Chapter 123

Tommy dropped Rosie at the door of number six and took the car around to the garage before making his own way to Watery Lane. The kids were back from school and as he glanced around he made eye contact with Finn, who was standing with a group of boys - George amongst them - all looking very serious about something. His brother coloured a little and ducked his head, becoming very interested in whatever Isaiah had to say.

He had an inkling of what that very serious-seeming gathering might be about, but he was prepared to let it go for now - give Finn the opportunity to bring it up himself, rather than forcing it.

Though the kid was running out of time - the fight was tomorrow night.

Continuing to sweep his eyes over the street, Tommy noted the twins and some of the younger kids playing up the other end; then, sifting through the girls, he found Katie clutching her skipping rope and glaring at one of the other ones, who looked to be angling for a shot of it.

Lizzie had given her that skipping rope for her birthday, he remembered.

He really did need to do something about that situation - but if he was honest, he didn't relish the idea of it. Whether it was better to get it done and get John to start distancing himself now from her, giving him the space to be available to Esme when it came to it - or to let John get more attached to the idea of giving the kids a mother so that when he did dash the idea of that mother being Lizzie, John was more willing to take the idea of a substitute without too much fuss, Tommy wasn't entirely sure.

He was leaning towards the latter. He didn't reckon, from what had been said, that John was too emotionally involved anyway, as far as getting him distanced from Lizzie and open to Esme went. He was sure giving John as little notice as possible about the marriage was the right way to go about it. Less time to overthink it, to work himself into a tantrum. But the Lizzie severance itself, even if it wasn't an emotional rupture… he had to figure out how he was going to bloody do it, and the best time to bloody do it.

He put the thought from his mind and chuckled to himself at Katie's grim face and white knuckled hold as she shook her head obstinately at the outstretched hand of the other girl, then moved on before returning, retracing his eyes over them all and realising that no, he hadn't somehow missed her - Lily wasn't there to be found.

That didn't bode well.

Katie's eyes met his as he made his way up the street and she bit her lip and glanced subconsciously towards the door he was heading to.

Well, that confirmed it. Uncle Charlie had been right. There was trouble brewing behind that door and he was about to walk into the storm. And after the nice afternoon he'd just had too…

He stopped at the door, pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger, braced himself and turned the handle, his ears immediately assaulted with wails.

"Oh good, you're here," Polly greeted him, her acerbic and exasperated voice cutting crisply through the crying.

She was standing in the front room, pulling her coat on, seemingly about to take her leave - and probably rather gladly, given the noise coming from the kitchen.

He gave a curt nod, and flashed his eyes in the direction of the squealing.

"That child had been asking for a good spanking all day Thomas," his aunt answered his unvoiced question, pursing her lips, and drawing herself up to her full height, crossing her arms, "And I've just about managed to stop myself obliging her - but if she were any other child!"

"And wasn't it you who was giving out to me about not treating her different from any other child, Pol?" he reminded her, raising an eyebrow.

Perhaps if Pol had followed her own advice he'd be coming home to a - well, to a calmer home.

She huffed and glowered, "I told her to wait until you got home when I'd be telling you all about her - and let me just wipe that self assuredness off your face Thomas, because she wasn't bothered in the slightest. Had the cheek to roll her eyes at me."

"And she's still breathing?" Tommy snorted.

"Oh I made sure she was quite clear on it than in no uncertain circumstances was she ever to look at me like that again," Polly said, sounding satisfied, "But the point is, she had not one iota of concern over me telling her I'd be making sure you were filled in on her behaviour."

A particularly high pitched howl caused them both to wince, followed by Rosie's voice, firm but strained, instructing, "No! You stop that screaming, Lily, right now! I'm not having it!"

"What behaviour would that be, cause I'm presuming that squealing hasn't been going on all day unchecked?" Tommy asked grimly.

"No, all day has been a refusal to do the work Rosie left for her to do, an attitude whenever I told her to get on with it, pushing it away from her and drawing on the back of the sheets instead of filling them out every time I went down into the shop," Polly replied, "Ended up having to stand over her most of the day and still she just sat in a huff and didn't get on with it, pretending she didn't know things that if she took a minute to actually think about, she'd know fine well. That," she jabbed over her shoulder with her thumb, pointing towards the kitchen, "Started when Katie came looking for her and I told her she wasn't going anywhere until the work was done. Started with simply arguing back and now it's where it is. And I've had enough of it - but I suggest you get in there and make sure it gets stopped because-"

"I HATE YOU!" Lily screamed, the sort of scream that must have hurt her throat to give.

Whatever else Polly might have had to say, he didn't wait to hear - striding past her to get to the bloody furore.

It was obvious of course that he was walking in to a child in a tantrum - and he had some patience for certain upsets, but he wasn't going to stand for that phase entering Lily's vocabulary on a regular basis - and never was he going to stand by and listen to it being aimed at he sister.

But he wasn't quite prepared for the sight that greeted him in the kitchen - Lily on her feet, her face red and twisted as she screeched over and over again that she hated Rosie - who had her hands on the bab's shoulders, keeping her at arm's length, and pushing her own body back, trying, it appeared, to keep it out of reach of Lily's right leg, which was making swings at Rosie's own legs.

