Chapter 91

"So?" he asked as soon as the redhead came through the door on Monday, a basket from a post work run to the butchers on her arm, "How was it? Where has he put you? What did you do?"

She gave him a slightly tired looking smile, put the basket on the table and came to him, reaching up to kiss his cheek, settling against him slightly as he put an arm around her waist.

"It was alright, he's got me assisting a man called Kenneth Maitland. He took about a three-hour lunch but when he was working, we were going through the reports that have been made by people about children they're concerned about and trying to gauge the order they should be addressed in," she told him, then sighed, "Quite soul destroying actually, trying to figure out from a neighbour's report or whatever how much danger a child might be in."

He stubbed out the cigarette he had been smoking whilst he'd been pacing and waiting for her to return from her first day, stroking his freed fingers over her hair and across her smooth cheek, ghosting over her pretty little mouth and down her neck, running them along the necklace he had given her, pleased to see it peeking out under the neckline of her claret-coloured dress, one of the ones she'd bought in town for starting work. The colour suited her, made her lips seem more red than usual, highlighted the pretty flush in her cheeks.

He had missed her, though it had only been a working day – and he had found himself throughout the day listlessly wandering through to the kitchen as if she might magically appear. He savoured the feel of her skin against his.

"Your William Arterton did warn you this work was hard on you fairer sex lot," he reminded her, smiling slightly as she snapped her head up to give him a scowl.

"I'd far rather it was done by someone who found it hard and actually cared about it – and the results of it – than that it was being done, as it currently is, by someone detached enough to take a three-hour lunch."

"Sweetheart, I'm proud of you, you know that, right?" he murmured down at her.

She looked slightly mollified and nodded, pressing herself into him more tightly.

"Good – so I say this full of love and admiration, alright?" he continued, deeply aware that his rough voice and Small Heath brogue didn't do much to convey love nor admiration at any time, "But you need to take care of yourself whilst you're doing this work, you hear me? I'm not saying you take a three-hour lunch, but I'm saying you take your lunch, and you leave that office when you're meant to. And you start on time, not early, alright?"

She nodded into him, not meeting his eye.

He trailed the hand he had on her waist down and patted her arse meaningfully, "It's me you'll be answering to otherwise sweetheart, and I promise you you won't like it."

She nodded again.

"Good girl," he murmured, kissing her head, "Did you see Alice?"

"I saw her, didn't speak much to her – we've to ensure it doesn't ever seem like we communicate outside of work at the moment," Rosie told him.

"And you're all meeting tomorrow night as planned, aye?"

She nodded again.

"Looking forward to it?"

"I don't know if looking forward to it is the right way to put it," she said thoughtfully, "Same way that I didn't enjoy what I did today. But even though it wasn't pleasant work, I got a satisfaction from it that I'm doing something worthwhile, that I'm doing the right thing, does that make sense?"

Sounded like signing up for war to him.

"It makes sense," he nodded.

She nodded back, then stepped back from him, putting a small space between them, "I suppose I better start on dinner – where's Lily, didn't see her when I was coming up the lane?"

"Out the back with John's lot. Not sure what they're up to but I've been out and minded them no bloody ball games."

She smiled and rolled her eyes a little, reaching for her shopping, "No risk of that I wouldn't have thought after the last time that you pulled them all in and interrogated them, Tommy."

"Wouldn't bet on that," he replied, rolling his own eyes and landing a smack on her arse as she went through to the kitchen ahead of him, enjoying her little, "ooh!" and her small jump in response to it, before he continued, "Kids move on quickly - you give them a hiding and get good behaviour for a couple of days, then they go back to normal and within a week or so they're probably right back at it trying to figure out how to do what they did to get a hiding in the first place but do it so they get away with it. That's if they even remember the hiding and don't just do the same exact bloody thing the same exact bloody way."

"Speaking from experience there Mr Shelby?"

He smiled as she unpacked her wares - minced beef and potatoes and a turnip, going to the side and taking out some carrots she had left over from the day before's roast.

"No cake?" he noted.

She flashed her eyes, "Maybe it's not just kids who forget their punishments."

"You're sticking to this no cake for a week then?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

"I am – you've got a lesson to learn Tommy, and if I catch you at it again lying to me about having words when you haven't, you'll get no cake for a month."

"Now technically," he replied, clicking his tongue, "I didn't lie. I did have words with him."

"You lied by implication," she frowned, brandishing a carrot at him and waggling it like an overgrown, knobbly finger, "Don't try and get out of it."

