Rose pulled the coat she had borrowed off Ada tightly around her shoulders, shivering in the cool breeze which blew around her and Tommy as they stepped outside. She had had to wear a hat on her head to keep people from seeing her face too much for fear of them recognising her. Tommy just hoped that everyone would be too scared of the Peaky Blinders to speak to Charles about their whereabouts.

"Could you please just tell me what we are doing," Rose hissed agitatedly, shivers running up and down her spine. The Autumnal air of Birmingham was especially cool and crisp today, and being inside for a long time hadn't helped her adjust to the temperature.

"I don't 'ave time to explain now," Tommy told her, his voice low and deep. She felt his hand on the small of her back guiding her through the streets, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't tear her mind away from that tiny touch. "You'll see soon enough."

Despite the plummeting temperatures, Rose was glad to be outside once again. The air of the city wasn't exactly fresh, but at least she no longer felt confined; she could move freely out in the open and every little detail seemed clearer to her, as if it was in high definition.

After five minutes or so of brisk walking, Tommy stopped dead in his tracks outside of the door to a tiny, decrepit house. The bricks looked loose and worn away, and the black paint on the door was chipping away, falling in clumps to the ground below their feet. He knocked on the door only once before it swung open.

"Thomas Shelby," an old woman greeted them, her eyes squinted as if she were looking into the sun. Her tattered grey hair fell just to her crooked shoulders, and her skin, which seemed withered with age, folded like parchment paper around her hollow features. She was haunting. Rose wondered how on earth she knew of Tommy, but before she had the chance to ponder the question properly the woman spoke again. "I've been expectin' yer both. Do come in."

Tommy stepped inside the old building before Rose, his steps confident and purposeful. The young girl, however, was uncertain. She didn't even know this woman, yet she seemed to know them – and why had she expected them? A million questions were stinging her brain like bees, but Rose decided that now was not the time to ask. She trusted Tommy, and that was all that mattered.

"A cup of tea?" the woman asked, leading them into a small front room.

Tommy ignored her question and Rose politely shook her head, whispering "no thank you."

The room they entered was almost claustrophobic; it had red walls with black furnishings – crosses and books with tattered spines covered almost every surface. There was a black table in the middle – circular – and around it sat five chairs. The old woman shuffled towards one and gestured for them to sit.

"So yer know why we're 'ere?" Tommy questioned, sitting down once he saw that Rose was finally seated.

The old woman hesitated, pouring herself a steaming cup of tea from the cracked pot in the middle of the table. "Yes," she said, her voice deep and as gravelly as a man's. "I saw yer comin' quite some time ago."

"What?" Rose interrupted, the confusion of this situation finally getting to her. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"She doesn't know?" the woman asked, taking a loud sip of her tea. Rose looked to Tommy expectantly, and he shook his head.

"Well?"

"This is Mrs Lockhart, Rose. She's a medium," Tommy finally explained after great hesitation.

Rose looked at the two other people expectantly, waiting for them to tell her it was all a joke. "You are joking, are you not?"

"Those visions you've been having," Mrs Lockwood began, her expression grave. "They are not any ordinary visions."

At this point, the young girl could not suppress her laughter. Of all the people in the world, never would she ever have anticipated that Thomas Shelby would be one to believe in the supernatural. Rose stifled her laughter when Tommy gave her a piercing glare.

"She's tellin' the truth, Rose," Tommy agreed, expression deadly serious. "Them visions you've 'ad, well… Some of 'em are of my past. Distinct memories of my past. And some of 'em…I fear some of 'em are of my future."

The room was deadly silent.

Rose found it hard to breathe the air had suddenly become so thick – she could almost choke on it. No matter how much she didn't want to believe what she was being told, it made sense. Since she was young her relatives had told her she had the Sight, or that she was different in some way. Of course, she wanted to believe that was a load of codswallop. But now she wasn't sure. How could she doubt it was truth if she had seen real events of Tommy's past without knowing about them?

"But, I don't understand," she whispered, her voice barely escaping as anything more than a breath of air.

"That's what I'm here for," the old woman suddenly spoke. "Pass me yer 'and."

Rose was hesitant. "Why are you doing this for us?"

