Chapter 105

"Move. Dinner," Tommy growled into the room, having thrown the door open and caused Finn to jump a foot in the air above his bed, where he had been lying.

The kid righted himself and sat on the bed instead, blinking at him like he'd addressed him in Swahili.

"Did you hear me?" Tommy barked, holding the door flat open to the wall with one hand, standing to the side of the frame and nodding at the space he'd left, "Move. Downstairs. Rosie's made your dinner."

Finn looked at him like he had morphed an extra head, but slowly got up and crept by him, their eyes locked - Finn's wide and questioning.

Tommy followed him into the corridor, letting the door slam shut behind him.

"You'll get what's coming to you, don't you worry," he told him, unsoothingly, knowing exactly what the look Finn had all over his face was about, "But you'll have your dinner first."

He thought - and imagined Finn did too - that just getting the thing done was probably a better approach.

There had been a few times when he'd been waiting for a hiding - that was, waiting for whatever was inevitably going to be discovered to be discovered, and knowing there'd be a hiding for him at the end of it - when he'd tried to just get on with things. Back then he'd thought he was waiting for someone else to give him up, but looking at it now, it was more likely he'd given himself up with the way he'd push food about his plate. His mother probably knew within seconds of putting his food to him that he was sitting with a churning stomach for one reason or another and that it would only be settled after she'd turned him up and reddened him.

But when Lily had appeared back down, changed into her dress from the day before, she had cheered up enough to want to climb onto his lap and tell him more about her time at the yard with Curly and Uncle Charlie - and he hadn't had the heart to stop her. She had settled and asked him if Katie could come with them the next week, which he'd agreed to (half against his better judgement) and he'd finally been feeling just about calm enough to deal with Finn and about to suggest Lily headed outside to tell Katie the news about their trip to the yard the next week to let him do it, when Rosie, in one of those moments where it seemed she knew exactly what was going on in his mind and was determined the head him off at the pass, had shouted through that the dinner was less than ten minutes away from being ready. Not enough bloody time to get it done then.

As it was, when Tommy and Finn reached the kitchen, the appearance of the condemned one reignited Lily's unsettled-ness and the dinner went largely untouched across both her plate and Finn's, half eaten on his own and hastily and nervously demolished on the redhead's.

There was a long, awkward time between Rosie's finishing hers within approximately thirty seconds of sitting to it and the rest of them admitting they weren't going to get any further with their efforts, spent in silence with everyone trying not to catch anyone else's eye.

Yeah, he'd have been far better getting it done. Finn would have been eating standing up but he'd have been eating at least.

"Shall I clear the plates then?" Rosie eventually said, her voice cracking from a lack of use, once Tommy had finally put his fork down, sat back and lit a cigarette, trying to appear calm.

He gave a curt nod and she scraped her chair back, the noise of which would have usually gone unnoticed in the din of the little kitchen at meal times, but which seemed to echo and crack around them that night. It sent Tommy's already tense shoulders further in the direction of his ears, not helped by the scraping of the plates.

"Dinner was good," he monotoned, half in an effort to actually reassure her that the fact most of it seemed to be being scraped into the bin was not any reflection on her skills and half just to try and create a noise to balance hers, to make it seem less stark and deafening.

She gave him a funny look and nodded, then hovered slightly awkwardly by the side before asking, "Cake?"

"No."

"Lily?"

The baby shook her head, looking on the verge of tears.

"Finn?"

Finn shook his own head too, his eyes stuck on the space where his plate had been, the same place he'd been staring at since it had been put to him at the start of the meal.

"Right."

She looked around as if hoping something was going to appear before her to give her something else to say or do then, as if she just needed to keep her hands busy, she began wiping them on the apron she still had tied around her, dusting more of that invisible mess she seemed to see everywhere.

He loved when she was wearing that bloody apron. It made him feel soft, warm and even slightly fuzzy inside. It was somewhat comforting, reassuring to see her so openly domesticated, a symbol that perhaps there was some hope for him too, if he'd managed to find himself a woman who was as capable as she was of being both sharp and soft, a source of comfort and warmth and yet quite formidable in her own way when she wanted to be.

He felt a rush of affection for his life suddenly - for his family, for the routine they'd fallen into, even for the bloody squalid kitchen they were in - and he stubbed out his cigarette and cleared his throat, spurred into action by a desire to be the man he wanted to be within that life, for his family. The head of his house, who provided and stuck by them, someone who was the equal partner of the woman standing there in her apron, someone she - and they - could rely on to be the pillar of strength they needed him to be. Not like his own father. Be someone who could cope with the unpleasant tasks that needed doing, take them off her hands.

