Three hours. Dylan had been gone for three hours, and it felt like an eternity. Tommy had sent every Blinders out to search for him, but Polly had been adamant that he himself remain at the house with Saoirse. She needed him; she was a mess, and despite his initial protestations he reluctantly agreed.
"This is all my fault," Saoirse muttered over and over again, clutching the teddy for dear life. She was terrified to let it go. It was as though letting the bear out of her hands meant that she would lose all hope of ever getting her baby back.
Tommy knelt down in front of her and took her hand, kissing it reverently.
"Nothing about this is your fault," he promised her, clenching back his own tears, wishing to be out with the rest of the men looking for Dylan. He felt useless as he sat there, waiting and doing nothing. "Plenty of women leave babies outside in the pram. My mum used to leave us outside in the fresh air all the time."
"I'm not talking about that," she whispered as a tear fell upon their joined hands. "It's my fault because I didn't want him when I first found out I was pregnant. He's punishing me; God or whoever it is up there. He's punishing me for all those times I thought about wanting to get rid of my baby. He's doing this to me because He knows I don't deserve Dylan and I don't deserve to be happy."
"Saoirse," Tommy shook his head. "Love, that's not true."
"It is," she sobbed. "It's all my fault and I don't know how I'm supposed to live the rest of my life without him, Tommy."
"Ssh, don't speak like that," Tommy cupped her cheek, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "He's not gone forever. We're going to get him back and you're going to see that none of this is your fault nor are you being punished for anything, because you've done nothing wrong."
Bursting into painful sobs once again, Saoirse threw her arms around Tommy and let everything out. She couldn't be strong. She was a crumbling mess and she just needed him to make it better. Tommy always knew how to make things better.
"It's alright, love. It's alright," Tommy wrapped his arms around her and pressed gentle kisses to her head. "We'll get him back, I promise."
"And if we don't?"
Tommy had no answers for that question. In fact, he refused to acknowledge it. They would get Dylan back come hell or high water.
Saoirse knew it was wrong, but she was watching Esme and John's youngest toddling around the living room on wobbly legs and she felt angry. She couldn't even bring herself to smile at him when he beamed at her proudly and grabbed hold of her leg to cuddle. It wasn't his fault that he was here and Dylan wasn't, but the sight of the blonde haired boy ate at her like it shouldn't have. He held his hands up to Saoirse for her to pick him up and as much as she wanted to tell him to go away or to ignore him, the look on his face melted her just like it always did.
He lifted a chubby hand to touch the tears that Saoirse didn't even realise were dribbling down her cheeks once he was sat on her knee and he looked at her sadly. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek exaggeratedly and Saoirse knew that was his way of comforting her.
"Thank you sweetheart," she gave a wobbly smile. "You're a good boy, aren't you, hmm?"
He rested his head in the crook of Saoirse's neck and played with her hair until he fell asleep. Saoirse breathed in his scent and although it wasn't Dylan's, it was soothing nonetheless.
"How are you feeling love?" Polly appeared with a cup of sugary tea and a sandwich. "Stupid question really cos if I were you, I don't know how I'd feel right about now."
But that was a lie and they both knew it. Polly didn't often speak of the children she'd had taken away but Saoirse knew that it hurt her every day. If anyone knew what Saoirse was going through, Polly did.
"Everything hurts," Saoirse whispered. "My heart hurts so much and I feel useless just sitting here waiting. What if he thinks I've abandoned him, Pol?"
"He'll think no such thing," Polly sat down opposite her. "He's little enough that with any luck he won't even be aware of this and when we get him back he certainly won't remember it."
"If," Saoirse croaked. " If we get him back."
Polly wanted to tell Saoirse not to think like that and to keep positive, but what was the point? Dylan was missing and there were no leads on where he had gone or who had taken him. If it was someone after ransom, then surely they would have been in contact by now? Polly remembered a few years back hearing about a woman near Dudley taking another woman's baby because her own had died and that sounded to Polly like the most plausible explanation in this case. She just prayed with her entire being that they were able to stop whoever had Dylan and get him back to his family alive and well.
