Alfie Solomons had never entertained the idea of marriage, much to his late mother's chagrin. All the woman had ever wanted was to see her son settle down with a good woman and a few ankle biters, but that wasn't the life Alfie really envisioned for himself. Perhaps a handful of times over the years, he had thought about how it might feel to have a family of his own, but in his line of work they would be more of a hindrance than anything else. Besides, any woman that he might have deemed worthy of being his wife would never put up with his lifestyle and his questionable morals. Especially no Jewish woman. Plus, from what the majority of his workers were always grumbling about to one another, wives did nothing but nag anyway so who in their right mind would want one? Not him, that's who. Not when he could just enjoy women with no strings attached. And enjoy women he did. A different one whenever he wanted; bent over his desk, down an alleyway, in his bed, in their bed; on their back, on their front, on their knees sucking off him like a fucking lollipop. Alfie had no shortage of women willing to go a couple of rounds with him for nothing more than a couple of orgasms and maybe some cash in their back pocket as well. That was all Alfie was interested in when it came to women. He had a housekeeper to do his cooking and his cleaning which, aside from the sex he was getting from one of his many dalliances, was all a wife was for any way. Of course, Ollie, his loyal assistant and sort of only friend, would say that marriage was two people who loved one another sharing their life together and weathering any storm that came their way. But Ollie, bless his heart, was completely under the thumb and despite his wife being an absolute diamond of a woman, Alfie had no desire for one of his own.
So when Tommy Shelby had first arrived with that arrogant swagger and cocky look in his eyes, suggesting a ludicrous way to unite them both for life, Alfie had almost laughed him out of the bakery. Him marry a fucking Shelby ? Hell would be sure to freeze over first. But then Tommy left, informing Alfie he'd await his answer in the next couple of days, and his brain had begun ticking. It wasn't that he liked Tommy Shelby, but he respected him. He respected the fact that he came from an oppressed people like Alfie himself, and that he had dragged himself up from the shitty pit he had been born into and made himself into somebody who people knew and feared.
Alfie had mulled the idea over for a long time, well into the early hours of the next morning, weighing up the pros and cons. The biggest con was being related to the Shelbys and knowing that he was tied to them forever, but the pros were rather favourable if he was being honest. Sabini wouldn't dare give Alfie any trouble again, and it was doubtless anyone else would if they knew what was good for them. Not that Alfie couldn't handle himself, but in his old age he was getting fed up fighting the same old battles with Sabini and other little whelps who kept trying to muscle in on his territory. In the end, he had agreed to it because, with a smug little grin to himself, he had decided it would be a lot easier to get one over on Tommy Shelby when he expected to have Alfie completely on his side. Wel,, perhaps there was also another reason but Alfie didn't think about that too much. Yeah, Alfie would have the last fucking laugh, that was certain.
Looking around the room as he stood at the makeshift altar, Alfie couldn't help but feel a slight degree of discomfort at the predicament he found himself in. Polly Shelby was eyeballing him like he was the devil incarnate, and he had a feeling she'd worn black to make a point that she was opposed to this union. John and his wife, Esme were trying to keep their brood of nippers quiet and failing miserably. Ada was sat beside Finn and her own little lad was sat in between the two of them, picking his nose and eating it while his mother just grimaced in disgust. She made no effort to stop him though because the way she saw it, his gross habit was preferable to the noise that her nephews and nieces were making behind her.
"You look nervous, Alfie," Tommy commented, his eyes crinkled slightly into that insufferable smirk that made Alfie want to punch him.
"Nervous?" Alfie pulled a face. "Nah. What have I got to be nervous about? Well, apart from the fact that your sister might look like a right horse and I'm about to be tied down to her for the rest of my god forsaken life."
Alfie's murky blue green eyes twinkled with mirth when he saw momentary rage flash across Tommy's face. Alfie knew she wasn't ugly this youngest Shelby sister. In fact, the two men he had sent to follow her over the past couple of weeks had been rather adamant that she was a real looker, which had forced Alfie to curtly remind them that she would soon be his wife and they had better stop lusting over her. But Tommy didn't need to know that, did he?
"That's our fucking sister you're talking about," John spat the toothpick in his mouth to the ground and stood up.
"That's what I mean though, aint it?" Alfie narrowed his eyes at him. "If she looks anythin' like you then I'm fuckin' screwed. And God help us when we have kids one day."
" If you have kids," John scowled, getting right in Alfie's face and causing the Jew to simply eye him like the dirt beneath his shoe. "Because if I know my sister, she won't let you touch her with a fucking bargepole and that was never part of the fucking agreement."
