"You've made a right mess, Thomas Shelby." Pol introduced herself as she followed him into his side-office. Tommy carried on taking off his hat and coat as though she was not inside.

"Have I now, aunt?" He took a seat and set about igniting himself a cigarette.

"The Burnes family were all found dead in their home, along with a large congregation of several other men."

"Were they now?"

"Was it worth it?"

"It needed done. They were inbred madmen."

"By blood that makes her an inbred mad woman."

"She's only half as they are." He shouted. Pol took the seat opposite his desk.

"Good for her. And what will you do to her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You kept her quiet. You keep all of your women quiet."

"Get to your point Pol."

"She didn't lose any baby, Tommy, she lost yours. She lost her brothers as well. I think that's enough punishment for one person for loving you."

"Love?" he scoffed before half-shouting, aware of the ears beyond, "She got into a fight when she knew what was inside of her."

"She told me, quite sincerely that she didn't know."

"You can't fail to notice something growing inside of you."

"It happens. Do you honestly believe she lied to you?"

He seemed not to hear her as his knee bounced and he inhaled deeply. Pol continued, "It's rare, Tommy, but some women don't know for such a long time that it's frightening. Rare but it happens."

Tommy was quiet all of a sudden, "You know, in the war, when we took prisoners, the men who questioned them would talk. They always said you could tell when someone was lying in any language. You just had to trust your instincts."

"Tommy, it was a Shelby. Are you so sure that your instinct isn't just pain?"

"She lied, Pol."

A week passed and although it didn't seem that Tommy had heeded his aunt's words, he watched Dahlia as she reentered her shop and continued to work. The weather was on his side, drawing her out into the glorious sun and making it easier for him to watch how she dealt with their loss. He became uncertain about his conclusion concerning Dahlia, but as one week bled into another, he lost all doubt.

One day as he watched, Dahlia spotted him. She marched straight to him in the street, from his hiding place behind a stack of barrels.

"How long have you been personally watching me?" she demanded.

"Long enough."

"Well you can cease and desist from here on out, do you hear me?"

With that she turned to leave. Tommy followed casually.

"You're looking very well." She stopped and turned to look at him, unsure what on earth he was meaning. "Relieved some might say."

She walked to him again, "I'm sorry, is there a hat or a scarf I'm supposed to be wearing to advertise the events of my life to the world? Or do you want me to be a crying mess, is that it? Because that's not who I am; that's not who I've learned to be. I've been tortured and sold and hollowed out and what I've learned is to keep on going. Keep breathing, keep eating, keep surviving. What have you suffered? A little war? Don't make me laugh. This is but another drop of water in a pond, as tragic as it is." Tears had sprung to her eyes but her voice did not change even as they at last fell, "What I don't understand is why you want me to have done what you say I have. I am never the victimizer. I'd never do what you say I have done."

"You're right. You've done all of this surviving. I imagine you're pretty well versed at manipulating your way to safety." He leaned in, "I've watched you long enough to know –"

She slapped him.

"Hate me if you want, Tommy." She was outraged through the tears. She turned and he heard her say as she retreated to the flower shop, "You all suit yourselves in the end anyway."

Pol entered the flower shop and turned the sign to 'CLOSED'.

"I'll be right with you!" Dahlia called from the back of the shop. Pol pulled a bottle out of her bag and set it down on the counter as she called, "Take your rime love, and bring two glasses."

Dahlia appeared, shaking out her hair from its bonds with one hand and holding two glasses in the other. She set them down for Pol, who poured as she said,

"I haven't seen you in a while. Granted, that's no surprise, you only spent time with us to be around our Tommy."

"That's not true." Dahlia said softly before sipping from the glass. "I just wasn't avoiding him then."

"I believe you."

"What brought you here?"

"I was thinking about you. Worrying actually."

"For me or for Tommy?"

"Can't I be worried for you both?"

"Well you needn't worry for me. I'm fine."

"Are you really?"

Dahlia looked into her glass, nodding slowly and unconvincingly.

"And you and Tommy were nothing to get upset over?"

"Is there a right answer to that question?"

"I suppose not." Pol reached to push Dahlia's hair behind her ear and out of her face. It was a pretty face. It had almost broken Tommy as much as Grace had. "But I did like you for him."

"Well, once the mirror cracks it can't be made whole again." Dahlia threw back the rest of her glass. "I reckon he's been avoiding me as much as I have him. It'll be like he never existed." With a sad smile she added, "At least I don't need to move somewhere else."