"Alright my love," he soothed, containing his laughter at the little wench, all five foot and half an inch or so of her thinking she was bossing him around and disciplining him for his transgressions against women's business – the running of the home -, "I'm not trying to get around you. But you're punishing Lily by extension you know, and she never did anything to upset you."

She put down the carrot and went into her basket and pulled out a bar of chocolate, "I'm way ahead of you Tommy love."

He laughed openly at the triumphant look on her face and lit a new cigarette, willing to admit defeat.

He'd take his own punishment with dignity as long as it didn't affect the bab.

As if on cue, the bab in question came running in with tears in her eyes, looking wildly around the kitchen and running to her sister with arms outstretched. Rosie immediately discarded her things to kneel down and pull the child against her, her hands wrapping around her as she asked what was wrong.

Lily let out a great wail and Rosie looked questioningly over to him. He shrugged, not knowing the root of it – she had been fine most of the day.

"It's – not – staying – back – on!" Lily hiccupped out eventually.

"What's not staying on?" Rosie asked, rubbing her back.

"The head!"

"What head?"

"Katie's doll head!"

Rosie looked in confusion over to him and again he shrugged, still not following, but he straightened up and went to the back door, peering out of it to see Katie hanging around watching the frame, evidently waiting for someone to appear in it and, behind her, Finn and George with guilty looking faces.

"In here now – the lot of you," he barked, his cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, standing back and frowning down at them as they trooped defeatedly in, Katie clutching something behind her back.

He shut the door and eyed her, "What you got there?"

She looked at Finn and George, who both gave her looks that conveyed that there was clearly nothing to be done, before she sighed and brought her hands forward, keeping her eyes away from meeting his as she did so.

Lily's wails increased in volume as all the eyes in the kitchen looked to the rather macabre sight of a doll's head, being held by its hair, hanging from his seven-year-old niece's right hand, whilst her left proffered out the dismembered body.

He hid his surprise behind a long drag on his cigarette and a slow exhale before, cocking an eyebrow, he asked quite casually, "You going to give us all a fucking explanation then or what?"

"Was meant to go back on!" Lily sobbed out before anyone else could answer.

"Is that the doll we got in London?" Rosie asked, frowning, waiting for Lily's nod to confirm it was before she went on, "And why is its head off in the first place?"

"Wanted it to be like in Aunt Polly's story!" Katie said, clearly frustrated at the way it had all turned out, "Where the woman's head was held on with the ribbon until her husband untied it and she died."

"And let me guess," Rosie said wryly, "A ribbon isn't quite holding it."

Katie nodded, biting her lip a little as she looked at Rosie, obviously not hugely sure how this was all about to play out for her.

"Give it here," the redhead said, leaving Lily and holding out her hands, taking the two pieces of the doll, her forehead creasing slightly as she looked at it for a second before she asked, "What exactly is it wearing?"

"One of Aunt Polly's shawls that she wears to pray for the dead," Katie explained, suddenly looking as if she'd forgotten that she might be in hot water and becoming quite animated, "See we thought if her head had to come off we'd make a game of it and play at executions – like she was Henry Who Ate's wife and Finn and George were going to be King Henry and cut her head off."

She brought her hand down in an imitation of axe, swooping it through the air with gusto.

Rosie blinked then said, rather matter-of-factly, "I think King Henry employed an executioner, I don't think he did it himself."

"Well they could be the 'cutioners then," Katie replied, shrugging – unconcerned with the specifications.

"And it's Henry the eighth, eighth one to have the name, not Henry who ate."

"Him then."

"Right," Rosie nodded, then started unwrapping the shawl, "I think you'd better put Aunt Polly's shawl back where you found it."

"No! Rosie no! Don't take it off!" Katie shouted suddenly, taking a few hurried steps to the table and grabbing at Rosie's wrist, trying to stop her.

He took a hold of his niece's collar and pulled her back, holding her at his side, wondering what in heaven that was about.

It became quite clear as Rosie took the shawl off and folded it neatly, laying it down on the table and staring at the naked body of the doll.

"Have you just completely wasted that good doll we brought you back?" Tommy snapped, shaking his niece, "Bad enough you take its head off but at least that seems to have been rooted in blatant stupidity about thinking it would go back on – now we find you've drawn all over it at some point too!"

"Wasn't drawing, was giving it tattoos!" Katie squealed a little as he landed a hard smack on her rear end and started dragging her over to the table and pulling out a chair.

"Tattoos indeed," he snorted, sitting himself down, extinguishing his cigarette on the plate on the table and yanking her towards him, "You are for it, Katie, you're going to learn."

