Chapter 119

The leather briefcase felt almost hot in Tommy's hand as he turned on to Watery Lane, as if the contents within it knew they pertained to the place, knew who they were going to be presented to, knew their own importance, knew her importance, how happy they would make her, as if they glowed red hot with that knowledge, radiating their own pride in themselves.

He was proud of himself, excited - almost slightly giddy, like a horse on cocaine before it was let run. Though he didn't reckon he was radiating it as two men lifted their caps to him and scurried back and out of his way.

Or maybe he was, but him practically vibrating with excitement probably didn't bode well for anyone with sense.

He noticed Jack scribbling on the street outside someone's house with chalk and Alfie hanging doubtfully over his shoulder, watching, but he was too pleased with himself to do any more than shout, "You two better not be getting yourselves into anything you can't get yourselves out of," over at them.

Alfie's eyes went very wide on seeing him, but Jack simply looked up and grinned, obviously also pleased with himself. Tommy snorted. They looked a lot like John had done at their age, the boys, but Jack could have been his brother in that moment with that grin.

Ah well, it was raining. Not too heavy - there were children up and down the street, unbothered by it, too pleased to be free of school for the day to be interested in staying inside to avoid the drizzle - but enough that whatever the kid was up to would be washed away sooner or later - and maybe Alfie's worried looks with it.

He glanced up the street and saw George, kicking a ball up in the air, bouncing it up again from his knee, catching it on his foot, a couple of the other kids watching him, though he didn't see Finn. His nephew must have felt Tommy's eyes joining the watching, he looked up to meet them and stilled his activity, as if waiting to see what was going to happen next. Tommy nodded at him, giving him a half smile. George didn't frown back, but he didn't really return the smile either and he stayed still until Tommy had reached the shop door and gone through it.

Things would be better with George once Esme came. Tommy hoped.

He and Rosie were due at the camp tomorrow and he was looking forward to it. The drive there and back with her was precious time just the two of them, and though they all knew they were in a ceasefire rather than a proper truce until the marriage was done, the Lee men spoke to him now, not avoiding him as they had done to begin with, leaving him to sit with Johnny Dogs until Rosie was done with the women.

"You can go," he told Nipper and Harry, who were waiting as instructed for his return.

He put the briefcase on his desk, moving some of Lily's drawings into a pile so as not to squash them beneath it, locked the shop door behind the two men, then went through to the kitchen, his heart thumping extra loudly as she came into view, bending over his niece at the table and encouraging her, "Well done, that's you, why don't you lift the knife out and turn it the other way to make the next point, hmm? Might be easier on your wrist."

Katie had been issued with a pinafore the same as Lily's now, Rosie must have made it for her. The three of them, the two kids in their pinafores and Rosie with her apron over her blouse and skirt were exactly like a tableau of some happy family that you might see the government put out on one of their propaganda posters, a bit of text above them encouraging baking for the good of the war effort wouldn't have seemed out of place. Although, on closer inspection, if they were going to be on a government poster, Katie's hair would need some taming - it looked like the last time it had seen a brush had been days ago. Maybe that was another thing that would change when Esme arrived.

"What's going on here then?"

"Making biscuits," Lily told him, her sunshine smile a little at odds with her still bruised eyes, her own hair still in the neat braids Rosie had put it in that morning before she'd gone to work.

"Biscuits, eh?" he said, coming around the table and lifting her up onto his hip so he could stand where she had been, at Rosie's side, pressing his lips to her cheek as she wound her arms around his neck.

"It's raining," Rosie told him, glancing over her shoulder at him, her own sunshine smile warming him, "Thought this was an indoor activity that kept them out of the way of the shop until the men were away."

"Lily's been in the shop all day!" Katie suddenly said, stilling the knife to look up indignantly at him, "She told me! How come I'm not allowed in and she is?"

"She's off school 'cause she had that bloody nose on Saturday and it's left her eyes sore, Katie," he told her, biting back a laugh at her scowl.

"Even if I was off school I wouldn't get to be in the shop," Katie insisted, not mollified by his reminding her that the reason Lily was at home in the first place was because she'd gotten hurt.

The reason wasn't so much the sore eyes - other than looking bad they weren't really impeding her in any way - but Rosie was too worried that they'd attract attention, that questions would be asked, that it would come out that Molly had gone and that Rosie had no legal claim over the bab.

"That's because you wouldn't sit in an office and draw all day, keeping yourself out of the way," Tommy returned, a little more firmly, shutting down any further protest.

