Chapter 86

After dinner Tommy found himself back on the sofa, Rosie at the other end with her bare feet tucked under his leg, glancing between her book and Lily, who was on his lap and who asked – as she had done periodically since they'd sat down -, "What's the time now Tommy?"

He pulled his pocket watch out and showed it to her, making her tell him – in this instance it was ten minutes past seven – and getting the reply of, "It's nearly a whole ten minutes closer to my birthday since the last time we looked," accompanied by a delighted wriggle.

"You'd think someone was excited for their birthday or something," Rosie said, shaking her head but smiling indulgently.

"I'm going to be seven!" was the reply, with another wriggle.

"I know, getting far too grown up."

"Then I'll be eight."

"Uhuh, in another year's time."

"That makes me old."

"What, being eight?" Tommy asked, trying not to laugh.

She looked up at him, her little face serious, "Yes. Eight's when you become big."

"Says who?"

"Everyone."

"That Katie then?"

She frowned at him, displeased with his tone.

He kissed her head, rearranging his face to keep from showing his amusement before he asked her, "You'll not be too old to sit on my knee though, will you?"

She thought for a minute then shook her head.

"Good girl, it'd break my heart if you said otherwise."

"Tommy?"

"Yes?"

"What's the time now?"

"About ten seconds since you last asked," Rosie scoffed.

"That's ten seconds closer to my birthday!"

They were saved from having to answer by the door opening and Finn appearing in it, Isaiah loitering behind him.

"Tommy…" Finn said, then trailed off.

Isaiah gave him a prod in the back.

"What?" Tommy asked, fixing his eyes on his brother.

"There's a fire tonight," Finn told him breathlessly, shifting on his feet and apparently unable to stay still or be calm.

"Right?" he replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Can I go?" the words rushed from his brother's mouth, practically tumbling over one another.

"Where is it?"

"It's just at St Andrews."

"The football grounds?"

"Yeah."

Tommy considered it for a moment, his eyes flicking between his brother, who was flushed pink and looking at him like he held the point in Finn's entire existence in his decision – which, Tommy supposed, he did as far as Finn was concerned – and Isaiah standing behind him, his face a little more impassive than Finn's.

"What's Jeremiah say?" Tommy asked the other boy.

"Says I can go," Isaiah told him.

"Everyone's going Tommy – please!" Finn wheedled.

He considered it. St Andrews wasn't far. And he was pleased Finn had come in and asked him to go, rather than just going and dealing with the consequences after – which was what he and Freddie would have done back in their day.

"Oh alright, for God's sake, on you go," he decreed, rolling his eyes, "Just keep an eye on each other – oi! Back here now!" he shouted at their backs, both of the boys having about turned and readied themselves to shoot off as soon as the permission was given.

He waited for them to face him and shuffle back over the threshold before he continued, "You can go – alright – but you'll keep an eye on one another and I still want you back in here by half nine, you hear?" At Finn's nod he said, "Alright then, bugger off the pair of you before I change me mind."

"Thanks Tom!" Finn grinned over his shoulder as he shoved Isaiah to get him out of the way, both of them taking off like the devil was on their heels, leaving the door wide open behind them in their haste. Rosie got up to close it, rolling her eyes at him as she returned to the sofa, tucking her feet back under him.

"Kids, eh?" Tommy snorted, then kissed Lily's head, "Not like you, eh? My best girl spends her nights with me."

Lily smiled angelically up at him – and that was when it hit him.

"Lily?"

"Uhuh?" she asked, her eyes round as she looked expectantly up at him.

"How come you're not out playing tonight? Where's Katie?"

Lily shrugged in the unconcerned way of children, "She said she was busy."

"Busy doing what?" he asked, hearing his voice become sharp without his conscious decision.

She frozen under his tone, then bit her lip. He let out a breath and gave her a squeeze, bouncing his knee under her a little until she relaxed.

"You're not in any bother my little love," he reassured her once her teeth had released her lip, "But did Katie say why she was busy, where she'd be or what she'd be up to?"

Lily shook her head and he closed his eyes, taking one arm from around the child to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Yeah, he would have gone where he wanted without bothering to ask and dealt with the consequences after if he got caught. And John was rarely around to catch them. Everyone was going, that was what Finn had said. Christ.

It was one thing for Finn and Isaiah to go to a fire, where men would be drunk and kids would be pushing and shoving. They were big enough to be able to hold their own – or they should be anyway, and whilst he wanted Finn obedient to him, he needed Finn to be able to hold his own too, without himself or John or Arthur around to do it for him. But it was quite another thing for Katie or the twins.

