hughes warned. "I know Anthony's daughter lives with her. Perhaps even, if you try visiting Ms. Cardone, I will do the same. Call it calling two birds with one stone."
"Maraigh!" Tommy called, suddenly standing to his feet. The dog growled, although never moved. He looked up to Hughes. "C'mon, you say it."
Silence. Tommy raised his hands, silently proving his point. "If you wanted me dead I'd be dead, wouldn't I?"
"It's true," Hughes admitted. "It's true, we do need you alive. But when you go home today, Mr. Shelby, be sure to check under your little boy's pillow. The tooth fairy has been. We can reach anyone. Anywhere."
Something suddenly shifted in him. The smirk that once graced his face was now replaced with a scowl. An increasingly angry, caught off guard feeling that made him nearly bolt out of the cell once the door opened.
He raced out of the building, into his car, soon pulling up to the drive with a screeching halt. Once Tommy reached his son's room he headed straight to the crib. While attempting to not wake Charles, he searched. He searched under the pillow for something, anything that would explain Hughes words. That was when he felt it. A small card was pulled from underneath which read 'The Co-Operative Crematorium'. He turned it over in his hand, holding up the other side under the moonlight peering through his son's window.
On the back of the card were the words 'Charles Shelby R.I.P'. It tied a knot in his stomach, made him feel bile form in his mouth. They hadn't harmed his son, but they got close enough to slip a warning under his pillow. Tommy was careful not to let his enemies intimidate him, or let them see the effect they had, if any at all. Now, however, his enemy was in arm's length of his family. All they had to do was reach out, and it set a fear in him like he couldn't explain. But the anger it made him feel was greater.
Sometimes it felt like a prison. A lavish, loud, luxurious prison that she couldn't escape whether she wanted to or not. The endless conversations, the swarm of bodies, the voices that blared over the music when it was the time for a lively piece. All of it contributed to the negatives to owning a place meant for socializing. Or at least her negatives. There were nights when it resembled the beginning of a nightmare, yes, but it wasn't always.
Other times she would feel she was back in Stirling, watching the masses fill her mother's club to praise her for the community she created, the relationships established all because the business she created attracted so many different people. There were nights when guests would simply sit, listen, and concede to mutters when they would want to talk. The music would be slow, soothing, and it would entrance them. Couples who danced would be swayed as if their feet were being carried by the sounds.
That's exactly what she watched happen now. A girl named Maria sang the same slow melody as she had done the night before, capturing the attention of every man and woman listening. Evie remembered when the short, redheaded, wide-eyed woman had shown up to the club unannounced— during closing hours —begging to be given a chance. She needed the work, she needed the money, and she wanted to sing. In fact, she was bold enough to stand on a chair and showcase her voice for Evie and Joshua on that day she strode in. It had been about two weeks ago, but Evie never regretted one day after. Her voice was gorgeous.
Once the song drew to a smooth close, audience members began to clap in unison with a whistle or two following behind. Maria tilted her head in thanks to those she saw in the crowds, and once done, turned to look up to Evie, bowing her head in her direction. Evie mimicked this movement in response, knowing that was her silent show of gratitude. The young singer stepped off the stage for a moment, allowing the band to play something instrumental so she could give her voice a break. Although now, with the absence of her voice, came many new chattering ones among the soft play of the instruments. "She's a catch."
Evie craned her neck, spying Joshua leaning against the bar with a glass in his hand. The overlook was closed off tonight for her and her alone. Any of her supposed important guests had never shown that night, therefore Evie decided to grant herself some much-wanted space. His words made her smirk. "Glad I convinced you, hm?"
Joshua faltered under her stare. "That's not what I meant." He smiled, placing the empty glass that occupied his hand back onto the bar before moving behind the front. Evie raised her brow, watching as he scanned the different bottles of alcohol. "I just mean you have a knack for choosing talented performers."
"Hey, boss!" Before she could begin to tease her manager, however, Duncan called her attention away. He looked over to her from his position on the stairs, bobbing his head in the direction of the entrance. "I think Solomons just walked in here."
Evie knitted her brow the minute she heard the name, turning to Joshua in hopes of resolving her confusion, although he looked just as perplexed by Duncan's words. She moved from the edge of the overlook, coming to stand next to the older man at the top of the stairs. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a few seconds, but she couldn't match any figure she saw to that of the Jewish crime boss. Then again, the multi-colored cluster of people was enough to make anyone's head spin.
She felt a nudge at her side. "There." Duncan muttered, pointing his stare to the right of the entrance; their left. Once she allowed her eyes to focus on one area, Evie spotted Ollie almost immediately, although that only made her even more curious. She wasn't aware he had come back. Nor was she aware that his boss had a taste for scarves. While his hat was tipped down, she could clearly spy Alfie right next to him, as well as the small white scarf that hung around his neck. Duncan tensed. "They're comin' over."
