Chapter 108

"I'll arrange a meeting with Campbell," Tommy repeated his earlier plan to the assembled group in the kitchen.

"And say what?"

"I'll listen to what he wants rather than saying anything," Tommy growled back.

"You know what he wants."

"We made a deal. We agreed the terms. He can't just change them when it suits him. We can't let him change them."

"You made a deal, you mean," Polly snapped, "If anything happens to those boys, Thom-",

She was cut off by him slamming his hand down and roaring, "Do you think I'll let anything happen?"

There was a weighted silence, even the sounds in the shop seemed to cease, the workers undoubtedly pausing to exchange looks over what they'd guess was going on behind the closed doors. Tommy didn't care what they thought, but he wondered what Finn and George, who had been locked in the front room and told to stay there, to answer the door to nobody and to amuse themselves until the adults finished their meeting, would think.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to the boys," he said, his tone more normal, quieter perhaps even than was normal.

"This has happened," Polly pointed out.

"This has happened, Pol, because they're disobedient little shits who went wandering where they're not allowed along with a bunch of other kids. This fell into Campbell's lap and the obedience of those kids is on all of us."

Polly's eyes flashed at the accusation.

It was his way of both deflecting the guilt from being entirely his without resting George's disobedience straight on John's shoulders.

"Look," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, backtracking, trying to channel Rosie's calm, "Kids disobey, they go where they're not meant to and all we can do is try and make the consequences a deterrent. This isn't even about the kids disobeying. If they'd disobeyed, their consequences should have been the same as the rest of those kids whose fines we paid this afternoon. This is about Campbell. It's Campbell needing put in his place. And we need to put him there whilst retrieving the files. So we need to figure out what he wants in exchange for them and figure out how to deliver that on our terms."

There was a rattling of the front room door and the kitchen door handle turned a few seconds later.

"No!" Tommy roared, his panic that the kids would hear the seriousness of the situation kicking in and displaying, as it always did, as anger. He strode the few paces to yank the door open, giving his hardest look down at the kids , "You were told to stay-"

He drew his eyes up from Rosie's chest, where his glare had been aimed, to meet her own fiery brown ones, one of her eyebrows raised in response to him.

"Telling me no I can't enter my own kitchen. Thomas?" she asked caustically.

Polly snorted from her place and Tommy felt his insides clench. Pol was trying to assert that this wasn't Rosie's kitchen, trying to make her feel like she didn't belong. That was how women fought - vipers, the lot of them.

He was tempted to shoot her a look, but he opted to ignore her, keeping his eyes on Rosie as he told her, nodding his head over her shoulder to where his brother and nephew were, "Thought you were one of those two. You're earlier than usual."

"Rosie!" George's voice interrupted from behind them, the front room door into the little hallway between it and the kitchen swinging open.

"You were told to stay through there," Tommy glowered, saying what he'd been about to say to Rosie.

"Rosie," George pushed, colouring a little but otherwise ignoring him,"It's Monday!"

"I know - I didn't have time darling, sorry, I needed to come straight home to see your Dad and your Uncle Tommy about something," Rosie said, turning her face to him and softening it instantly from the look she'd been aiming at Tommy, "I'll try and get them before the shops close tonight or I promise I'll get them for you tomorrow, alright?"

George huffed and swung off the door a little bit.

Rosie's face got sterner, "If you pull that door off its hinges I'll bring you nothing at all George Shelby!"

The swinging stopped.

"You best go on through there and behave yourself, go on."

The kid huffed again, but went back to the front room. Rosie took the few steps to click the door shut properly behind him.

It was his turn to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"What?"

"What's Monday significant for?"

"Oh I usually get them their comics on a Monday," Rosie said, rolling her eyes and pushing by him into the kitchen, "Don't be jealous - if you're feeling left out I'll start picking one up for you too. Let me know what you fancy - adventure stories or wild animals or unchartered territories or what."

"Never seen you handing out comics."

"Usually I get ambushed on the street for them on the way home, they don't get as far as here for you to see them."

"Spoil the lot of them so you do."

"Aye, well, gets them reading something, doesn't it?"

He might have rolled his eyes at her insistence they should all be reading and her schemes to get them doing so, but he was too wound up to find much amusement in it. He shut the door and went back to his spot standing at the table, whilst Rosie put her bag down on the sideboard and stood there, looking at him expectantly.

"What's going on then?"

"We went to the station - paid every fine except the ones for George and Finn because-"

"Because their files weren't there to let you pay them?"