"Lily - that is not an acceptable thing to say to me, it's hurtful," Rosie was saying - though whether Lily could even hear her over her own screaming was anyone's guess.

No. No, this was not happening in their house. He was not going to stand by and let anyone - of any age - ever treat his wife like that. He barely even had time to recognise his incorrect titling of Rosie, too busy springing to action.

He went around the redhead, swung his left arm across Lily to haul her backwards, away from being able to reach her intended sisterly target, and swung his right in its well practised motion of bringing his hand into contact with her backside.

"What - in - holy - hell - do - you - think - you're - playing - at - young - lady?" he demanded, smacking her on every word - applying his usual level of force, firm and symbolic more than particularly sore. It usually did the trick though. He spun her around, placing his own hands where Rosie's had been, undoubtedly gripping the little shoulders harder than Rosie would have been doing, "You do not speak to your sister like that, are we clear? If I ever hear a whisper of that type of talk coming out your mouth again -"

"You shut up!" Lily screamed, her foot kicking out again like it had done when Rosie had been the one holding her.

"Shut. Up?" Tommy repeated back to her, clenching his jaw and widening his eyes at her.

So much for doing the trick. Well, he was quite prepared to turn her up and redden her properly, if that was what it took.

"Yes! You shut up!" Lily screamed, tears coursing down her face, choking on her own screams as she let them out, taking a deep raggedy breath before letting go with the battle cry he should have been girding his loins for, "I hate you too! You're not in charge! You're not my daddy!"

He froze, taking in the puffy red face on the child before him, wondering how the fuck they had got here - she'd had a meltdown about them going in the first place that morning and now they were back, she hated them? What in fuck was he supposed to make of it?

It turned out he didn't need to make anything of it - not to come up with a response, anyway. Rosie, who had borne the first declaration of hatred, the one he had been so incensed by, and responded to it only with words, sprung into action at that.

"No!" she snapped, grabbing Lily's collar and pulling her back, "You have been told not ever to say that. I promised you the last time you pulled that one, little miss, that if I heard it again I would make you the sorriest little girl in all the land, didn't I?"

She pushed the screaming child towards the green doors, reaching over the blonde head with one hand to push them open before escorting her sister through, seemingly too incensed to be aware of the eyes on her as she passed through the shop.

It was touching in a way - it marked how outraged she was that she didn't bother about where she was going or how public it was. The shop was still open, with staff and customers in it, and Rosie's notorious need for privacy had had her clear out all the kids - and John - from the kitchen when Lily had found herself in trouble after wandering away from them in town. But now that desire for sequestration in discipline matters was coming second to her decision to impart the discipline itself - and he was quite sure that was on his behalf, that Lily's attitude itself, regardless of what Polly had reported, wouldn't have merited this march through a crowded area.

Tommy followed a few steps to watch as she steered Lily towards the stairs and forced her up them with the aid of a hand to her backside.

"Rosie! Rosie, no!" the bab was screaming - twisting, either in an attempt to twist free altogether or simply to try and avoid her sister's hand landing again - which it did, propelling her up every step at speed.

"Don't no me, little miss, you were warned. I know you've had no routine this week and that's been disruptive, but I'm not having you turn into a malicious little…"

Rosie's voice trailed off out of ear shot as she disappeared from his view, though the ends of Lily's shouts continued to reach until the door slammed firmly shut.

He lingered in front of the green doors, feeling eyes on him, but decided to seem unbothered, simply reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case, slipping one out and lighting it up, taking a drag and making his way to Polly's empty desk, going into the drawer and taking out her book, making a show of flipping it open and dragging his eyes over the last page.

Lily's noise had drowned the shop's, and it took him a minute of pretending to take in the writing to realise the shop had gone fairly silent, but was slowly rumbling its way back up to a normal volume.

He knew everyone must have heard what she'd shouted at him and, for all it was ridiculous, he felt a heat in his face at the idea - as if she'd publicly humiliated him in a profoundly deep way. He knew no one would take note of a child's tantrum, not as soon as normality was restored. Kids had tantrums, it was what it was. But he was grieved, whether he should be or not, and he kept his head down, as if riveted by the figures, avoiding meeting anyone's eye.

He stayed, giving the picture of being poised and unbothered, more interested in business as always, until his eyes lifted in response to feet descending the stairs.

Rosie's vexed gaze met his, and she shrugged and shook her head, conveying her own irritation without words.

"I've put her to bed," she told him as she drew near, "Told her she's to stay there until I come up for her."

He raised an eyebrow.

"She's too hysterical - and I'm too upset myself right now - for there to be any point in me punishing her. It'll have more impact once she's calm and can be spoken to, can be made to understand what it is I'm angry with her for," she told him.

He nodded. That made sense.

She sighed, reached her hand as if to lay it atop his, then glanced around, seeming to remember where she was and who was around and pulled it back to her side. He felt the loss of it acutely.