"Yes, I can see that." She deadpanned, adjusting the long wrap that hung from her shoulders. Evie was always agitated by his anxiousness. She couldn't remember a time when he wasn't a precautious person, but she never seemed to get used to it. But right now she knew this wasn't because of that. Despite having never met him face to face, Duncan hadn't taken a liking to Alfie— not for one minute —and he wasn't good at hiding it. Her feet began to carry her down, although she stopped after the first few steps, leaning her weight on the railing. As they came closer she could hear Duncan mutter. In a second, she saw him begin to come down the stairs himself— to stand in front of her no doubt —but Evie raised her finger in his direction before he could. "You stay put." She mumbled, turning back around once the two came near the bottom of the stairs.
"I didn't expect to ever see you again," She smirked, directing her words towards Ollie, "nevermind in my club."
He tipped down the flat cap atop his head toward her before removing it. "It's good to see you too, Ms. Cardone." He smiled.
"I've told you, Ollie, call me Evie." She huffed, descending down the remaining stairs. Alfie chuckled. "See Ollie, she doesn't like bein' called 'Ms. Cardone' any more than I like bein' called 'Mr. Solomons'."
"What are you doing here?" Evie asked, crossing her arms. "I thought you said these kinds of situations weren't your cup of tea."
"Oh no I still hate 'em, yeah. N'fact if we could go over there I could fuckin' bare it a little better..." He paused, gesturing to the far left of the large room. A seating area which had been abandoned. Evie followed suit to his request. "...and, you told me that if you weren't seen conversin' with your partners that guests would ask questions, right? Get nosey."
She nodded. "Well," Alfie bobbed his head, "Here I am, holdin' up my end."
Evie hummed, keeping her gaze on the people they passed as they walked along the edge of the crowds. She tried to make sense of what she heard, but it only made her smile in amusement. "Alfie Solomons in a club— that's a hard sight to grasp." She laughed.
"Well, it's easier to imagine than me ownin' one." He pointed out. Evie furrowed her brow, turning her gaze away to wave over a barman. "Oh c'mon, it can't be that impossible." She prodded. "I dislike the crowds as much as you do but I think you could be excellent at it."
Before he could argue any further, the barman walked over with a bottle and glass in hand as they approached. She thanked him, taking both items from his grasp. Evie turned back to Alfie, displaying the bottle in her hands. "As you requested." She told him. "Up front where it can be seen by the masses."
He smirked. "Is it doin' well?"
Evie nodded. "Quite well." She said, settling for placing the bottle in a chair because of the lack of tables near them. The setting around them was covered by another set of stairs. A set which led to whatever sat above the club. Evie had wondered what lied up there, and for a moment explored, but found the door she saw at the top was locked. It had been ever since she was given keys to the building.
By then she could hear Maria begin to sing once more. Evie hadn't even noticed when she returned, but she did notice the quieter, hushed voices of the people in front of from them. As well as Joshua in the overlook above, or rather the way he looked down at her as she sang. Evie smirked. "That's Maria," She pointed her head toward the other woman. "She practically sang her way into the job and 's been doubling my guests ever since..." She paused with a huff, crossing her arms once more, "...although she's distracting my manager a little too much. He's turning into a right bampot."
Evie eyed Joshua from below until he eventually caught her annoyed— and Alfie's amused —stare, disappearing back to the bar no doubt.
"Bampot," Alfie repeated with a chuckle. "Ya know sometimes I forget you're a Scot because you're around those Brummies so much. You act like 'em more than you act like any Scot I've ever seen in my lifetime."
Evie arched a brow, looking back over to him. "I think that's good though," Alfie continued, nodding curtly. "Tommy rubs me the wrong way, that's for fuckin' sure, but them Shelbys are as tough as nails. I can see where 'e's influenced you and it ain't anywhere that bad."
"Glad I have your seal of approval." The sarcasm in her voice was obvious, although Alfie shook his head. "Nah, you never needed that. Believe me. You didn't need my approval to turn this place into a success either... I knew you could do it."
"Since when?"
"Since ya told me you would cut me if I ever singled you out again."
"You haven't done it since." She laughed.
"Yeah..." Alfie paused for a moment, looking down to the floor. "I should be leavin' now. I just came 'ere to see how Samuel was treatin' ya and these crowds are fuckin' gettin' to me."
She nodded stepping out of his way despite the fact that Alfie never moved.
"I meant what I said, by the way. I do." He added. "You're a brave one for stickin' around people like us. Nearly gettin' yourself killed an' all that yet you still come back."
Evie smiled, turning her gaze away. "Well, it's all I really know... being the daughter of one and all. I don't intend on giving it up so... I guess I have no choice but to put up with you lot while I'm here."
She had heard him chuckle, but afterwards, her attention was taken by Maria's voice. Evie always found herself easily drawn into music. It was something she often used for coping. But now, she was simply distracted so much that she hadn't noticed Alfie was still standing next to her, nor the peck he gave her on her cheek. By the time she willed herself to look back over, he was gone. As were her words. Although if that was the consequence for what just happened So be it, she thought. She wasn't angered by what he did. In fact, she felt a warm feeling rise up in her chest. She was quite delighted.
P.S. "bampot" is Scottish slang for idiot.
Side note, I just found out there's like.. three other stories with their characters named Evie- I had no idea until I started browsing the stories on here. Sorry if that makes me look like I'm copying anyone. I'm not- I didn't think it was such a popular name lol.