It was true anyway - Arthur had been working at the pub that day, Pol had been off to see Freddie (it seemed she knew where he would be, but not exactly what time he'd be there at and therefore it had suited her to take the entire day to herself. Tommy was fairly sure he was being taken advantage of, time wise, but given she was conveying messages about his activity, he couldn't really argue. Plus she'd agreed to watch Lily the next day so he could take Rosie to the camp as planned.) He and John had been the only Shelby's present. Unwilling to leave the shop with only his brother during its busiest hours, Tommy had kept Lily as close to him as possible by sitting her at his desk with a wad of paper and her pencils, him moving between the office and the shop, watching both her and it as best he could. She'd been good as gold, sitting there and drawing, playing with his typewriter in between times and jabbering under her breath to herself, but even still he'd been glad when the rest of them had gotten back from the school and he'd been able to send her out to play with them. Glad he could leave the shop, get on with his main task of the day. He'd instructed the boys to start shutting up - but to wait until he returned, not to leave the house unguarded.

He'd managed to reach the owner's office before closing time. Give him his offer. He'd been fair. The man had gotten a fair price.

It had meant he hadn't been able to get to the council offices in time for Rosie finishing though and he took his eyes from his niece to look at her as he told her, "I had business in town, couldn't get done in time to get you from work."

"I'm a big girl, I can manage the walk myself," she said, amused.

"I know, but I like walking you."

Her smirk turned to a softer smile as she nodded, her cheeks pinking a little, "I like it too. But still, I got home in one piece. Made it before the rain started, thankfully."

"It's not too bad," Tommy shrugged, "It'll get worse."

She nodded, "That's what the rest of them said when I tried to get them all to stay in and make the biscuits."

"Trying to make it a group activity, were you?" he grinned, bouncing Lily on his hip as he asked her, "The boys not fancy baking with you, sweetheart, eh?"

"No they didn't fancy baking," Rosie answered for her, frowning and standing taller, her hands going to her hips for a minute as she went on, "And I don't know what exactly it is they're off doing but what I do know is that I heard the twins going on about capturing someone and tarring and feathering them. I thought they were talking about something from one of their comics so I didn't think overmuch on it - but I go upstairs to change out of my work clothes before I start on this and come back down to find the cushions from the front room are gone and I'm telling you right now Thomas, if they come back with so much as one feather missing, I'm going to tar and feather them for their trouble!"

Katie was grinning in delight as Rosie's voice got quicker and sharper as she spoke, a giggle escaping his niece at the threat of the tarring and feathering.

"The twins are out the front - as far as I can see they're only armed with chalk, which they're using to draw on the ground with," Tommy told her, frowning at the idea of the cushions having been taken and discarded.

If he found them abandoned anywhere and soaked with rain, the twins might have Rosie's tarring and feathering (he imagined that involved very little tar or feathers and far more of a sharp scolding, probably a bit of a lecture about respecting other people's possessions and a withholding of cake) but they'd have his right hand to contend with too.

"Did you actually see them with the cushions?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well no, but it would seem a little too much of a coincidence for it not to be those two who are off with them," Rosie returned, raising her own eyebrows back at him, "Don't see what Finn or George would want with them."

"George is out the front too, kicking a ball about," Tommy frowned, "Didn't see Finn."

"He was with 'Siah," Lily piped up.

"Well I'm sure they'll all turn up, and we'll see what the state of the cushions is when they do," Rosie said, rolling her eyes and looking back down to say to Katie, "You finishing your star so Lily can have a turn cutting out?"

Clearly, Rosie was willing to wait for the answers - but he wasn't. He gave Lily a last bounce, pressed a kiss to her forehead and then slid her down to the ground, making his way towards the back door - though not without running his hand over Rosie's waist and ruffling it through Katie's wild head of hair, the latter of which got him a dramatic, "Uncle Tommy you're making me mess it up, I'm trying to concentrate!" in return for his show of affection.

It didn't take him long to locate the cushions - or his youngest brother. Rosie's connection between the twins' talk of tarring and feathering and the disappearing cushions might have been logical, but logic rarely seemed to apply when it came to kids. No, round the back and up a bit from where they might be seen from the windows of number six or the shop, the cushions were in Isaiah's hands and he was holding them out for Finn to aim for, moving them around, making his brother work. Finn was flushed and out of breath, bouncing back and forth on his toes and throwing his body into the punches, not quite what Tommy would call elegant in his agility to change his aim as Isaiah switched positions.