"I'll go out to get something for the dinner," she said, sounding defeated, "Anything you fancy in particular?"

"Whatever you feel like," he returned - wanting to end the response with one of his pet names for her, but reeling himself in.

Polly and Charlie knew. And he knew his brothers knew, even if they didn't acknowledge it, knowing his preference. But they needed to be more careful. Moss had seen them - and they were lucky that, right now, Moss was on their side. But they'd become sloppy. The more people who knew, the higher the chance of Campbell finding out, and if the man would use kids and threaten his pregnant sister, he knew he would use Rosie if he realised how precious she was to him. No, although people around here knew where she lived, he had to make more effort to ensure any special affection between them was kept private.

But still, it felt cold, and like a chasm was between them as she nodded and headed off to her errand. He picked up Pol's book and took it to his own office, closing the door, blocking them all out.

He wasn't really doing anything other than replaying every time Ada had shouted at him that he wasn't her dad, mingling with a backing track of Lily echoing it on a loop in his mind when the door opened, but he still whipped his head up and glared so violently that John stopped in his tracks.

His brother hovered near the door, scratched behind his ear then decided to continue with the approach, holding out an envelope, "This came for you."

Tommy took the offering, dropped it on his desk and raised an eyebrow, before barking "Anything else?"

John rolled his lips thin and turned them up in a strange smile before blowing air out, the sound smacking around the office offensively. Clearly he had something to say and Tommy's frown deepened as he waited to hear it. Whatever it was, he wished his brother would just spit it out.

"Kids eh?" John settled for saying, shrugging, chewing on his tooth pick, "Who'd have 'em?"

Tommy froze, hating that everyone had clearly heard - and hating that John knew, despite his efforts to appear blank and business like, that what had been said would have got to him.

It was as he'd said before, he really should be used to it by now - that little barb about him not really being a father. He supposed it stung because he almost forgot himself at times that he wasn't a father. Not biologically at least. And it stung too because it undermined everything he did to make up for the lack of the biological connection, the one he felt was unnecessary to consider the kids his.

John had always been the inbetween. Younger than him, older than Ada - suspended between them, able to see both sides. Being a father - albeit not one Tommy was convinced was coping - he supposed that meant too that John would have more of an idea of how much kids' words could wound.

He'd never forget the look on his brother's face when George had told him he hated him.

But at least John's kids could never claim he wasn't actually their father. Couldn't quite so easily write him off like that.

He knew the thought made him sound like a sulking, self-pitying child himself, and he didn't want to come across that way - but nor was he able to crack a smile or try and shrug it off.

So he put his head down and busied himself opening the envelope hoping John would take the hint and go - which he eventually did, closing the door with a soft click.

Not even the fact the contents of the envelope were the news he had been waiting for could lift Tommy Shelby's spirits in that moment.

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

He stayed gloomy and sequestered in his office the rest of the afternoon, until the shop was locked and empty - stayed there as the smell of cooking wafted through from the kitchen, letting him know dinner couldn't be too far off; stayed there as he watched Rosie appear in the green doors then head up the stairs, looking grim.

His heart thudded as he sat, his eyes on the stairs, where her feet had climbed and vanished. He stood up, debating following where she'd gone, then sat back down. It was like the time they'd gone off to Sparkbrook, Rosie had claimed that spanking for herself, and she'd done the same tonight. And that was fine - it wasn't exactly like he was keen to do it. She was taking a burden off of him, in a lot of ways. She was being fair, if anything.

"It can't just be you."

She'd said that the night they'd made off to Sparkbrook, when he'd asked if she'd rather he dealt with both the kids.

He supposed that was true, but he hated this - feeling like a lump of wood on the side. At least if the bab was in trouble alongside Katie or Finn he would have something to do whilst Rosie dealt with her, but he didn't. But if he went and shoved himself in, he'd be pushing her into his current, passive role. They could be a team, when they were trying to make the kids understand that what they'd said or done wasn't alright - but when the justice was being done, you were either giving it or not giving it and that was all there was to it.

He stood up again, lit a new cigarette and stayed by his desk, inhaling it before deciding he'd go wait near the stairs - presuming she'd be bringing the baby down with her for dinner once it was done, wanting to be waiting for them. He felt like a caged animal, wanting to run but only able to move so far, the foot of the stairs his boundary. He ached for the weight of her on his hip, the feel of her little arms curling around his neck. And he hoped to God that was what he would get - a little girl who was sorry for what she'd said, who had taken it back, who wanted to be on good terms with him again.

Her crying reached his ears as soon as he opened the office door, and his own steps were blending with the ones coming down the stairs, not minutes after she'd first gone up them. He clamped down on his cigarette and frowned up in concern, wondering how it had all happened so quickly, wondering what kind of mood Lily had been in when Rosie had gone up for her.

His heart hammered as they came into view, Lily sobbing into Rosie's chest, Rosie struggling a little under the weight of the child, her eyes trying, it seemed, to navigate the stairs with her bundle as well as search for him, trying and failing to blink back tears of her own.

"Look, there he is, eh?" Rosie said, not quite managing to hide the shake in her voice, "He's right here, waiting for you."