But – for fuck's sake – he was home alone with Rosie and Lily and the Peaky Blinders had provided security for Kimber five times since Cheltenham. And they'd done a good job too, from the reports he'd had back – not a penny had been lost from Kimber's takings. It was a wonder the Lee's hadn't turned up yet.

His stomach turned as he imagined what might happen if the Lee's arrived at the fire. Maybe letting Finn go hadn't been such a good move, especially given he had let Finn go to the races in the first place – they knew what he looked like. But surely they wouldn't go after the kids? Their argument was with him, right?

But he was the one who had got the kid involved in the first place, wasn't he, by letting him go along?

Fuck, he should have listened to Rosie, listened to her insisting that Finn was a little boy who should be kept out of it.

"Right, my two loves, I'm going to go make sure John's lot aren't where they shouldn't be," he said, passing Lily over to her sister and standing up, "I'm going to lock the door between the house and the shop – you two stay in this side and keep it locked, I won't be long."

He fixed Rosie with a look, "You remember the rule about not answering the door when I'm not home?"

She flushed and nodded, obviously remembering the morning after she'd let Danny in – when he'd put the rule in place for her.

"Alright, I'm going to go lock the back door, you have the keys to go in and out obviously but keep it locked when you're not going through it. I'll lock the front door behind me too, you keep that locked and don't answer it to anyone, we clear?"

"Crystal clear Tommy."

He nodded and did the locking – after taking Rosie's gun out of his office - coming back into the front room, placing it down on the table next to a framed photo of him and Lily in London, giving Rosie meaningful look as he did so.

She nodded without saying anything and he kissed each of them on the forehead with a gruff, "Won't be long," before he stepped out onto Watery Lane.

He found John's house, as he had predicted, empty – but he still noticed a little bit of hope that he hadn't quite known he was holding onto leave him as he checked the last of the three upstairs rooms.

For fuck's sake – his brother needed to get his act together. Or find a woman he did want to marry, if he didn't want Lizzie Stark. The kids needed a mother, needed watching properly.

The street was devoid of children – it seemed everyone was indeed off to the fire – and he headed to The Garrison.

"Any idea where your fucking kids are?" he demanded by way of greeting as he yanked the door of the snug open.

John looked at him over the top of a fan of cards, "At home?"

"Try a-fucking-gain," Tommy hissed, suddenly incensed at his brother's lack of care, "They're not fucking at home – I don't know where the fuck they are but they're not in your house. Which, by the way, I've checked because your doors are all lying wide fucking open as fucking usual."

"Fuck's sake Tommy," John replied, rolling his eyes and slamming the cards down on the table, "What do you reckon is going to happen – you're fucking paranoid, that's what you are!"

"That's what I am?" he replied, coming into the snug and slamming the door behind him, making sure there would be no audience to the confrontation from eager rubberneckers in the main part of the pub – or behind the bar -, "What I am John is ambitious. What I am is determined we won't be fucking ordered about again, thrown into the fucking mud at other people's commands. What I am is determined to bring this family up in the world. And what that comes with is a side of danger – you've been there at the races; you know you're providing security for Kimber. You know the Lee's will fucking retaliate at some point and you're leaving your kids unprotected and your doors unlocked. What I am is all well and fucking good – but what you are is a fucking idiot."

"Lees are coming? Lee's are fucking coming to retaliate, eh?" John snapped, standing up and leaning across the table at him, getting defensive as he always did, his temper predictably rising, "And whose fucking fault will that he if they do Tommy, eh? Who asked you be Lord Fucking Ambitious anyway? Going on about not being ordered into the mud, eh? You're still expecting to order me and Arthur into the mud though, aren't you? Haven't seen you at any of the races providing the security, have we?"

"Right lads, right, that's enough," Arthur said, standing, putting a hand on John's chest, "Brothers don't fucking fight amongst themselves, right?"

Tommy scoffed – it wasn't true. They fought amongst themselves plenty. And he was more than ready to fight John on this, the boy needed some bloody sense knocked into him. But now wasn't the time.

"Yeah, whatever you fucking say Arthur," he said through his teeth, "Point is the kids aren't home and they're not in the street. There's a fire going down at St Andrews – and I only know about it cause Finn came in and asked to go – so I reckon they've all pissed off there."

"Well if you know where they are why you in here getting on at me?" John demanded.

"I don't know if that's where they are, I think that's where they are," he replied, rolling his eyes to the heavens and clenching his fist to still them, "Point is you should know where your kids are."