She was struggling against him, trying desperately not let herself be pulled over his knee, but it was Rosie who stopped him.

"Wait a minute Thomas," she said, raising an eyebrow.

He raised one in return, stilling his pulling but keeping his grip on Katie's arm.

"The doll was given to Katie, it's hers to do as she sees fit with."

He snorted, "This from the woman who wants everyone to look after their things?"

"Well, the thing is – this is exactly what happens when they don't look after them, they lose them for good – maybe that'll be enough motivation to treat things better in the future," she replied, then, hardening her voice, she barked at George and Finn, who had been edging towards the door, "You two just stay where you are!"

"Can't you fix it Rosie?" Lily asked, looking as if a fresh set of tears wasn't far off at Rosie's proclamation that ruined things were lost for good.

"I don't know," Rosie said, "That's the thing when you ruin your things, sometimes they can be saved – but it'll be a lot of hard work to make it happen – and sometimes they can't be, and that's the chance you take when you wear your good clothes to go running around in or decide to chop heads off for fun."

She shook her head to herself, obviously not following what was ever supposed to have been fun about it before she continued, "I'll take it to the hospital and see what they can do about it – but if I'm dealing with an expensive hospital bill to save it, the lot of you will be making it up to me in a way that I see fit, you hear?"

He let Katie shake herself out of his grasp then, trying not to laugh as her and Lily nodded their heads – both of them obviously quite hopeful that the saving could be done and fully believing she'd take the doll to the hospital.

"Now, what I do want to know a bit more about," Rosie said, swivelling her eyes to the boys, "Is this executing business. What did you use to get that doll's head off – it looks like it's been hacked at?"

"She asked us to get it off!" George replied, sounding slightly outraged.

"I know she did, we're all quite clear on that," Rosie nodded, "The question was what you used?"

"A knife," George muttered, shuffling his feet on the spot a little.

"A knife. Wonderful," Rosie snapped sarcastically, raising her eyes to the heavens, "And where is this knife right now?"

George pointed to the back door.

"You're telling me you've left a knife lying out there for anyone to come along and pick up or fall on?" Rosie demanded, her face darkening.

Finn and George exchanged glances, neither of them sure how to proceed – knowing she was going to be annoyed if they said yes, knowing fine well they ran the risk of being caught lying if they said no.

"Finn – you get out the back right now and bring that knife to me," Rosie ordered, putting her hands on her hips.

Tommy sat back and watched her in admiration; she was doing a fine job of channelling the spirit of another woman who had once ruled from this same kitchen - all she needed was a wooden spoon in her hand.

When Finn returned, he sat up a little straighter – the knife in question was a bread knife, almost as long as Finn's arm with a serrated edge.

"Are you kidding me?" Rosie roared, seeming to fly across the kitchen to take it from him and throw it on the sideboard before rounding on the two boys, "Where in hell did you get that from?"

"Kitchen," George mumbled, quailing under her gaze.

"You didn't get it from this kitchen!" she barked.

"No, from ours," George replied.

She marched over to the doors of the shop and yanked them open, disappearing through them and returning with his brother, pointing angrily at the knife, "That's the one. From your kitchen I believe. Just helped themselves and decided to play executioners. Apparently not one of the four of them had the sense to think it might be dangerous!"

"They did though!" Lily said suddenly, springing to defence, "George and Finn made us stay back while they were doing the executing!"

"Right," Rosie snarled, her voice clipped and angry, "You're telling me there was enough sense to realise it was dangerous to the point that those two," she gestured at the girls, "Should be kept away but neither of the two of you," her eyes roving between Finn and George, "Thought maybe you weren't big enough for it? That about right?"

There was an awkward pause as they tried to figure out if they were going to make it better or worse by confirming it.

"You two," she said, jabbing at Lily and Katie, "Out the front and play, you've had your lesson in what happens when you ruin things, and we'll discuss it further once I've found out if that doll can be saved or not."

She hustled them out, an arm around each of their shoulders, pushing them ahead of her and through the front room, leaving Tommy and John facing Finn and George.

"You gave me a knife for the races!" Finn pleaded, looking wide eyed between the two elder Shelbys.

"Shut up," Tommy snapped, not wanting Rosie to hear, "There's a bloody difference between you having something when there are adults around watching you and you helping yourself and playing with it. You could have done any one of those kids a real damage. Get out the bloody back and wait for me."

He turned his glare on John as soon as Finn was gone, "I told you to look out for him when you took him."