He watched them unobserved for a moment, taking it in. Finn still hadn't hit the growth spurt that usually came as the teenage years approached and, if he was honest, the kid was probably needing a few extra inches in height to stretch him out a bit. He was shaped a bit like one of Lily's teddy bears, tubby in the middle. Ideal for cuddling of course, but if the panting was anything to go by, it wasn't doing his fitness levels much good. His flushed cheeks were round, squeezable.

Tommy remembered John having that roundness to his face when they were kids, and a similar pot belly, even though his legs and arms had been gangly, and even though they'd never really had enough to eat. Maybe John would have been even tubbier if he'd had Rosie's cooking to gorge himself on as a kid - he'd always had an appetite, John. Had never seemed to learn either. Tommy'd got used to going hungry, but John never had done. Always went on about it when his stomach was anything less than freshly stuffed - and Tommy had stuffed his fist into John's mouth for it more than once so their mother hadn't had to hear it.

Tommy couldn't remember ever being round and soft cheeked himself. Couldn't remember Arthur like that either. Maybe that was because he'd always taken the approach that it was easier to abstain totally than get a taste for something and not have enough of it. Or maybe he just didn't have any proper idea of what he'd looked like himself, the only full length glass they'd had when he was a kid had been in his mother's room and their father had forbidden them from entering it, telling them his sleep was being interrupted too often by John climbing in with them when he got nightmares. Looking back, Tommy reckoned it hadn't been about John coming in at all so much as it was just about keeping them all out, putting barriers between their mother and them. But he hadn't thought much on it at the time and, as far as the glass went, he'd never been much concerned with looking in it even before the ban had come into effect.

He wondered, watching Finn huff and puff and pant as he jumped about, swinging his arms, how he and Rosie's kids would look. John's kids all had a sort of softness to them. Not quite as round as Finn, but soft, like John had been. It suggested there was a softness in his genes, like John and Finn had inherited - though John's had gone when he'd hit his growth spurt at around twelve, and Tommy was sure Finn's couldn't be that far off… He reckoned that proneness to softness in youth that came from his side, coupled with the sweet curves of Rosie's body might suggest their kids would look not too dissimilar to how Finn did now. Maybe they'd get her colouring though, fair and cream and red haired - or maybe his would come through and they'd have dark hair and blue eyes, like Katie. Like his mother.

Isaiah noticed him as he swung around and froze, his sudden change in demeanour causing Finn to spin around to see what the other boy was looking at.

"H-Hi Tommy," Finn stuttered.

"What're you up to then?" he asked, nodding at the cushions.

Finn shrugged.

Tommy snorted, as if it wasn't entirely obvious that Finn and Isaiah were having some sort of makeshift boxing practice. He wondered where they'd seen the pads for punching into, the ones the cushions were clearly being subbed in for. His mind went to the poster from the newsagents and the boxing match that Friday. It seemed the interest hadn't gone away just because he'd refused to get them the lessons after they'd got caught with their boxing the last time and sent Rosie into a tailspin.

"Well, I advise you take care of those cushions - Rosie's noticed they're missing and she says she'll tar and feather whoever's off with them if they don't come back in pristine nick," Tommy told them evenly before wandering on by, pretending he was only walking down the back to get to the outhouse.

He felt he ought to be annoyed with Finn - he'd gotten the notion of the pad training from somewhere and he knew fine well that Rosie's influence didn't stretch quite so far as to have Finn taking out library books. But he was too pleased with what he'd achieved that afternoon to want to get himself worked up over Finn's possible sneaking off to watch some boxing training somewhere. Besides, he might have seen it in the paper or something - one that had been left to light a fire with, because he wasn't deluded enough to imagine Finn would take the initiative to read one.

By the time he got back to the kitchen, there were two baking trays full of biscuits - some in clearly discernible shapes like stars and letters, others more blob like than anything - on the side, and Rosie was rolling the remnants of the original sheet of dough back into a ball, telling the girls, "We'll roll it out again and you should be able to get a few more biscuits from it."

Tommy lit a cigarette and went to lean against the sideboard as he watched them. Rosie shot him a quizzical look, clearly wondering why he was standing there and waiting, rather than going through to sit in the front room and he couldn't help but give her a wide smile and a wink. Her mouth dropped open for a second, surprised at his uncharacteristic expressiveness, then she gathered herself and turned back to the kids, watching and praising as Lily cut out a small star and added it to the tray.