"Fuck's sake Tommy, it's only St Andrews," John said, rolling his own eyes, "We went further when we were kids and Mum didn't have a clue."

"Streets are more dangerous now than they were when we were kids John."

"Aye – more dangerous because you weren't running them back then."

Tommy glared. That wasn't strictly true. There had been trouble back when they were young too. He wasn't the first of his kind in Small Heath. He was just first of his kind to think that they didn't have to be held in Small Heath like animals in a pen, he was just first to think big enough to want to get out.

But it was true in the sense that his wanting to be bigger than Small Heath was bringing new dangers to being in Small Heath.

John wasn't the smartest of them, Tommy knew that, and his brother shot his mouth off quickly, too quickly, with the first thing that came to mind half the time and no real thought process behind it. But John had struck pretty close to the nerve for now – Tommy wasn't the first one to make these streets dangerous. But he was the one who had made them more dangerous than they ever had been.

And if anything happened on Watery Lane tonight whilst he was off on a wild goose chase trying to keep John's kids in line whilst his brother was sitting in the pub, he'd fucking wring John's neck.

And if anything happened at the fire and John's kids were caught up in it, targeted because they were Shelby's and they'd been where they shouldn't be because their father was sitting in the pub not looking after them – he'd fucking wring John's neck then too.

But if anything happened at the fire and Finn was caught up in it, targeted because he was a Shelby and they knew him by sight – he'd have no one to blame but himself.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The crowd at the fire was raucous and loud, but not unmanageable.

"George is there by Finn and Isaiah and the other kids," Tommy said, nodding in their direction.

John grumbled something under his breath and set off towards the group of older Watery Lane boys – at the middle of which were the two Shelbys and the Jesus boy. His brother had calmed down from their mini-confrontation and Tommy knew John was at the stage where he had probably accepted that Tommy had been right to moan, but he was far from being at the stage where he was going to admit it either.

That didn't matter so much, they were brothers and, contrary to what Arthur had said, they did fight – they had in the past and they would in the future – but Tommy wasn't going to demand an apology for what John had said when he felt attacked. Same way his brothers wouldn't ask him for an apology when he did them wrong. It just wasn't their way – as far as men were concerned, if you started apologising for your actions every apology was like taking a brick out of the wall of your house. Pretty soon you'd collapse, whether from your lack of support or from one good blow aimed at you by the right person. Women were different, you had to keep them on side. You didn't apologise to women and your wall would remain intact but you'd someday find it just a wall on its own and not part of a house at all. Your house would still come down around you, but it would happen without you realising until it was too late. Not that you got soft about it or apologised unnecessarily. But you had to keep your wits about you with women, notice when you'd upset them, make it right as best you could.

Tommy watched George noticing his father coming at him with a degree of satisfaction. He had told John enough times that he was too soft on the kids, but George's saucer wide eyes suggested he might have been wrong. The eyes in question darted around looking for an escape but there were too many people around and nowhere for him to get a clean shot away to.

He moved his own eyes off as John got to the kid, his brother's back blocking out his nephew's face, and kept looking for the twins and Katie.

"You seeing any of them Arthur?"

"Not a fucking thing," Arthur roared back, having consumed too much beer to be aware of his own volume.

"Right, you go this way and I'll go that way, meet back here, eh?" Tommy said, setting off in his own direction.

It was fucking futile. There were kids everywhere, but none of them Katie. He looked across the flames, trying to get a location on Arthur and saw his brother had nabbed Alfie, who was slung under Arthur's arm, and seemed to have eyes on another kid that Tommy had to presume was Jack. But Katie was nowhere. There were girls he thought he recognised from Watery Lane – that tall one with the blonde hair and the small eyes he had definitely seen with Katie and Lily before – but no sign of his niece.

Exasperated, frustrated and worried, he circled back, surveying the scene. Luckily, there were no signs of trouble – no Lees and no police. Nothing was being burned this time, it was just a fire for the entertainment of it. Arthur appeared next to him, Alfie under his arm and Jack being yanked along by the collar.

"Let go Uncle Arthur!" he was shouting, trying to twist out of the grip.

"Where's your sister?" Tommy growled down at him.

"Dunno Uncle Tommy."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't!" Jack insisted, seeing his expression, "Alfie and me followed Finn and them along, didn't see Katie."

"You need to look out for each other," Tommy told him, his eyes back to desperately scanning the crowd.

He left Arthur and the twins and pushed his way up to the blond girl.