He frowned and nodded,"Aye, how do you-"

There was a thump, as she hefted two files from her belongings to throw them down on the kitchen table, making Polly have to snatch her hand, where it had rested with her cigarette, back out of the way so it didn't get crushed. Women.

"Because they were on Kenneth Maitland's desk today, that's how."

Tommy pulled the top file towards him, flipped it open and thumbed through the documents. A picture of Finn, a form with Finn's details, his inky fingerprints, a notice of his trespassing and of the outstanding fee.

He felt like his legs might give way beneath him.

"Pol, this is what was marked when you paid the other fines, yeah?" he croaked, spinning the fee notice the right way around for her to read from across the table.

She nodded, her face white.

John was looking at him like he couldn't quite believe what had appeared in front of him, the contents of George's file spread out, matching Finn's document for document.

Tommy snatched up Finn's prints, went to the door, almost taking it off his hinges himself as he yanked it open, shouting the kids' names.

"Finn, George," he grunted, breathless, "How many times did they take your prints?"

"What?"

"Your fingerprints! At the station!" he barked, his desperation taking over any ability he had to speak normally, brandishing the set of prints in his hand at them, "How many times did they make you press your fingers to the paper?"

"Just the once, Tommy," Finn said, obviously confused.

"And yours?" Tommy barked at George.

George was nodding, but Tommy didn't rest until he heard, "Aye - just once Uncle Tommy."

"Right," he nodded, closing the door on their confused faces, repeating to himself, "Right."

"So that's it, they're the only copies?" John asked, sound like he hardly dared believe it.

Tommy nodded, pulled out the chair he had been standing behind and sat on it, laying his head on the table.

From the minute he'd heard the Shelby files were missing, he'd been thinking. Thinking of keeping John from going off the rails. Thinking of how to get them back. Thinking about what Campbell was thinking, thinking about what he was wanting, what he would need to offer to appease the man.

He hadn't felt much, until right then, when his relief cracked over him, so pronounced it was almost heavy.

He expected to feel Rosie's hand on the back of his head, and he lay there for a few seconds before looking up, searching for her, finding she couldn't come lay her hands on his head because she was too busy being pulled into a clumsy embrace by Arthur.

"You - eh - you did good, Rose, did good," Arthur was mumbling.

Unlike him, John was still standing, but he'd put his hands flat on the table, dipped his head and hung there whilst Tommy had put his own head down. He watched as his brother rubbed a heavy hand over his face then stood straight, not noticing Tommy's eyes on him as he made his way around the table to Rosie, pulling her from Arthur and - well, it seemed more that he put himself in her arms than took her in his. His head went to her shoulder, seeking the same support from it that Tommy's had done from the table.

Rosie murmured something into John's ear and his brother nodded, gave a sort of snorting sniff and stood back nodding, "Yeah, Rosie girl, you're right," he turned to the rest of them, indicating the files with his eyes, "We burn these yeah?"

"That was always the plan," Tommy nodded, "To take them and destroy them."

"Where does that leave you?" Polly asked, addressing Rosie directly for the first time weeks.

Rosie gave her a questioning look, tilting her chin up slightly.

"You stole these, from your work?"

The redhead gave a curt nod.

"And they'll be noticed missing," Polly said, her eyes trained on Rosie, "So where does that leave you when they are?"

"They'd need to prove it was me," Rosie shrugged, "Before it would put me anywhere."

"Tommy going in with you in the first place links you enough to the Shelby name that they'll know it's been you," Polly said dismissively.

"Tommy and I saw the head of the department - Maitland doesn't necessarily know who got me in the door. Maitland's secretary brought in the files amongst a pile of others, he won't even know they were amongst them in the first place."

"Campbell took those files, he's going to check."

"And Kenneth Maitland takes very long lunches, he can say honestly that he never received them."

"This isn't going to go away you stupi-"

"Concerned for me, Pol?" Rosie cut over his aunt's scolding tones.

Polly jammed her cigarette in her mouth and glared.

Women.

Tommy opened his mouth, preparing to call Polly out that she was very much concerned for the younger woman, and to call the redhead out for knowing fine well that that was the case, tell the two of them to put an end to it and make their peace, but shut it and narrowed his eyes as Pol slowly pushed her chair back, stood up and took some slow, deliberate steps, the heels of her boots thudding a little, a rug muffled version of the clipping they usually did, as she came to stand nose to nose with Rosie.

He didn't think his aunt would harm her, not in any lasting way but his hackles were raising and he got to his own feet, prepared to move. If either of the women heard him standing, they didn't acknowledge it, their eyes trained on one another.