Night fell and rain set in for the first time in weeks, clearing the last of the humid air. Tommy was restless and was making phone call after phone call to try and see if anyone had any news about his missing son. But every call ended with the same despair that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Saoirse hadn't moved from the armchair, where she had been watching out of the window but not really seeing. Perhaps if she sat there long enough this nightmare would be over and Dylan would be safe and sound and back in her arms again.
"Saoirse!" Arthur came bounding into the living room as fast as his legs could carry him. "You need to come quick."
"Have you found him? Have you got him?"
"No," he answered truthfully, guilt clouding his eyes. "I'm sorry, but listen, there's someone on the phone for you and I really think you need to take the call."
"I don't want to," she shook her head, painful disappointment seeping through her veins. "I don't want to talk to anyone; I just want Dylan."
"I know you do, sweetheart," Arthur squeezed her shoulder gently. "Which is why you need to take this call."
A feeling of dread, even greater than the one she already bore, settled upon her chest making it difficult to breathe as she headed into the back room to use the phone. Tommy looked at her with such anger and she couldn't tell if it was directed at her or someone else.
"Tommy?" she frowned.
"Just take the call," Arthur prompted gently.
"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver hesitantly.
"Saoirse," the voice spoke; the one that had haunted her dreams for months. The one that had given more agony than she ever thought was possible until now.
"Joe," she whispered, closing her eyes in pain at having to mention his name out loud let alone speak to him.
But then she heard it. That soft whine in the background that made her full breasts begin to leak with milk that was supposed to feed her child.
"Please don't hurt him," she begged, tears pouring freely. "Just give him back to me."
From her peripheral vision, she could see Polly murmuring soothingly to Tommy who looked about ready to kill someone with his bare hands. She turned away quickly because otherwise she wouldn't have been able to carry on.
"He's fine," Joe said almost kindly. "He's clean and fed and warm. I'm not a complete monster, you know. You do know that, right?"
"Yes," she muttered. She didn't care that every fibre of being screamed that she was a liar. She would say whatever it took to keep him on the phone and make sure Dylan was safe and well.
"You can have your son back," he said suddenly. "But you must do exactly as I say."
"I will," she nodded fervently, even though he couldn't see her. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."
"There's an abandoned warehouse on the other side of the city by the old Jewish synagogue with the smashed out windows. You will come there alone in an hour and I will give you back your son, but if you don't come alone, I will know. Trust me, I will know. I see everythin', Saoirse; just like I've seen the happy little life you've been tryin' to live without me. If anyone else comes, your son is dead."
The phone line cut out and Saoirse dropped the receiver in her hands.
"What did he say?" Tommy was beside her in an instant. "What did that fucker say? Where's our fucking son."
"He's safe," she croaked. "I know where he is and I can get him."
"Right, let's go then," Tommy demanded.
"I have to go alone."
"Not a fucking chance," Tommy let out a short laugh. "There is no way in hell that I will let you go anywhere near that monster alone."
"I have to, Tommy."
"It's not happening."
"Tommy, please," she pleaded.
"I said fucking no," he roared, flinging everything angrily from the table in front of him.
Saoirse broke down into tears and clutched onto Arthur for dear life as Tommy continued to smash up everything in his path. When his angry haze finally faded, he glanced at the destruction he had caused and felt nothing.
"I'm going, Tommy," Saoirse cleared her throat. "And you won't stop me."
"I'm coming with you."
"No," Saoirse reached forward and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "You can't. Listen to me, Tommy. If you or anyone else comes with me, he'll kill Dylan. I won't let him do that."
"And what if he kills you?"
"That's a risk I'm more than ready to take," she answered.
"I'm not," Tommy murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. "I can't lose you."
"You won't," she promised, wrapping her arms around him. "But I have to get our boy, Tommy."
"I know," he whispered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know."