Tommy rode into the fog, the wind beating against his face. Jumping off his horse, he pulls out his gun and puts it to his temple at the urging of his dead wife. He screams in frustration as he closes his eyes. A gunshot rang into the fog and Tommy's eyes sprang open. He pointed his gun and turned in circles, looking for the culprit who pulled the trigger.
"Who's there?!" He yelled as he scanned his surroundings.
"Put down the gun." He heard his aunt say.
Tommy held his gun firm, still unable to see his aunt hidden in the murky air.
"Put the gun down Thomas." She ordered again, slowly and urgently as she game into view in front of him.
"What are you doing here?" He asked as he lowered his gun, his breathing heavy.
"Saving your life." She said as she walked up and grabbed his gun.
They struggled, each holding onto the gun and staring at each other violently. Finally, Tommy let go and Polly took a couple steps back.
"Did you consider that maybe I don't want it saved? Eh?" he asked angrily.
"You do. Or you wouldn't have pointed the gun at me when you heard my shot."
Tommy rubbed his nose as he looked away in anger.
"Was it you? Did Aberama tell you?"
"Yes. He told me, then I snuck in and killed my own fiancé and stopped the assassin that was to kill the fascist." She replied sardonically.
"Then who was it? Eh?"
"I don't know. That's why I am here saving your life." Polly said as she pursed her lips. "We are going to find out who did this. And we are going to kill him for what he did to Aberama and the life I would have had. And then I am leaving this family for good to let you deal with yourself and your fascist. Now, pull yourself together!" and she walked away with his gun still in her hand.
Tommy sat in his office in London four weeks later smoking a cigarette when his door opened. Disdain filled him as Oswald Mosely walked in and sat in the chair across him.
"That was quite the speech you gave in house today." Mosely complimented, making small talk as he usually did.
Tommy looked him and cleared his throat as he put out his cigarette.
"Have you heard anything about Jews passing through Birmingham recently?"
"No." Tommy lied. He had been told there were Jews passing through, but never more than a handful at a time, so he gave them no extra thought.
"Apparently, the numbers in Camden Town have grown. Coming from all over the country. No explanation as to why." Oswald continued.
Tommy tilted his head to the side briefly as he considered, "Probably looking for work in the city."
"Yes. Probably. Keep your ears open though. You know how that lot can be, we don't need them getting out of hand." He said as he stood and walked out.
Tommy shut his eyes and exhaled. Over the past four weeks, Tommy had cursed his Aunt from stopping him. The Opium was no help, Grace still came to visit when he was alone. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. When he looked in the mirror, he didn't see the Tommy Shelby that used to be, instead he saw a confused man. A man ruined by France and politics.
Their investigations had led them nowhere. He was no closer to finding out who had betrayed him than he was the day it happened. Michael and Gina had alibis, Billy Grade was defended by Finn before Billy left town, and Linda was on a boat to America at the time of the rally. Tommy even suspected Alfie for a moment before Alfie very eloquently reminded him that it was his men, his Jewish that all got beaten and arrested. Polly was hurt and angry. Though she wouldn't admit it, she loved Aberama. She didn't trust her son or daughter-in-law, or anyone for that matter. And she blamed Tommy. Everyone blamed Tommy. Tommy blamed Tommy.
He left his office that evening and drove to Birmingham. He walked in the door, saw Lizzy on the sofa in the sitting room and walked straight to his study. Tommy poured a drink, sat down and sighed as he looked at the ceiling. He lost track of time sitting in his study as the room grew darker until he heard a knock on the door.
"Yes?" He called out.
Frances, his loyal maid, walked in.
"Will you be eating with your family sir? Or should I have something brought in here?" She asked.
"I'm not hungry tonight Frances." He said as he shook his head.
"Sir, you really should eat something." She implored politely.
Tommy looked and she nodded her understanding before walking out the door.
When he finally emerged from his study, he walked toward the stairs.
"Dad!" he heard his son call out, and he paused. "Dad, guess what I did today."
"I don't know. What?" Tommy said poorly feigning interest.
"I tried crossing the creek by jumping on these large stones. But I slipped and fell in." Charlie said as he shrugged his shoulders.
"That's good, son." Tommy replied and Charlie's face fell as the realization of his father's uninterest registered.
When Tommy and Lizzy made it to their room, Lizzy looked at him.
"did you hear a word Charlie said to you?" Lizzy asked.
"Yes." Tommy said curtly.
"What did he say then?"
"He said…. He said that he crossed the creek." Tommy said racking his brain.
"No. He said he TRIED crossing the creek but fell in. He was alone when he did this. That creek runs high after a rain, he doesn't need to be out there alone." She berated.
"Then tell him." Tommy said dismissively as he pulled the blanket back on his bed.
"I've tried but he won't listen to me. He needs to hear it from his father. But his father is never here."
"What do you want me to do Lizzy? Eh?" Tommy barked. "I'm here. I'm fucking here."
"No, you're not! You're in London most nights and when you're in this house, you stare at the wall for hours while you drink your whiskey and you don't even speak to your children. You're not fucking here!"
Tommy shook his head in anger before beginning to throw his clothes back on.
"Where are you going?" Lizzy demanded.
"Doesn't matter." Tommy said as he walked away and slammed the door after yelling "I wasn't here in the fucking first place."
Two weeks later he sat once more in his office in London staring at the gun he had in his drawer. A knock awoke him from his fantasies of pulling the trigger and he stood as the door opened. In walked Mosely as Tommy went toward his drinking cart.
"So, did you do any digging into the Jews coming through Birmingham like I told you?"
Tommy stared at him before replying, "Yes, they all checked out. Coming to London for work."
Mosely nodded his head. "Yes. And they have been going to the old warehouse Alfie Solomons used to run."
Tommy's eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.
"I checked into the building. A lad by the name of Thomas Jones owns it."
Tommy's secretary knocked and walked in holding a box.
"Parcel for you sir." She said.
"Um, put it on my desk, thank you Nancy." He replied before turning back to Mosely. "Thomas Jones?"
"Yes. The building went to Alfie's nephew Goliath after Alfie died. Goliath sold it to this 'Thomas Jones' five weeks ago. And then all these Jews start popping up."
Tommy stood quiet, his mind racing.
"Keep asking questions chap. We want to know what kind of work they are doing. We don't need another Alfie Solomons rising up against us. Not in our own back garden."
Mosely walked out of the room, leaving Tommy to his thoughts.
"Thomas Jones." Tommy whispered under his breath as he walked to his desk. Mr. Jones.
His mind instantly went to Michael. But, why would Michael buy Alfie's old factory? And why would he have Jews coming to London? The Jews knew he was a gypsy, they would never follow him.
Tommy looked down at the box Nancy placed on his desk. It was the size and shape of a shoe box, wrapped in brown paper, addressed to "Tommy Shelby, MP" but no return address. He glanced around the room and walked to his door, shutting it. He sat down in his chair and began opening the package. He removed the lid and found a business card to a club called Victoria's. He put the card aside and unfolded the tissue paper to find a bottle of Solomons white rum.
A crease formed between his eyebrows as he looked at the bottle. He picked up the business card and examined it once more before turning it around and looking at the back. Tommy blinked as he looked at the message on the back of the card.
Let us break bread together