He was impressed himself with how the bab seemed to be able to cut the shapes so precisely and neatly at her age - but he supposed it was the artist in her, the knife was simply a replacement for the pencils she usually drew with, and the dough her paper. Katie's star was bigger, but she'd cut every line individually, scored beyond where she meant to, the points of the star were all slightly different in length and width, whereas Lily's were more uniform.

Still, both of them seemed pleased with their efforts, though not as pleased as he was when Rosie gave him a side eye then told them, "Alright, I'll get these in the oven - why don't you two head upstairs and play with the doll's house and I'll call you down when it's time to decorate them, hmm?"

He barely waited until the green doors had swung shut behind them before he was over at her, putting his arms around her and pulling her to him, kissing her and cupping her face, grinning down at her.

"What on earth is going on Thomas?" she half laughed, half scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him, "You've got a look in your eye like a kid on Christmas morning."

"I've got something for you, come see," he said, sliding his hand into hers and tugging.

"I need to start the dinner," she insisted, tugging back, "You bring it here, whatever it is."

He shook his head, "It's business, we should conduct it in my office."

"Business is it?" she returned, snorting, tugging her hands from his and bending to retrieve her basket containing that night's dinner from under the table, where she'd obviously put it for safe keeping during the biscuit making, "Well it can wait until my women's business is done."

"Rosie!"

"Jesus, you're acting like John, whinging my name at me like that!"

"Come on," he cajoled.

She threw up her hands, "The dinner needs making Tommy."

"We can eat a bit later than usual."

"And then you'll be moaning if they're up half the night with indigestion from eating too close to their bedtimes," she said, reaching into the basket and pulling out its contents - looked like she was doing some kind of stew - putting them on the table before her.

"Stop arguing with me woman," he said, clicking his tongue and swatting playfully at her backside, before resting his hands on her hips, pressing himself into her from behind, "Most women would be told their husbands had something for them and would be running through to see what it is."

"You're not my husband Thomas Shelby."

"In all but name I am. And that'll change," he told her, his voice a low rumble.

She turned to him, their bodies close enough that her breasts brushed his chest; he felt them rise a little as she took a breath, tilting her chin up to him as she said, "Not in all but name at all. There's a few husbandly things you don't do with me Tommy. One in particular."

He cupped her face and kissed her, letting himself give into it for a moment, then broke apart, kissed her head and told her, "That'll change too."

"I'd want that before I'd want any presents you know."

"Well, this is something I've got for you, but it's not something you'll personally use so I don't think you'll object too much," he told her, smiling again, warmth bubbling in his stomach, "Go on," he murmured, "Let me make you happy."

"You do make me happy," she replied, rolling her eyes, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him back, "But alright, I'll bite. Just let me at least put these biscuits in the oven so they cool off for them to decorate in plenty of time."

Tommy stood back and watched fondly as she whipped up her apron into her hand and used it to hold the trays as she slid them one at a time into the oven, glancing up at the clock and muttering to herself before she untied the strings and folded it over the back of the chair. That apron would be the death of him, he reckoned, eyeing it as it lay where she'd put it, deceptively inconspicuous.

He put his hand on her waist and walked her through to his office, holding the doors for her.

Her face softened as she made her way to his desk and took in Lily's pile of drawings for the day, though she looked up to him and said, "You should make her tidy away after herself, it's a bad habit for her to be in - leaving things lying when she's done."

"I sent her out as soon as Katie came knocking so I could go get on with this," he said, tapping the briefcase, "Didn't give her any time to tidy even if she'd wanted to."

"Don't try and kid me that she'd have wanted to," Rosie snorted, "And I assume you let her draw all day and didn't get her doing any reading or writing?"

"Three days off isn't going to make her fall that far behind, Rosie."

"They might be if she was already at the bottom of the class."

It was his turn to snort dismissively.

"You think because she's quiet and reasonably well behaved it means she's doing well in school, Tommy," Rosie said, arching a brow, "But she's not keen on the work and she'll take the easy road whenever it's offered rather than struggle through getting better with the reading and writing."

"She reads her comics."

"Why do you think I buy them every week?" Rosie replied, raising her eyebrows and rolling her eyes, "But they're about all she reads, and I'm convinced she takes more from the pictures than the words. And she likes stories, likes hearing them, so why she's so lazy about pushing herself to learn to read so she could read them on her own I don't know."

"Rosie, sweetheart," Tommy said, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her to him, making her eyes focus on him rather than the evidence of Lily's day of drawing and not reading, "I hear what you're saying, eh? But is there the slightest possible chance, do you think, that you might be holding her to a higher than average standard because you're so smart?"