"Alright you," he said, going to her, capturing her moving hands in his to still them and gentling his voice, nodding his head in the direction of the front room, "You go on through. Me and the boy'll get this done, eh?"

She nodded, squeezed his hand a little and said, "Right Lily, come on."

Lily looked like she was considering arguing for a second, her brow creasing and her eyes moving between Finn and her sister.

"Finn isn't needing you hanging over him, come on now," she told her sister, her voice going a little harder.

Lily dropped off her seat, giving Rosie a dark look.

"Do you want a smacked backside?" he asked her.

Her head turned to him and her eyes went a little wide, the darkness being replaced with a little fear.

Rosie stopped behind Finn and gave him a look, which he ignored.

"Well?" he prompted the child.

She shook her head.

"Right. So straighten your face and don't look at your sister like that again, you hear?"

He knew fine well what Rosie's look was about, that Lily was upset and he should leave her be - but he had no issue with her being upset, that wasn't the problem. It was the look she was giving. It was disrespectful and, well, if he'd taught his brother to respect him a bit more then maybe the ordeal ahead of him wouldn't bloody exist in the first place.

His thoughts wandered a few doors down, to his nephew. Despite Rosie reassuring him that Charlie would have said had Katie's words worried him, he was going to make sure to go and see George and John once he was done with Finn, see what ordeals had been going on down there.

And make a plan for how they were going to destroy those bloody records that had been created.

Rosie had lifted her hand, as if she meant to ruffle Finn's hair, but she couldn't quite seem to - she simply let her palm land on his head a little heavily and rest there for a moment before she went around the table and took Lily's hand, pulling her through the door to the front room.

Tommy watched as Finn's eyes lifted for the first time since he'd sat down, lifted to watch Rosie walk through the door. He wondered what the kid was thinking. It occurred to him that Finn might be resenting her for her refusal to keep it from him.

"Moss told me about it," he growled, making Finn jump and move his eyes slowly from the door Rosie had gone through to him, "Before I'd got over the threshold. That's how I know about your prints being down the station."

The kid nodded silently, and Tommy felt at least a bit relieved.

"And Katie's told your Uncle Charlie all about it, since George was part of your bloody stunt."

Finn seemed to pale a little at that - Tommy had the idea that the kid had probably conveniently forgotten that even if he had managed to keep it from him, he would have undoubtedly found out from John or Katie regardless. Or maybe Finn had just presumed John would be out when George was brought back and that they'd somehow sweep it under the rug.

"How much is this bloody fine then?"

"Two pound ten shillings," Finn said, his voice flat.

Tommy nodded, considered, then asked, "And how much have you got?"

Finn blinked at him in return.

"How much money you got, Finn? How much of your pocket money have you saved up?"

"N-none, Tommy."

Exactly as expected.

"So, you're needing us to cough up the full whack then, eh?"

Finn squirmed under his gaze, but didn't reply.

Tommy decided to let him squirm and went off through the green doors, making for the nearest desk and lifting a sheet of paper, returning and putting it on the table in front of Finn, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve the pen Rosie had given him the Christmas before and placing it on top.

"Names. Addresses. Every kid who was on that railway line with you."

Finn stared dumbly for a minute then asked, "Why?"

"You think this is your time to start questioning me, my boy?"

Finn squirmed, but a little line Tommy wasn't entirely familiar with set about his mouth and he eventually, though barely audibly, argued, "I'm not squealing."

Tommy sucked in a breath for a second, surprised, then put an iron hand under his brother's chin and tilted it up, forcing his brother's face to his, studied it for a second before saying, "Good boy."

Finn looked at him like he was mad.

"We talked about the reform before, Finn, didn't we?"

The kid nodded as best he could against his hold, which Tommy loosened, then dropped as he said, "How it can't be controlled. How it's something I will do something about one day, but that I can't right now cause it's bigger even than the Peaky Blinders?"

Finn nodded, still not saying anything.

"I don't want you to be a squealer. But that fine, Finn, it's a lot of money and some people round here aren't going to have it. So I need you to give me the names and addresses of all the kids involved cause if I can't do something about the reform, I can at least do something to stop them getting fresh fodder."

Finn's mouth hung a little open.

"Let's get something straight though - I don't want you to be a squealer, because you're a Shelby. I expect you to be a leader, an example - the boys you hang about with now Finn, they might be blinders in their time, same as you might be. You understand?"

