Three weeks later

"Well, what do you think?

Saoirse looked in the mirror and forced herself to smile, hoping it looked more genuine than it felt. Inside she wanted to cry. She was desperate to stamp her feet like a child, and shout and bawl. Her hair. Her beautiful hair, which had once touched her lower back, was nothing more than a messy pile on the floor. She caught Joe's reflection as he stood behind her and brushed his hand against her neck, fingering the auburn locks that now barely only kissed the top of her shoulders.

"What do you think?" she repeated hesitantly.

"Much better," he murmured approvingly.

Saoirse swallowed the lump in her throat. It's only hair, she reminded herself. But it was more than that really, to her anyway. At St. Bernadette's, the nuns had forced her to keep her hair short just like all of the other children to prevent outbreaks of head lice and such. Therefore, the day she had left with her tiny bag bearing only one change of clothes and a battered old bible, she had decided that she would grow it out and never ever cut it again unless she chose to. Years later as she now stared at it all on the floor through tear blurred eyes, she realised that it hurt more than she thought it ever would. She tried not to grimace as Joe ran his fingers through the now shorter tendrils. She hated him for doing this to her, even though he had not exactly done anything. So why did she feel like this was all his doing then?

" Do you not think you should do somethin' else with your hair?" Joe had commented over breakfast one morning.

" What's wrong with my hair?" Saoirse frowned, fingering the long braid she had draped over one shoulder.

" Nothin'," Joe muttered, taking a bite out of his toast as his eyes roamed over the newspaper in front of him.

" Well, something's obviously not right with it otherwise you wouldn't have said anything," Saoirse answered.

" It's just that… Well, do you not think it's a little babyish to wear it like that?"

" Babyish?"

" Yeah," Joe nodded innocently, meeting her eyes. "I mean, it's so long and not really in keepin' with fashion, is it?"

" I didn't realise you were so interested in fashion?" she challenged him slightly.

" I never said I was," Joe muttered. "But I have eyes and I can see that every girl your age around here wouldn't be caught dead with their hair like that."

" Since when do you care about everyone else and how they wear their hair?"

" I don't," he shrugged. "But I do care about you. Do you think I want you lookin' like a laughin' stock? And what about once you start interviewin' for new jobs?"

" Joe, I appreciate your concern, but I hardly think a prospective employer is going to hire me based on whether or not my hair meets the latest fashion or not," Saoirse scoffed.

" Aye, but if they were to put you and someone else together, they're going to choose the person who seems the most mature, aren't they?" he explained. "And I'm just sayin' that you look like a little girl with your hair like that."

" You've never complained about it before," Saoirse grumbled, unable to stop herself from feeling somewhat hurt by his words.

" Aw, don't get upset love," he took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. I just care about you and I want the best for you. Listen, you have your hair however you like. You're always beautiful to me."

She had nodded and insisted that she was fine, but his words had stuck with her for days until finally she decided that he was right. And besides, leaving her job working for the Shelbys in the search of something new was a fresh change, and perhaps a fresh style would help rid her of demons she didn't wish to hold onto. Which is how she had now come to be stood in front of the living room mirror, staring at herself while Joe paid the hairdresser who had come to the house. When the door closed and Joe appeared once more, she turned to face him. As his eyes scanned over her new hair again, she took in the approval and delight in his face and realised that this was a tiny sacrifice to make. In fact, she was being selfish in wanting to blame him when all he had done was try to help her. Cutting her hair was nothing in the grand scheme of things; not if it helped to mend their relationship which was only in jeopardy because of her.

The next morning, Saoirse sat at her desk feeling self-conscious as a few of Tommy's men nodded their hellos to her. Not one of them commented on her hair; not that she expected them to, and truthfully she was greatly relieved that they didn't. She had tried to clip it up into a sort of bun when she got up but Joe had assured her it looked lovely how it was and so she had left it down. But the whole way to work, she felt totally self-conscious about it. If she could have worn a hat on all day she would have.