"No I don't think so at all Thomas Shelby," she insisted, flushing.

"Well I do - take it from me, I mind Ada at that age - and Finn. And neither of them were reading the classics."

Not that either of them was reading the classics now either as far as he could tell, but that was neither here nor there in his mind.

"Katie's far more advanced than Lily is."

"You need to remember that Katie might be close in age to Lily but she's had a full year of extra schoolin'."

"I suppose so," she said, begrudgingly, the tensing of her jaw showing him that she didn't care for admitting he might have a point.

"I'm not saying you don't make her put in the graft at times, my love, whether she wants to or not, but she's still a baby - and she seems perfectly average for her age to me with her reading and writing. And well above average in her drawing, you have a look through those pictures, eh?"

Rosie sighed, "I know she's good at drawing but how many people really make a living out of drawing, Tommy? I don't want her falling behind in her education because I didn't push her enough and then being stuck in a job she doesn't want or getting married to someone just to be married to them and have them providing for her. I want her to be able to stand on her own feet."

"Sweetheart - she's seven," Tommy said, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head.

Rosie surrendered and gave a quiet laugh, "I know, I know! I know I get a bit worked up about it - but I just want to know she'll always be able to manage herself, no matter what happens to me."

"Listen, I love you - and first and foremost, nothing's going to happen to you, so you can drop that kind of talk. But no matter what happens - or doesn't - to you, she's got the rest of us now too. She'll never be on her own, alright?"

Rosie nodded and laid her head against his chest, "I know. I just…"

"I know you just," he said, lifting a hand to the back of her head, threading his fingers into her hair to rub at her scalp, "I know what's in your mind and I know it's not easy to shake it. But we're a family, eh? A strange one I'll give you it, but a family. And she has all of us, same as you have all of us, my loli phabai. Don't need to be dealing with everything alone anymore, and neither will she ever have to. So maybe it's not fair on her for you to be making things more high stakes than they need to be for her, eh? Or to be holding her up against whatever literacy level you were at when you were seven. Your award was for beating the whole of Birmingham, mind. Not just one school or even just all the other females. You beat everyone. You're not exactly a fair one to be held up against, are you?"

"I suppose not," Rosie said in a small voice, speaking into his chest.

"That's my girl," Tommy said, kissing her head.

"D'you know what I think will help though Tommy," she said, lifting her face to look at him, winding her arms around his neck.

"What's that?"

"When I turn eighteen, when she is mine, legally, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I can send her to a private school then so that she can get extra help if she needs it, not be lost in a class cause she's quiet and up against kids who scream and shout and cause havoc. And I can go and I can ask questions about how she's doing and they'll be able to tell me and it won't be about me trying to gauge how she's doing by trying to remember what I was doing when I was her age, or by looking at where Katie is or whatever. It'll be proper information about how she's doing against other kids in her class, information I can't go and get right now because I can't draw attention to myself, can't make it obvious her older sister is that interested in her when it should be her mother."

"I know," he murmured, hugging her close, "I know it'll make everything easier when you don't have it hanging over you that she's not legally yours yet. But it's not that long til you're eighteen now really, in the scheme of things."

"Another year and a bit," she muttered darkly.

"Think how fast this last year's gone though, eh? A year's not long."

Something conflicted flitted across her face then, the same look she'd been wearing the night before as she'd stared unseeing into the fire.

"What else is going on in there?" he coaxed.

"A year might not be long on its own, but what about three, or four really? Or even more?"

"What d'you mean?" he asked, frowning.

She bit her lip, "Last night - I said - I said to you about how I like thinking my work at the council could make a difference?"

He nodded.

"Well I do. I do like it, especially in the last week, thinking I've actually done something, achieved something, after all those other weeks of filing and typing and not feeling like I've really achieved much…"

She trailed off, dropped her hands from around his neck and began twisting her fingers around themselves.

"But?" he prompted her, sensing that was what was coming.

"You remember when we spoke to Arterton - when you got the appointment with him?"

He nodded - he remembered it alright. Remembered his pride in her as she'd spoken up for herself. Remembered how he'd been ready to roast her afterwards for her performance, even as he'd kissed her for it too.

"You remember we spoke about the marriage bar? About how I shouldn't bother with this job because he knew I'd want to get married soon?"

Tommy nodded again.

