Chapter 121

"You said you wanted an immediate report if Campbell told me to get Freddie's address from Chapman."

Tommy nodded, moving himself surreptitiously forward, putting Rosie behind him.

"Well, here I am - reporting," Moss said, his voice strange, half snorting out the word reporting in a way that seemed emotionally charged.

Tommy nodded to himself. He wasn't surprised that the man had changed his mind, gone after the information.

You have my word.

That was what Campbell had said. Evidently, as suspected, the man's word was worthless.

"I've got it on good authority that he won't be able to get it from Chapman - supposedly none of the communists know each other's addresses specifically so they can't give one another up."

"That might have been nice to know a few hours ago."

Tommy raised a questioning eyebrow.

"He's dead," Moss said, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment, making lines appear, then opening them again to say, "I told you Campbell had me torturing him?"

Tommy nodded curtly.

Moss gave a great puff of breath before saying, "I told him I wanted to stop and he told me to carry on. So I did. Because what else could I do? I couldn't disobey a direct order. But Chapman - he - he - right in front of my fucking eyes - he had some kind of seizure."

"And did he give you any information before he did?"

The man glared.

"Are you alright?" Rosie asked, side stepping Tommy to meet Moss' eye, her voice soft.

"You keep quiet," Tommy snapped instinctively, his own voice a biting contrast to hers.

"Tommy, he's just watched a man die."

"He's led plenty to the noose before now," he retorted dismissively, "And I said keep quiet - in fact, get in the house."

"Tommy -" Rosie started to protest, and he gave her one of his filthiest looks, but Moss spoke before either of them did.

"There's a difference between a man standing trial and facing sentence - and - and - as humanely carried out a sentence as that can be if it is the noose - and - and - and dying the way - the way he did," Moss spluttered, half choking, his words tumbling out faster than he could seem to manage, tripping over them as he went on, "This isn't - I told him - I told him - this isn't bloody Belfast! We don't do things like that here! We don't - we don't murder people!"

"And how's he intending to explain it to the people he takes his orders from?"

Moss scoffed, "To say Chapman fell down the stairs."

"The stairs?" Rosie repeated, her face scrunching in disbelief and confusion.

She looked like she might be about to step forward, to go towards Moss, so Tommy took a grip of her upper arm, pinching it hard. Hadn't he just told her to get in the fucking house? How was he supposed to protect her when she wouldn't obey simple orders?

"The stairs," Moss nodded, "He says if men like Chapman get their way, this place will soon be just like Belfast. So throw him down the fucking stairs and call a coroner. Grayson - and if he has any awkward questions about why a body that fell down the stairs is in the state Chapman's is, to ask how his mistress in Saltley is doing."

Grayson. Mistress in Saltley. Good to know.

"I didn't sign up for this."

"Yet here you are," Tommy replied, his tone blank, "So - before he died - did Chapman give you any information?"

Moss glared, then wiped his hand over his face and shook his head.

So Freddie had been telling the truth. Communists didn't share information with one another - for this exact reason. Also good to know.

Tommy went into his pocket and fished out a note, but Moss shook his head, "I don't want your money. Not for this. I just… Do you remember when he first arrived? I told you what he said - about you and the IRA and the communists being a three headed beast he would decapitate?"

Tommy nodded. Back when Moss had been pissed off about all the Irishmen Campbell had brought over with him and had sworn in on the force.

"He said then that any of us who had taken your bribes had soiled our uniforms. Called us corrupt. But at least all you do is ask me for information. I've never killed anyone for you. Christ, I don't even need to pretend not to know what I know about you because when it comes to it - no one would speak up in a court against you, because you've got everyone around here under your thumb. There's never any witnesses to allow for any kind of prosecution."

Tommy wasn't entirely sure if it was supposed to be a compliment or an insult.

"But if I've soiled my uniform for you by passing information, I've doused it in petrol and set it alight for him."

Moss could always have been bought, Tommy had always known that - and known a man with a price could be outbid on. Useful but never trustworthy. What Campbell had done - he had just ensured that when it was a choice between them now, Moss would be Tommy's every time.

