Thank you for your patience whilst I was on holiday - and thank you for coming back after my two weeks off (I say this desperately hoping there will be people who come back to keep reading lol!)

As always, you don't need to read any of my other stories to follow this one, but if you're reading Knick Knack Paddy Whack I put up Chapter 4 of that this morning and would advise reading that before you read this if you're doing both.

Chapter 94

"So, what happened when you left last night?" Polly demanded of John as soon as he walked in the back door of number six the next morning.

John sighed and chewed on his toothpick before muttering, "I've sorted it."

"You've sorted what?" Tommy asked, looking between his aunt and brother, frowning.

"George did a runner last night," Polly answered before John could.

Tommy glared at John, his blood boiling even though it wasn't yet eight o'clock in the fucking morning. How, in holy fuck, when he'd watched his brother escort him into his own bloody house had the kid managed to run? And what the fuck was with this fucking running anyway? John was too bloody lax with them, that was fucking what. It was too fucking early for this shit.

"Do you want toast John?" Rosie asked – obviously seeing the looks on both their faces and deciding to try and get in the middle of them.

"Nah," John said, dragging his eyes slowly away from Tommy, "You're alright."

Tommy's frown deepened and he narrowed his eyes. If there was one thing that could always be counted upon, it was John's stomach.

"What in fuc-" he started to ask, but John cut across him, lifting his hand up at him like a fucking police man trying to stop him in the street, "Leave it Tommy, yeah? Later, alright? I've fucking sorted it so just let me get through the fucking day alright?"

His brother pulled his hat down low and pushed through the double doors into the shop.

"What the fuck?" Tommy growled, turning to Polly and stabbing his finger in the direction his brother had just gone in, "Does he think I've got the fucking time to deal with him having a fucking tantrum? Like there's not enough fucking kids in this family and he wants to act like that? Does he think I haven't got enough on?"

"Oh for God's sake Thomas," his aunt snapped, smashing her teacup back down on its saucer and standing up, "He's said later. You expect everyone to wait until you're ready to tell us what's going on, you can just wait for him for once."

She swept imperiously from the kitchen, following John through the double doors.

He glared after them .

Rosie quietly placed a plate of fresh toast in front of him and kissed his forehead, "Last night was a big night for everyone, eh? Do you want some bacon done?"

He looked up at where she stood by his chair, where she always stood after she'd served him, as if waiting for his approval.

Well, at least someone did.

He wrapped an arm around her hips and squeezed, "I'm alright for bacon love. What I wouldn't mind is that pretty arse of yours being on my lap."

He pulled her down and she grinned and kissed him full on the mouth before smirking at him, "I'm glad I can give you what you want so easily," and giving a little wriggle of her arse for good measure.

"Can you make the rest of them disappear, eh?"

"I mean, you do keep a gun for me in the drawer of your desk Tommy so I could make them disappear, but I'm not convinced you'd actually thank me for it in the long run. Plus, you know, lot of work involved in clearing up that many bodies I'd have thought, eh?"

In that moment he could quite happily imagine himself building a pyre in Charlie's yard, sticking them all on and scattering the ashes in The Cut, but he didn't say so, instead busied his mouth with returning the kisses she was landing on his, keeping fairly silent.

He knew she'd have been slightly concerned over his short exchange with John, but since he'd confirmed to her that her actions the night before had been very, very good (and really, that was underselling them) she'd seemed incredibly pleased with herself. She'd kissed what seemed like every inch of his face and neck after he'd cleaned himself up the previous evening and he'd happily lain on the sofa, his hand stroking through her hair, enjoying being worshipped so. There had been more kisses this morning, from the minute he'd arrived in the kitchen until his aunt had arrived – and now it seemed she'd simply been waiting for them to be left alone to return to them. It was quite bizarre to him, that she was so pleased to have pleasured him. Not, he supposed, that he'd had what could be called the healthiest of experiences.