"I hate, Tommy," she bit out, "I hate the idea of proving him right or giving him any type of satisfaction. But I do want you - fully. As your wife. I want - I want to adopt Lily, legally. For her to be mine, and me to be yours and for us to be a family that is legally bound. And I know we're all emotionally bound, I don't mean to discredit what you've said. We are a family, and I know it. But I'd like that stability. I'd like the reassurance. And I'd - I'd like the full experience of being married to you Tommy. All of that."

"And you can't marry me and keep your job," Tommy said, keeping his voice as blank as possible, even if his throat was going tight.

"Exactly," she sighed.

"And I won't ask you to marry me, properly, until I know you're ready to give it up," he told her, "And I won't risk doing with you what I would as your husband until then too, I won't risk you being forced into giving any of it up before you're ready."

She nodded, not meeting his eye.

He cleared his throat, "And if that's three or four or even more years, Rosie… I don't mean I'll find it easy. It'll be hell actually. But if that's what you -"

"No, Tommy, you don't understand," she cut across him, shaking her head and lifting it so her amber eyes could meet his, so the liquid fire in them could engulf him, blazing out of them, "I don't want it to be that at all. I do think there's an importance to what I'm doing, and I'd like to be doing it a little longer, achieving some more. But I think - because of Lily - I'd sort of thought if I did it until I could legally adopt her, that maybe that would be the right time then to step back. Sort of time then to move on - to start the rest of my life. And I hate that I have to give it up, I hate that that's the law and when I get to thirty and have the right to vote I'll use that vote every year to throw whatever weight I can behind a candidate who might change that. And I'll never stop thinking I shouldn't have to wait until I'm thirty to be able to vote, being angry about the fact Finn will get to vote before I will. And I'll never quietly accept all the things I'll have to do or not get to do because I'm a woman, things that wouldn't be an issue if I was a man. But even if it's not fair that I can't be married to you and get to have a job, get to make a difference - if I can be married to you and, maybe, if I can save enough money over the next few years from this job to be close to buying another house and if I can get some rent from the first one - maybe I could build that. Maybe make it like some kind of charity. Maybe I could sort of create a job of my own Tommy, one that I don't have to give up just because I'm married."

Tommy smiled at that, and was about to open his mouth and say something, when she went on.

"But it's - it's not just about me, is it?"

"Who else would it be about?" he frowned.

"All the other women who won't get to work, who won't get to vote until they're thirty. Who haven't even had the chance I've had to work at all, the chances I might have if I did what the group want me to."

"Go to university?" Tommy remembered.

With your results, you should be at university, Miss Jackson. If you'll forgive my presumption, I will imagine from your address that you've never considered that a possibility. But if you are interested in helping women and in anything of what I've written above, then we of the Council of Women Civil Servants, Birmingham, would be open to aiding you in attending the university if you would, upon graduating, champion our cause.

That was what that letter Alice had sent Rosie in the first place had said. And when he'd asked Rosie about it, she hadn't been sure university was for her. But if that was what she wanted… But was it?

"What the group want you to do and what you want to do aren't the same?"

She stared at the ground and worried at her lip, silence reigning for a moment before she said, "I feel I owe it to them - and to women everywhere who would benefit from it."

"I don't see how women everywhere would benefit from you doing what it doesn't sound like you want to, Rosie."

"Every time one woman does something, it lays the ground for another to get to do it, Tommy," she flared, whipping her head up to glare at him, "Men get to do things because they want to, so you don't understand - when it's not the done thing, the accepted thing, for women to attend university, every time one does it makes that path a little more defined, a little more trodden on, so that one day it might become a standard road."

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up, palms forward for a moment, a gesture of surrender, trying to calm and placate her, widening his eyes, before taking her waist, kissing her forehead and saying softly, "I hear you. But I hear more from your tone than I do from your words. And I don't think you making yourself miserable for the sake of not proving a man like Arterton right, or even for the sake of other women - as noble as that might be, Rosie - is worth it. Would you want to have your way paved by other people making themselves miserable?"

Far from being placated by his words, she went rigid in his arms, as if even her bones had clenched, "Was Emily Davison dying under the king's horse her idea of a good time do you think? The women who were force fed through tubes in jail, Thomas? The ones who died afterwards because the food went down the wrong way, went into their lungs? The fact I'll have a vote when I turn thirty is because of them. Do you not think, following that, the very least I could do would be to go to university, get a degree and try and push forward the place of women in the workforce? Is asking me to put off getting married really so much compared to what they did?"

"What do you want me to say? You clearly don't want to go," he returned, taking a step back and folding his arms, his voice and jaw tightening as he pointed out, "You started this path of conversation by telling me how much you hate the idea of proving Arterton right, because you don't want to wait."