Finn nodded. Tommy was impressed with that little line in the kids mouth, with that determination not to be a squealer. But being a leader wasn't easy. And he needed Finn to start stepping up. And Finn had, rather nicely, given him an opportunity.

"You know what the average wage is for full time work around here Finn?"

Finn shook his head.

"Eight pound a month," Tommy told him, "So your two pound ten shilling - we'll be generous and call that a week's work. So for your own fine, you'll work five days for me doing what I need doing. And for every one of those fines I need to pay from the Peaky Blinders funds, you'll repay me the same five days - got it?"

Finn nodded, his eyes lit up and his features dancing a little as he tried to control them.

Tommy knew the boy would be excited about the prospect at first. But he'd make a point of giving him the most boring, monotonous jobs he could find for him, ensure he didn't have too good a time of it. And once those days stretched out, well, Finn would think twice before doing something that would get him into trouble with the police again. Tommy didn't want Campbell, or even Moss, anywhere near the kid.

"Cause being a leader Finn, it means you command your men but it's your problem when they fall short, you take the blame for it - you got it? So maybe working off their debts will motivate you to make sure they don't run them up again, eh?"

Finn inclined his head a little, not quite a proper nod, but a shadow of understanding.

"Good man," Tommy nodded, took out a new cigarette and pointed at the paper with it, "So, get writing."

He had smoked the cigarette to nothing by the time Finn's practically illegible, spiked writing covered the page and his brother had put the pen down and shakily slid the sheet across the table at him. Tommy picked it up, ran his eyes over it then shook it, in an effort to let the ink dry a bit.

He couldn't tell if Finn's pressure was off or if the pen needed a new cartridge. Hoped the nib was fine. Wished he'd lifted a pen at the same time as the paper rather than volunteer his own precious one. But now wasn't the time to go inspecting it.

"Once I've done my rounds with this lot," he said, still shaking the paper, "We'll agree the days you're going to work to pay me back. We'll keep a list in my desk and you can cross off each day once I see that the work done on it is fit for purpose. You do a shoddy job and it won't count, you hear?"

Finn nodded and Tommy continued, "That'll do for the money you're costing me and the fact you did something stupid enough to get you into trouble with the police. You'll be feeling it by the time the days are done - and the days will be of my choosing and when they come, there'll be no arguing, got it? I don't give a shit what you'll be missing out on, I say jump you ask how fucking high, right?"

He folded the paper and tucked it into his shirt breast pocket, lifting the pen and putting it there as well before pulling a chair out and setting it down clear of the table and sitting himself on it, calling Finn to the space in front of him with a flick of his eyes.

"The work'll do for the money and getting yourself involved with the police. But you could have been fucking killed, Finn," he said, his voice going gruff as his throat got thick at the thought of it.

Finn was sniffing already and blubbered apologies were falling from the kid's mouth after his fairly stoic show through dinner, but Tommy had no intention of letting up.

"Sorry are you? Not nearly as sorry as you'll be when I'm through," he growled, grabbing Finn's wrist and pulling him between his legs, bending him over his left, pinning him with his right, "You're going to get your arse tanned so thoroughly that next time you even think about putting yourself in danger, your backside will flinch with the memory of this and remind you why the risk isn't bloody worth it, since you value your own fucking safety far less than I apparently do."

It was fucking horrible.

Every time his hand collided with Finn's backside, heavy and hard, he found himself no closer to feeling any surety that the boy would learn. Instead, he felt some heightened awareness of the smallness and fragility of the kid over his knee, wriggling about and crying over getting his arse smacked, an emphasised understanding of how entirely Finn's body would have been wrecked by a train, had Moss and the coppers not lifted them.

He felt anger about the fact he now owed something to Moss and anger with Finn for putting him in a situation where he owed Moss anything.

And he felt too, a strange, primal connection with his brother. No, he wasn't Finn's father, technically, biologically. But Finn was his flesh and blood. And the idea of that flesh and blood being threatened made his heart pound, so much so that he was half sure anyone within hearing distance would be hearing the sounds of a spanking - the sound of his hand coming down on the boy's upturned rear, the yelps and cries from his brother, even, perhaps, for anyone with a keen ear, the rustle of material as Finn kicked his legs and squirmed, his trousers and Tommy's being moved in the push and pull of the fabrics as he did so - but hearing them with the percussion of his heart beat too. It was so loud there was no way his body could possibly contain it.

