The house was deathly quiet. Arthur and some of the men were out hunting Joe like bloodhounds, and Polly was upstairs overseeing the doctor as he went about trying to fix the broken girl upstairs while Ada sat at Esme's, the two of them trying to process what had happened.
And Saoirse was broken. In every sense of the word. Since the war, Tommy had believed that the longest period of time was that of a soldier's minute. Yet he'd had to endure sixty of those in his wait for her to return. When she didn't come back, he knew something was wrong, but nothing had prepared him for the sight of her on that floor. Swallowing down the bile in his throat, Tommy closed his eyes, desperate for it to disappear. It was imprinted into his mind; he could almost smell the acrid stench as it seared itself onto his brain. He had picked her up and carried her home, kicking the front door in, yelling for help loudly enough that the entire family had been roused from their beds instantly. Arthur and John didn't need to be told what to do. The desire for vengeance was second nature and they tore through the night destroying everything in their path along the way.
Polly had been insistent that Saoirse needed the hospital, but Tommy's arms had remained around her, his eyes numb. In the end, he had agreed for the doctor to come, and even then, they'd had to prise her from his grip. He couldn't let her go. How could he let her go? And even now as he sat at the table, surrounded by the silence which allowed his mind to wander in the dark shadows, all he could think about was his mother and how he had been forced to let go of her all those years ago. He remembered Polly physically pulling him from the room, telling him that his mother needed to rest. He had never seen her alive again.
He couldn't remember the last thing he said to his mother. Had he even said anything? All he could remember was the feeling of her hands; always so soft and gentle despite her years of toil as they stroked his hair back from his face. Anger. He remembered feeling so angry too. Angry that she had been so happy to be pregnant again in the hopes of giving Ada a sister finally, and then that same little girl killed her slowly over days of infection and bleeding. He had been so angry when he listened to her humming him a tune, a song about fairies and far off lands. He was too old for stories like that then. He had no belief in a better life, but for those few minutes he had allowed himself to pretend. When Polly had told him to leave, his mother hadn't even reacted. She had continued to lie in bed, humming the melody that would haunt her son for the rest of his days.
"Tommy," Polly ' s voice broke him from his thoughts.
He glanced up, terrified that the next words to come out of her mouth would break his heart; the heart that the girl upstairs had started to heal without him even realising it.
"She's asleep," Polly sat down at the table and took his hand. She squeezed and rubbed it soothingly, seeing where his thoughts lay. " She ' s going to be alright."
Tommy nodded, barely. She was going to be alright. She wasn't leaving him like everyone else had. His mother; his grandparents; even his fucking waste of space of a father. She wasn't going anywhere. So why did he feel like he had lost her anyway?
"Tommy, did you hear me?"
"Yeah," he croaked out, pushing his chair back across the wooden floor.
"Where are you going?" Polly asked as he headed for the stairs. " Tommy, she ' s sleeping. Leave her. "
Whether he heard her or not, Tommy Shelby would do as he wanted. Always had and always would.
Tommy pushed open the door and swallowed. Her breathing was deep and even, and he didn't even know how he made it to the bed; how he came to be on his knees beside her. Only hours ago, he had made love to her right there in that very bed, and now her bruised and battered body was resting in it. A bandage covered her face and Tommy clenched his jaw when he thought about what lay underneath it. Her beautiful face. That fucking monster.
Tommy pulled back the blanket to see her lying in one of Ada's nightgowns, her arms and legs covered in marks and bruises. Lifting it, he saw the fingerprints on her thighs and he wanted to cry. When he had seen the state of her lying on that floor, bleeding and her clothes torn, her underwear down around her ankles, he had immediately understood what had happened but the more time he had to process it, the worse it became. Did she cry? Did she beg him to stop? Did she fight? When Tommy got hold of that fucking pathetic excuse of a man, he was going to tear him limb by limb. There were not enough ways to hurt him, and Tommy wasn't even sure that he was going to feel any resolution upon killing the bastard but kill him he would. For Saoirse he would make sure of it.
It was the early hours of the morning when Arthur and John returned, their faces grim.
"He's gone," Arthur sighed.
"Like a fucking ghost," John spat. " Disappeared without a fucking trace. "
"Tommy won't be happy," Polly stirred her tea absentmindedly. It was the third cup she had made since the doctor had left yet each one had remained untouched.
"How is she?" Arthur sat down and rubbed his face wearily.
"As well as can be expected," Polly shrugged. " She ' s sleeping now. Tommy's up there with her. He ' s terrified to be apart from her, I can see it in his eyes. I just can't believe what that animal did to her."
