Chapter 111
"A Mr Paul Clayton was found drowned this morning," Moss said when he answered the door.
Tommy exhaled a stream of smoke, "And what's that to do with me?"
"We don't know, Mr Shelby, that's why we're here. May we come in?" the man replied, taking an expectant step forward.
"No," Tommy growled, moving to block the doorway, "Whatever you have to say you can spit out standing here. I know who he was, he lived across the road, couldn't have told you the first thing about him so I don't see that I'll be able to help you."
"He had been beaten up, Mr Shelby," Moss' associate piped up.
"Must have tangled with the wrong person. Drink does terrible things to a man's judgement."
"Mr Shelby, you visited Paul Clayton's home last night," Moss said.
Tommy lifted an eyebrow in return.
"Yesterday your aunt paid the fine for his son's trespassing on the railway, when you came to the station," Moss said, "When our officers went to Mr Clayton's home to tell his wife, they found the receipt your aunt was issued."
Tommy remained silent.
"When questioned, Mrs Clayton said you had delivered it the night before. With a woman. Who wasn't your aunt."
Tommy's insides lurched. He'd told Moss Rosie was his cleaner. He wanted her kept out of things. This might throw that all up in the air.
"What else did Mrs Clayton say?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
"Moss," Tomy growled, warning the man.
"Nothing to do with you, Mr Shelby," Moss sighed, "We simply want to know if you noticed anything unusual last night."
"I delivered the receipt, told her the fine was paid, that was it."
"And who was the woman you took with you?"
"Why?"
"We'd like to ask her if she noticed anything."
"I took my cleaner as a neutral party, to make sure none of the women I was delivering receipts to would feel intimidated by me."
"You took your cleaner, late at night-"
"Hardly late," Tommy cut across him, "After dinner. Kids were still playing out. Kids that weren't being locked in the reform because you lot have nothing better to do that go chasing after them, that is."
"Can you give us your cleaner's home address?"
"No."
"Her name?"
"No."
"Mr Shelby!"
"A man was beaten up then fell into The Cut. His wife has said nothing that helps you. I imagine no one else has said anything that might help. I can't offer an explanation. My cleaner's from the other side of town, she's not going to know anything. I suggest you get on with something fucking useful instead of wasting time," Tommy said, threw his cigarette on the ground at Moss' feet and shut the door in his face.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
He wanted to wait at the door of the bloody council building for her coming out, but it seemed unwise and so he contented himself with skulking half way down the street, smoking, watching for her coming out then following her. She saw him, of course, raised an eyebrow at his antics, but didn't stop, let him have his way. When they left the business part of the city, when they reached the shops and she disappeared first into the butchershop then the newsagents next door, he finally came to a halt and waited for her to finish her errands. When she came to his side, her bag was laden with a brown paper bag containing their dinner and various comics.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Well and good until some strange chap started stalking me down the road," she replied airily, falling into step beside him.
"Rosie," he warned.
"Fine. Nothing was said about the files," she said, answering the question he'd really been asking.
"The body turned up this morning," he told her.
"So soon?"
He nodded, pausing, letting it sink in. He imagined the reality of what she'd ordered would be hitting her anew now. Imagined it might have dulled somewhat during their antics the night before - and that she'd have been too busy focussing on her work, or waiting for the files to be noticed missing, to have thought about it during the day.
"What's been said? Has Mrs Clayton…?"
"I haven't spoken to her. Moss and another copper came round, on official duty, to ask if I'd seen anything. They saw the receipt for Paul's payment when they went round to Mrs Clayton's."
"Did she tell them about you and him…?"
"No. Moss wouldn't say much - I'll need to get him alone, figure out what was said in full - but no, it sounds like she just said we came round with the receipt. Didn't mention us having any contact with her husband."
"She mentioned that we came round?"
"I said you're my cleaner. I didn't give them your name and I don't think she has either."
"Wouldn't take much poking about for someone to turn it up, I don't imagine," Rosie said, sounding worried.
"I'll take care of you."
"S'not me I'm worried about - what if they find out who I am, track down my old house, realise Molly's gone, realise Lily's an underage child with no legal guardian?"
"I won't let that happen."
"You can't control everything Thomas, where would Ada be if you could?" she barbed.