After Finn had stilled and lay prone, wailing his head off, Tommy grabbed a fistful of his brother's shirt, stood him up and pushed him in the direction of the corner.

"Get your nose in there."

Finn went without any protest, his hands clutching at the seat of his trousers like he thought his backside might be about to fall off. Tommy stayed sat in the chair, rested his elbow in his thigh and rubbed his face with his hand, just about managing not to audibly groan. He had decided he was going to give the kid a spanking and finish it off with a trip out the back, but he was feeling wrung out already, if the truth were told.

He breathed deeply a few times, listened to Finn's hiccuping and crying and then hefted himself out of the chair and opened the back door, taking a few steps out and tilting his head back, breathing deeply with his eyes shut.

His eyes fluttered open on instinct though, as if they sensed the heat of the body a few doors down.

"What are you up to?" he demanded.

Katie rearranged her face into something he imagined she thought innocent looking and replied, "Was just going to the bog Uncle Tommy."

He raised an eyebrow. Like hell she was.

"C'mere."

He watched as she clenched her jaw and considered it.

"Don't make me come get you."

She sighed and trudged over.

"What are you actually up to?"

"Was going to the bog!"

Sticking with her story then. She'd probably been hanging around the back half the night hoping to get a good laugh at Finn being dragged out.

"Where's your Dad?"

"In the house."

For once.

"Where's George?"

She shrugged, "Gone out."

"Right. Well you tell your Dad to stay where he is, I'm coming along and I want a word. Fetch your Uncle Arthur and Aunt Polly as well, will you? Tell them family meeting at your house in" - he broke off and glanced at his watch - "Half an hour. Quarter to seven, alright? And find your brother and tell him I want a word with him before he goes to his bed, so he better be within calling distance of your house when I decide I want him."

He watched her go, her face betraying her annoyance at being sent on his errands, then he went back in and stopped by the back door, taking a good look at the razor strop hanging by it.

He'd never given it much thought, somewhat ironically. The wooden handle had a hole drilled in to allow it to be hung, then it was simply a long strip of thick leather, the same solid width the whole way down.

It had always lived in the kitchen because it made sense that it lived there. They had always shaved there, right from their first time. Charlie had taken a funny look at Arthur one day then marched him home, all the while with Arthur shouting, "What? What's goin' on? Where we goin'?", called Tommy into the kitchen with him and then taught the two of them what to do. Sometimes, Tommy thought the first time he'd shaved in that kitchen after coming back from war was one of the first chinks of realisation that had actually got through to him that he was home.

It was practical - it the room nearest the water supply, where there was the least hassle to get the hot water and to dispose of it after. It wasn't until Ada had turned John's room into some kind of makeshift wash house that they had put the tub there, even if the filling was a bit less convenient. The kitchen was small and busy and Ada had liked a bath multiple times in a week. But shaving was a daily task, not something he was prepared to move upstairs - and it made sense to keep the strop handy for the blades they kept in their caps too to be able to be sharpened when needed too.

Even as a kid, when it had been their father's implement of choice for their own arses to be set alight with, the practicality of it had always been there. He had never flinched to look at it or anything. He was used to seeing his Dad take it down to sharpen his razor with, saw Polly's husband and his Uncle Charlie and the blinders of the time use it to sharpen their blades with, even saw his mum use it with the kitchen knives.

There had never been much thought process behind it that he'd use the same thing on Finn or his own boys when the time came - again if through nothing but practicality. He preferred suspenders to a belt, so he was rarely wearing the latter and if he had been it would have been for the purpose of keeping his trousers in place. The idea of taking it off to dole out a hiding and ending up with his trousers at his ankles seemed to somewhat defeat any idea of authority. But the idea of a belt hanging in the kitchen to be available when needed for the purpose of bringing the kid in line, a belt that served no other purpose, seemed hideously macabre.

He half thought about calling Rosie through and asking her opinion - but his glance in the direction of the door also brought Finn's form back to his vision and he figured he didn't need to drag it out by having a full conversation with her whilst Finn waited.

Because he was thinking about it now. Rosie, albeit when she'd been in her mood, had accused him of dragging Finn out the back to humiliate him.

It had never crossed his mind. He'd specifically never been one to dish out proper discipline in public - hadn't that been why Ada had so often run off to town to avoid him, because she'd known she was relatively safe in a public place? He'd swatted at them, fair enough. But he'd seen kids get proper hidings in the middle of streets and it turned his stomach a little. Sure, he didn't much care once they were around family who heard or saw what. Not like Rosie, clearing everyone out because a spanking was about to be doled out. But he tried, as best he could, to be logical and fair with them all - two things he always felt his father never had been.