Tears slid down Polly's cheeks and she didn't bother wiping them away. Her heart physically hurt for the girl lying upstairs. Polly had been glad Ada wasn't present when the doctor had begun the examination and it revealed Polly's worst fear which was that Saoirse had not only been beaten but raped as well. Then there was her face.
"We'll help her through this, Pol," Arthur wrapped his arms around his aunt, his eyes misty as well. " She ' s family now. "
"I hope that's enough, Arthur," she murmured sadly. "I just hope that's enough."
Before anyone could say another word, there was the sound of screaming coming from upstairs and a loud thud. The three of them raced up the staircase and into the bedroom where Saoirse was in a huddle in the corner of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs.
"I didn't do anything," Tommy held his hands up, his voice cracking. " I fell asleep next to her and suddenly she was clawing at me and shouting. I tried to calm her down but it's like she didn ' t even realise it was me. "
"Saoirse," Polly edged towards her. She reached out a hand to touch Saoirse's arm and the girl flinched. "Saoirse, sweetheart, it's me. It's Pol."
Saoirse looked up and blinked. Her face crumpled as she realised where she was and that she was safe. She threw herself at Polly and broke down into sobs, clutching desperately at Polly's dressing gown.
"It's alright, love," Polly stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. "I' ve got you. It ' s alright. "
"I was so scared, Polly," Saoirse wailed.
"I know, darling. But he's not going to get anywhere near you again, I promise. You're safe here."
Tommy could do nothing but watch in horror as Saoirse broke apart in Polly's arms. He wanted to be the one holding her and comforting her. But when he had gone near her, she had looked at him as though he was the one who had hurt her and she broke his heart.
Saoirse opened her eyes and blinked. Everything felt so heavy. Everything hurt. She turned her head to the side and saw Tommy asleep in a chair beside the bed. His hair had fallen down over his eyes and he was hunched at the most uncomfortable angle. For a moment, Saoirse didn't remember. And then it came back, hitting her like a freight train. She reached up to feel her face and sobbed when her fingers met with the crepe of the bandage.
"Saoirse?" Tommy croaked, sitting up and his spine clicking as he stretched himself out like a cat.
"Is it bad?" she asked him, her fingers running the length of the dressing.
Everything inside of Tommy wanted to lie to her but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She deserved the truth. But before he could try to find a way to explain it without upsetting her, she spoke.
"I want to see it," she decided.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Tommy sighed. " The doctor has stitched it and it's healing. You don't want to take the dressing off until he says it's alright. "
"I want to see it," she repeated through gritted teeth. " You can either bring me a mirror or I'll go and find one myself."
"Wait there," Tommy sighed. He didn't want her getting out of bed in her state. She needed to rest, but he also could see the determination in her eyes. She wasn't going to let it go. When he returned a few minutes later, Saoirse was sitting up. She was trying to peel at the bandage but Tommy pushed her hands away gently.
"Let me, eh?" he murmured.
Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to uncover the wound slowly. Even though he was being as careful as he could, it still was so sore. Tommy sat back in the armchair when he was done, unsure of what to say or do next; a rather alien feeling for him. He watched as, with shaking hands, Saoirse picked up the mirror and braced herself to look in it. When she finally did so, he was disturbed by the blank expression on her face. He had expected tears or anger, but there was nothing.
"Saoirse?" he spoke.
"Will you go?" she whispered dully.
Tommy reached out for her but she flinched. "We'll get you the best doctor money can buy," he spoke fervently. " We'll go to London or even fucking America if we have to. "
"Please go," she begged quietly.
Clenching his jaw and fighting the urge to hold her in his arms, Tommy got up and walked slowly to the door. As he closed it behind him, he glanced back quickly to find she had not even moved a muscle. Tommy had never felt quite so hopeless in all of his life.
Saoirse was numb. She looked at her face and didn't know how to feel. The angry welt was red and although it had been stitched neatly, it was a monstrosity. No matter how many fancy doctors she saw, nobody was going to be able to fix this. She was ruined forever; just like Joe had wanted. She closed her eyes and for a second she could feel the cold steel of that knife tearing through her skin again. Her chest felt tight and she couldn't breathe. The room was spinning and she felt like she was going to vomit. With a scream, she launched the mirror across the room and it shattered into tiny pieces, as she broke down in tears.
Out on the landing, Tommy sat on the top step with his head in his hands. It took everything he had inside of him not to burst through that bedroom and try and take her pain away, but she had asked to be alone and he had to abide by her wishes. So instead, he sat there and allowed himself to cry. He didn't even feel ashamed by it. But as he cried he made himself a promise. He would fix her in every way; in all the ways he had been unable to fix his mum. He wasn't going to let this defeat her. He needed her and he would look after her forever. Whether she wanted him to or not.