"He didn't get a knife, he lifted it and I took it off him and swapped it for a billhook," John said, rolling his eyes, "And even the one he lifted was a – well, it was a knife, not a bloody sword."

"What you going to do about him?" Tommy asked, indicating his nephew.

"I suppose he can get out the back anol," John said, sighing and running a hand through his longer bits of hair on top of his head.

"It's not fair!" George shouted, his face fizzing, "Katie asked us to!"

"D'you do everything Katie asks?" Tommy demanded; half convinced that the kid probably did.

John put a hand on George's shoulder and tried to steer him towards the door, "Right mate, you know you shouldn't have-"

But he was cut off by George shoving him unexpectedly hard.

"I'm not your mate," the boy told him, rage simmering through his voice.

Tommy's eyebrows met as he watched John take a step back, thrown by the voice his son was using.

"I hate you. I hate you more than anyone else in this whole entire world."

The boy wasn't shouting, he seemed perfectly, eerily calm actually - though Tommy thought he could see tears threatening to come over his eyes – the whole picture not helped by the fact one of the eyes in question was still blackened and slightly swollen from the events of Saturday morning.

He was getting a growing sense of déjà vu. He had been here before. He had heard this conversation before, in the same kitchen. Had been part of it then. When his own eyes had sometimes been blackened not from fighting with other kids but by the man he had hated.

"You don't give a fuck until you need to come in and belt me for something and it's not fucking fair."

Whilst John stayed still, stunned into position by what his son was saying to him, George suddenly jerked forward, landed a swift kick on John's leg and then took off, bolting out through the front room and presumably on to the street.

Tommy snapped his fingers at his brother, who seemed like he was going to do nothing but continue to stand in the kitchen whilst his child ran off, staring at the spot where the kid had been standing as if he was still there, then took off himself, striding through the house into the lane, finding Rosie standing by the door looking slightly confused.

"He just appeared out and sprinted that way," she pointed, looking to Tommy for an explanation.

"What way?" John's slightly croaky voice came from behind them, his brother having finally moved, brought to life probably by Tommy's own movement.

"That way," Rosie said, turning to him and pointing.

John nodded and took off, jogging down the street in the direction she had pointed.

She looked at him questioningly and he filled her in, watching as concern leaked over her pretty little features.

"I've told him," she said, her hands fluttering to run along her necklace, "I've told him he needs to be more affectionate with them all. God, they're only little – for all George tries to pretend he's nearer Finn's age than he is Katie and Lily's, he needs his Dad!"

Tommy nodded his agreement.

"I know it's hard for John – I know it is – but he needs to be the adult!" Rosie continued, "Or one day George will say he hates him, and it won't be in the moment, it'll be because he means it and he'll stay meaning it. I mean Jesus, right now yes that kid needs to be given a damn good reason not to help himself to playing with knives, you know fine well I'm not as quick to come down on them as you are, but I'm not pretending there aren't times when the consequences just need to be a sufficient deterrent – but in general, those times need to be offset by them having good times together, so George knows the bad times aren't all there is."

"What's going on?" Katie asked, wandering over to them having watched her brother go running and her father follow him, "Is George running away again?"

"What do you mean again?" he barked at his niece.

She shrugged up at him, "When Daddy's angry with him, sometimes George runs away so he doesn't get smacked and then he comes back after he knows Daddy's gone to the pub."

"Your Dad'll get him brought home, now you away and play before I decide you're getting smacked for it being your nonsense request in the first place," he told her.

She did as he bid her, going back over to Lily and that other blonde girl, a few other kids he hadn't really taken note of before also with them and pointing in the direction George and John had gone, their running obviously being the topic of discussion.

"I knew it was bad," Tommy said, his hand going to Rosie's waist, "But I don't think I ever realised quite how bad."

She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed before saying, slightly wearily, "I'd better get on with that bloody dinner."

She went inside, leaving him looking at the corner his nephew and brother had rounded at the end of Watery Lane, wondering what was really going on under his nose and how the fuck he had managed not to see it.

Thank you to fantacyjunkie on Tumblr for identifying the thing Finn gets given at the races as a billhook!

As always, thank you for your reviews and messages, they are very much appreciated.

ICYMI - I started a new story this week, 'Knick Knack Paddy Whack', which is on my profile. It's Katie's POV of events that go in tandem with the last few and next few chapters of this story and the story she references Aunt Polly telling them in this chapter is part of that (though as always the extra stories are not at all essential to following this one, they just give that extra insight/alternative point of view.)