Like a Horse Made of Air
Chapter Fifteen:He sits in the new chair in Wren's office with his watch in his hand and Wren herself in his lap. The telephone has been moved to her desk and it sits as the focal point while they wait.
Danny returned from London three days ago with a folded piece of paper with a wax seal. Confirmation that the delivery had been received. The paper simply had a date and time printed on it with the unspoken understanding that would be when the call came through. The clock ticks away time in his hand until the hour hand ticks forward.
The telephone rings.
Picking up the device, Wren holds the speaker while he brings the earpiece up.
"Tommy Shelby, speaking," he says evenly.
"Hello, Mr. Shelby," the voice on the other end answers. "It seems we have a lot to discuss."
"Do you remember when we met with Zilpha," Wren says to him as they get around for bed, "and I said we could pull off a near bloodless coup."
"I do," he tells her.
He leans back against the dresser and watches her shimmy out of her knickers and garters, admiring the sight.
"If you can get Kimber isolated," she explains. "Lure him away from his men—or most of his men—somehow, you can get a clear shot and only Kimber has to die. From there you can feed the news into the Billy Boys and without their "head" they're more than likely to stand down. You'll have access to everything Kimber built and the freedom to make what you will of the spoils."
He watches her thoughtfully as she pulls her nightshift on. He doesn't know why she bothers; it'll end up on the floor long before they get to sleep. Then again, he still does put his sleep trousers on even if he's given up on the shirt.
"That simple, eh?" He asks idly.
"Maybe, maybe not," she shrugs as she moves to stand in front of him. "But that's what the Lees and the men are for. If the Billy Boys won't stand down they'll be disorganized without a clear leader. That'll make it easier on our men when it comes time to pick them off. The chaos might even see them turning on each other."
He pulls her into him and wraps her in his arms. He feels her press a kiss over his heart and presses a kiss to the top of her head in response.
"Divide and conquer," he muses.
She hums her agreement.
"How do we get him alone?" He thinks aloud.
"I don't know him as well as you do," she tells him regretfully. "I'm afraid I'll be of little help there."
He gives her a quick squeeze as he shakes his head.
"You help me every day," Tommy tells her. "I can handle Kimber, I'm not worried there."
She pushes up to kiss his lips and he savors the feel of her.
"Just a little longer, a little further," he tells her.
She nods, her nose brushing against his neck.
"I trust you," she tells him.
And he believes her.
December third dawns as grey as every other day in Birmingham.
He goes to the Chinese Quarter to pick up his suit and gets an earful of more complaints of how Campbell treats the whores. Not for the first time he wonders if the Inspector had really loved the spy, or if he'd simply wanted to possess her. There seems to be nothing of restraint or care in the man. Leaves the women he touches in pain even if he hasn't bloodied them.
Killing the blonde might have actually spared the woman, an inadvertent kindness.
He returns home to prepare.
They get ready for their day together, long familiarity creating a dance as easy as breathing.
"I love you," he whispers against her lips.
"I love you, too," she whispers back.
Then they head down the stairs and begin rallying the troops.
He interrupts John and Keeva in an intimate moment and gets an ashtray thrown at him by the fiery redhead for his trouble.
"Be done in thirty," he calls. "And lock your damn doors!"
"You didn't lock the outside doors again?" He hears Keeva's irate voice before he's out of earshot.
He smirks and leaves them to it.
"For fuck's sake," he sighs when Arthur's door opens at a touch.
He supposes he should count himself lucky they aren't fucking too. Esme is growing round with the babe she carries, and he can't help but be a bit softer with her.
"Meeting in twenty," he tells them, "and lock your doors, eh?"
"Alright, alright," Arthur yawns and nearly spills his tea.
"We'll be there, Tommy," Esme smiles.
He finds Pol praying when he comes into the room behind her.
"I used to pray something like this everyday during the war," his aunt tells him with a sigh. "When you boys came back home, I thought I wouldn't have to say them again."
"Just for today, Pol," he tells her. "Then it's over."
"And that woman you keep in your bed?" Polly grumbles. "You going to put a ring on her finger before or after you chance getting yourself shot?"
"Meeting in fifteen, Pol," he sighs. "If you want to come."