Lily turned her head to look at him through distressed, streaming, disbelieving eyes.

"Hey," he said, crossing to the steps, meeting them as Rosie came down the last few, putting his hand to her head and cradling it, "Hey, you'll be alright, eh?"

She lifted an arm from around Rosie's neck, grasping out to him and, after a quick glance for permission from the older sister, he put his hands to her waist and took her to him.

"You're alright my little love, eh?" he said, resting her against him with one hand so he could pluck the cigarette from his mouth and douse it on the nearest desk.

"Tommy!" she gasped out his name, "Tommy I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!"

"That's alright sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to her head as she pushed it into his neck, "I hope you said sorry to your sister for saying you hated her too, eh?"

She nodded into him and set about a fresh set of wails, some of her tears setting into his collar, some of them trickling inside of it, down his neck.

Tommy looked to Rosie, who was swiping at her wet eyes, shifted the kid to his right side and opened his left arm to the redhead, who came gladly, her face pressing into his chest.

"There we are, eh?" he murmured, kissing each of their heads, "My two favourite girls, eh?"

Rosie nodded, but kept her face pressed into him, her hand fisting his waistcoat at the back - and his concern for her grew. Alright, Lily was crying into him, but crying for her sorries and calming down was to be expected - Rosie's state worried him more. He jiggled Lily on his hip and hugged Rosie tightly, waiting for the younger sister's crying to subside.

That last time, after the wandering to the paddy's, Rosie had been so twisted up afterwards that she'd needed her own spanking to let her emotions go. That she was burying herself in him, hiding in him rather than managing to put on a face for the baby scared him a little. He was used to her suppressing her emotions - her more vulnerable ones anyway - needing to have them pulled out from deep within her, not being overcome with them.

He stood, holding them both, waiting for Lily to get through the choking, hiccuping stage of crying herself out before he kissed her hot cheek and said, "Alright bitti chikni-" He broke off and tensed what felt like every muscle in his body as Rosie seemed to freshly begin sobbing at that, pausing before, with some effort, continuing to address the child, "You head off outside and wash that pretty face, eh? Clean yourself up before dinner, alright my little love?"

She responded by wrapping her arms around him more tightly and shaking her head. He wished to God Finn would realise it was about dinner time and come in looking for it so he could send her off out with him. He suppressed the urge to click his tongue.

"Lily, sweetheart, you're my good girl again aren't you?" he cajoled, making his voice as soft as possible.

She peeled her face out of him to meet his eye, looking unsure.

He kissed her forehead, "Of course you are," he told her, wanting her to believe him, "Now you be a good girl and go clean yourself up, eh?"

She didn't seem keen on the idea of going, her eyes glancing from him to Rosie.

"On you go now," he said, making his tone a little firmer, bending to slide her down without taking his other arm from being around the older sister.

The movement seemed to stir her a little and she lifted her own face to force a watery smile at Lily and say, "On you go, do as he says, hmm?"

The baby still didn't look convinced, her fingers went to her mouth and she looked up at them with wide, questioning eyes but he nodded his head in the direction of the doors and she finally took a couple of steps backwards.

"Good girl," Rosie croaked out, forcing another smile.

That seemed to be enough that Lily turned to her body in the direction she was going, though her head swivelled to stay glancing back at them as she made her way slowly towards the green doors and finally out the back, sucking on her fingers the entire time.

As soon she was through, Rosie buried her face into his chest again and wound her arms more tightly around him. He tightened his own hold on her in return.

"Hey," he murmured, kissing her head, "You're alright, eh? I'm right here."

"Tommy - Tommy, it was - I feel," she choked out the words, then gave up, shaking her head, her face pressed to him.

"I know sweetheart, I know - it's never easy when you're coming down on them, not even when you know they're needing it - and she was needing it, eh?" he told her, rubbing her back, "She can't be going around screaming and shouting like that and I'm not having her saying she hates you, she's not to speak to you like that."

She shook her head again, not lifting her face, her words muffled as she told him, "I didn't - I didn't have to come down on her."

"Eh?"

"I didn't have to," she pulled her neck back a little to look up to him, keeping her body pressed against his, "Tommy - you - you should have seen her, she was just lying there looking - no, not looking. Tommy, she was, she was heartbroken up there."

His stomach swooped, "How d'you mean?"

"Oh God - Tommy," her fists tightened their hold on his clothing, "Tommy she thought you wouldn't love her anymore because of what she said - and - and she said, she said-"

She sobbed again, too overcome to keep speaking.

"Alright, alright, I've got you my darling," he told her, keeping his voice as soothing as he could, not wanting to upset her further by betraying with his tones how upsetting it was to him, that Lily could have thought for a second that he'd stop loving her.

"Tommy - she said she wants you to be her daddy. And I knew that - we all knew it - but hearing her say it…" she swiped at her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to regain control, "She said she has to say it sometimes to remind herself you're not her daddy - and I think - I think she said it to upset herself as much as anyone else. She was angry with me and Polly for trying to make her do what she didn't want to, then she was angry with you for not being on her side, and she was feeling - I don't quite know - frustrated I suppose and - and I think she always feels sad that though you act like her father, you're not. So she just lashed out because she was feeling ganged up on by us all."

