Alfie was beautiful when he was asleep. He was beautiful when he was awake too, of course, but there was an innocence to him, a vulnerability perhaps, that only appeared during slumber. Niamh's eyes traced his face; the furrowed brow with deep wrinkles that should have made him look older but didn't; the gentle slope of a nose that could have belonged to someone of aristocratic birth had it not been broken so many times; the messy beard that was dark but had shades of auburn and blonde when caught in certain lights; the scar on his cheek that reminded her of a pirate from a story she had read as a child; and those soft, full lips that could tell her things with a simple touch to her own that words couldn't.

The Alfie Solomons asleep in their bed was not the same man who had come running into their home only hours before, terrified of something that had been nothing more than a silly ruse, and nor was he the man who had brought her to pleasure with his fingers in the bath and with his mouth in their bed afterwards. The man before her was just like any other. Only he wasn't.

He was everything to her and it was both terrifying and elating to know that he owned her; heart and soul. The man she had been expecting to hate but then had formed a steady friendship with and had then fallen head over heels for. It all seemed to have happened so quickly yet Niamh felt as though she had known Alfie Solomons for her entire life, and perhaps even those of the past.

"Souls recognise one another before our minds and bodies do; if they ever do. If they ever get the chance to."

It was cold out but the flickering fire kept the chill at bay. Niamh glanced at her uncle Charlie through the dancing embers and the look in his eyes was nothing she had ever seen in them before. Only she had. Whenever he had looked at her mother that same look was there. A longing.

"You loved her," Niamh realised. "Mum. You loved her, didn't you?"

Charlie's silence was deafening. And the pain in his eyes was agonising to see. Standing up, she walked carefully around the fire, knowing that she should be getting home soon but that her brothers wouldn't worry because they knew she was at the yard with the horses. Sitting down on the crate beside Charlie, she smiled slightly when he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her just like he had done when she was little. Never one for affection, little Niamh had always brought it out in the man she called uncle. His smell of horses and smoke was comforting and her heart clenched ; not just for Charlie but for her mother as well.

"He never loved her," she murmured and they both knew who she meant. "Maybe he did at first, but I doubt it. That man has never loved anyone or anything but himself and money. She deserved better. You would have been her something better if only she'd have known."

"She knew," Charlie's voice cracked ever so slightly as he kissed the top of Niamh's head. "Her soul knew even if her mind didn't."

Niamh looked at Alfie and a tear dribbled down her cheek even as she smiled down lovingly at his slumbering form. Her soul had known him and their love even before she felt it herself, and she was blessed to have him in this life as she undoubtedly had in others.

Her hand moved to her stomach and she wondered if they were being granted another blessing in the form of a child to cement their love further. Her monthly was late by almost a week and with each day that had passed, she had become more and more giddy at the prospect of carrying Alfie's child. Giddy and nervous, because after all, she and Alfie had never discussed the idea of having children. She suspected that he must at least be in support of such a thing given that he had made no mention of ways to prevent it happening, but there was much concern in her mind that it wasn't something he wanted so early into their marriage.

"I can hear your brain tickin' like a bloody clock, love," Alfie murmured sleepily, his voice gravelly and he cracked open an eye to look at her. "What you thinkin' about?"

"Just you," she whispered, lying down and pressing her lips to his bearded cheek.

"Yeah?" he smirked, pulling her against his chest and letting his hands wander the length of her body lazily. "'Bout how handsome I am? And about how funny I am? And about how-"

"Much of an idiot you are?" Niamh finished with a chuckle. She kissed the tip of his nose. "I was actually thinking about how much I love you."

"That'll do then," he grinned with his eyes still closed. "I love you too, don't I? And it's because I love you so much that I have decided to stay home with you today."

"You have?" she frowned. "I mean, I'd love that, Alfie, you know I would but I'm busy today."

"Busy doing what?" he opened his eyes and scowled.

"It's the jumble sale at the social club. Karina and I hired it out for the day, remember?"

Alfie grunted that he did recall a mention of some fundraising thing to raise money for some new books and things for the primary school but with everything that had happened the previous night, it had slipped his mind. In fact, all of this business with Janowicz had been plaguing him all night and it was only as the sun started to rise that very morning that he had finally been able to drift off to sleep for a couple of hours.

"Well, can't Karina and the others do it?" he tried to make his words sound like a suggestion rather than flat out telling Niamh she couldn't go, but he should have known it wouldn't work.

"Of course not," she tutted. "I'm not leaving all of the work to Karina or anyone else. And how will it look to people if I think I'm good enough to do all the organising but not actually participate in the hard work?"

"Hard work? Love, it's just shovin' some clothes on a table and tellin' people how much they cost; it's hardly fuckin' manual labour."

"Well, I'm going and I'm sorry if that upsets you, Alfie," Niamh was firm. "I'm not letting my friends down."

"You aint goin', Niamh," Alfie snapped quite unexpectedly. "And that's final."