"Well, well, look at you."

Saoirse looked up as Arthur whistled and perched himself on the edge of her desk. His twinkling eyes took in her new hair with appreciation. "What made you go for the chop then?"

"I just fancied a change," she shrugged, grimacing at the well meant attention. She tucked a strand behind her ear and put her head down to focus on the ledger in front of her.

"Well, I think it looks gorgeous, love," Arthur smiled. "You could pass for one of those actresses in the films. Don't you think Tommy?"

"Huh?" Tommy frowned. He had just walked in quietly through the door and was feeling the unsavoury after-effects of the bottle of whisky he had drunk the previous night.

"Our Saoirse's hair," Arthur nodded towards her. "Doesn't she look a right treat? We'll be fighting off the lads tomorrow when they come in to get their wages."

Tommy looked at her, but it was as though he was looking right through her. There was nothing in his eyes except coldness. He made a noncommittal noise and headed into his office without giving either of them another glance. Saoirse swallowed the lump in her throat. She was hurt and she didn't even know why. What did she expect? Arthur must have sensed her upset because he placed a hand on her shoulder and tilted his head sympathetically.

"You alright?" he murmured.

"Of course," she nodded and cleared her throat, fixing a wide grin onto her face. "But I have got a mountain of paperwork that needs doing before lunch so…"

"So fuck off?" Arthur grinned back, squeezing her shoulder before standing up. "What are we gonna do without you around here? Who's gonna keep all the paperwork sorted and up to date?"

"The new secretary," she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah, but if they're like the one we had before you, they were dire," Arthur replied. "And gobby. Which is why you can't leave. We need you. Tommy needs you. If nothing more than to keep his fucking paperwork in order."

"Oh wow, when you put it like that, how can a girl refuse?" Saoirse smirked.

"Well, it's not just that," Arthur put his arm around her and squeezed her into his side. "I'm gonna miss seeing your bloody face every day, aren't I?"

Arthur wanted to add that she had become an important person in his life. He wanted to add that she had become an important person in all of their lives, and most of all in Tommy's life. But he had a feeling she already knew that, and he was certain that was the reason she was going.

"Well, I'm not leaving Birmingham," she smiled back at him, resting her head against him momentarily. "Luckily for you, you'll still get to catch a glimpse of me every now and then I'm sure."

"Thank fuck for that, eh?"

"Enter."

Tommy looked up and tried not to react when Saoirse stepped through the office door just before lunchtime.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

One could say it was almost a little frosty, but ever since the day Saoirse had handed in her notice, their relationship had turned icy cold. They communicated only about work and only when necessary; usually with one word answers to strained questions. Everyone had noticed but no one had dared comment. Even Polly had wisely kept her mouth shut after Tommy had told her Saoirse was leaving. She had tried to talk to him about what had happened when he went round to Saoirse's flat but he had launched the glass of whisky in his hands at the door behind her head and she had dropped the subject. Almost three weeks had passed and Tommy's attitude still had not changed.

"I need you to sign these papers so I can get them out with the afternoon post."

She slid the papers towards him and stood silently, watching as he began looking them over.

"Are you going to just stand there staring?" he raised his eyes. "Or are you going to find some actual work to do?"

She ground her teeth to prevent herself from making a rude remark back. It wasn't that she was afraid of offending him with her words, it was simply that she didn't have the energy for it. He had made it clear that now he wasn't going to get what he wanted from her, that she was worthless to him. And it tore her heart to pieces. No matter how much she tried to lie to herself and him; tried to convince them both that she had no desire to be with him, she just couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to give in. What it would be like to find herself nestled in the safety of his arms; to find herself in a relationship where she felt loved and cared for. But even if she wasn't with Joe, these last few weeks had proved to her that she would never have that with Tommy. The caring words he had spoken to her were lies and in a way, she supposed she should be grateful to have discovered that now before she committed herself to him and allowed him to destroy her heart even more.

