That Monday had started off like any other. His mother had sent him off to school with a sandwich and a piece of the apple pie that she had made the night before. She always made the best pies, his mother, on account of her cold hands.

"Cold hands, warm heart," she would always smile.

Just as on every other school day, Alfie would make it almost to the gates before he would take a sharp turn left and walk the fifteen minutes to the docks where there was plenty of work for a young lad with arms and hands that could reach places grown men couldn't. He hated school anyway, and the chance to earn a pretty penny that he could sneak into his mother's purse seemed a much better use of time, even to a child not yet near double digits in age. His mother never picked him up from school so at three thirty on the dot, Alfie hurried in order to be just in time to catch up with his friend, Zus, who lived next door so they could arrive home together. For a bag of barley sugars on a Thursday, Zus' silence and compliance was easily purchased.

Dinner that night felt different than usual. Alfie couldn't explain why exactly, all he knew was that the unsettling feeling lingered even as his mother tucked him into bed, singing him a lullaby he was too old for and telling him a story that he didn't need or want, but that made her feel happy to do so. The gnawing in his stomach churned even as he heard his mother tiptoe into her bed a couple of hours later, and in the still of the night, Alfie crept out of his own bed and was unsurprised to find his father smoking a pipe in the living room. The thing that did seem odd to him however was the bag that he had pulled out from beneath the sofa.

"You should be asleep," his father said, stubbing his cigar out in the ashtray on the sideboard. "Although I suppose it's a good thing you are here so I can say goodbye."

"You goin' somewhere, Dad?" Alfie frowned. "Does mum know?"

"I'll let you tell her in the morning," his father's smile was cold.

"Will this be like when you went away the other month 'cos mum didn't know when you were gonna come back and she was proper upset the whole time."

"You could say that," his father muttered. "What about you, Alfie? Were you upset?"

Alfie paused. He loved his father, of course he did; he couldn't control that primal instinct to love the man who had fathered him, but the relationship between them was different to that of him and his mother. His mother was soft and cuddly and loving. She knew all the names of his friends and what he liked to eat and why his favourite colour was blue. She made him feel warm and safe and wanted. But his father was the man who was out of the house more than he was in it, and who only spoke to Alfie when it was to tell him off or to belittle his mother to him. The truth was that Alfie hadn't missed his father when he had gone away last time, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him that, which seemed odd even to his young brain considering that the man hurt his wife's feelings most days.

"I was busy takin' care of mum and stuff while you were gone so I didn't have much time to be upset about anythin', Dad," he answered diplomatically.

"And a good job of it I'm sure you did," Alfie Solomons Senior said, closing up his bag as he reached for his coat on the back of one of the dinner chairs and pulled it on. Taking his wide brimmed black hat off the table, he plonked it on top of his son's head with a smile. "And a good job you'll do this time, Alfie."

And just like that his father walked out of Alfie's life for good, never to be seen again.

Until now.

Alfie sat back in his chair and played with the handle of his desk drawer as he heard footsteps approaching the office. Ollie was first inside as Alfie's eyes pretended to be absorbed in the newspaper in front of him, refusing to look up even once his unwelcome guests were seated. When he did look up finally, he clenched his jaw in order to stop any emotion from showing; emotion that he hadn't been expecting, because while he knew he would be angry, he hadn't expected the wave of hurt and upset that washed over him before he pushed it away. He acknowledged that perhaps it should have been expected that he would feel something upon seeing the man who had fathered him and then neglected him for the majority of his life, but that didn't mean he would allow it to fester.

"Alfie," his father's smile was forced and it sent a shiver of unease down Alfie's spine. "It's good of you to see me."

"Didn't give me much choice really with all the games you've been playin', did you?" Alfie leaned back in his chair and eyed his father with a cool detachment.

"I apologise for that," his father smirked, reminding Alfie of an animal that was about to pounce on one much weaker than itself. "But I needed to get your attention somehow, and I needed to be sure that you understood the seriousness of the situation at hand."

"Oh I think I understand," Alfie muttered. "But it don't mean I have to like it. Now can we get to the crux of why you're here 'cause I'm a busy man with things to do."

"I want you to help me bring down the Shelbys as we agreed all those months ago," his father didn't beat around the bush.

"And that's it?" Alfie let out a snort of disbelief, his dangerously calm eyes settling on Janowizc who was seated to his father's left just as Ollie was seated to Alfie's. "'Cause that aint what you told me, Levi, is it? Or have you forgotten that you all but admitted your plan was to take over my territory too, eh?"

"Levi was mistaken," Alfie Senior said immediately. "He was concerned about the plan not falling into place as it should have been and he allowed his emotions to get the better of him."

"Wanna control them then, mate, don't you?" Alfie sneered at the greasy haired man.

"Oh what, like you did when we took your wife or when we had our men– sorry your men – break into your house while she was asleep?" Levi grinned openly. "Suppose you don't have to worry about that happening again though seeing as you're here and she's still with her pikey family. I know you don't have a mother but I do, and if you need someone to wipe your tears for you, she'd be more than happy to."