"Is Katie Shelby here?" he asked her.

She looked at him with a slightly dumfounded expression. He supposed he could hardly blame her, it wasn't as if he'd ever spoken to her before. Desperate times, desperate measures.

"I just want to know where she is," he said, trying to soften his voice, to sound less like he was on the verge of going feral.

The girl seemed unable to summon words and shook her head.

"No she's not here or no you're not telling me where she is?" he asked.

"S-she's not here," the girl said, her voice scarce above a whisper.

She seemed terrified of him. He wasn't quite sure why, wasn't as if he went after kids, was it?

People spoke though. People had always spoken. People used to tell their kids to stay away from the Shelby's because they were Gypsy. Because they were dirty and not to be trusted. Now he supposed they were still being told to stay away from them – but for different reasons. There was no sign of superiority in the girl's face as she looked at him, the way there had been once upon a time – through his childhood when girls would say smugly, "My mother says I've not to talk to you because you're a dirty little thieving Gypsy," and through the war when he was given orders and told, in return to his questions about them, "Because I'm your commanding officer, that's why."

Still, getting little kids to be scared of him had never really been all that high on his agenda and it was a shock to see it.

Not a shock he had time to dwell on or process though. Katie wasn't here. And she wasn't in her house. And she wasn't on Watery Lane. So where the fuck was she?

"Right – back to Watery Lane with this lot, get them inside and we need to decide what to do," he barked at Arthur and John, not even taking time to glare at the three kids who had been assembled, striding by them to lead the way, almost tempted to break into a run.

She wouldn't have gone back to The Cut? Surely to God not? But Katie – well – Rosie had said he saw a streak of his bossiness and stubbornness in Katie, but the truth was, he saw a streak of his own deviousness in her.

He'd seen it in Ada too – him and Pol had seen it. "Crafty little madam," Polly had called her the day he'd seen her leaving the school after thinking she'd wagged off for the day with Finn. Of course, it had turned out to be Rosie, not Ada, that their Uncle had seen. But he had thought it had been her at that point. He had thought she'd snuck out of school, then snuck back in in to leave as normal. It worried him how he could see that Ada was devious enough he could have credited her with doing something she hadn't done, yet he had missed what she had been doing right under his nose.

And whilst he didn't think for a second Katie's priorities were about sneaking off to see boys - not bloody well yet at least - he could easily believe she had known everyone would be heading off to the fire tonight, had told Lily she was busy and would use the opportunity to bugger off somewhere else of her own choosing, safe in the knowledge her father would be too busy in the pub to notice himself and that everyone else would be too busy to notice to dob her in for it.

"Right, John - get those three inside and lock the bloody doors this time. We need to get eyes on Katie, quickly," Tommy ordered as soon as they were back on the lane, his hand going through his hair, "I'm going to check on Rosie and Lily. Arthur – you get down to Charlie's yard, get him and Curly here, find out if they've seen her. I'll get Jeremiah and Scud and Lovelock, can you get Nipper on your way back from Charlie's? Try and figure out who saw her last and when and then we'll need to think of where she could have gone and get people out. In fact – Arthur – nevermind getting them back here, just get Charlie and Curly in a boat along the canal and see if they can see her that way - just bring Nipper back here, alright?"

His mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour as Arthur nodded and dumped the twins on the ground, setting off without a word and John made his way towards his own house, his eyes on the kids, motioning for them to follow him, daring them not to. Tommy was just going to have to hope his brother could manage the three of them alone for now.

Lily was sitting on Rosie's lap being read to when he unlocked the door, Rosie's eyes turning sharply on him, questioning him.

"Got the three boys but no one's seen Katie – Lily are you sure she didn't mention anything about what she was busy doing?"

Lily's fingers went to her mouth and he knew the panic in his voice was coming through and panicking her. He wasn't very good at sounding panicked, that was the problem, he just sounded gruff and angry. He took some deep breaths.

"Sweetheart – anything at all?" he pressed, trying to sound calmer.

"No," she shook her head, speaking through her fingers, "Just said she was busy."

"What time was that at?"

"I brought Lily in for a bath around half four," Rosie told him, then looked to the bab, "Was that when she said she would be busy tonight? When you were coming in for your bath?"

Lily nodded.

"Alright – I sent John home with a stew for their dinner, he left here around four and then I got started on our dinner and brought Lily in – so maybe after I got Lily in Katie would have gone in for her own dinner?" Rosie suggested.