He wasn't deluded enough to believe that in time, when it wasn't so fresh in his mind, Moss would go back to being contrary at times. And when Campbell went, if someone else came in, the newcomer would be on a fresh slate and Tommy would have to go back to paying for everything, paying for the loyalty he'd get handed now thanks to Campbell's mistake.

But for as long as it lasted, he was grateful for it.

Not that he'd show it obviously.

"Right, well - if that's everything?"

Moss nodded.

"Fuck off then."

Tommy waited, his body staying in place, his hand still gripping Rosie's arm, only his head turning slightly, his eyes watching Moss slump off, dejection and despair so evident in every step that the man might as well be holding a sign detailing his doings.

Once the officer had disappeared, Tommy swivelled his eyes back to glare at Rosie.

"Would you look at that, eh? The police officer knows how to take orders."

"Tommy," she sighed, as if bored of him, rolling her eyes.

"I told you to get in the fucking house," he hissed, enraged at her attitude.

"I know but-"

"No," he snapped over her, "No fucking buts. It's not a fucking joke. You can have your fucking politics, but you'll fucking obey direct orders like everyone else or so help you God, my girl."

She had the sense at least to look a little contrite at his words. Not contrite enough though.

He swung her around by the grip on her arm, then released it to take a grip on the back of her collar instead, moving her with it, telling her, "And right now we'll go back into the house together and you'll be wishing soon enough you'd gone back in on your own when you were first told."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was a more gentle hand he offered her the next day as he helped her into the passenger seat of the car.

"How was it?"

She nodded, smiling, her eyes lit up and glowing, "Good, how was your time?"

"Fine," he said, standing back and shutting the door, making his way around and getting in the driver's side, starting it up.

Rosie smiled and waved at Queen Mary Lee, who had walked her back to him as always, waiting until he'd pulled them around and out before she said, "Fine doesn't sound very committed."

He shrugged, smiling over at her, enjoying the way she was, the way she seemed slightly exhilarated after spending time at the camp, "We just sit around, smoke and eat. It's less of a peace and more of a truce amongst us. They're waiting until things are official before they relax around me - or let me relax around them."

"Did Aneira come out to see you again? She disappeared for a while."

Tommy's smile widened a little at the memory of the kid. The first time she'd appeared, when he'd told her Rosie was a dragon, Rez had tried his best to send her off, keep her away from him. He still grumbled at her for not staying with the women when she appeared, but he was more bark than bite it seemed as the girl came every time.

She didn't say much, just tended to stare for a long time before gasping out a question about dragons, having seemed to decide Tommy was quite the authority, then she'd race off as soon as she had her answer. But nevertheless, he enjoyed waiting to see what she'd ask him next.

"She wanted to know if you can breathe fire."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said of course you did, but only when you're really angry."

"For goodness sake, Tommy, I keep trying to tell her you meant it metaphorically when you told her I was a bloody dragon and she's convinced I'm the one fibbing to her," Rosie said, shifting and putting her hands underneath her on the seat.

"Ah, s'more fun to let her believe you're a real dragon."

"You're a great child at times Thomas Shelby - I'll wager that's why you like children so bloody much."

Tommy snorted, "I like our kids specifically, not all kids at random."

Rosie snorted in return, not buying it.

He let her settle - or settle as comfortably as she could - before, working to keep the mischief out of his voice, he asked the question he'd been wondering about probably as much as Aneira had been wanting to ask hers.

"So - were you riding today?"

The faux casualness of his tone made her roll her eyes before she said, "I wish I'd kept my mouth shut on that front."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you'd be asking me about it the first time we were back here since Saturday."

"It's a simple question."

"Yes - I was."

"And how's your arse?"

"Fine," she snapped, giving him a cold look.

"Fine doesn't sound too committed," he parroted her own words back to her.

She glowered, tossed her head and stuck her nose in the air, "Perfectly fine thank you."

He chuckled to himself. No, of course she wouldn't let her pride be damaged by admitting that her backside must still be tender from the night before - and probably made worse by time spent on a horse.

"Speaking of riding - what are your thoughts on Lily riding this weekend?"