"And listen to you men work yourselves up? I think not," she huffs.
"As you like," he allows and leaves her to her prayers.
He returns to the shop to find the floor already crowded. He offers greetings and shakes hands as he moves, looks into the faces of the men who follow him. When he makes it to the front of the room, he finds that the women have taken over the stage that's usually occupied by John. His brothers' wives: Esme and Keeva. Ada and Rosie stand arm in arm as they whisper to each other. And Wren, his heart, standing looking over the assembled like the Queen she is.
She meets his eyes and smiles.
His heart beats for her, has done for near two years now.
The ring sits heavy in his pocket.
No matter what happens after this, he wants her to know what she means to him, wants her to have his ring. He mounts the steps and crosses the stage to her as she turns to face him. In a deliberate motion, he sinks to his knee before her.
The room falls silent.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the jewelry box as the air grows tense with anticipation. Then he lifts the lid and offers it out.
"Queen of me heart," he speaks clearly, "will you give me the privilege of being me wife, and taking me name?"
He watches the joy light up her face as she bypasses the ring to wrap her arms about his neck and kiss him. There's a cheer from the crowd. She nearly knocks him over with her enthusiasm and he finds he has to reclaim his feet before they fall.
John, the reprobate, calls out, "was that a yes, then?"
Laughter ripples out like a wave.
Wren, laughing herself, shouts, "yes!"
Another round of cheers shakes the room.
"A beer and a chaser," Tommy hollers as they descend on the Garrison. "And that's it!"
Various sounds of agreement and grumbling meet his pronouncement. He moves behind the bar and helps Arthur and Harry pull beers and pour shots. Excitement thrums through the air, the men working themselves up to face the potential violence on the other side.
He spots Danny coming through the door and leaves the other men to it. Tommy guides Danny into the back by the office.
"The Lees are already about in place," the big man tells him as he wrings his hat. "The trucks are ready to get the men underway."
"That's good," Tommy says as he claps a hand on the man's arm. "And me message for Roberts?"
"Lookout says he saw Kimber's car heading out," Danny reassures. "No sign of him at the racetrack, so good odds he's headed to the drop point."
"That's even better," Tommy tells him. "Any chance we got a head count?"
"Kimber, Roberts, and the driver," Danny reports dutifully. "Maybe another man, but no more'n that."
"Better and better," he says half to himself. "Thank you, Danny. You've been a great help."
"O' course, Tommy," Danny replies seriously and offers him a salute.
"At ease," Tommy tells him and Danny smiles and heads out to join the other men.
"Arthur," he calls when he reaches the door.
"Alright, what is it, Tommy?" Arthur grins.
"We're a go on the pivot," he tells his brother. "So, I'll be taking John and Scudboat with me, while you lead our main force."
"I hear ya," Arthur nods firmly. "I won't disappoint ya, Tommy."
"I know you won't, Arthur," Tommy smiles for his brother. "You're a good soldier, and a better brother."
Tommy watches Arthur's spine straighten under the praise, his brother's resolve settling, and nods his approval.
Then he marches out into the main room and calls, "John, Scudboat! You're with me."
The two men peel away from the crowd and fall in step with him. He leads them the short trip down Garrison Lane to the garage they store the car in. Without needing asking John jumps in and checks beneath the bench to assess their weapons while Scudboat runs a quick inspection of the car. Tommy pulls his gloves out of his pocket and tugs them on his hands. He does a quick run down of his own gear, and then double checks John's and Scudboat's before they all load up.
He turns over the ignition and drives.
He's sent a message to Roberts everyday for a week. Each one offering snippets about something big coming, just detailed enough to get the cautious man to move without being too specific and potentially giving the game away. And the man took the bait.
The drop point is a little bit of nowhere where three jurisdictions cross. Tommy would be surprised if he were the first one to use the spot for less than legal reasons. He imagines if someone took a shovel there they'd find a lot of bones.
When they arrive they find Kimber's car hidden just out of view of the road. The driver nods to them when they pull up and they nod back. Tommy makes eye contact with Scudboat and flicks his gaze to the driver. His man nods discreetly and makes a show of settling in to watch the car.
