When Tessa woke, the house was bustling around her. There were men coming in and out of the front door at a steady rate, boisterous and giddy from the rush of their poor fiscal choices. She could hear Polly's sharp voice float up the stairs, reprimanding Finn for stealing from the betting pool to buy himself sweets. Her first thought was of Tommy. She was having difficulty remembering a time when it wasn't. Downstairs, she ran into Ada.
"Left you here, did he?" Tessa was relatively sure the answer was written all over her face. Ada's arms were full of wiggling toddler. "When we were little he used to lock me in my room, try to stop me from sneaking out to go see boys." She grinned. "Didn't work though, I climbed out the window. That's how I ended up with this one," she nodded her head at the small boy in her arms. He was holding a little toy soldier.
"Wish I had known about the window last night," Tessa said.
"Don't be too angry at him," Ada implored. Tessa felt like Ada was probably used to playing the role of peacemaker, which couldn't be easy, or infrequent, in this volatile family. "He only does it because he cares."
"I'll try not to," Tessa said. "Where is he, anyway?"
Ada's face fell, then grew grim. "He stopped by earlier."
"But where is he now?"
"He and the boys went down south. Said they had some business to attend to."
"Ah," Tessa said. "Business."
"He'll be alright. Tommy doesn't like to get his hands dirty if he doesn't have to."
Tessa had seen his hands plenty dirty. "That doesn't mean he won't."
Ada jutted out her small, sharp chin. "No, it doesn't mean he won't."
Tessa and Polly sat together at the table in what had been the dining room, smoking. The door to the betting parlor was open, but the commotion coming from inside sounded muted.
"Is this what it's like?" Tessa asked, and she wanted more than anything for the older woman to say no, this is just a one-off, usually they just sit around and drink and talk about the war. But she didn't.
"This is what it's like," Polly said, and puffed her cigarette like she had been sitting in that same chair smoking the same one for a thousand years.
Tommy stood outside the house of a factory owner. A factory owner who had a heavier hand in political movements than did many of the members of parliament themselves, a factory owner who happened to be a closeted facist. Closeted for good, now, hopefully, if Tommy's threats had stuck. Not that it mattered. He hadn't known where Leonard Reilly was being kept. None of them would. Tommy let the smoke rush down his throat, held it in his lungs, pushed it out of his mouth. A car was coming down the long drive at a brisk pace. Tommy watched it approach, stuck a hand in his pocket. Inhaled, exhaled. The car pulled up abruptly, disrupting the perfectly even gravel outside the mansion. Arthur jumped down. He had a spray of blood on his cheeks, his collar, his knuckles were split.
"They didn't know, Tommy. None of 'em knew. None of them knew a fucking thing," he spat, nearly foaming at the mouth. Tommy cleared his throat. Inhaled. "We hit all the German pubs. Been at it since midday and got jack shit for all the blood we spilled." He paused, worked his jaw. "So where is the old man, eh?"
"I don't know," Tommy said, looking skyward.
"Oh, you don't know. Nobody fucking knows."
"No. But I know how to find out."
"I thought this was how we was supposed to find out, Tom," Arthur said, lifting his bloodied hands. "Or do you mean to tell me you sent us into the muck for nothing?"
Tommy sighed. "There was a possibility it would work. I can't overlook any possibilities."
Arthur nodded. "A possibility. I see." And then he clocked Tommy in the face so hard he almost went down. The pain shot through his skull and burst behind his eyes. "Have some blood on your face for the rest of us, eh? Them German bastards are fuckin insane, Tommy, and you sent us after them for a fucking possibility?"
Arthur's punch had opened a cut above Tommy's eyebrow, and blood was trickling down. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, but otherwise stood silently. Arthur approached him until he was inches from Tommy's face. His hair was in disarray, a button missing at his collar.
"I dunno what the fuck you're playing at, but some of our boys got seriously injured today. And you spend your time talking politics in a fancy house with no dirt on your shoes. All for some girl." He spat on the ground next to Tommy, who snapped.