Rosie sighed, "I'm not against her riding again - she made her own mess on Saturday with the horse and not doing as she was told - I don't hold it against Porridge…"

"But?" Tommy vocalised her unsaid word.

"I just think maybe letting her stew in it a few weeks might do her the world of good in terms of making sure she takes it seriously going forward - knowing it's not a joke when she's told to listen to instructions, especially around animals."

"You're a cruel queen, my love. Ice in your veins."

"How can I have ice in my veins and still breathe fire?"

"Dragon magic?"

She shook her head and tutted at him and he reached over to squeeze her knee for a second before returning his hands to the wheel. He saw her watching him from the corner of his eye, but kept his mostly focussed on the road, waiting for her to speak.

"What do you think? Do you really think I'm being cruel?" she eventually asked, worry edged into her tone.

He was still pleased to be asked his input even a year on, still finding it novel, basking in it like a cat who'd found a warm sunspot.

"You know my way - I reckon she's had her spanking and it's done with," he said carefully, glancing off the road to watch doubt cloud over Rosie's face before moving his eyes forward again and adding, "Though in terms of consequences - I'll not be taking the two of them back together again - ever. So I suppose really for all I'm saying it's done with as far as I'm concerned, it's not really if I'm not going to create the environment again to ever allow for a repeat. So I suppose a week or so might really make it sink in."

"Are we being too strict?" Rosie asked, shifting in her seat, "I want her to learn her lesson but I don't want to come down overly harshly on her."

"That child doesn't know the meaning of strict, have you seen the looks she's happy to give you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over at her again.

She tutted at him again, her voice amused as she said, "She needs to be able to express herself."

"And she does. Frequently."

Rosie giggled and he couldn't help but laugh a little with her.

"So - no riding?"

"No riding," she agreed, nodding.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You said no riding," he reminded her in response to her question about what they were doing at Charlie's yard as he pulled up at its gates.

"Yes - but I don't see what that has to do with us being here? I thought we were going home?"

"Horse needs exercised," Tommy shrugged, coming around to open her door and help her down, suppressing his smile as she did so a little stiffly, shaking her legs out and wiggling her hips a bit.

No, he didn't imagine the horse ride nor the car ride to the camp and back today would have been very welcome - but if she was going to insist on proclaiming she was perfectly fine, he'd act like she was. Teach her to have some humility, for him even if for no one else.

She nodded her head vaguely, looking around her before, presumably having assessed that no one was watching her, moving her hand to her backside and giving it a firm rub.

She seemed glad to stay on her feet as they greeted his Uncle and Curly, Tommy taking the chance to check in about deliveries and collections he had arranged to stock the Garrison with, plus a certain shipment of parts he had had taken from the BSA that he wanted sending to a buyer in Manchester.

"Went over to see the little one today - says she's been off school all week with her nose," Charlie said, once they were done with the business talk.

"Her nose is fine, it's her eyes - they were all bruised at the start of the week," Tommy explained, "Look like they're just about back to normal now but Rosie didn't want to risk sending her in and attracting attention."

"Doesn't seem very happy to be being kept home - Katie and the boys would be glad of an excuse not to go," Charlie snorted.

"She's been fine with me all week," Tommy frowned.

"She's been understimulated all week because you've just been letting her draw," Rosie said tartly.

Tommy rolled his eyes and fought the urge to smack her on her pretty, tender arse.

"Well she had work in front of her today," Charlie said.

"I made up some sheets for her on Tommy's typewriter before we went out today," Rosie nodded, "Try and get her using her brain a bit."

Tommy had been quietly amused at her as she'd clattered away that morning (standing) at his desk, making up sheets with missing words in sentences to be filled in, sums, words she wanted Lily to practise writing, and questions based on the first chapter of Lily's Pollyanna book - with the idea being she'd need to read it first to be able to answer them.

Uncle Charlie was less quiet in his amusement.

"Don't think she wanted to be," he laughed, "Using her brain, I mean. And from what I know of our Pol, that bab's dancing dangerously close to the edge of her patience."