There had been his first fumblings under the skirts of the neighbourhood girls round the back of the outhouse and down the banks of the cut – the girls had seemed to grit their teeth and endure it more than anything, for all it had brought him a sense of satisfaction, and they had certainly been in no hurry to repay the favours he bestowed on them.

His first time it had gone beyond that had been at the fayre. Mercy Fitzgerald. An ironic name cause she'd sure as shit shown him none. He'd gotten her up against a tree after the gadzes had left for the day, there was no more money to be made and the adults had all gotten too drunk to come looking for them. She'd spread her legs quite happily for him, then just about died laughing when he couldn't get it in her right, the dim light in the clearing and his blind fumblings under the skirts of the Small Heath girls not having given him much to go on.

"Fucks sake, thought you Shelbys were supposed to be something special," she'd sniggered at him.

He'd been angry and embarrassed, a bad combination, but since his trousers had been at his ankles she'd managed to shove him to the ground without too much trouble. And because he was a teenage boy, despite his anger and resentment, he'd still been hard, so she'd climbed on and ridden him whilst he lay under her. He hadn't enjoyed it exactly, but he'd watched quite fascinated as the girl – or woman really, she'd been in her twenties – had taken her pleasure from him, her hand rubbing at her clit as she bounced on him.

Then, before he'd finished himself, she got up off him and said, "If my husband finds out about this he'll fucking kill you, and me too probably, so you keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you," and wandered off.

He'd finished himself off, seemed a waste not to when he was so close, then gone back to the camp and found out she was married to fucking Barry Fitzgerald whose sister had gone and married the fucking headcase Aberama Gold. He'd done as she'd told him and kept his mouth shut – hadn't even told Arthur or Johnny Dogs where he'd been or who he'd been with.

Then there had been Greta, of course. He'd learnt more about the female body with her, meeting her down at their spot. She'd wait for hours for him, when he was starting to get caught up in Peaky business properly and couldn't make it to their arranged meeting, same as he'd wait for her when her family kept her in. He hadn't just fumbled under her skirts, he'd lifted them and had a good look, spent time playing with her openings and her clit, studying her with a critical eye, determined to make it good for her, timing how long it took, what combinations of touches worked the best and the quickest, questioning her about what gave her the best pleasure and the longest.

But he'd never wanted to run the risk of getting her pregnant. Her parents hadn't approved of him at first and it'd been hard work on his part to win them over. Even when he'd taken her to Blackpool he'd taken Arthur and her sister Kitty too, just so he could reassure her parents he had no ill intentions towards her and they'd slept separately. Arthur had been fuming.

After Greta had died – whores. Lizzie, mostly, at home. In truth, she'd looked a bit like Greta and he'd found himself searching for something in her at first. After he'd accepted he wouldn't find what he was searching her in her he'd kept seeing her out of habit.

Abroad – it was anyone you could get. Ideally one who hadn't slept with your entire fucking unit, but you'd take what was on offer, even if it did come with every single one of you getting the clap. He reckoned the bloody army doctors had probably, case for case, treated more soldiers for the fucking clap than for anything fucking else that had happened during the war.

The point was, none of his sexual conquests had cared much for his pleasure, the way Rosie apparently seemed to. They took it – and he had taken it too – that he was ensuring he was taking care of his own needs, whether it was by his hand when he wasn't paying for it or by their bodies when he was. Rosie on the other hand seemed delighted that she'd given him an orgasm. It was new to him, a woman caring that much, and somehow incredibly sweet and endearing as well as being one of the most arousing things he'd ever encountered, to see her so overjoyed as a result of his pleasure.

Rosie slid off his lap when the door opened and Finn came wandering in, still in his pyjamas.

"Breakfast going?" his brother asked, blinking sleepily at the redhead.

"I'll put some toast on the fork for you," she replied, reaching for the bread.

"Got any bacon?"

"Alright lord of the bloody manor," Tommy rumbled, reaching out to cuff his brother around the ear, "Coming down here and making your bloody demands. Rose, you give him a good whack with a wooden spoon if he starts asking for too much."