"If she was feeling ganged up on, why would she upset herself to make it worse?"

"Maybe she was trying to take some control of herself, of her emotions - reckoning if she had to feel bad she'd make it so she felt bad for something she understood. I imagine having three separate adults whom she looks up to being displeased with her was too much for her to handle and she didn't quite understand where those big overwhelming emotions were coming from. And she was feeling them alongside all her frustration at not being allowed out, and from being forced to sit at the table today and do work she didn't want to do. So it meant she'd feel bad and know why - and it probably did doubly suit because she wanted to hurt you with her lashing out."

He didn't respond verbally, just ran his hand down the side of her face, wiping away the tears that were still leaking over, even if she did seem to have managed to regain control of her voice and her breathing.

He supposed he understood, even if he wished he didn't. How many times, when things had been slipping out of his control, had he chosen to make things worse just to feel in control? Volunteering for the clay kicking for one, at least choosing his own role even if it did involve being claustrophobically stuck below ground. Harming yourself just to think you were taking something back from other people who meant to do you harm - that he could understand.

And no, he didn't mean to do her any real harm, but he supposed emotional harm - making yourself feel worse than someone else was making you feel - was the same instinct.

He needed to talk to the bab, that was clear. Needed to reassure her of her place in his life - of his in hers.

"Rosie, sweetheart," he murmured, cupping her face and lifting to him, "Rosie - if it would make her feel more secure, I don't mind if she wants to call me Dad."

He could tell at once that it wasn't going to happen - pain flashed across the redhead's face and he wished he could swallow the sentence - the rejection of the offer cutting him in a way he hadn't quite anticipated. He had offered it thinking of Lily, he had it handed back to him with his own pain.

She shook her head, "It's not - it's not that I'm against it, Tommy. You - you look after her like she's yours, same as you do for Finn and like you did for Ada. And I love you for that - I love you, and I respect you and I admire you for the way you take them all on when you don't have to. You're the only thing she's ever had for a father and you - you do more than half the fathers on that street out there do for their own. I know that."

He swallowed, "But?"

"But it's making things easier in the short term in a way that might make it worse in the long - everyone knows where she comes from, who she comes from. They know she's not got a Dad. If she starts talking about one - questions are going to be asked, Tommy. It's going to draw attention and I might lose her - we might lose her. It's bad enough that I ask her not to talk about home when she's at school, I can't ask her to call you one thing in the house and another thing out of it."

He tensed, thinking about Moss catching the two of them. Of the possible consequences of that. Campbell had already gone after Finn.

"I'd thought of it too, Tommy," Rosie went on, threading her fingertips through his, lifting their entwined hands to her mouth, pressing her lips to his skin before looking up to him again and going on, "I even asked Esme if their was a word Lily could use that would mean Dad. A Gypsy word. But it turns out-"

"It's the same," Tommy finished for her, "Or similar enough that being overheard using it would raise the questions you want avoided."

She gave a small, sad nod.

Dad. Dat. Dadi. Those were the Romani words. And they'd all sound the same to someone listening.

"Besides, I don't think it would mean the same to her if it wasn't the word she wants to use, the one she's heard everyone around her using, the one she's never been able to," Rosie said quietly, biting her lip and shaking her head, "I just wish - I wish I could wave a magic wand and make her mine, make her officially mine so no matter what anyone hears or sees, she can't be taken off me and lost into a system. She'd be taken so quickly if she was put into care, I'd never be able to track her down and get her back once I turn eighteen - she'd be snapped up, be someone else's by then. And the thought of her in that reform, Tommy - I - I can't - I can't bear that…"

She broke off and Tommy pulled her roughly against him.

"That's not going to happen," he declared, his voice rasping, "On my life, Rosie, alright? You understand me?"

She nodded, "I do, Tommy - I do! But to make sure it doesn't, to make sure we don't open it up to let it happen - we need to be careful."

He nodded. She was right - in that they needed to be careful. And right that if Lily was swallowed into that system they would lose her - everyone would want a pretty, blonde haired, blue eyed child who was - for the most part - of sweet disposition, affectionate, soft, kind, malleable. But he would fight everyone with his bare fists to get her back if it came to it. He'd said it before but he'd get them into a wagon and take to the road to stop it happening in the first place. He'd swear that before every God and Devil who crossed his path.

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

Tommy opened the front door of number six to see that the group of boys Finn had been part of earlier had broken up a little - George, Katie and the twins were nowhere to be seen, which he hoped meant that if any good had come from the situation earlier that day, it was that perhaps that John might have taken heed of getting his kids in to eat dinner as a family. He hadn't ever thought on it consciously, but he reckoned their evening meals being spent together was one of the main ways he had come to a better relationship with Finn than he had done before Rosie had come along. It was consistent time in each other's company that hadn't been there before - and he supposed that added up. Added up to more than some grand gesture every once in a blue moon did anyway - like his father had been fond of pulling.