John casually slings his rifle over his shoulder as they walk into the trees. Their pace unhurried, their posture casual.
"You think Roberts has the balls to go for a gun?" His brother asks in a voice meant to keep from carrying.
"He's a man who lives above the neck," Tommy tells him. "I doubt he will."
"Just Kimber then?" John asks.
"If all goes well? Just Kimber." Tommy agrees.
Then they step out into the little clearing.
Roberts stands with his hands clasped around his little black book held in front of him while Kimber paces. Tommy spots the gun in its side holster and a knife at his ankle, maybe another at the small of Kimber's back.
"Alright you ballsy bastard," Kimber grumbles. "We're here for your little tête-à-tête. What has your knickers all a twist then?"
Tommy rolls a cigarette across his lip and lights it up while John takes up his rifle. He watches realization dawn on the other men's faces. Sees the careful sidesteps Roberts makes to distance himself from Kimber. No loyalty there then, or at least not enough for Roberts to put his own life on the line.
"All gun and no balls, right, Billy boy?"
"You dirty lying no good gypsy fucker," Kimber snarls. "This your plan all along then? You going to try killing Billy fucking Kimber? I am a King! You hear me? I fucking own scum like you!"
"You were a King," Tommy allows. "I admired you when you were a King. But you got complacent. Lazy. And now your kingdom is there for the taking. And I aim to take it."
Then Tommy draws his gun and fires. He'll give Kimber credit where it's due. In the time Tommy drew and fired, Kimber got off two shots. Too bad for Kimber his aim is shit. The first of Kimber's rounds graze John's calf, earning a curse from his brother. The second grazes Tommy's bicep.
Tommy's single shot? Right between Kimber's eyes.
"Tch," John scuffs. "I liked these trousers."
Tommy huffs a laugh, "I'll buy you new ones."
"Damn right you will," John laughs. "One of us has to look good!"
"And how are you doin' Roberts?" Tommy asks mildly.
"I am down an employer," The man responds crisply as he adjusts his glasses. "But uninjured."
"I'll give you the number for me accountant," Tommy smirks. "She might have work for you."
Roberts is quiet as they turn and make their way back to the cars. Tommy will send someone to take care of the body later, once he's done at Worcester.
"I think," Roberts says thoughtfully, "that I'll take that number Mr. Shelby."
Tommy pulls out one of his new business cards and a pen. He writes Wren's office line on the back and her name, Wren Shelby.
He holds out the card but doesn't immediately release it as he looks in the man's eyes, "be polite, that'll be me wife on the other end."
Roberts blinks once, but otherwise simply nods. Looks like Scudboat hadn't had to have an altercation with the driver. Both men alive and unharmed.
"You, follow along behind us," he tells the driver who nods without fuss and obeys.
"Mr. Roberts," he gestures to the backseat of his own car as John and Scudboat get in.
"Of course," the man says quietly and gets in.
Tommy drives to Worcester, where he and Roberts announces the takeover to the Billy Boys. The Peaky Blinders and Lees easily take the racetrack. There are a few pockets of resistance, but nothing more than a man or two being difficult, the Boys mostly standing down as Wren predicted. The fancy guests don't even notice as the takeover happens.
He leaves men to keep everything running smoothly, then the rest of them go home in a celebratory air.
He finds Wren sitting at the bar of the Garrison talking with Harry. Even as he watches he sees her fiddling with his ring on her finger.
Kimber is dead.
Wren has said yes, she'll marry him.
The Peaky Blinders are now the third largest legal racing syndicate in the country.
He feels like he's walking on air as he goes to her. She smiles at him the moment she sees him. He wraps her up in his arms and lifts her up to twirl her about and she laughs. He loves her laugh. He loves her smile.
He loves her.
"We've done it, love," he tells her. "We've done it."
"So we have," she agrees warmly. "I knew you could."
He pulls her into a kiss as the men all cheer.
The boat goes in the water with a bit of difficulty, but Tommy had expected that.
Charlie takes the helm, while Danny double checks the hull. Tommy goes back to the car and removes the lantern from the bench. It's blue glass glitters in the light of the car lamps.