And it never entered his head to embarrass them.

He'd grown up a Gypsy in Small Heath after all, when the name 'Peaky Blinders' hadn't meant much - not enough to have people scarpering out their way or lifting their hats to them. Far from it. No, he remembered feeling humiliated for the way people spoke to him, of him, even spat at him when he was sent down to the pub to get a bucket of beer for his father, when Arthur Snr had got himself too inebriated to walk down himself. He'd learned to tilt his chin up and handle it, but he'd felt the embarrassment none the less and he wasn't for setting out to inflict it on anyone else.

Kids up and down Watery Lane got dragged out the back for hidings exactly for the reason he'd given Rosie - the rooms were small. Any parent who favoured the strap (and it was the most common for a proper hiding, as far as he could see from the amount of times he'd be genuinely on his way out to the toilet and he'd hear the crack of leather and a howling child) had no choice but to go outside.

But Rosie's accusation had wormed its way into his ear and now he was pretty damn sure Katie had just positioned herself out the back for the sole purpose of getting to witness Finn's hiding. And he wasn't going to have it that Finn's concern in that moment shifted to being about being seen getting his tanning as opposed to focussing on remembering why he was getting it in the first place.

But the razor strop was wide at the end, too wide, Tommy reckoned, for him to be able to be sure he could hold it and the handle.

That was another thing. He made as sure as he could to always aim at Finn's arse and the tops of his legs. His dad hadn't been quite so bothered with his aim and there had been times his sides would get the edge of the strop and that had hurt in a different way.

It was what he'd said to Rosie, way back when he'd asked her to come to number six. There was fat and padding on the arse and thighs. It was his opinion a good reddening in that area gave discomfort sitting and a good bloody reason to behave without leaving anything too lasting. He didn't reckon he could say the same for other areas of the body, areas he'd go for in a fight, for example.

No. If he tried to hold both ends in his hands and the wide edge slipped, it was likely to go where he didn't want it going.

He sighed and walked by Finn's still slightly trembling, but much stiller and calmer than it had been, form, and headed up the stairs. He went to his room and rooted around to find the single belt he owned, then, once he had found it, he doubled it over in his hand and whacked it down on his left palm.

It stung alright, but he didn't reckon it had the bite of the strop. He landed a second over the first, thinking he probably seemed a bit mad in that moment. His Grandad had favoured a belt for whacking them with, but it had been bigger than this one, more than double the width, he reckoned - though perhaps his childhood memories were slightly skewed.

The irony was, he was positive even as a child that the belt had seemed far smaller than the strop - but when his Grandad had been angry enough with him to utilise the belt, Tommy had felt worse and cried far harder than the stoic, determined way he had reacted to his father's beatings. He supposed in retrospect that was far more about the respect he had for his Grandad and the way he wanted his Grandad to see him, when he had no care for his father's opinions.

Well, maybe he had to hope Finn's opinions of him were high enough that this new found tool wouldn't be found lacking.

"Right, over here," Tommy growled when he got back into the kitchen, going to the spot at the table where he'd pulled the chair away for the first part of Finn's punishment.

Finn gave him a strange, questioning look.

"Think you were getting off with just my hand did you?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow and kicking the chair nearest him out the way for good measure.

Finn shook his head - even if Tommy imagined the kid might have hoped that would be the case - but still looked confused as he crept as slowly as possible across the kitchen, like he was trying to rob a house and was testing every next floorboard for creaks before taking the step. Tommy grabbed his shoulders to hurry him along at the end, positioning him against the table, standing at the side, glancing between the belt in his hand and the wall behind him, trying to make sure he could actually do what he was trying to do - make a bloody impression on the boy.

"Get your trousers and shorts down Finn, I'm intending this'll be one you remember," he growled.

He also wanted to make sure he had a clear target for his first time dishing out a spanking with the doubled over belt he held.

By the time he was finished striping his brother he was no closer to sure about whether or not the belt was a suitable alternative to the old strop in its efficacy as a threatened consequence, Finn was howling just the same way as he would have been had they been outside but Tommy didn't know what that meant given the belt had been used on top of a pre-warmed backside. It seemed it had done its job for the day though.

"Right," he growled, "You've had your twelve. We're done for now. But you heed this Finn - any repeat of you being within sniffing distance of those train tracks and I'll be doubling the twelve for it being a repeat offence and it'll be every night for a week - you hear me?"