This was absolutely not going the way he'd envisioned.

"I don't want you to say anything, Thomas," she said, tossing her head and folding her own arms, scowling then, softening slightly, "I don't want to argue with you Tommy - I know you mean well. I just want you to see that this isn't an easy choice for me. To go or not go." She sighed, dropped her arms and looked at him, "The truth is, they've not mentioned it for a while and I suppose I'd thought I could go on as things were. But the applications need to go in now, and there was all this talk last night about the funding for me to go and them bringing it together. They've - they've put their faith in me Tommy and if I walk away from it, I'm letting them down."

"If they're pressuring you into doing what you don't want to Rosie, they're letting themselves down."

"Easy for you to say."

"Maybe it is. But maybe that's because I don't need to consider how my actions might affect all men. And so maybe it's easy for me to say it's utterly fucking ridiculous that you think your actions are to be held to standard for every woman who'll ever walk the earth after you because it would be fucking ridiculous for me to think my actions will affect the men who come after me."

"It might be ridiculous - or, no, it is ridiculous. In that it's unfair. Illogical. But it's not ridiculous as something for me to say, because it's true. Men get to be individuals. Their achievements and their mistakes get to be theirs. When a woman does something, she does it for all women, proves women - all women, everywhere - are more sensitive, or less logical, or more patient, or less emotionally stable, or less good at maths, or better at cooking or less able to cope than men. By her one action. That's how it goes for women, Tommy. One of us makes one mistake and it gets used to hold the rest of us where they want us for another fifty years. You heard Arterton that day - all that talk about how this type of work is difficult for women because we're the fairer sex and we're more gentle than men and not able to handle the emotional conflict of it all. Saying we make the process worse for everyone by being involved because our feelings add another layer of emotion to an already difficult situation. He knew nothing about me, he just knows that one woman once tried this job and failed because it was too much for her to cope with - because the cruelty of patriarchal systems created by men and enforced by men turned out to be too much for that one woman. So he thought it was fine to apply that to every woman who walked through the door after her, give none of us a shot until I bullied him into it."

Just like the night before, Tommy wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't say anything. He didn't know how to help her be less conflicted. The fact was, she didn't seem to have any desire to go to university for herself - more a desire to go for what it would mean for others. And he loved that in her, in spite of what it would mean for him, for them… He loved the way she looked at the world, the way she wanted to change it - and he loved that she didn't just dream about it but that she let her vision dictate what she did, what she chose to do, how she chose to do things. He loved that she was as much about action as talk.

And he could feel a swelling in his chest when he realised her doing what she was doing even right now at the council, and what she was considering doing - going to university - was because of him. Because he had facilitated it. Because he had asked her to come with him, made her life so that she hadn't had to leave school as soon as she was able to and start working full time like had been in her future until he'd slotted into it. And of course he knew it was her own mind that had got her the results and her award and that let her do her job. It wasn't that he was taking any credit, but he was pleased to think he had made her current path a reality for her, opened it to her. It felt like he had done something good - and, the fact he loved her aside, even if she'd never reciprocated his feelings, he would have been pleased to have felt what he did right then. Pleased to know he'd contributed in some way to something good.

But then, that was what she wanted to do really - wasn't it? Tread that path so she could open it to others by carving it out for them. The difference was, he hadn't had to give anything up to open up her path, she was going to have to decide - it was them, their getting married, their life together. Or three years at university getting a degree, and then however many years using that degree to push for women in the civil service to be taken more seriously. To champion their cause, as Alice's letter had put it. And what was that going to look like? When would those women consider their cause sufficiently championed enough that Rosie would be free to come back to him?

Well, that was something he could certainly control.

He cleared his throat, "Rosie. If you want to go to university, I'll fund it. I don't care what it costs. If it's what you decide you want to do, it'll be me who pays it - not your fucking women's group, alright? I'm not having it that they pay for you to go and you spend the rest of your life feeling like you owe them for that."

"You'd rather I owed you?"

"Don't twist my words, it's beneath you," he told her coldly, watching her swallow and duck her eyes, feeling a frisson of satisfaction at the small win before he went on, "You know fine well I won't be counting it. And when you're ready to be, I want you to be my wife and what's mine will be yours an' what's yours'll be mine and it won't matter what's come before anyway. So at your next meeting, I'm not going to tell you what to say about the applying. That's your choice. But you can get them told as far as the fees and whatever go, you won't be needing the from them, got it?"