He knew she understood the situation – she was trying to help him map out Katie's movements but she was trying to stay calm and not alert Lily to their worry. He felt a rush of love for the woman. He was luck to have her, he knew that. God but he wished he could clone her, make another version of her for John. A mother being in that house would have stopped all of this.

He nodded, "Alright, I'll go figure out what time John last saw her at."

If John had even seen her. Rosie seemed to be labouring under the impression she sent John home with a dinner so he could have the same set up for the meal at home that they had, sitting around the table. Tommy suspected John left it on the side and told the kids to help themselves if they didn't happen to be around at the time he was feeding himself.

It wasn't a badness in his brother at all. It was just that organising meals was women's business. It wasn't as if he had been sitting down to eat dinner with Finn and Ada every night until Rosie had come along and had somehow turned feeding themselves into some kind of event that they had started to structure their days around.

Like a normal fucking family or something.

He opened John's still unlocked front door and made his way to the kitchen just in time to see John coming in from the back looking harrowed, his razor strop hanging from one hand. George appeared behind him, his face red and his eyes a bit wet, though blinking furiously.

"Come 'ere," he ordered, indicating the space in front of him and taking George's chin between his fingers, tilting it up to him when the boy arrived, "Do you realise how bloody worried we were realising you three had disappeared without a trace? Do you realise how bloody worried I still am – we are all are – about Katie?"

The boy muttered something.

"What was that?"

"Yes," George spat, trying to pull his head out of Tommy's grip, "I realise."

"Do you indeed?" Tommy snorted, not believing it for a minute, but releasing his nephew's face.

"It's not fair," George muttered.

"What's not fair? Getting your arse lit up cause you went where you shouldn't have without asking?"

"Well who was I meant to ask?" George demanded, anger on his face, "No one was bloody here and then yous just turn up and start dragging us all around and then I get belted and no one else does and it's not fucking fair!"

Tommy felt his own stomach turn and didn't risk looking at John. It was one thing to have your brother tell you you weren't doing a good enough job at raising your kids – for all he hadn't said it quite so bluntly, he had said it. But it was another thing to have your kids point it out. Earlier he had been furious with John. And now all he could think of was John sitting in his kitchen howling at Rosie like a wounded animal as he proclaimed "My kids have a fucking bad father."

He gripped George's upper arms in his hands, squeezing hard as he growled out, "You listen to me son, you try swearing at me again and I'll take you out the back and belt you myself. Your father's on his own and he's doing his best, alright? He can't be here all the time so if he's not you can come and ask me or your Uncle Arthur or Aunt Polly. Or even Rosie. The point is we need to know where you are. I don't know where Katie is right now and that scares the shit out of me, do you understand? What if something happens to her? What if she hurts herself? And if you're feeling picked on I can bloody well assure you if Finn had been at that fire tonight without having asked me first he'd have been out the back getting his arse lit up with the same razor strop me and your dad got ours whipped with when we were your age and pulled these stunts, alright? Your dad will deal with Jack and Alfie, they'll be sleeping on their stomachs tonight too so it's not just you and I can assure you Katie'll be joining you all in that when I get my hands on her."

"No she won't - Katie gets away with everything!" George protested.

Tommy didn't know whether to laugh at that, write it off that all kids thought themselves the most hard done by and that every other kid got away with everything, or whether to panic that it was just a sign that Katie was better at not getting caught if she did get away with more.

"Katie does not get away with everything," he settled for replying, his face still stern, "She was over my knee just a few weeks ago for going where she wasn't supposed to go so I can bloody well assure you she'll be getting it worse tonight. Think I'll be borrowing Aunt Polly's hairbrush."

In the typical way of siblings, hearing that Katie was facing something suitably unpleasant seemed to cheer George up slightly. Tommy couldn't judge – there had been little that brought more of a smile to his face when he was younger than hearing his mother decree that John was for it, particularly if he hadn't been in trouble himself and could walk around like a saint in comparison, keeping himself in the vicinity to ensure he'd get to hear it when John finally got his medicine. And of course, part of that joy was based in the belief that John got away with everything, whereas he had gotten himself smacked on what to his mind seemed practically a daily basis. That wasn't him thinking the same as all kids typically thought though, of course, it was an absolute fact that John had gotten away with everything when they were young.

"Right, off you go, and count yourself lucky I need to find Katie, otherwise I'd be washing your mouth out for you," Tommy said, giving the boy a shove towards the stairs before finally addressing John, "Rosie said she got Lily in about half four and the kids were on the lane til then, Katie told Lily she was busy tonight so wherever she is she was planning to be there. Did you see her after half four?"