Rosie shook her head and smiled at him, already reaching for the bacon.

"I don't suppose you'd want some now, if I'm doing it anyway?" she asked, knowing fine well-

"Aye, well, if you're doing it anyway," he nodded.

The bacon sizzled, the smell and the sound of it filling the kitchen. If the smell of bacon didn't bring John back in, his brother was beyond help.

"Did you do your job well last night?" he asked Finn, rolling a cigarette over his lips and lighting it, half an eye on his brother and half an eye on Rosie's arse as she took care of the pan.

Finn screwed up his face a little as he thought on his answer before saying, "I think so. She seemed alright really, said Katie had already told her a spanking was just the cost of having fun sometimes."

The boy broke off as Tommy choked and coughed on his cigarette smoke, "Just the fucking cost of having fun?" he demanded, beating his fist on his chest.

That was exactly the sort of thing he expected his niece to come out with – and God he'd be having words with her about it!

"Yeah," Finn nodded, looking a bit nervous, "She was mostly just worried you'd be angry with her. But I told her once she'd had her spanking everyone moved on, same as always."

Tommy inhaled deeply and shook his head. These kids would be the bloody death of him.

"What are you saying, Finn?" Rosie asked, coming over to put Finn's toast to him, pushing the butter dish and knife across the table to him too.

"He's just confirming all my theories about how we get ourselves worked up about those bloody kids and how it's all just water off a duck's fucking back to them," Tommy replied on his brother's behalf, rolling his eyes.

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

He couldn't be bloody bothered with John's theatrics, so he made a point of going to The Garrison and looking through the books there that morning before returning to Watery Lane just after ten and settling himself in the kitchen, where Rosie was darning what looked to him like Arthur's shirt.

He shook the paper open and nodded yes to her offer of a cup of tea and a biscuit, sitting himself down with his back to the doors of the shop and hoping John stayed through them. Not even bacon had enticed his brother into his company that morning.

He tensed as he heard them open, but the soft pad of the footsteps that came through were not any of his brothers', nor his aunt's.

"Good morning," he greeted the little miscreant, glancing over his shoulder as she shut the door behind her like she knew she was supposed to when the shop was open, taking in that she was still in her nightdress, "Having a lie in were we?"

She looked at him with very large eyes and her fingers moved towards her mouth.

"C'mere," he said, putting his paper down and reaching out a hand to her.

She came the few steps to him and he pulled her up on his knee.

"You look awful worried," he commented.

She looked back at him in silence.

"Cat got your tongue?"

She shook her head.

"I was worried about you last night – didn't know where you'd got to. But you got your spanking, didn't you?"

She nodded, still regarding him slightly too cautiously for his liking, as if she thought it was a trick of some sort he was playing on her.

"Well once that's done that's it done with, you know that. So unless something else has happened there's no need for those big eyes and that pursed little mouth of yours, eh?"

She smiled a little and relaxed onto him, "Does that mean I can go out and play?"

"No," Rosie answered before he could, looking up from her needlework, "It means you can get ready, have your breakfast and then we can go to the washhouse."

The child sighed and looked up at him, a silent pleading in her eyes.

"Oh I think you'd better just take your medicine on this one my little love," he said, pressing a kiss down on her, "You got your spanking same as the rest of them for the wandering. I believe this is so you can help clean the mess you made, eh?"

She nodded glumly.

There was a clicking as the back door was pushed open and, like they were telepathically linked and she had known that Lily was up and about – Katie appeared in the kitchen.

"Oh it's you is it?" he said, "I want a word with you."

She gave him the same cautious look Lily had done and he slid the child off his lap to stand by his chair and indicated the spot next to her for his niece.

"Aunt Pol give you a good reddening last night did she?"

Katie nodded and her chest seemed to swell a little, as if with pride, when she said, "And she used her hairbrush!"

"How was that then?" he asked, frowning deeply to try and hide his amusement.