Even as she thought that though, there was a tiny part of her that wondered if she was the one destroying her own heart and possibly Tommy's in the process? What if this cold façade was merely just a front to cover up his own anguish? She almost laughed out loud. As if Tommy Shelby would waste his time being upset over someone like her. She was nothing, especially to a man who could have anything or anyone.

"I'll just go and wait outside then," she said finally.

She felt Tommy's eyes follow her to the door but as she was about to step through it, he said something that surprised her.

"What on earth possessed you to cut your hair like that?"

"Excuse me?" she sputtered angrily.

"You heard me," he murmured. "I'm just wondering you see, because I once heard you tell Ada that you would never cut it unless you were forced to. You told her that the orphanage used to make you cut it, and that keeping it as long as you did was a 'fuck you' to them. So, who made you cut it, Saoirse?"

Saoirse opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again. She swallowed. It was true; she'd had that exact conversation with Ada not long after she'd started. Ada had been admiring Saoirse's long curls and had questioned why she didn't have it cut shorter like most other girls their age. She didn't know that Tommy had been listening, let alone that he would have remembered such a trivial conversation.

"Nobody made me cut it," she said quietly.

"Interesting," in a tone that sounded anything but interested.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she turned to narrow her eyes at him.

"Nothing," he shrugged.

"Obviously it means something, so why don't you just tell me whatever it is you're so fucking desperate to say?" she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

"Alright then," he put his pen down and leaned forward in his chair. "I'm going to hazard a guess that this new look of yours has something to do with that pathetic excuse of a man you call a fiancé."

"You really are a piece of work, Tommy Shelby," she scoffed, shaking her head.

"So it wasn't anything to do with him then?"

"For your information, it was," she nodded, squaring her shoulders. "And I'm glad he suggested it because I happen to love it. Sometimes change is good."

"Sometimes it is," Tommy nodded, an infuriatingly smug look plastered upon his face. "But this wasn't, was it?"

"You're making no sense," she sighed in annoyance. "Just sign the papers so I can get on with my work, please, Mr Shelby."

"Mr Shelby, is it now?"

Tommy looked at Saoirse; really looked at her and all he wanted to do was get up from his desk and take her in his arms. He had spent most of the morning watching her through the crack of the open door. Every time he had looked up, she had been fiddling nervously with her hair and the look on her face had eaten him up inside. She looked so self-conscious...and sad. Over the past few months, he had noticed that whenever she was concentrating she would chew on her hair. He wasn't sure whether she even knew she did it or not. But the look on her face over the morning when she had reached for a lock of that fiery hair only to find it too short to grab at, she had looked so forlorn. And he had known instantly that this wasn't her own doing.

"I'll be at my desk," she fixed him with a cold stare, one that equally matched his. "If you shout me when the papers are signed, I'll come back for them."

She slammed the office door shut behind her and Tommy let out a growl before flinging them angrily from the table. He slammed his fist down and let out a sigh. She could have had every single hair on her head cut off and he would have still thought her to be the most beautiful human being on the earth. She was more than her outer looks; she radiated elegance and beauty from the inside. Or at least she had when she had first stepped into his office all those weeks ago. Now she was becoming nothing more than a shell of herself and it killed Tommy to see her bright light slowly dimming.

"Brr."

Saoirse shivered as she pushed open the front door. With cold hands she lit the fire and sat in front of it with her coat on, letting the flaming tendrils warm her from head to toe. She must have nodded off because when she awoke some time later, it was pitch black and the fire had long burned out. She fumbled around in the dark to light the lantern because the electric wasn't working properly, and when she saw the time on the clock, she found herself panicking that Joe wasn't home yet. It was almost nine. She lit the fire again and hung her coat up on the peg and bustled about trying to rustle something up for dinner. Perhaps Joe was just working late and had lost track of time? When she heard the key turning in the front door only moments later, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello love," Joe smiled. "Bit dark in here isn't it?"