Back in France, brothels were legal, and they'd light colored lamps to let the men know when they were open for business. Red lamps meant a whore who'd serve all comers. While blue lamps? A whore behind a blue lamp would only service officers.
He'd told the blonde that everyone's a whore, they just sell different parts of themselves.
He lights the blue lamp then returns to the boat, placing it where it'll be easy to see from all sides.
The signal agreed upon during that call days ago.
He wonders if the other man got the joke.
The boat holds and they set off down the canal. It's a trip of several hours, so Tommy settles down beside Danny on the bench as he lights a smoke and offers the man one. They don't talk over much, not a one of them chatty men by nature. But conversation waxes and wanes as they drift along. Every time they reach a lock, the men who man it wave them on. Their progress continues slow but steady.
They reach the agreed upon spot in good time, considering their craft. They dock it and step off eager to stretch their legs. Tommy's just lit up another cigarette when a voice calls out to them.
"If I remember right, blue means expensive don't it?" A man says as he approaches with two men at his back.
"Blue means discerning," Tommy answers, calm.
"You must be Mr. Shelby," the man says when he's close.
"And you must be Mr. Doss," Tommy shakes the man's hand.
"Here are the papers, as promised," The man holds up a thick envelope. "But you'll understand if I have me men take a peek first."
"Of course," Tommy agrees. "Danny, you mind giving these gentlemen a hand?"
"Sure thing, Tommy," Danny agrees.
They listen to the sounds of crates being popped and then nailed back shut.
"Looks all here, Mr. Doss," a man calls.
"Good, good," Mr. Doss states amiably. "I'm sure you'd like to look over the papers."
"I would," Tommy agrees.
Doss hands over the envelope and Tommy deftly opens it and goes through them. He's mindful to check names and dates, make sure nothings been left out, then nods when he finds nothing amiss. He tucks the papers back in the envelope and slips the whole thing in his jacket.
"Nice doin' business with you, Mr. Doss," Tommy shakes the man's hand again and accepts the keys passed to him.
"Thanks for the new boat, Mr. Shelby," the man answers with good humor. "Yours is just up the way, second mooring. You can't miss the blue lamp."
Tommy nods and heads out, his men with him.
"Oh, and Mr. Shelby," Doss calls. "Tell Campbell that Mr. Churchill sends his regards won't you?"
"I never forget me manners, Mr. Doss," Tommy calls back.
Laughter drifts on the night air as Tommy smirks.
"I'm a simple man, Mr. Churchill," Tommy says into the speaker, Wren smirking in his lap. "I just want what's best for me family, you understand."
"Of course, of course," Winston Churchill answers from his end of the line. "The Crown is always willing to reward those who go above and beyond. Full pardons for everyone on your list pending delivery. And as a gift for…the many misunderstandings. I'll leave you to give Mr. Campbell our regards shall I? Every man in six counties will look the other way at the sight of a blue lamp between the days of December sixth and twelfth. An early Merry Christmas to you and your family, Mr. Shelby."
"And to you and yours, Mr. Churchill," Tommy agrees.
On December sixth former Inspector Chester Campbell is released onto the streets of Birmingham. Tommy watches through lidded eyes as the man attempts to straighten his filthy clothes and smooth down his matted hair. He'd only spent a few days in a holding cell, but it didn't seem the experience had agreed with the man.
"Hello, Inspector," Tommy says. "Excuse me, former Inspector now isn't it?"
The man stiffens at the sound of Tommy's voice and slowly looks over. Tommy's leaning against a truck, John and Arthur grinning meanly nearby. A few Peaky men about. He knows what it looks like. He knows what it is. And…so does Campbell.
"Now, here is how this is going to go," Tommy tells the man as he lights up. "Your going in the back of this truck here. Then we're going on a little trip, just us men. You won't have to worry about a thing, Mr. Campbell. We've already set up everything well in advance."
For a moment, Tommy thinks the man is coward enough to try to run.
He doesn't think it's bravery, so much as resignation that then bows the man's shoulders and sees him plodding heavily forward.
"Glad you could join us, after all," Arthur laughs as he claps Campbell so hard in the shoulder he staggers a bit.