"Awful Uncle Tommy!" she told him, nodding vigorously, "I'm still sore this morning."

He paused for a moment, and, since he was wishing he had a cigarette to cover his slight confusion as the way she was acting, decided to light one, rolling it over his lips and narrowing his eyes at the pair of them before taking his time taking a long inhale.

"Keen to avoid it in the future are you?"

"Uhuh."

"Good. Cause what's this I'm hearing that a spanking is just the cost of having fun according to you? Hearing that makes me think you've been getting off a little too easily around here Katie Shelby."

Her face went very red and her mouth moved a little, as if she was trying to think of what to say, and then her eyes slid slightly accusingly to Lily.

"No," he shook his head, exhaling smoke, "Didn't hear it from that one – heard it from Finn."

He figured Finn was old enough to handle Katie's indignance.

"Paul Clayton might be bloody right," Katie muttered.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"Nothing Uncle Tommy."

"Uhuh," he replied, rolling his eyes, "Well just the two of you bear in mind I'll give you a spanking that'll turn your bare behinds purple nevermind red if I catch you out of this lane again – and that's a cost you can't afford, you hear me?"

Lily looked like she might cry, but Katie simply nodded – though thankfully a touch more meekly than she had done when telling him about the hairbrush.

"Right, glad we got that sorted," he said, clearing his throat loudly sticking his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and picking up the paper, rustling through the pages, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or not.

There was a few seconds of silence, during which he fancied he could feel the eyes of the three females in the room on him, even through the pages of the paper he was determinedly holding in front of his face, before Katie broke it.

"You coming out?"

"No she's not, she'd coming to the wash house with me to fix the mess she made of her good dress last night."

"Rosie!" Katie protested passionately, "That's not fair! We all got a bit dirty and everyone got their spanking – you did get a spanking too, didn't you?"

He bit his cigarette to keep from laughing, he could just see his niece's face as she made her case, then broke off mid way to check Lily had gotten the same as the rest of them.

"See! You can't take her away today as well!"

"Oh can't I little miss?" Rosie replied, sounding like she was stifling amusement in her own voice, "I think you'll find I absolutely can and I will. But you're quite right about one thing Katie – you did all get yourselves dirty, so why don't you run along and get the dress you had on last night and you can come with us, hmm?"

There was another little silence before Katie, her voice slightly strained and suddenly strangely polite, the same voice she used on the rare occasion she was Yes Uncle Tommy-ing him because she didn't want to get herself into trouble, said, "No thank you."

He was about to speak through his cigarette, but Rosie got there first, her own voice quite bright as she said, "Oh Katie love, it wasn't actually a question."

"But… But…!"

"But nothing, you weren't as bad as she was but you still had coal and mud and God knows what else on you, so go find your dress and bring it and yourself back here and by that time Lily will be ready too. Have you had breakfast?"

"N-no," Katie stammered out, sounding like she wasn't hugely sure how she'd ended up having the conversation she was.

"Right, well, I'll get breakfast ready, Lily will get herself ready and you'll get your dress and we'll all be back here in five minutes, alright? And Katie – if I have to come find you, you'll regret it, you hear?"

He gripped the paper tightly to try and quieten the sounds it might make if he shook it, such was the silent laughter that was coursing through him.

"Rosie – I don't want to!" Katie spluttered.

"I don't much care," Rosie replied.

"It's not fair!" his niece wailed, suddenly sounding far more upset about the idea of going to the wash house than she had done about finding herself on the receiving end of Pol's hairbrush.

"What was it I told you last night when you said the same thing Lily?" Rosie asked.

He could hear the eyebrow raise in her voice.

"We gennyated the work so we have to help do it," Lily parroted gloomily.

"Generated," Rosie corrected, "Which means you created it, by getting dirty in the first place. So go get your dress and stop arguing."

There were some stamping footsteps and then the door banged.

He grinned widely behind the paper - she'd handle his children alright, he reckoned, seeing what quick work she'd made of Katie!