John shook his head, "No, I thought she was out with Lily. Said to Jack and Alfie Rosie had made dinner and to tell George and Katie to help themselves."

Tommy nodded, trying to think and John kicked the wall and shouted, "Fuck!" then, slightly more quietly, "Fuck."

"Look, stay here – deal with Jack and Alfie so George doesn't feel it's only him that's caught it and we'll get on the search for Katie, alright?" Tommy said, not quite sure how to offer any comfort to John other than to do everything he could to return Katie safely. Or as safely as he could after he'd leathered her for her nonsense.

As long as it had been her nonsense. She'd gone off alone, obviously. But what if someone had seen her, had taken her? She was bolshy sure, but, God, she was still a kid. She didn't really stand a chance.

The quiet of the street when he emerged onto it seemed only to magnify the sound of his heart in his chest. Half four she'd been on the street and no one seemed to bloody know anything from there.

He banged his fist on the door of his aunt's house.

"Tommy?" she asked when she pulled it open, instantly alerted to his worry by his face.

"Pol – Katie, no one knows where she is, did you see her after half four today?" he asked, his words tumbling out not entirely unlike how Finn's had done earlier when asking permission to go to the fire.

"She's upstairs," Polly told him, her eyebrows creasing.

"She's – she's what?" Tommy replied, not quite comprehending the words.

"She's upstairs," Polly repeated, "She's painting."

"She's fucking what?"

She was fucking upstairs in Polly's, painting. Fucking painting. He was ready to run over all of Small Heath and beyond, rallying a bloody search party and she was upstairs in his aunt's house, painting. Of all the bloody things!

He shoved by Polly and thundered up the stairs, his feet and heart hammering in unison as he threw open the door of the spare room, which was empty for a second until Katie appeared on the windowsill looking guilty and dropped herself into the room.

"Katie!" he let out her name with almost a bit of a cry and crossed to her, pulling her to him, holding her tight, "Katie. Christ, I thought you were missing. I've got Charlie out in a boat looking for you. Your Uncle Arthur's away to get Nipper and we were bloody rallying everyone to get out searching. Fuck. Since when do you fucking paint?"

He shoved her at arms length to look at her face, as if he wasn't quite convinced it was really her, then pulled her back to him.

"Fuck's sake. And – here – were you on that roof? Haven't you been told about climbing?"

She looked guiltily up at him and he shook his head at her, "What am I supposed to do with you, eh? Christ. You're alright though, you're alright."

She looked slightly perplexed and he supposed he could hardly blame her – his thoughts were coming out of his mouth without much processing, he probably wasn't making much sense.

"You're supposed to let us know where you are at all times," he reminded her, still holding her to him.

"Aunt Polly knew where I was," she pointed out.

He almost wanted to laugh.

"Well I didn't. Your Dad didn't. He's beside himself looking for you. We thought you'd been taken away or something."

"Taken away by who?" she asked, scrunching her face up as if the thought was preposterous.

By the Lees, to be used for fucking ransom.

"I don't know Katie. Bad people. Mad women. Lots of people out there are dangerous, eh?"

"Daddy wasn't in when I went in and I never left the lane," she told him.

"I know. I know," he told her, still steadying himself, still wanting to laugh manically. Or maybe to cry.

'Daddy wasn't in when I went in.' 'Well who was I meant to ask? No one was bloody here.'

"Fuck's sake Katie – just write a note or something next time if you can't see any of us, eh?"

She looked at him like he had said something a bit thick.

"What you been fucking painting anyway?"

"For Lily," she said, pointing at a wooden horse on a sheet, black paint squeezed over half the sheet beside it for good measure, "Uncle Charlie made it and I painted it. For her birthday."

He squeezed her again then, unable to help himself, lifted her up to him and kissed her head, holding her against his chest. Like a cat, she tolerated him for a few moments before she started wriggling.

"Right – well – I suppose we'd best go call off the search party, eh?" he said, putting her down and shoving her in the direction of the door, "You'll be popular, interrupting everyone's night to get out looking for you and here you are in your Aunt's house."

"I never asked them to go looking for me."

"I know."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"So what exactly was all that about today?" Rosie asked when they were alone later on the sofa, Lily's pile of wrapped birthday presents in front of the fire for the morning.

He sighed and slung an arm around her, pulling her to him as he watched the flames, "That was about the fact John's kids need a mother."

Thank you as always for reading along, favouriting, following, commenting, messaging me etc - I feel like I say it all the time but honestly seeing those email notifications never fails to make me smile!