"You like games don't you, Campbell?" John snickers as he hauls himself up behind the men. "Too bad you didn't make it to France. We learned a fair few in our years there."
Tommy rounds the bonnet and pulls himself into the driver seat. He rolls down the window and hangs a blue lamp off the side of the cab. Then starts it up and drives out of town.
They're in another little bit of nothing, rolling countryside for kilometers and not a soul to hear Campbell scream. The man is tied between two posts, his head hanging as he gasps for breath. His body stripped naked, bruised and bloodied.
Arthur had lead the beating with no little satisfaction, and Tommy had been content to allow it.
Now, Tommy steps forward, and the men step back to give their King space.
He prods absently at the man's cheek, "you still with us, Chester?"
It takes a moment, but Tommy is satisfied when the man finally focuses on him.
"You could have made it through this, Chester, eh?" Tommy tells him idly. "Could have been sitting pretty with a new medal and commendations from Winston fucking Churchill himself. Mr. Churchill sends his regards and an early Merry Christmas, by the way."
The men laugh and shout, "Merry fucking Christmas."
"But you're viciousness out paces your sense at every turn, Chester. You fucked it all up, again and again. You thought we were nothing, and in your arrogance, gave us all the ammunition we needed to bring you down. You're in the mud now, eh? A little taste of France, just for you."
Tommy pauses as he smokes.
Then he says, "I just thought you should know before you die."
"Know what?" the Irishman wheezes when Tommy pauses again.
"You got your woman murdered, bringing her here," Tommy tells him and watches the man tense and lift his head to look Tommy in the eye. "Was she green or just that shit at her job? I honestly can't tell. Really. I can't. I mean, what spy brings pastels to fucking Small Heath?"
The men snicker and mutter, crude jokes flung about with their blood up.
"Was her first assignment," Chester whispers slowly, looking at Tommy likes he's never seen him before. "You killed her? You?"
"Green then, eh?" Tommy shakes his head. "And you brought her to Birmingham? And no, I didn't. But I know she lost her head and attacked a suspected IRA man and got herself killed. Had someone watching her. Can't really trust a spy, you understand."
"There was…somebody there?" Campbell looks legitimately upset. "They could have saved her. Why didn't they save her?"
"You sent her there to stitch us all up," Tommy tells him with a lifted brow. "Why the hell would we? That's the price of being a narc, there's no one willing to have your back when you inevitably get in over your head."
"But then," Tommy shrugs as he snuffs his cigarette on the man's chest. "Rather think that Fenian did her a favor. You couldn't touch dear Grace while she was your subordinate could you? Just as well considering the way you treat your whores. Woman like that? She was too good for a beast like you."
Tommy watches the man shake and cry, fury mingling with pain.
"Let's finish this then," Tommy nods to his men.
They untie Campbell and shove him to his knees while Tommy checks his gun. Then he aims at the kneeling man and pulls the trigger.
Campbell slumps dead in the mud.
A cheer goes up from the men around him.
Tommy's wearing the finest tux he's ever worn as he carefully checks himself in the mirror. He listens to his brothers joke and giggle like boys behind him and he smiles, even through his nerves. Today is the most important day of his life, he figures he's allowed to be nervous.
"Alright, alright," he tells them as he turns away from his reflection. "Why don't you men go and pretend to do your jobs and make sure everything's set up out front, eh?"
John snorts, "like the women aren't leading this shindig with an iron fist."
"I heard your Keeva threaten some-other's wife just an hour ago," Arthur grins. "Won't ever look at a teacup the same, I reckon."
"Out," Tommy says as he huffs a laugh.
"Sir!" His brothers salute with blatant mockery before they tumble out the door.
He almost misses the slim figure that slips in before the door closes.
He tenses as he looks into a familiar face with foreign eyes.
"Hello, Tommy Shelby," the woman says softly.
"Hello, Sarah MacLeod," he greets coolly.
She looks down then back up at him, "I'm not here to cause trouble."
"That would be a first for your family," he tells her.
She nods as her eyes mist with tears, "I was never the mother I should 'ave been. Not for Ella, and not for Wren. But I did love them. I do love them."
Tommy regards her silently.