"Oh don't say we're going home to a situation," Rosie groaned, shaking her head, "I told her to behave herself while we were away. She had a meltdown about us leaving this morning, but I put it down to her not using up her excess energy this week - having too much of it left and no outlet for it. I was hoping keeping her occupied would burn some of it off - mentally if not physically."

It had been quite the meltdown - Lily had clung firstly to him, then to Rosie, crying and begging for them not to go. Rosie had been incredibly patient, taking the baby to her and rocking her, kissing her forehead and promising that they wouldn't be gone too long - that if she just got on with the worksheets the time would fly by and it would seem they'd come back in the blink of an eye.

Tommy had a slight suspicion the meltdown was less about missing them and more that Lily knew being left under Pol's watchful eye would mean having to sit and do the worksheets, not being left to draw her day away as he had been guilty of letting her do thus far that week. But given, if he was right, that he was the one who might have created the situation in the first place by letting her please herself whilst Rosie had been at work, he didn't think he had much of a leg to stand on to chide her for her behaviour - so he had kept quiet for the most part other than to kiss her head and say, "Now do as your sister says and be a good girl for Aunt Polly, eh?" before he'd gone out to bring the car around.

Charlie scratched the back of his head and shuffled his feet, which he suddenly seemed to be finding a little more interesting than he had a minute ago as he said, "Ah well - I'd gone by just after lunch - maybe the break had just unsettled her and she'll have gotten back to it, eh? I mean you're asking a lot of a baby to sit in that kitchen with all the shop kerfuffle and concentrate on her work, eh?"

Tommy snorted - knowing fine well if his Mother had told any of them to sit in the kitchen and concentrate on something, Uncle Charlie would have been the first one to clip them round the ear if they hadn't done it.

"I might have thought - given she's in that kitchen instead of at school as the result of the trouble she found herself in on Saturday - that she might have wanted to put in that extra effort not to get herself into any more trouble."

"Ah now Rosie lass, don't be too hard on her, she's only little."

"You're going soft Uncle Charlie," Tommy smirked, putting his arm on Rosie's waist, "You're getting soft and she's getting tougher. She's not letting Lily come riding this weekend - that's why we stopped by, figured I'd better get poor Porridge out and let him have a bit of a ride, not keep him cooped up."

"He gets walked every day," his uncle replied, confused - knowing Tommy would know that fine well.

"Ah but he's needing to get used to humans on him, eh?" Tommy returned, "Can't have him kicking off like he did on Saturday. Just needs to get used to it."

"Suit yourself," Charlie shrugged, still looking confused, but standing back for Tommy to lead Rosie off in the direction of the stable.

"Maybe we shouldn't have left her today," Rosie said, chewing her lip, "With her being in the mood she was this morning, I should have stayed with her."

"No you shouldn't have," Tommy said, tutting at the idea, "What you're doing with the Lees is important."

They had discussed the idea of taking Lily with them, but had come to the conclusion that it was too much of a risk - that she was too likely to open her mouth about where she'd been and for that to raise questions about why. Plus, in Rosie's mind anyway, the baby'd be better off doing something that worked her brain that day instead of gadding about. And there was a reason that discussion had been about the possibility of Lily coming with them and not about either of them waiting behind. Hell, if anyone was the party who could be left behind it was him, but she needed him to drive her.

"I think Esme will be fine now," Rosie said, still preoccupied with her thoughts as he swung open the stable door and went in, taking Prorridge's face in his hands to say hello and cast an eye over the beast.

Curly and Charlie did a good job, he knew that - Curly was the best horseman in England, in his opinion - but having a look with his own eyes gave him peace of mind. Lily's heartbreak over the first horse still lingered in his memory and he liked to make sure nothing was ever cropping up without him personally noticing it.

It seemed Esme was a good teacher because Rosie followed him inside without any hesitation, coming to stand at his side and reaching out to pat Porridge's neck almost absentmindedly - a stark contrast to the way she'd used to hang back at the yard when he'd first brought her and Lily to see Monaghan Boy.

"I think I've already convinced her that John's a good man for her to marry. So really I'm not doing much other than just making friends really," she went on, her train of thought not interrupted by the animal, the way it once might have been.