"You're a funny fella you, aint ya?" Alfie chuckled darkly. "Won't be so funny when I wipe that smug fuckin' look off your face."

"Gentlemen," Solomons Senior glanced at his man warningly before turning his attention back to his son. "Alfie, I understand that you are fond of your wife but I-"

"Was," Alfie interrupted him. "I was fond of her but I aint no more."

"No?" his father didn't look convinced.

"No," Alfie answered firmly. "You see, I'm man enough to admit that I was in fact taken in by her beauty– because she is fuckin' beautiful to be fair– and the fact that she does all kinds of things in bed– and wherever else I want– without being told twice. She's fuckin' filthy and the simple mortal being that I am, I was unable to resist the lure of a wife who willingly does all kinds of indescribable things with her mouth and lets me to do all sorts of indescribable things to her cunt. And see, lust and love are easily confused, aren't they? But when she told me just hours before she was taken by you that she thought she had been pregnant, I was lucky enough to see the error of my ways and realise that I was almost saddled with some fuckin' half breed bastard." The depraved words tasted like ash in Alfie's mouth but he needed his father and his greasy sidekick to believe what he was about to say next and this was the only way to do it. "Now the problem is that when she had me drive her out to fuckin' Birmingham after her little adventure with you, I knew that I would be able to talk my way out of the situation and explain that her arrest and everythin' else was an error and that it was all sorted. What I hadn't accounted for was that the devious little bitch wouldn't keep her mouth shut. In fact, I should have realised that she's only quiet when she's got a mouthful of my cock. Now it doesn't matter that when her brothers were beatin' the shit outta me that she came in wailin' and carryin' on like a fuckin' banshee for them to stop, which they did on the condition that she stay with them. No, what matters to me is that she is mine and I won't be told I can't have her by some pikey bastard, so when I take Tommy Shelby down with you, I will have her back and I'll enjoy knowin' that he's watchin' from beyond the grave as I continue usin' his sister for the only thing she's good for, but there certainly aint and never will be no feelings there, alright?"

"And you think she'll want you once you destroy her entire family?"

"I don't care either way, mate. She's mine and I'll decide when I'm done with her, no one else. Not her, not her brother, not you."

"I love it when they beg for you to stop," Janowicz smirked. "And when they cry. Perhaps when you've had your fill of her, Mr Solomons, you'll pass her my way."

Alfie said nothing, merely letting his eyes rove over his father's impassive face, discreetly searching for something, anything, that said he was buying into all of this.

"So we get rid of the gypsies and you keep your whore," his father said finally. "And you and I divide up what's theirs, deal?"

"Deal," Alfie nodded. "And I have a plan."

"That's convenient, isn't it?" Janowicz snorted. "Like we'd trust any plan you come up with."

"Leave us, Levi," Solomons Senior demanded quietly.

"What?"

"You heard me; leave," he repeated.

Alfie didn't attempt to hide the smirk that washed across his face at the sputter of anger from the man who he would take great pleasure in hurting soon enough. Alfie motioned for Ollie to follow and once the two had left the room, he turned his attention back to his father.

It was funny really. He looked exactly as he did on the day he left except older. That air of arrogance and that aura of evil that he felt but hadn't quite understood as a child was still as prevalent as ever, and Alfie was horrified to realise that he had so many things he wanted to ask; so many whys and wheres and whats.

Why did you not love us?

Why did you leave us?

Why did you not treat your wife like the absolute angel of earth that she was?

Did you ever miss me?

Did you ever think about me?

Disgusted with himself, Alfie lifted up his legs and slammed his feet down loudly on his desk, crossing them at the ankles and opening his top drawer to pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses.

"Drink?" he slid a glass of amber liquid to his father before taking his own and sipping tentatively, while he watched his old man down it one go. "Another?"

"After," his father waved him off. "After you've told me your plan. But before you start, Alfie, I feel I need to clear the air between us."

"Look, you want the pikeys gone and so do I, and yeah you coulda gone about it differently but it's water under the bridge now, aint it?" Alfie frowned.

"Not about that," Solomons Senior's face softened ever so slightly, and to anyone else– someone who wasn't his flesh and blood– it might have looked sincere, but Alfie saw right through it. "I owe you an apology for what I did back then."

"What, leavin' me and mum while you fucked your way 'round the world?"

"I wasn't made for fatherhood, Alfie, you need to understand that. And I wasn't made for a wife like your mother was. She was too… soft for someone like me. She was… she was too gentle and she saw only the good in the world, Alfie. She didn't realise that there was more to life than our poky flat and washing clothes and looking after you."

"Well the three jobs she held down after you fucked off certainly gave her more to see and do," Alfie retorted.

"You hate me for what I did?"

"Nah," Alfie lied, scratching at his beard and leaning back in his chair. "Because if you hadn't left then I never would have worked as hard as I did to give mum the life I did in the end. I never would have become who I am today. So actually, you did me fuckin' favour, mate. So enough of this soppy bullshit, yeah? Do you wanna hear this plan of mine or not? 'Cause like I said earlier, I'm a busy man."

"Go on then, son," his father grinned. "I'm all ears."