He remembers his own mum. She could be stern when they'd earned it, but she was never miserly with praise. He'd never once doubted her love, and until nearly the very end, had always known she'd look after them the best she could.
The very last gift his mum had given him had been a horse she'd bought at the fair.
A white horse, like the one he'd gifted his Wren.
"I won't stay," she sniffles a bit. "I don't want to ruin this day for her, not today of all days. I just. I wanted to thank you. I hadn't realized… Until the day I saw her with you, I'd never seen Wren happy before. Not even when me parents were still alive. It was a gift I don't deserve, getting to see the way she looks at you. But I'll cherish the memory all the same."
"She never talks about you," he finds himself telling her. "She'll occasionally share some of the hurt your husband and eldest heaped on her. Loves to talk about your parents. But she never talks about you."
"She wouldn't," Sarah says through her tears. "I've never given her anything to say."
Then the woman wipes at her cheeks and leaves.
Tommy stares at the space the woman stood—his soon to be mother-in-law, technically. He wouldn't consider it a good conversation, necessarily, but compared to his experiences with the other two… He'll never like or respect Sarah. But he doesn't hate her. He supposes that's something.
A knock at the door interrupts his reverie as Ada shouts, "Come on, come on. They're ready for you!"
He doesn't bother to shout, just opens the door and lifts a brow at his overeager sister. She grins, unrepentant.
"Let's get a move on, yeah? I don't want someone to steal me spot by Trisha," Ada huffs as she chivvies him along.
"Like anyone would dare," he tells her amused. "How's that going, then?"
Ada actually blushes as she smiles sweetly up at him, "you know? I think it's going pretty good."
"I'm glad," he tells her sincerely as he wraps an arm about her shoulders.
She leans into him a moment as they walk, but then they get to the main hall of the church, and she pulls away. He receives greetings, and well wishes, and all sorts of last-minute advice as he makes his way to the altar. Jeremiah stands waiting, having agreed to officiate for them. Tommy greets his friend with a smile.
"Been seein' more of t'at lately," Jeremiah smiles back.
"More of what?" He asks as he looks briefly over the crowd, spotting a nervous Finn and offering the boy a reassuring look.
"You smilin'," Jeremiah answers.
"Plenty of reason, these days," Tommy replies honestly.
"Aye, t'ere is, ain't t'ere?" His friend agrees.
Then they're being called to order and the bridal march rings out.
She'd asked Charlie to walk her down the aisle and it's a rare thing to witness his uncle all spiffed up. While Wren had rejected a traditional white dress, and instead wore a pale blue frock that seems to float around her as she moves. She's bedecked and beribboned, braided crown woven with pearls and no veil anywhere to be found.
She's so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her, but he couldn't look away if he tried.
Then Charlie's handing her off and they face each other.
"Thomas Shelby and Wren Ashby, have you come here to enter into Marriage without coercion? Freely and whole-heartedly?"
"I have," Wren declares.
"I have," Tommy agrees.
"Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?"
"I am," they answer together.
"Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God?"
Tommy feels a fleeting humor at this shortened question, but answers readily, "I am" with Wren only a heartbeat behind him.
"Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his Church."
Tommy meets Wrens eyes as he takes her hand, the vow coming easily to his lips, "I, Thomas Shelby, take you, Wren Ashby, to be me wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of me life."
"I, Wren Ashby, take you, Thomas Shelby, to be me husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of me life."
"What God joins together, let no one put asunder."
Here Finn steps forward as their ringbearer and offers up the pillow with the golden bands. Tommy takes a moment to touch his hand to the nervous boy's head before accepting the ring meant for Wren and he watches as Wren offers the same comfort before accepting the ring meant for him.
"Wren Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of me love and fidelity."
"Thomas Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of me love and fidelity."
The Universal Prayer follows and then they descend and walk out the church hand in hand.
"Well, husband," Wren asks playfully over the noise of the crowd roaring around them, "are you happy?"
"Well, wife," he grins as the word wife slides off his tongue, "suppose I am. And you? Are you happy?"
She tugs him down to her and he goes readily, accepting her kiss.
"You've taught me how to be happy: truly and sincerely."
He pulls her into his arms and holds her, while their family celebrates around them.