"Listen to me," He said, not backing down from Arthur's glare. He pushed a hand against his chest to shove him back out of his face. "We are not safe while the Germans have their hands on that man. They want his power and they see us as the only thing standing in their way. Hey! You hear me? We. Are. Not. Safe." A muscle flexed in Arthur's jaw as he ground his teeth. "The only reason they haven't laid a full-on ambush is because the coppers in Heath are still on our side and they know it. And you cry about our boys getting a little roughed up? They'll be shot where they sleep if we don't find Reilly soon."
Arthur looked at him, dead on. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed, but he was listening. He sighed, quietly, and Tommy took it as a sign of defeat. "So how are we gonna do it, Tommy, eh?"
Tommy pulled out his cigarette case, flicked it open. His eyes were empty. "I have a plan."
The men arrived home in three cars, one of them a metallic orange-red. They piled inside and Ada embraced her eldest brother, who came in first and whose hands were red like he was wearing gloves and who had to crouch down to receive her embrace, and Polly aggressively inspected John's face when he followed closely behind Arthur, which had a brilliant black eye blooming, but he pushed her off with excuses and placations and reached out to ruffle Finn's hair, who was standing by the doorway worriedly, and kissed his wife, who was holding their youngest in her arms.
"Where's Tommy?" Tessa demanded, and Arthur was about to respond when Tommy stepped through the door, and all she could think was at least he's walking thank fucking god he's well enough to walk, he isn't dead, dead men can't walk and she shoved past all of his family, quite rudely, and threw herself into his arms with such force he took a step back to regain his balance. The room went very quiet suddenly.
"I'm alright," he said against her ear, but she squeezed him harder until he gave her a brief embrace in return. She was very aware of his coat under her fingers, the feeling of his chest rising and falling as he breathed. She breathed him in and her relief was a tangible thing that smelled like woods and smoke and sharp winter air that proved he was alive, that he was fine, that he was right there in her arms. When they broke apart, seven sets of eyes were fixed upon them. Tommy cleared his throat, loudly. He looked down at Tessa, but addressed the rest of the room.
"We didn't find Leonard Reilly." Her heart sank. Like a stone, a tiny little pebble into an ocean of hope. Plink, it went, and then it went all the way down to the bottom. There was a cut above Tommy's eye. Otherwise, he looked completely unharmed.
"But I know how we can," he said. Polly exhaled. The whole family trusted him implicitly. They would do whatever it was he told them to do. All excluding Esme, perhaps, who was bouncing her baby and looking between Tommy and her husband with daggers in her eyes. "Tessa, I need to talk to you alone, for a moment." Tessa had not been expecting this.
"Alright," She said, doing her best to hide her apprehension, the immediate, nervous twist in her gut.
Tommy turned and headed up the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other combing through his hair. Arthur gave Tessa a look that she thought was meant to be interpreted as fortifying when she passed him. She followed Tommy as he led her to his room, held the door open for her, and she smelled his dark, clean smell again when she passed him. Her heart started to beat erratically. She sat down on the bed. Her leg was bouncing. Tommy put his hands in his pockets and began in a low voice.
"Nobody knows where your father is being held. Not the politicians, not the coppers, not the members of the fucking gang. They're being careful. The only people who know where he is are the ones who took him there." He met her eyes. Blue blue blue. She thought maybe he wanted her to say something, but she didn't, so he went on.
"Which means the only way to get to him is for them to take us there, too." He stopped. She waited. "For us to follow them there," he said.
When she realized what he meant she gave a stupid, involuntary little gasp. "Oh," she said. He watched her. Unblinking. Direct.
"You want me to be bait."
"You're their leverage against him. They can't use that leverage unless they have you, and unless he knows they have you. I'm willing to bet if they got you, they'd take you right fucking to him."
Tessa dropped her eyes. "I'd need you to agree to it," he told her.
She released a shaky breath. Her lungs felt like they were being squeezed.
"You're a terrible fucking bodyguard," she said, and looked up again, and as they watched each other she knew he knew but she said it out loud anyway. "I'll do it."
And as she looked into his eyes, like trapped souls, she realized suddenly that she no longer had to fight the urge to look away.