"Rosie," he stopped walking, sighed, and rubbed his face with his hand, massaging his eyeballs for a second with his thumb and forefingers before meeting her eyes, "I've made you promises, I intend to keep them."
She scrutinised him for a moment, then nodded and walked on. He let out a sharp breath, then followed her, catching up and walking beside her, the two of them going along in silence.
"We told her I'd be over after work tonight, to ask what she wanted to do…" Rosie eventually broke it to say as they walked up Garrison Lane, approaching home.
"Not much point now, is there? She'll know you'll have heard."
"I'll go anyway. We'll stick to it that yes you beat him up, she knows that anyway. But we'll maintain as far as we're aware, he's wandered about and fallen into the canal. I'll express our sympathies - Shelby sympathies."
It was a smart idea, but he didn't have much of a chance to reply. As they rounded onto Watery Lane and Rosie was set upon by the kids, accosted for the contents of her bag, half moans being given about the fact they usually got their comics on Mondays, only half swallowed under his flinty eye.
They were into October, the kids were used to being back to school and Lily only lingered for a second to be hugged to Rosie's side and have her hair ruffled in greeting before she chased off after Katie with her own comic clutched in her hand.
"Preferred when they'd just gone back and she was clinging to us," he grumbled.
"If you had your way she'd never talk to anyone but you, never go anywhere herself," Rosie grinned.
"I like having her in my arms, I miss the weight of carrying her when she's not there," he admitted, his eyes watching as Lily sat down by Katie at the side of the street and very carefully opened the pages of her own magazine, whilst his niece had the reading of hers well underway and had already crinkled a fistful of paper upon turning the pages.
"Do you think I should wear black to go see her?" Rosie asked, biting her lip and looking down at her green dress and the green coat he had bought her the previous winter.
It hit him then, as he looked at the coat, that they must be coming up on a year since he had asked her to come to Watery Lane. It felt longer, like she'd always been there, familiar and comforting - and somehow also like it couldn't possibly have been a year.
"No," he shook his head, "But come in a minute, we'd best give her something."
"Did you listen to what I said?" she asked, as he came through from the shop and pressed a heavy bag of coins into her hand, "Giving her this looks like some sort of - of apology, of admission of guilt. I said we should act as if we didn't do it."
"And I told her last night, no matter her decision, she was under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. This is the start of that. Give her it with our condolences - not apologies."
She pursed her lips, then gave him a curt nod and pocketed it, turning to go.
"Oi," he growled, just as she was about to walk through to the front room.
She turned, questioning him with her eyes.
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, "I love you."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Well?" he questioned.
"I think she knows he didn't fall in himself," Rosie replied, "But I think she's willing to pretend she thinks it."
Tommy nodded, "Good. It'll go away quickly enough. No one will have seen anything."
"You'll get Moss to back off it?"
He nodded.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Anything?" he asked the next day, when he met her at the same shop after she'd finished.
"No."
He felt a weight lift off him, "And that's you done for the week."
"Aye," she nodded, "And I'll be glad not to need to think on it until Monday again."
"You don't need to do it, you know."
"I want to make some sort of a difference, Tommy. I need to believe if I keep my head down, work and manage not to get caught having taken those files, that at some point my job might evolve to actually being of proper use," she told him, but he wasn't sure her heart was as in it as it once had been. She sighed and added, "Besides, if I was to leave now, just as those files have disappeared, it's as good as sticking my hand up and saying 'Please sir, I'm your culprit.'"
"You can be my culprit any day of the week," he told her, his hand sneaking to her backside, smacking it over her coat.
"I don't need to stick my hand up for that Thomas Shelby," she grinned, "You'd find things to pin on me if I didn't give you any."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The disenchantment he thought might be lodging itself in her over the real effectiveness - or, lack of it, - of her job was one thing. But the next day, when they waited at the school gate for Lily, he watched Rosie's face as her little sister caught sight of her waiting, watched Rosie's face as she watched Lily's light up, watched her open her arms and scoop the child up into them, pressing kisses to her forehead.
They'd gone to the Lee camp again. Tommy had waited with Johnny Dogs, whilst Rosie had gone off with the women. For all she thought his presumption in arranging the marriage was unfair, and she told him so, he could tell she liked her days spent at the camp. She came away from them with an energy and a glow about her - one she never came home from her work with these days.