But still, if Finn had the sense to ask - maybe he'd speak to Rosie, see if she was still against the boxing. If she'd relaxed any about it, he'd take the kid the next night. Maybe take Isaiah - and John and George too, fuck it. Just make sure they'd all learned from the last time and realised they weren't to get caught reenacting what they'd seen. And especially not to come in crying to Rosie if they did reenact it and someone got bloodied.

Finn and Isaiah were still standing about, but the discussion seemed to be done and now they were standing around watching some other kid ride Finn's bike up and down the lane - the lot of them taking shots, it appeared. Finn caught his eye and Tommy didn't even have to shout his brother's name or that dinner was ready, the kid came, shouting over his shoulder that he'd be back out in a bit.

"Is she - is she alright?" he stopped before Tommy to ask.

"In you get," Tommy said, jerking his head towards the threshold, coming in behind his brother and pulling the door over before he went on, "She's subdued." He clapped his hands on Finn's shoulders and squeezed, "She's been upset but she'll pick up in time, eh?"

Finn nodded up at him.

"Good lad," he told his brother, pleased he had asked. He ruffled Finn's hair and gave him a gentle shove, "On you go through then."

Subdued was the right word for Lily. She'd been more or less silent since she'd come back in from washing up and throughout dinner she pushed food around her plate in a morose way rather than eating it and spoke only when asked a direct question, her voice quiet, unsure and chastened. Even her sweet tooth didn't come into play when Rosie set custard to her after clearing away the majority of the dinner that had been plated for her to begin with. She simply swam her spoon through the bowl, picking it up every so often then twirling it, as if it were too much to ask of her wrist to hold it upright, letting the custard fall back.

"Come on - you like custard, sweetheart," Rosie coaxed gently.

Lily nodded.

"Eat up then, you barely touched your lamb."

Lily nodded again and made the effort to pick the spoon up, trying to be compliant, but she just about managed to slurp it down before the spoon clanged back down into the plate.

"Finn'll be having it off you if you don't get it down you," Tommy said, sitting back in his chair and attempting a smile behind his post dinner cigarette.

Lily looked over at Finn, one of the first times she had done so since he'd come in - her eyes had stayed firmly downcast for the majority of the meal - then nudged the bowl in his direction, offering him it.

"I'm alright," Finn said, looking awkwardly between everyone in the kitchen, "Thanks."

His spoon clattered off his own bowl as he made quick work of emptying it before getting to his feet.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Back out?" Finn asked, frowning.

"You can sit here until she's finished," Tommy told him, gesturing with his cigarette for Finn to park his arse back on the chair, "We'll have a nice chat and then once she's done, you'll do the washing of the dishes and she can do the drying. Fair's fair."

"Tommy!" Finn protested.

"Don't Tommy me," he retorted.

He reckoned making the kids do the dishes might bring a sense of normality to the evening, a sense that was currently lacking.

"Now," he continued, trying to get them all involved in his conversation, "Lily's eyes are just about healed so she'll be back to school tomorrow I reckon, eh?"

Rosie nodded and Lily looked even more miserable than she had done five seconds prior.

Well, that had gone well.

"Good, that'll be the upset of that done for the week," he said, feigning casualness as he changed the subject, "So, you fill me in on how your week's being going Finn, anything exciting?"

Finn shrugged.

"That good, eh?" Tommy said wryly, raising an eyebrow.

Another shrug again. Tommy kept his eyes on Finn, feeling Rosie's on him in turn.

So, the boxing match was the next night, there were serious looking discussions taking place and nothing was being asked of him. He inhaled on his cigarette and looked back over to Lily, who was sitting with her head hanging like it was too heavy for her body.

"Alright, c'mon now, you've got to eat sweetheart," Rosie said, following his gaze, picking Lily up and sliding onto the chair under her, settling her back down on her lap, "I know you're sad, eh? But can't have you wasting away on us." She hugged her from behind, squeezing her as she said, "We love you too much to let you starve. We'd miss you. So let's get something down you, hmm?"

She laid Lily, unresisting, against her chest, put her hand over her sister's and together they picked up another spoonful of custard, Rosie's strength guiding it to Lily's mouth.

"Open up, good girl," she instructed gently.

His heart thudded as he watched them repeat the action.

She had been alright, after her spanking for her wandering to the paddy's - and her spanking on Saturday. Or if not alright, her discomfort had been physical. This was more like how she'd been after she'd gone wandering to Digbeth, playing by The Cut and he'd reddened her properly for the danger she'd put herself in. Except this time there'd been no reddening - she'd just got herself into the depths of despair.

His heart broke for her and, in that mood, he didn't have it in him to confront Finn over his suspicions - nor to dole out any discipline for the deception he suspected was underway.

"On you go then, you can wash what dishes have been finished with and head out," he conceded.

Finn leapt to his feet, more eager to wash dishes than any kid ever had been.

"Bonfire night on Saturday," Tommy said to him as he grabbed at the first plate, "Any talk of a fire?"

Finn shook his head, "Not here - think there'll be one at St Andrews."