"And you – upstairs and get yourself ready," Rosie turned on the remaining child.

In contrast to the other one, the footsteps that followed that command were soft as they made their way back through the green doors.

Once he heard them shut he put the paper down and looked at her, tears practically in his eyes.

"What?" she asked, smiling at him.

He stubbed out his cigarette, stood up and went to her, pulling her close to him via his hands on her arse and kissed her.

"Quite fucking impressive Miss Jackson," he told her, once they broke apart.

"Thank you, Mr Shelby," she grinned up at him.

"Pick that up from your library books, eh?"

"No, that I came up with on my own actually."

"You and your research. Might have to check out that library one day," he said, pressing against her, "Research into kids. Research into what you pulled on me last night. Didn't think libraries held with that kind of thing outside of the medical books, eh? Might go see what I can pick up."

She raised an eyebrow, looking like she might be about to laugh, "You think I got that from a library book?"

He frowned, "Where the fuck else did would you have been doing your precious researching, eh?"

She'd heard things during her upbringing - they'd discussed that already. But surely she hadn't seen... And yet she didn't look particularly affected - not as he would have expected her to were she basing what she had done last night on having witnessed things a child shouldn't...

She raised an eyebrow, "Utilised the resources at hand."

The resources at hand?

"That right, eh?"

"Uhuh."

"What resources would they be?" he pushed, something in him telling him he didn't actually want the answer and yet the other, more dominant part of him determined to get it.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, taking half a step back.

"I want to know what you've been at," he told her, taking his hands off her arse and crossing his arms.

"I spoke to Lizzie Stark, Tommy, do you have an issue with that?" she asked, crossing her own arms and frowning right back at him.

He blinked. Actually, as it so happened, he did have a bit of a fucking issue with that.

"Why would you speak to her?" he growled, something defensive rising in him.

"Because she's around a fair bit, helps with John's kids, she was on hand, we get on well enough and she does what she does for a living, seemed the obvious path to take?"

"That all eh?" he barked.

"Well of course that's all," she snapped, "What else would there-"

She broke off then, a horror struck realisation coming over her face, "Oh God Tommy, you – you haven't, have you? Lizzie?"

He stared at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Do-does John know?" she hissed, eyeing the shop doors as if terrified his brother might be behind them.

"I haven't fucking told him and I doubt she has," he growled in response, also keeping his voice low.

"Oh fuck!" she muttered, her hand going to the necklace and running over the stones in it.

"You knew I'd used whores, you asked me," he reminded her, not in the fucking mood for her to start holding some moral high ground over him when she'd gone seeking bloody sex advice!

Who had asked her to, eh? Not him, that was for fucking sure. He'd been perfectly fucking happy making it all about her. It made his blood cold that the night before had been a result of the knowledge Lizzie Stark held about him. He didn't want his past touching his relationship with Rosie. But it had done. It fucking had done and he hadn't even realised until it was too late.

"Of course I knew. It's not that I mind, I don't. Honestly. You know I don't. You know what I come from Tommy. I just – fuck – I just didn't realise… Lizzie…"

"Yeah," he said blankly.

"And you told John to marry her," she said, looking at him strangely.

"Yeah, I did," he replied, realising that flash of insecurity in her raising itself, "Cause if it made things easier for John, I would cope with seeing her at the table and knowing we had a couple of – of professional transactions together in our past. I'd be sitting there with you and he'd be with her and that would be all there was to it. You of all people should know, I'd imagine, that Lizzie wouldn't hold anything to it. I'm sure I'm just one in a long line."

"Fuck's sake," she muttered.

He didn't have to reply. The backdoor pushed open and Katie came back in, her dress bundled into a ball under her arm, her face so long her feet seemed likely to trip over it.

"What's for breakfast?" his niece asked, like she was asking what time her execution was scheduled for.

"Toast," Rosie replied, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile, "I'm just going to make everybody toast."

Thank you for reading!