"Mrs Lockwood is a Romany Gypsy," Tommy interrupted, placing a hand on the girl's thigh reassuringly. At least she thought it was meant to be reassuring, yet it turned out to be anything but – all Rose could think of was the feeling of his hand on her skin. "'Er and Pol 'ave some connections."

Slowly and uncertainly, Rose outstretched her hand towards the woman, who grabbed it quickly in her own. Although wrinkled, her skin was soft and smooth against the young girl's cool palms.

Like a wise old owl, the woman looked at both Rose and Tommy before her lids slowly moved shut. There was a long, long silence as they all waited for something to happen. The sort of silence that seems to stretch for years. Rose looked to Tommy for some form of indication as to what was going on, but his face held no answers – it simply looked back at her, his icy blue eyes reassuring.

After an eternity, the woman's eyes shuddered open once again and she blinked several times. When she began to speak, her breath wheezed through her throat croakily and each movement seemed like it took an incredible amount of effort to perform.

"Well?" Tommy demanded impatiently. Rose looked to him chastisingly but he ignored her glare.

The old woman nodded. "Yes. She 'as the Sight."

"What does that even mean?" This time, it was Rose's turn to jump into the conversation. "Everyone has told me my whole life that there's something weird about me, but not once has anybody taken the time to explain what is wrong with me."

"My dear," Mrs Lockwood began, shifting her eyes towards the younger girl. "There isn't nothin' wrong with yer. Yer 'ave a gift – the gift of Sight."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, but what does that mean?"

"It means yer can see the future," Tommy told her, removing his hand from where it had rested on her thigh.

"And the past," the old woman added. "Yer can see many things that ordinary folk can't."

Rose sat in silence for a few moments, too stunned to speak. She was exactly sure what she made of these revelations; it was true that something strange had happened, but she had never been one to believe in the paranormal or anything along those lines. Yet here she was, sat with a medium who was telling her she was psychic.

"You're lying," she finally denied, her voice quivering with uncertainty. Even Rose knew that she didn't believe her own words. "That can't be true."

"How else do yer explain what you've seen?" Tommy questioned.

"I- I don't know," she admitted. "But why have I only recently been able to do any of this? It doesn't make sense."

Mrs Lockwood smiled then, her aged skin crinkling around her thin lips. "You've always been able to. Somethin' just sparked off your ability – like setting somethin' on fire."

"And what was that?"

"You met yer true love."

Rose felt her heart hammer aggressively against her ribcage, like a trapped bird that so desperately wanted to escape. It took her a moment to control her breathing. She wanted to look at Tommy to gauge his reaction, but by this point she did not dare make eye contact.

"We need to go," he suddenly spoke, voice cold and demanding. It was filled with nothingness, devoid of all emotion. It made a shiver run up Rose's spine.

Tommy stood from his seat quickly, the chair rattling against the wooden floor. She jumped at the sound, scrambling to follow his quick steps out of the house. Before closing the door, Rose yelled a final thank you to the ancient woman and continued on to the street, rushing after Tommy.

"Why are you being so rude?" she demanded once she had finally caught up with his long strides, falling into step beside him.

"I ain't bein' rude," Tommy denied, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Yes, you are."

"I ain't."

Rose sighed frustratedly, wishing she could do something to get him out of this weird mood he was in. Clearly he had taken the words of the medium to heart a little too much.

"Look, if you're worried about what the medium said in there, you shouldn't be," she told him, her voice breathless from how fast she had to move to keep up. "It wasn't true, none of it."

Tommy made a sound half way between a groan and a growl, half vicious and half exhausted. "If yer don't believe that woman about yer sight, then yer more of an idiot than I thought. And if yer think I'm gonna fall in love with yer, then yer also wrong. I'm a fuckin' Shelby, and we don't do love."

For some reason, Rose's stomach twisted and writhed at his words, making her feel sick. She wanted to scream at him for being so awful and cold, but she knew that she couldn't risk drawing attention to them.

"Don't you worry, Thomas Shelby," she spoke through gritted teeth as she fought back an onslaught of tears, "men like you are not capable of loving women like they deserve to be loved. And I would never, ever want your love in a thousand years."

If only Rose knew what was to come…

This chapter is a little shorter than usual but I wanted to give you all a little update:) I hope you enjoyed!