Before the war, bonfire night had been a big deal, every parish had had a society to organise one - but the Defence of the Realm act had put a stop to societies and bonfire night with it. But the war was done. Or as done as it could ever be. He'd read in the paper last year that Lewes had put an effigy of a German soldier on their bonfire in place of the usual guy.

"You fancy it Lily?" he asked the other kid, "We'll all go, eh? Family outing, all the Shelby kids, what do you say? Get Arthur and Uncle Charlie and Curly to come with us too."

She blinked at him, like she didn't quite believe him.

"That'll be nice, Lily, hmm?" Rosie said, "We could get you some of those - what are they called - those ones you wave around?"

"Sparklers?" Finn supplied from over by the sink.

"Those," Rosie nodded, "That'll be fun, eh?"

Lily looked up at her and nodded, not looking convinced that she thought anything would be fun properly for her ever again.

"You fancy it Finn?" Tommy asked, deflecting attention from the baby.

His brother nodded, looking a bit nervous. Aye, the kid definitely was planning to go to that boxing the next night - and knew fine well if he got caught there'd be little chance of him joining any outings to a bonfire.

"Well, if the pair of you manage to behave yourselves for the next two days, then we'll make a night of it," Tommy said, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

Finn turned back to the sink.

Tommy snorted and stood up, "Right - once you're done Finn, you can head out. Lily, you'll dry those dishes once Finn's washed them, eh?"

She nodded, sliding off Rosie's lap, having been fed the majority of her custard.

"Good girl," he encouraged, heading through the shop doors and helping himself to a few sheets of paper and a ledger to lean on before ambling through to the front room and settling down on the sofa, taking the pen Rosie had bought him last Christmas from his pocket and beginning to write.

He didn't bother glancing up when Finn's tread went across the room and to the front door, but he did when Rosie's started the journey and stopped by his side.

"I'm taking some of this leftover lamb over the road to the Claytons," she told him, lifting the dish she was holding against her side a little, as if he wouldn't have gathered that was what she was taking the meat in.

He nodded - he wasn't going to protest her taking their uneaten food across if it made her feel better. And she knew that - so she didn't bother to announce it usually, just went with it.

"She's drying the dishes in there, keep an ear out will you?"

"An ear out?"

"For any smashing, she's doing everything that limp way, like she's got no energy. Not convinced she'll manage to hold all the dishes through to the end to dry them."

He gave a small sad sigh, but reached up pat Rosie's hip and said, "Alright, I'll keep an ear out - you go do your good deed."

There was no smashing in the minute or so after the door had closed behind the redhead, but Tommy only managed to wait those minutes before his need to see with his own eyes compelled him to stand and head to the kitchen doorway.

"How you getting on?" he asked.

She jumped, but the fact the plate in her grasp stayed there made him think eating the custard had done her some good. She turned to face him and shrugged.

"What is it with you kids and shrugging?"

Another shrug.

"Taking too much after Finn," he decreed, raising an eyebrow.

She bit her lip and he cursed himself inwardly, but outwardly smiled and shrugged, "Ah - well now - worse people to be takin' after, eh?"

She nodded, still chewing on her lip.

"You nearly done?" he asked, nodding at the dried dishes she had stacked on a chair.

It underlined her small stature - she could reach the table when she was standing now, which she hadn't been able to do when she'd first come, but she couldn't reach it so much that she could pile her dried dishes up on it.

She nodded.

"You coming through once you're done?"

She froze, looking unsure.

"Well, I'm through in there, you can come through if you fancy, eh?" he said, not wanting to push her.

Maybe she wanted to be alone - to head up to her bedroom and hide from the world for a while. He could understand if she did.

But he wasn't back on the sofa with his papers for very long before he felt her eyes on him. He glanced up to where she was loitering in the doorway and smiled softly at her, wanting to encourage her over the threshold. She sucked her fingers and eyed him over them, not saying anything.

Still not wanting to push her, he put his eyes on the paper before him, scratching off one of the things he'd written down. The scratching of the nib on the paper and the crackle of the fire were the only sounds in the room.

It felt like he was working with a spooked horse, needing to sit still, let her come to him on her own terms. But she had come…

"You not want to sit down?" he asked.

She nodded hesitantly, then came properly into the room, going past him to sit on the floor at the front of the sofa.

They regarded one another for a moment before, keeping his voice as gentle as possible, "You not want to sit on the sofa?"

She nodded again.

"Up you come then."

It hurt him, that she seemed to be waiting for permission to sit on the sofa, as if she felt her disgrace so acutely she couldn't deem herself worthy of a place on it.

She sat at the other end from him - in the space Rosie sometimes did, when she'd turn side on and put her feet beneath his leg for warmth as she read her book and he his paper during their comfortable evenings together. It was a small sofa, when he'd put Rosie over his knee that first time it had been on that sofa, and it wasn't so long that her entire body had been able to rest along it. But in spite of its diminutive size, Lily in that same space seemed miles away from how it was when Rosie filled it. Like she was across the battlefield from him, behind the wire and the mines.

