Walking along the beach with his daughter, Tommy felt the fresh air on his face. The breeze was soft and cool, but it was nice. It was nice to feel the sea air and breeze. Charlotte had been running ahead, skipping in the sand as Tommy walked with his hands in his pockets. He watched his daughter as she moved around, smiling freely as she walked by the sea, running away as the tide came in. The beach was predominately empty, the weather still quite cold and too cold for swimming.
"Charlotte, be careful, eh?" Tommy called out to his daughter as she came too close to the sea when the tide came in. She moved back over to Tommy and he held his hand out to her. His daughter took hold of his fingers, her arm hanging up to hold onto his. Tommy looked down to her as she glanced up to him.
"Daddy," she said in a soft voice.
"Yeah?" he asked from her.
"Mummy said that we only went back home because the bad men had finished," Charlotte said and Tommy arched a brow. His daughter had become very perceptive as she had grown up. She was still a child. She was still his little girl. But she was not blind nor was she foolish. She knew exactly what was happening. "What did the bad men want?"
Tommy almost wanted to laugh at hearing her. What did the bad men want? How did Tommy even begin to explain what had happened to his daughter? How did he explain it to a child? He doubted she would understand and, truth be told, Tommy didn't want to tell her. He liked the fact that Charlotte remained ignorant. He liked that she looked at him as no one else did. She believed him innocent. She trusted him more than anything.
"Well," Tommy said and found a spot on the beach. He sat down, not caring about the sand as Charlotte plonked herself down next to him. He folded his arm around her shoulders, cradling her to him. "Bad men wanted to take over my business."
"All of them?" Charlotte asked from him.
"Yeah," Tommy nodded his head, "all of 'em."
"Why?" she wondered from him.
Where did he even start? It all stemmed from that fight between John and Arthur and the Changrettas. It all stemmed from that ridiculous fight. How many people had died because of that? How many people had suffered? But now the Changretta family were finished. The Shelby family had come out on top. Tommy smirked at the mere thought of that, his lips turning up as his daughter kept her head on his shoulder.
"Because some people aren't very nice, Charlotte," he said to her, not wanting to divulge the past. She was too young and one day she might learn what her father did. What would she think? What would she think of her father and his business? "Some people just aren't very nice and they want other people to suffer."
"I don't understand," Charlotte said and Tommy nodded.
"It's 'ard," Tommy promised her. "I know that, but there aren't some nice people in the world."
"Not like you and mummy, you're both good," Charlotte spoke and Tommy closed his eyes for a second. He felt the sun beat down on his face, his mind whirling as he thought about what his daughter had just said. She had sounded so innocent. But that was because she was.
Elizabeth had come to accept Tommy for who he was. She had come to accept the fact that, in order to get where he was, he had taken risks. Some of them had been legal, others not so much. She had accepted him. She accepted the fact that he had killed in the past. He had killed to protect this family. He never killed unless necessary, but to keep Elizabeth and Charlotte safe, it was necessary.
"Even we're not perfect, Charlotte," Tommy decided to say to his daughter as she peered up to look to him, her eyes wide and doe like. Tommy nodded once down to her, moving his hand to sweep her hair over her shoulder. "Everyone makes mistakes, don't they?"
"I think so," Charlotte said, her voice cautious.
"But yer know that I love yer, okay?" Tommy said to her. "I love yer and yer mummy so much and I will do everythin' to protect yer both."
"I know," Charlotte told him. "I love you too."
Tommy smiled and ruffled her hair softly, causing her to laugh. Moving to his feet, Tommy helped Charlotte up, picking her up under her arms before taking hold of her hand. Keeping her fingers inside of his, Tommy began to walk alongside the sand once again, longing for Elizabeth to come home sooner rather than later. There was something about being away from her that didn't feel right. He didn't feel settled. He didn't have the one constant in his life.
…
Tommy had left Charlotte with Frances in the hotel, knowing that he had to go and find Alfie. Elizabeth had called him the night before, scolding him for taking Charlotte out of school. She had asked him what he intended to do about Alfie and he had admitted that he was slightly lost. Alfie had betrayed him. He knew what he should do, but he didn't know if he could do it.
Walking along the beach, this time without his daughter, Tommy saw Alfie stood in the distance, a dog by his side. Hands swinging by his side, cap on his head, Tommy stopped a distance away from Alfie. Alfie continued to stare out to the sea, the breeze ruffling his coat.
"You were easy to find," Tommy commented.
"Yeah, well, there's a reason for that, Tommy," Alfie said to him. "I wanted yer to find me."
"I once told yer that I would only hurt yer for business reasons or for bad blood," Tommy said to him. "I didn't kill yer last time, but I should have. Yer put my daughter in danger. I won't forgive yer for that and I don't think Liz would."
"Not here, is she?" Alfie asked, turning to look to Tommy.
"She's in France," Tommy said. "VIsitin' 'er family."