She twisted her hands for a moment, then wrapped her arms around herself, and turned away from him, her head down, her eyes on the desk, then her hand reached for one of Lily's pictures.

"I'd like Lily to go to university, if she'd work enough to get in. I'd like that to be an option for her, Tommy.''

"It will be. If she wants it."

"I'd like it to be an option for her that isn't a choice between putting her life on hold and going or getting on with her life if she's lucky enough, like we've been…" she trailed off, then glanced over her shoulder at him, "Lucky enough to find the right person early."

He took the peace offering and closed the distance between them again, "Sweetheart, whatever you want to do, I'll support you…" he broke off and cleared his throat, "But in terms of helping women and children Rosie - how long have you been at it at that council before you've finally had one case where you've intervened enough to make a difference? Whereas the housing thing, you buying that property, becoming a landlord who offers housing that won't drain people of their wage, offering it to women who need it like you talked about - women with children who need decent homes… Isn't that a more practical way of helping? Doesn't that help people before they get so desperate their kids might be taken from them because they can't provide for them?"

"But it's about the kids, Tommy. Don't I owe it to Lily and Katie and any others that might come along to do what I can to make their choices wider than mine have been?"

"But if you don't go Rosie, someone else will. Your group will find someone - and maybe next time they'll find someone who hasn't found their person, someone who won't be putting everything else on hold to go to the university if that's what they want that girl to do for them. You might be the smartest woman in Birmingham, but you're not the only smart one."

She looked a little wounded and he sighed and rubbed a hand over the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong," he sighed, reaching for her hand, bringing it to his face and kissing the back of it, "Forgive me?"

She blinked slowly, then shrugged, "It's true."

He shook his head, "Don't do that. I didn't mean to suggest you were replaceable like that, in terms of just how clever you are, alright? I know there'll likely never be another girl from Small Heath who'll come along and win that award, winning it over all the boys and all the kids from fancy schools who've had all the chances of extra classes and what not. I know you're special, and I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."

She went very pink and nodded, not saying anything - and he was proud of her for not protesting it, for accepting it.

"But what I meant was - there won't be anyone as good as you Rosie, but they could find someone else good enough to do what it is they want you to do. But the position you're in - owning your old house, outright, knowing you could make enough money in the next few years to save up for another, to add to your portfolio… Rosie, that's not something most women would ever be able to do - own property in their own name, own it outright."

"I only do because of you - it was your horse money-" she started to say but he cut across her, speaking sharply.

"No. It was your horse money. Your idea that generated it. I might have had the horse but without your magic idea it would have made the usual amount of money. You created the magic horse. You made us that money."

She didn't argue.

"Is it not better for you to keep working whilst you want to - if working until you're eighteen and can adopt the bab is what you want to do - and to keep saving that money and be able to buy another house with that money? Is that not a more practical way for you to make a difference? And it'd be a difference to the kind of women and children who live around here, who leave school as soon as they can with no qualifications to work or help at home or raise families of their own, the type of women who wouldn't even consider university not because they're women and they're not welcome at that sort of place on that basis, but because they couldn't dream of affording it... Is you making that job for yourself not of more use to them than sitting in a university for the next three years? And it's something you can do without having to give it up as soon as you get married."

"I know Tommy, and I agree," she said, her voice shaking, "But the women in the group, they're expecting me to do it for them…"

"Fuck them."

She glared, "Sometimes it's like you're helping then it's like one step forward and two back, Thomas!"

"Rosie, you admire Sylvia Pankhurst more than the others - why?"

"Because Sylvia did things that helped working class people, she didn't just fight for the middle and upper classes to have the right to vote. She didn't stop when the representation of the people act was passed. She sees the intersection of gender and class and race and how all of it comes together in the system to be failed and held against them."

"And isn't you investing in property to rent to working class women at affordable rates more in line with that than you leaving behind those people to go to university and sit in an office?"

"Sit in an office where I could make decisions that might help those people!" she snarled.

"Decisions that might not need to be made if women had more options when they find themselves desperate, out of money and needing to be free of husbands like Paul Clayton. And I'm only paraphrasing what you've said before - or implied, if you've not explicitly said it," he said, raising an eyebrow as she opened her mouth, "And I'm not trying to make you take any steps backwards. In fact I was out today deliberately trying to get you forwards with what you want."

She narrowed her eyes at him, less confrontationally and more questioningly, trying to work out, "What's in that briefcase Thomas?"

I know I say it all the time, but thank you so much for reading and commenting, it really does make me so happy to know people are out there and enjoying my work!