"Excuse me?" she huffed out a dry laugh and raised an eyebrow, sitting up and glaring down at Alfie. "You're my husband, not my owner. I'll go where I damn well want."

"Not if I say otherwise."

"I can't believe you," Niamh scoffed, standing up angrily, her eyes blazing. "You're a-a-a fucking chauvanist. And you're a-a bigot."

"Means the same thing, love," Alfie rolled onto his back to see her better.

He wanted to smirk at the fury on Niamh's face, finding it amusing when her Shelby temper reared its ugly head but he didn't because there was nothing funny about this situation they were in. He couldn't tell her why he wasn't allowing her to go to her little event today because then he would have to admit that what happened last night was more than the lie had told her, and he most certainly wasn't going to do that.

"Oh fuck off," she spat, immediately sounding and looking exactly like that bloody aunt of hers.

"Where you goin'?" Alfie clambered out of bed after with a growl as she disappeared out of the door.

"To make a drink. Is that alright or do I need your permission to do that, too?"

"Niamh, love, I think this is gettin' a little outta hand," he followed her as she stomped angrily the stairs.

Ignoring him, she stormed into the kitchen and filled up the kettle, setting it upon the stove to boil and reached into the cupboard where Cyril's food was. Smiling warmly, she filled up his bowl and gave him a scratch behind the ears before standing up right and glaring at Alfie and elbowing him out of the way when he tried to be helpful and get out the tea cups. Getting only one cup up out, presumably for herself Alfie decided, she slammed it down on the counter and whirled around to face him angrily.

"Do you have to just stand there and stare at me like that?"

"Well I'd like to discuss this with you if you would fuckin' let me."

"No you don't want to discuss anything," Niamh argued. "You want me to just put my tail between my legs and be a good little girl and do as I'm told."

"Well yeah," he mumbled under his breath, grimacing when she heard him and gave him a look that would terrify a weaker man. He reached for her hand, sighing when she snatched it out of his grasp. "Look Niamh, I just wanna spend the day with you and-"

"Bullshit," she cut him off angrily. "You've got loads on at the bakery, and don't tell me you haven't because I've seen your diary, so you've either got an issue with me going to jumble sale because you're being a chauvinistic pig who wants his wife sitting at home all day and obeying his every command. Or you're staying home today because there's something else going on that you're not telling me about, which leads me to believe that perhaps last night was more than you let on about."

"Niamh," he forced out a scoff in an attempt to make her believe that he thought this whole thing was ludicrous, when in actual fact he was terrified that she was far too close to unravelling the truth. "Love, what I told you about last night is the truth, yeah? I would never lie to you and I certainly would never try to control you. I just… right, I'll be truthful and say that last night absolutely frightened the life out of me. The thought of you bein'... the thought of somethin' happenin' to you was the worst feelin' I've ever had, and even though we've established it was nothin' more than some stupid little fucker with a cock smaller than my little finger tryin' to wind me up, I can't shake it, alright? It's you, aint it? Sent me all soft 'cause I love you so much an' I'm sorry that I just don't wanna let you outta my sight today, do I?"

"Alfie," Niamh sighed, tilting her head sympathetically and feeling guilty for being so horrid to him. "What happened to that big bad gangster I married?"

"Fell in love with a fuckin' gypsy witch didn't he?" Alfie smirked. "One who's bewitched him an' now he's as soppy as fuckin' Ollie. 'S pretty disgustin' actually."

"Hmm, I think it's sweet" Niamh smirked, lifting her face to his. " But I'm still going to the jumble sale today."

"Niamh," Alfie groaned.

"No, no, hear me out," she covered his mouth and eyeballed him. "I understand you're worried even though there's nothing to even be worried about. I won't mock you for that or belittle those feelings but I need you to understand that I'm not going to cancel going today, so you can either come with me or you can send a band of your little merry men to come and put your mind at ease?"

Alfie narrowed his eyes.

"I don't need them and I don't particularly want them following me around, but if it will make you feel better then I'll put up with it," she told him. "I usually have one of them with me anyway so what's a few more?"

Alfie hesitated. He knew he had to take his next steps very carefully to avoid raising further suspicion. Taking just a few seconds to think, aware that any longer would have been a few more seconds too long, he let out a sigh of surrender. He supposed that this really was the best option. Niamh could go to her jumble sale and he would send at least a dozen men to watch over her, and perhaps keeping her in public where there were more eyes on her– and eyes of people who knew them both– would keep her safer. It then gave Alfie the time to figure out his next step with Janowicz. He felt like he was truly between a rock and a hard place and he realised that in trying to keep Niamh safe he could potentially lose her if she discovered his lies.

"Twelve men," he told her in a voice that invited no argument.

"Eight," she counteracted.

"Ten."

Rolling her eyes, Niamh's answer was to spit on her palm and hold it out to him. Even though a feeling of dread was gnawing at him, he forced himself to smile just to make her believe everything was fine.

"Deal."