"And those friendships might save us from a mighty war breaking out if John doesn't go along with it when the time comes."

"Didn't think John was getting a choice," she retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh he'll have a choice," Tommy returned - though in truth he was hoping John took the marriage as an instruction rather than an offering, "Now - whilst you're cultivating these friendships of yours through riding - what saddle is it you're using?"

"I'm not using a saddle," she replied, looking a little confused before narrowing her eyes and asking, "Why?"

"You're learning to ride bareback?" he asked, taken slightly aback.

"Without a saddle, yes. Esme says that's the best way, makes you most connected to the horse."

Well, this he needed to see.

He kept his face impassive, nodded, and said, "Alright then. Bridle and reins only."

He turned to go down to the tack room, ignoring her as she said, her voice becoming ever increasingly more strangled as she hurried after him, "Tommy - what are you at? Tommy? Tommy! Thomas! Thomas Michael Shelby, if you're even thinking what I think you're thinking is going to be happening here you've got another think coming - and no cake for - for a month!"

He couldn't keep the smile off his face at her agitation, as adorable as it always was when she lost her composure, and something was stirring in his lower abdomen at the hint of panic in her tone, and the way she tried to overcompensate for it with her threats. Something that would travel further south soon enough.

Still, he schooled his features and turned abruptly, so she almost smacked right into him with the way she'd been scurrying after him, trying to keep up.

"What I'm thinking is that the horse is needing exercised and you can take the opportunity to show me some of that riding you've been learning about."

"Oh I imagined that was what you were thinking," Rosie returned, cocking her head and looking scornful, "And you can just have another think and come to a different conclusion!"

"Why?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I said so!"

"Oh, cause you said so," he repeated, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her head back a little, so she had to look up to him, feeling her swallow under his fingers, "Cause you said so little one, and why would you be saying so? Hmm? What's your objection?"

"I've - I've already been riding today… Tommy, I'm - I'm tired," she half stammered, taking a step back.

But he saw her breathing hitch and her pupils dilate and he knew her insides were responding to him, even if her words and that little step claimed otherwise.

He took a step forward, closing the distance, pressing his body against hers, "Tired is it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

The word might have been whispered, and he might have felt that swallow under his fingers, but there was defiance and determination in the word - and in her amber eyes, wide as they were.

He released his grip on her, slid his hand more softly along her jawline, cupping the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek, lulling her into a false sense of security until she dropped her eyes - at which point he moved his thumb, stabbing it under her chin, forcing her head up.

"Look at me," he growled, waiting until she'd raised her eyes to say, "You're tired. And because you said so, is it? What I'm hearing here, my darling girl, is that I didn't do a thorough enough job of reminding you which one of us is in charge around here last night. So I can do a more thorough job now and then you can ride or you can get on the horse without a tantrum."

Her eyes darted, panic stricken, over his face.

"Unless of course," he continued, musing, "It could possibly be that between the job I did last night and you having had to ride this morning to save face that your arse isn't, as you claimed earlier, perfectly fine, hmm?"

Annoyance flitted over her face, even as he held it forced back to please him, and he felt her jaw tense before she insisted, "No."

"No?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smirk.

"No."

He released her face, turning on his heel to hide his smile and crossed to lift a bridle and reins from the wall, feeling her eyes boring holes into his back as he did so. Even now, if she'd give in, admit she was sore, if she'd plead prettily with him not to make her do it - he'd have let her off the hook. Taken her in his arms and kissed her and soothed her and rubbed that pretty arse. But of course she wasn't going to do that. He knew her too well to think she'd do that. And he wanted to take her in his arms all the more for her damned pride, the foolish, stubborn little wench that she was.

"Come on then," he said, striding by her with his features rearranged to their usual blank countenance, the bridle in his hand, "The horse needs exercised and we need to get home before Lily and Aunt Pol come to blows it sounds like - quicker we get on with it, quicker we'll be home."

He wasn't really concerned about Lily or Pol if he was honest - Lily would learn the consequences of pushing Pol too far sooner or later and Pol was quite capable of handling it - but he knew it might hurry Rosie up a little.