He put the ledger, paper and pen down slowly and deliberately, one item at a time, then sat back and regarded her from his end of the sofa. She stared back, her eyes wide.

"I think you and me are needing to have a talk, my little love."

She didn't answer, but misery flashed even more obviously across her face.

"C'mere to me, eh?" he said, patting the space beside him.

She shuffled slowly down, as if he was a grenade she was approaching and she feared any sudden movement would make him explode.

"Alright," he said, reaching out to pull her properly onto his lap once she was in reach.

She bumped down, looking surprised to have found herself there. His heart hurt as she sat with a ramrod straight back, not leaning against him like she usually did when she sat on his lap.

"You and me had a very serious talk in this spot once before, Lily. When I told you my hands were yours, for all of my days - do you remember?"

She nodded.

"Good," he returned the nod, "So do you remember I said how when you misbehaved my hands might smack you - but that they would protect you too, and look after you and provide for you, no matter what?"

She paused, then nodded more slowly.

"The way you behaved earlier, little miss, wasn't okay - and you know that," he said, raising an eyebrow and making his tone a little more stern, "Shouting and screaming at your sister and me - and not behaving for Aunt Pol today either."

She nodded, her eyes watering.

"Good - and I know you were upset with yourself for it. But you were put to bed for your punishment and you said you were sorry, didn't you?"

She nodded, her first tears leaking over.

"Good girl - so there's no need then for this moping, sad little girl who has come down for dinner tonight, is there? I know you're upset and worried because you upset me and Rosie, but you've said you're sorry, eh? So it's done with, it's behind us. Because like I said before - but I'll say again - I'm yours, my little love. For all the time I'm on this earth. Doesn't matter what you say or do. You'll get brought back in line when you step out of it, but I'll never stop being yours. Never stop loving you. Never stop thinking of you as mine," he hugged her tight to him, "And I know maybe that's a bit of a reason for the way you feel, because maybe we don't have words for what we are to one another. But we don't always need words to make it real. You're mine and I'm yours and that's what counts - what it is, not what it's called. You understand?"

She looked up at him and nodded, her tears in full force, her throat probably too thick to speak.

"Alright, that's my best girl," he said, cuddling her.

She slumped against him properly then, letting go of her tension and he held her as she cried into him, held her as she cried herself out, simply squeezing her to him and dropping kisses onto her little head until she'd stilled. She stayed where she was after she had stopped crying; he imagined the cry had been a cathartic one, necessary but draining.

"You stayin' here now, sitting with me?" he asked her after a few minutes of stroking his hand through her blonde hair, scratching at her scalp.

She nodded and he felt his heart fill. His mouth was pressing to the top of her head when the door opened and Rosie came in, sans pot. She crossed behind them, but stopped to place her own kiss on the top of his head. He felt a little like a cat who'd got the cream as he tilted his head back to look her in the eye, seeing the love in hers, feeling their child on his lap.

"Couldn't be a love and pass me up my things?" he asked, indicating the pile at his feet.

"And what exactly did your last servant die of, Mr Shelby?" she asked with a click of her tongue - but a wicked smile, catching Lily's eye and winking at her as the younger sister shifted her head around to face outwards, to see what was going on.

"Clear off desks - lift chairs onto desks - sweep floor - polish bannisters - clear and wash chalkboard - polish floors - repeat all steps in Arthur's office - repeat all in Tommy's office - take chair from floor - polish chairs - polish desks - take Arthur's chair off desk and polish it and desk - same for Tommy's…" Rosie read from the sheet of paper she'd picked up, before looking at him with a raised eyebrow, "Who is this for and when exactly do you think they'll be doing it?"

"It's for Finn," Tommy said, reaching out a hand to take it from her.

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline.

"I've had a telegram - Kimber will be coming here on Monday at 11am."

Her mouth dropped open.

"Do you think…?"

He nodded, "I do. But I'm not having him change his mind at the last minute and withholding it based on the state of the place. So Finn will be starting to work on this list tomorrow night for a first go and then repeating it again on Sunday ahead of the visit."

"I'm sure that will go down well," Rosie snorted, relinquishing the ledger and the paper, bending to pick up the pen, "Spending his Friday night skivvying."

"He still owes me time from the money I spent paying those fines."

"Finn's busy tomorrow night," Lily spoke up for the first time.

"That right?" Tommy snorted, "Busy doing what?"

She shrugged, "He won't tell - but Katie says they're making plans and she's going to follow them to -" She broke off abruptly, as if her mind had just set in motion to reflect on it that this information probably wasn't supposed to be shared with the adults.

Tommy exchanged an amused look with Rosie then chuckled, shaking his head, "Katie can get in here and help Finn if that's what she thinks. None of you ever learn, do you? Bunch of bloody toerags."

Thank you for reading along - I very much appreciate all of you who are still with me this deep in. Apologies for the delay between the last chapter and this one, things have been rather busy - but I hope it being a nearly 10,000 word one made up for the wait. As always, my Romani understanding comes from google, so to my knowledge Dad, Dat and Dadi are the Romani words for Dad, but I'm not a native speaker so don't quote me!