"Weren't it?" Alfie barely even blinked, amused that this little nipper thought he could intimidate him. "'Cause last I checked you weren't actually there durin' the negotiations between your brother and I, and the thing is, yeah, once I'm married to your sister, fuckin' her'll be my 'usbandly right, won't it? And you won't be able to a fuckin' thing about it, mate."
" John, leave it. He's winding you up and you're taking the bait like a fish on a hook," Tommy spoke and reluctantly John sat back down but not before fixing Alfie with the filthiest glare he could muster.
"That's it, Johnny boy," Alfie smirked. "Listen to whatever it is the big man's tellin' you, and later on when I've got your sister in that bed upstairs, I'll have her teach me some of the disgustin' things she's moanin' for me in that manky pikey language of yours so I can repeat them to you 'specially. Alright?"
"Ignore him, John. I'll put a curse on him so that his cock falls off before he can lay a hand on Niamh," Esme made sure to speak in English so that when she scowled furiously at Alfie, he would know exactly what she was threatening.
"Aw that's sweet, aint it?" Alfie chuckled.
He had no intention of laying a hand on the girl, but John Shelby didn't need to know that. In fact, Alfie was debating on changing his mind solely to get at him because he was really enjoying seeing the steam practically come out of John's ears.
Glancing to the matriarch of the family, Alfie saw that Polly looked to be casting a curse of her own, although given the death stare she was casting at Tommy, he wasn't certain which one of them she was cursing. Not that he cared either way. He didn't believe in all that crap so they could curse him out all they wanted and it wouldn't bother him none.
A murmur spread throughout the room and Alfie glanced at Ollie and the six other blokes he had brought with him– trusted employees who would provide adequate security against the gypsies if needed– as the door to the function room was opened.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the registrar murmured nervously, trying his best to ignore the palpable tension in the room. "Please be upstanding for the bride."
"And on that note, lads," Alfie grinned at his entourage. "Let's get this piss poor show on the road."
Niamh felt like she was about to pass out at any given moment, and if it wasn't for Arthur allowing her to grip onto him for dear life she was certain that her legs would have given out the second they started their ascent up the aisle. Catching sight of her family one by one, she tried to smile when she saw Polly with a short mourning veil over her face but her top lip got stuck to her teeth and came out as more of a grimace instead. She walked and walked, seeing and hearing but at the same time able to only focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and wondering how the aisle seemed simultaneously long and short all at once until finally she came face to face with the man she was to marry.
Her veil allowed her momentary invisibility from Solomons' curiously dark eyes and Niamh let her gaze wander across his form before Arthur lifted the lace face covering. The first thing Niamh realised was that Alfie Solomons was nothing like she had imagined. He matched the description she had been given of the man by her brothers but upon describing his build or his colourings or the scar that cut through the left side of his beard, they had left out that he was ruggedly handsome or that the lips barely peeking out from the facial hair surrounding them were plump and looked incredibly soft. Unsure what to feel as her thoughts of nervousness at what was to come flipped for just a few seconds to butterflies at just how good he looked, Niamh was grateful when Arthur leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks, blocking her view of Solomons for a moment.
"I love you, chavi ," he murmured with a sigh, his face taut with anguish.
"Love you too," Niamh smiled reassuringly, an odd feeling of acceptance settling over her now that she was finally at the altar. " I'll be fine, Arthur, I promise."
With a curt nod and a clenched jaw in the direction of the groom, who hadn't taken his intense gaze from Niamh, Arthur took his seat and tried to tell himself that he hadn't just led his sister to a fate worse than hell like that fucking goat Solomons had slaughtered in front of his very eyes.
As the registrar spoke, Niamh was glad to have the posy of flowers clutched tightly in her hands because it stopped them from shaking and she clenched her jaw in an attempt to stop her teeth chattering with nerves. She could feel Solomons looking at her but she kept her eyes fixed on a spot of the wall right behind the registrar's head where paint was peeling slightly, and she refused to look anywhere else. When the time came to speak their vows and exchange the rings, Ada stepped forward to take Niamh's flowers and when she tried to lift her trembling hand to receive her ring, she found it felt like a dead weight. When a large hand encompassed her own she didn't expect the gentle squeeze of reassurance, and judging by the look on Solomons' face it seemed that he hadn't expected himself to do it either.
She repeated her vows in a shaky voice, not even really aware of what she was saying nor what was being said to her. All she could concentrate on was the feeling of her clammy palm against a warmer, more calloused one. She didn't even really recall the moment Solomons slid a simple white gold band onto her ring finger. The only thing that jolted her out of the numb haze she found herself in was the polite brush of pillowy lips against her cheek.
And that was that. In less than fifteen minutes, Niamh Shelby had become Niamh Solomons.