"Right," Alfie said with a nod. "Well, tell 'er from me that I never wanted yer daughter to get 'urt. I never intended for that to 'appen. I like Liz. She's a good woman. She's far too good for the likes of you."
Tommy couldn't disagree with that.
"I know."
"I wanted it to be here," Alfie said. "I'm glad Liz isn't 'ere. I don't want 'er to see this or try to talk yer out of it."
Pulling his gun from inside his coat, Tommy looked over to Alfie, brows arching on his forehead. "What?"
"I knew what would 'appen, Tommy," Alfie said to him. "Why do yer think I shut the business? I wanted to come 'ere. Only thin' that I 'ave left is the cancer that is taking over my body, mate. Yeah…doctor told me I might 'ave got it in France."
"Alfie," Tommy spoke his name, his chest pounding as the man continued speaking.
"So the doctor showed me this picture and said that I might 'ave two weeks left."
"Alfie," Tommy tried again, but he wasn't listening.
"So 'ere we are in Margate, Tommy. Two of us together. There's an honourable reason to pull the trigger, Tommy. There's a reason to do it so just get on with it."
"Alfie! Look at me!"
But Alfie was tired. He moved into his own pocket and took hold of his gun, shooting at Tommy. At the same time, Tommy fired his own gun, the bang echoing around the beach. Alfie dropped to the floor quicker than Tommy, his body going limp as his dog sat down next to him. Tommy stumbled down, the force taking him off guard. Looking to Alfie's body, he moved his gaze away after a moment, feeling the bullet wound that had grazed his arm.
Moving to his feet, he walked away, stumbling slightly on his way. He walked away from Alfie, leaving him on the beach as he thought about what had just happened. Closing his eyes, Charlotte's words echoed through his mind. 'Not like you and mummy, you're both good.' If only she had any idea.
…
Frances grew concerned about Tommy over the passing weeks. Since their time in Margate he had been distant. He had kept himself to himself, locked away in his study. He had tried to play golf and go fishing, but each time he came back even angrier. He was spending less time with Charlotte and Frances was more concerned about that. His daughter knew that something was wrong and she tried to keep her from him.
He was drinking and smoking more than usual. There would be days when Frances would walk into his study and find him almost falling over from being drunk. Charlotte would ask where her father was and she would tell her that he didn't feel well.
Elizabeth called once a week and from eavesdropping in the conversations, Frances knew that Tommy was lying to her. He was telling her that he was fine when he was anything but fine. He was not himself. She had raised it with him, but he had assured her that he was going to be fine.
"I should call Mrs Shelby," Frances had said to him as he removed his glasses from his eyes.
"No," Tommy said with a shake of his head. "Liz can't come 'ome. She needs to stay in France."
"You need her, Mr Shelby," Frances said and Tommy's lips had arched as he tossed his head back.
"Ain't that the truth," he muttered and his lips parted as he inhaled a sharp breath and then moved his head forwards, glancing back to Frances. "I'm fine, Frances. Liz will be 'ome soon. I'm no troubling 'er."
Frances had left him then, knowing that there was no point in arguing. Of course, that was before Charlotte saw her father in his true state. Frances had been cooking dinner and Charlotte was supposed to be reading, but she had snuck out from her gaze.
The little girl climbed the staircase in the house, moving towards her parent's bedroom, book in her hand. She pushed the door open, the sight greeting her enough to make her stop still, her little face contorting with worry. She looked into the room, the sight of her father enough to make her begin crying.
"Daddy," she whispered.
Tommy was on the floor, a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Looking to his daughter, Tommy felt a mixture of shame and disgust with himself. She looked broken. She looked so sad. Had he done this to her? Had he truly let his thoughts consume him so much that he had caused his daughter to look at him with fear? It appeared so.
"Are you ill?" Charlotte wondered.
"Charlotte…darling…" he said, his voice slurred as he tried to stand, but fell back to the floor. Charlotte recoiled from him as he reached a hand towards her. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…yer don't know…yer don't know…"
"What is it?" Charlotte wondered, her small hand still holding the door handle.
"I'm a bad man," Tommy said, his voice broken as he knelt in front of his daughter. "I'm a bad man, Charlotte…and yer don't know…I don't want yer to know…"
"Daddy," she spoke softly. "You're scaring me."
Tommy would have laughed then. She should be scared. He was scared. He scared himself too often. He knew what kind of man he was. He knew what kind of man he had become. He disgusted himself.
"Charlotte!" Frances called out her name, rushing to the doorway once she had seen the little girl holding the wooden door open. Bending down, she picked the girl up, letting her wrap her arms around her neck and her legs around her waist. "Come on…your father isn't feeling well."
Frances looked down to Tommy who remained on the floor and walked away, carrying the little girl with her. She knew what she had to do. She knew that there was only one woman who could talk to Tommy when he was like this.
…
A/N: Do let me know what you think!