"Electric's on the blink again. Where have you been?" she asked.

"I went for a few drinks after work," he pushed past her and headed into the bedroom.

"Do you not think you could have let me know?" she followed him. "I was worried about you and I had no idea where you were."

"I've just told you, I was out for a few drinks," he repeated as he began to strip off his clothes. "I didn't realise I had to inform you of my every move. I took a piss in an alley on the way home, do you need to know which one?"

"That's not fair," she tried to reason with him. "I just meant that you could have at least sent a message so I would have known you were alright."

"Saoirse, I'm not going to argue with you," he stalked towards her, his eyes boring into hers. She stepped back as he approached and when her back met with the cold wall, she felt herself begin to panic. He had that same look in his eyes that he'd had when he had hit her. She shouldn't have said anything. She shouldn't have wound him up. Her heart was pounding ten to the dozen and she glanced around nervously, looking for a way out. When he lifted a hand, she flinched visibly and his face blanched somewhat. Gently, he reached out and traced the back of his hand down her cheek and then down to her neck. It travelled further down until his hand rested against her wildly beating heart. "Are you afraid of me, Saoirse?"

"No," she whispered.

"I would never hurt you," he murmured, his eyes taking in her trembling lips. He bent down and kissed her sweetly before looking at her with a sort of sad look. "I'm upset that you would think that of me. Haven't I proven how sorry I am for last time? Haven't I proven that I would never do it again?"

She nodded, feeling ashamed of herself for her reaction. He looked genuinely hurt and she realised she had done that to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it, before bringing it to her lips to kiss. "I really am."

"I know," Joe murmured. "But we can't get past this if you're going to keep doubting me."

"It won't happen again," she promised.

Satisfied with her answer, Joe nodded and backed away. "I'm going for a bath," he smiled. "Why don't you get us some dinner ready?"

Feeling foolish, Saoirse waited for him to leave the room before letting out a breath. She walked over to the bed where Joe's clothes were in a pile in the middle of it. Trying to ease the tremble in her body, she began to fold the clothes to give herself something to focus on.

When she noticed a mark on the collar of Joe's shirt, she shook her head in bewilderment. It was clean on this morning and she had no idea how he always managed to get his clothes so dirty; he was just like having a grownup child. Something about this stain didn't look like the usual grease stain from work though, this was red instead. She thought perhaps it could have been blood, but upon closer inspection she recognised it as something else. Lipstick. It was lipstick. Lifting the shirt to her nose she inhaled the overpowering scent of lavender perfume. Suddenly Tommy's words from that day in the flat came back to her.

No. There was a simple explanation for this. There had to be.

"Joe, what's this?" she walked calmly into the living room where Joe had filled up the tin bath in front of the fire.

Part of her was afraid to ask because she was worried that in spite of his reassurances, he might find himself angered enough to lash out at her for asking. But another part of her, a larger part, was terrified that Tommy had been telling the truth and she needed to know one way or another. She thrust the lipstick stain in front of his face and waited.

At first Joe said nothing. In fact, he barely reacted. "It's lipstick, I think," he finally replied.

"I can see that. But why is it on your clothes? And why do you not seem surprised?"

"It's a simple explanation really," he answered casually. "There was a girl in the pub who had a bit much to drink and she was tryin' it on with everyone. She tried to kiss me and I moved away but she was so drunk she fell into me. Poor girl was steamin'. In the end, I took her home because I was worried someone would take advantage of the lass."

Saoirse wanted to believe his explanation. She really did. It was a perfectly plausible story. So why did it leave her with a strange feeling in her stomach? She sighed. This was ridiculous. She didn't know who, if anyone, she could trust anymore. Everything was just too confusing. All she wanted was for things to go back to the way they were before moving to Small Heath. She felt as though nothing was ever going to go back to normal again.