Tommy's rule about them all being escorted to and from school had gone up in smoke along with the files Rosie had stolen for them, so they let George run off and started making their way back to Watery Lane, not continuing on for Finn at the big school, but he was glad of it that they made their way back in a group that counted Katie, Alfie and Jack amongst their number, even if he did have to yell at them to behave themselves as the game of tig they seemed to have decided to play on the way home had them diving and ducking around him and Rosie, battering into them more than they managed to get around them.
"Ah, let them play," Rosie said, rubbing her leg where Jack had just crashed against it, as if he thought he could cut through her to catch his twin, "Gets their energy out before they cause chaos in the house."
"Well, if that's the case, shall we go home via Charlie's?" Tommy asked, smirking.
A cheer went up from the kids and Rosie slid her hand into his, "I think that might be a yes."
If his uncle would have preferred a little warning ahead of their visit, he didn't show it. There was boat being loaded up with deliveries and he let the kids jump on and off it, playing at being pirates, smugglers and river Gypsies, only grumbling when Jack's enthusiastic steering smacked the tethered boat hard into the side of The Cut.
"He's good with them," Rosie remarked as the two of them sat on upturned crates, watching the kids playing, "I always knew he was good with Lily but he's good with kids in general. Pity he never had his own, in a way."
"He had us," Tommy snorted, "More than enough, I reckon."
She laid her head on his shoulder and he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her tighter against him.
"I wish this was life all the time, Tommy," she murmured, "Coming to the yard, watching the kids play, not worrying."
"Once I get rid of Campbell, it will be," he returned.
She turned her face up to him, looking for his and he pressed his mouth to hers, lifting a hand to stroke her hair, watching as her eyes seemed to get hazy, to go far away, leaving him alone in the yard for a moment.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked, wanting her back immediately.
He did without her three days a week, and that was enough as far as he was concerned.
She gave him a small, apologetic smile, "Just fantasies. Of days when Campbell is gone. I still don't reckon pushing John and Esme together is fair, and I wish you'd get on with telling John about it."
She broke off to raise an eyebrow at him.
"I've got details to sort first, once they're done, John will be told," he assured her.
The truth was, he needed to get Lizzie out of the picture and, ideally, he wanted Ada in. He was hoping a family wedding might bring her out of hiding - her and John had always been close, he was relying on it that, if he offered a truce for the day of the wedding, Ada would come - and that would open the line of communication. But he hadn't told Rosie that yet, didn't want to get her hopes up.
"But that aside," Rosie said, picking up as if he hadn't spoken, "I just think about the kids, about Esme being here to mind them properly. About days maybe when we might have other kids. Do you think I'm ridiculous?"
She looked up at him, a half smirk playing about her lips, covering what he imagined was a real potential vulnerability in her - a worry that he would think her ridiculous.
"Why would I think that?"
"I think being with the women, preparing for a wedding - it's just making me think about, about my own future. About our future, I suppose," she admitted, her face going very pink.
"I think about it too, my little loli phabai," he told her, his voice a rumble, "I think about dancing with you in front of everyone, about you wearing my ring as well as my necklace."
"Marking me as your property are you?" she smirked.
"Yes," he nodded, raising an eyebrow, "And if people know what's good for them, they'll stay away from my property."
She snorted, "You're ridiculous."
But she couried in against him, let him take her hands in his and rub them for warmth as they let the kids play a while longer, let him keep hold of one of hers as they made their way back to Watery Lane later.
He felt her hand stiffen as Pol came into view, walking down the street towards them.
He hadn't seen that they had spoken since Monday, since she had brought the files home.
"You've not been questioned at work I take it?" Pol greeted her.
Not a hello or anything, but at least she was addressing her.
Rosie shook her head.
"That's good," Pol nodded curtly, then shifted her eyes to him, "Thomas - if you get any interesting telegraphs or letters in the next few days, let me know will you."
Then she walked by them, her heeled boots clipping on the ground without so much as a goodbye, a basket with eggs and bread on her arm. He half thought to run after her, convinced she was on her way to his sister.
"Are you expecting any interesting post?" Rosie asked, her eyes on his aunt's back.
He was sure she had noted the contents of the basket too.
"I wasn't," he said, truthfully, "But I suppose I am now."