Finn nodded his head into his crossed arms, buried into them as he stayed in position, bent over the table, his crying muffled.

Tommy tossed the belt onto the sideboard then laid his hand on Finn's back.

"Alright then, up you get when you're ready. I'll be having those days working from you for the money and police, but we're done with the fact you went to the railway in the first place, eh? We move on, that's how it goes."

He lit a new cigarette and shoved it in his mouth, found himself nearly through it by the time Finn had stood up and gingerly pulled his clothing over his tender rear end and back into its proper place.

Tommy crossed to the door and opened it, "You coming through?"

It was a genuine question. If Finn had wanted to disappear back up the stairs, or even out, Tommy wouldn't have stopped him. But then he glanced into the corridor to see Rosie sitting on the stairs, looking like she'd been crying herself.

"It's done then?" she asked, when she met his eye.

He nodded, looked back to the kitchen and caught Finn's eye, "C'mere," he said, nodding at the doorway, "Reassure her you've been given a good hiding and not a permanent disfigurement. She knows I considered both."

Finn looked nervous as he approached the door and ducked under Tommy's arm as he held it open.

Rosie let out a sound a little like a strangled cat on seeing Finn's puffy and tear stained face and Tommy couldn't really decide if she reached for him or the kid went to her, but the next thing Finn's face was buried in Rosie's chest and she was holding him like she thought he might fall apart, one arm around his back, one arm going up it, fixing the hand at the end of it in the kid's hair.

Tommy hovered awkwardly in the doorway above them, finishing the tiny end of his basically smoked cigarette and feeling like a useless lump.

"You'll never do that again, you hear me?" Rosie was saying, though saying it through kissing Finn's head, then she took hold of his shoulders and straightened her arms, holding him out so she could see his face, "Never, alright?"

Finn shook his head.

"Alright, alright," Rosie choked, seemingly about to start crying as much as the kid had been, like there was a finite number of tears in the world and as Finn's calming was giving her the excess she needed to rev up again, pulling him back in, stroking his head, her actions comforting even if her words went on, "I'm not going to keep going on about it - but you even think about heading to that train line again and after he's through with you you'll deal with me, you got it?"

Finn nodded into her.

"Good boy," Rosie told him, "Good boy."

She rocked him back and forth a little then took a deep, shuddering breath and went on, "He's spoken to you, yeah? You understand you could have been killed, that's why we're so worked up, yes?"

"He's been told," Tommy confirmed, "He's been told about the danger of what he did and he'd been told that he's a Shelby and so he's to be a leader in the future of those other kids, not blindly following whatever stupid ideas they've come up with."

She glanced up to him, her eyes still watery, then returned her attention to Finn.

"You see, the thing is Finn, even if you weren't a Shelby," Rosie told him, "You'd still be Lily's big brother, eh? She'd still be looking to you for an example and if she thinks you think it's a good idea to go down the railway, she'll get it into her head that she should do that too. Even if none of those other kids were looking to you, she would be, eh?"

That seemed for whatever reason, to set the kid off again, his shoulders shaking with his sobs.

"Alright, alright, it's done, it's done," Rosie shushed him, squeezing him and rubbing his back, "We'll move on, alright?"

Tommy listened to the kid gasping his apologies then, his cigarette having burnt itself out, turned and walked into the kitchen to toss it on the fire.

He hadn't brought her to number six to burden her with being Finn's mother, but it had moved itself there. Slowly. But surely. The grenade had sped it all up though.

It had all changed, since they'd first come through that door, Lily on his hip, Rosie trudging silently and unwillingly behind them, not speaking to anyone until she was forced to.

He, he thought, was easier to be around. Better. More of the man he wanted to be for his family. Lily had come out of herself, didn't hide behind his legs anymore. Rosie's personality had unfurled, like petals, the outer, the inner - though he wasn't convinced even yet he was at the very core of discovering her. Finn had grown up, matured, to some degree.

Maybe his problem with Ada was that he refused to see that she had ever moved on.

Thank you so much for all your supportive and lovely messages after my last chapter - it really does mean so much to me that those of you are still reading are still reading given how long this has been, but to have you all still reading and also be so lovely and kind and nice just makes me feel so grateful for the day I ever started posting this story. Seeing emails coming through with your lovely words has always been such a joy for me from the beginning to think my interpretation of the Peaky world could appeal to others, but it's been even more heartening than usual as of late and I just want you all to know I am so, so incredibly appreciative of you.