"You told me that that job was what you felt you were supposed to be doing, made you feel like you were achieving something - said you thought if there was a God he'd sent Tommy to bring you here so you could take the chance to do this job," Polly growled, "That job was the most important thing in the world to you when you got it. What's changed to make those files worth the risk?"

"Nothing's changed Pol," Rosie replied, her voice tight, "You'll just need to forgive me for crediting you with the sense to realise that I figured family being more important than any job went without saying."

The two continued to stare at one another for a few moments before Polly gave a single nod and turned, walking back to stand at the table, looking down at the files. Rosie's eyes stayed on her.

John and Arthur were looking around, neither of them quite knowing what to say, and Tommy was about to break into the silence when, as if she knew Rosie's eyes were there to meet her, Polly snapped her head up and demanded, "And do you know why they were on his desk? What does that mean, that Campbell took them so they could be put on your Kenneth Maitland's desk?"

"We collect and sort evidence, Pol, we gather reports that are sent in and we decide which sound the most urgent and which need addressed the quickest."

"So what's that to do with getting files from the police?"

"If the police lift a kid and they suspect whatever the kid's done to get lifted is a result of a poor home life, they'll pass the file to us so we can cross reference and advise if we have a file on them, if there's ever been any reports put in to us about those kids."

"And if there has been?"

"It's evidence that the kid might need state intervention."

"State intervention," Polly hissed, "Taken off to that reform, you mean."

"Not to be reformed, but to be re-homed, adopted, by parents able and willing to look after a child who might not be being looked after at home," Rosie bit out.

"Is that right?" Polly barked.

"Polly, there's processes," Rosie replied, gentling her voice.

"Processes!" his aunt snorted, "God you're green. Let me tell you - when your department," she spat the word, "Took my children from me - it was because some neighbour reported that the sheets I'd hung out on the line were stolen from a hotel. And when the police came about the bloody sheets, they found a spirit still, for making a few drops of gin. And they took my children, with no fucking processes. Because they could. Because we weren't who we are now back then. Because Tommy wasn't who he is now back then."

"That's a lot of pressure on his shoulders Polly."

"That's praise."

Maybe it was both.

Rosie scoffed, looked down and shook her head, then, decided to go back to, "Polly - the reason I'm doing the job I'm doing is to try and make sure what happened to you, to your kids, doesn't happen again. To make sure the kids who get help need it, but to try and put support in when it's needed before it gets to that point."

"You sound like you think you work for a charity love," Polly replied, shaking her own head, "You work at the council and that council hasn't known charity a day in its life."

Tommy swallowed. He'd thought the same thing himself, hadn't he? That she'd get a rude awakening one day. A shock when she realised how these people truly operated. But that day still hadn't come. She still clung to the belief that what she was doing was for the greater good.

"Enough," he ordered, giving his aunt and the redhead a stern look, "Stay on track - you reckon those files were given to you so you could see if there was any evidence to support those kids being taken from us?"

"Taking children away isn't the first step," Rosie bit out, not quite ready to obey his 'enough,' "But yes - they were given to see if there was evidence that would support further enquiries, perhaps some investigations and a home visit, to get a first hand build up of an idea of the welfare of the children. They were given to us specifically because the police can't just take children with no proper evidence that the child is in danger."

"I said enough," he growled, lifting a stern finger at her.

It was a rather by the book approach for Campbell. Would have made it easier for him had there been a neat pile of evidence that would allow him to legally take the kids.

Campbell didn't know about Rosie.

"Would there have been any? Evidence?"

Rosie shook her head, "No one around here's stupid enough to report you," she shot Polly a look, "Not now that you are who you are."

Not that it mattered, Campbell also didn't know William Arterton was someone he could get to himself if need be.

"Alright, we burn these, if anyone questions you in work, you say you know nothing about it, you never touched the files."

She nodded.

"And you let us know if anyone does ask any questions."

She nodded again, rolling her eyes as if that were obvious. He gave her one of his best glares, then moved his eyes to his brother.

"John," he offered, nodding at the papers, "You want to do the honours?"

"Do you think them disappearing will end it?" Rosie asked as they watched the pages curl into the kitchen fire's hunger, turning to black crisps.

"Not this thing with Campbell, but it'll end any attempts he'll make on the kids," he returned, adding, "Thanks to you. You did good, my girl."

Given the family were still around them, the chaste reply was her slipping his hand into his and squeezing.

Thank you as always for reading!

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