"Why can't you ride him?" she demanded, evidently having decided to change tack, "If he's needing exercised - why does it need to be me who does it when I've already ridden today and I'm tired? Why can't you do it?"

"Cause I want to see you ride so I can decide if I want Katie to be learning from Esme or not," he told her, not bothering to look back at her as he fitted the bridle and set about clipping on the reins, "It was your idea, you know, to say she could teach her."

"There's plenty of time yet, it's not as if you've set a date - we're hardly on a last minute countdown Tommy! I can show you my riding some other time!"

"Look here," he said, straightening up and eyeing her flintily - a countenance he was struggling to maintain under her verbal squirming -, "Either you get on that horse or you can give me the truth about why you don't want to get on the horse."

"I told you, I'm tired," she glared back at him.

"And if you think I'll believe that that's the truth, you're not as smart as I give you credit for."

They stared heatedly at one another before, her mouth moving for a few moments before any sound exited it, Rosie eventually snapped, "You're a great bullying brute, Thomas Shelby."

"Maybe so," he grinned, going by her to go grab a crate for her to stand on, coming back with it in one hand, kissing her forehead and sniggering to himself at her fizzling face as he told her, "But I'm a bullying brute who has given you a fairly simple choice." He put the crate down at Porridge's side, "Be a good girl and get on the horse - tell me the truth about why you don't want to get on the horse - or keep throwing a tantrum about it and find yourself over my knee here and now before you get on the horse."

She glared at him, her mouth moving with no sound exiting, then tossed her head, stamped forward and got onto the crate. She wore a skirt and despite his years and experience, that feeling Tommy had had in his stomach listening to her squealing plummeted south at a faster rate than he'd bargained for as she hitched it up with one hand, twisting its lengths and tucking it into her waistband at the front - not indecently, exactly, but exposing a hell of a lot more leg than he was used to seeing outside of a whorehouse or a bedroom.

She twisted the reins taut in one hand before, in a far more fluid movement than he'd been expecting, she grabbed the mane in the other, threw a leg up and over and managed to mount the horse. He'd envisioned getting a good smack at her arse as she'd wriggled up, but she was too quick for him, though he did get to smirk a little as she pulled her skirt free at the front, then set about folding it up on itself under her at the back - offering her the smallest of cushions against Porridge.

The smirk disappeared a second later when, as soon as she was done with her folding, she clicked her heels into Porridge and the two of them set out at a brisk pace, with not a care for him, left standing in the stable and watching. He watched for a second, mouth hanging slightly open, at her retreating back, then came to himself and followed her out of the stable.

He had expected to be doing something similar to what he did with Lily - her walking up and down the yard, him walking at the front, ready to grab the bridle if need be. But no, she had paraded up to one end of the yard already and turned Porridge round as he watched before clomping back down, coming towards him, an imperious Boudica astride a not so imperiously named steed.

He had been intrigued by the idea of her on a horse, of course he had. But something about seeing her elevated so high above him, looking down at him as she was, her eyebrows raised, her hair even wilder than usual and that defiance dripping from every inch of her - God she was beguiling.

She came back to where he was watching from and gave a tug on the reins to bring Porridge to a halt, then regarded him coolly.

Not five minutes before, she had been before him, him forcing her chin up to make her meet his eye. But now he was the one tilting his head back to look at her, and she moved him to do so without even needing to lift a finger.

"How long does this horse need exercised for exactly?" she asked, jutting her chin further up, making her looking down seem even more excessive.

His heart thudded in response.

He stared at her in silence for a second, then copied her earlier movement, swinging himself up onto the horse behind her, making her lose that iciness for a second as she shrieked, "What are you doing?"

"The horse needs exercising for as long as I say," he growled, taking hold of her waist and kissing her neck, pleased when she extended it for him, then turned her face to his, offering him her mouth.

He pressed against her back, moved his hands to cover hers on the reigns and dug his heels in, setting Porridge off, guiding them out of Charlie's yard altogether, past the parked car and out of Small Heath.

Thank you as always for reading along!