Mercy, Camden Town, November 1925 - Changretta

I haven't bled in two months. I have not confirmed what I suspect is true. I'm too frightened to. Alfie and I had not talked about children. We had not talked about my old room down the hall and what it could be used for next.

Every child I saw on the sidewalk, every baby in a pram, I watched go by, eyes dry and scratchy, my heart thundering in my chest, my hand absently floating down to press against my stomach.

I don't want to tell Alfie until I'm sure of it myself. I have imagined how it will go, all the different ways it can go. My heart hopes for acceptance and stretches out toward his happiness but Alfie is not the same as he was before the war and now I know my odds of that are slim. His shoulders are already burdened with so much responsibility, I don't know how he will take this news.

My dreams have been oddly quiet. It's unnerving. I feel partially blind, like the sides of my vision are blurred.

Alfie has also been more tense than normal. After he helped Tommy rob the Russians, he was lighter, laughing more often but recently his moods have turned somber and quiet. He was still affectionate toward me, hands still grasped at my hips, lips still pressed to my throat, and his eyes lingered on me longer, studying me when I'm not looking, glancing away when I notice.

There's a ruby necklace in my jewelry box that must cost a fortune but I don't wear it, I have no occasion for something so luxurious. It was a token from the robbery that Alfie had gifted me. I had worn it once, and only it, that night as he stroked me and loved me.

Four years of marriage had not tamed Alfie's lusts either. Alfie was just as needy for me as I was for him. It was only a matter of time before our lovemaking bore fruit. That it had taken this long was something of an oddity.

My stomach churns as Ollie pulls us up to the bakery. I slide out after Alfie, taking his hand and letting him lead me into the front.

As I pass the doorway, my chest squeezes, my head goes light, and my body pitches forward. I hear Alfie grunt, the clatter of his cane on the tile floor before his hands are gripping my arms, hauling my body against his.

"Get a fuckin' doctor!"

There are frenzied steps and I'm being lifted and carried. I know by the sounds and smells that we're in the cellars, headed toward his office at a brisk, pounding speed.

"Mercy? Mercy can you 'ere me, love? Mercy, fuck! Answer me!"

The blackness behind my eyes begins to swirl and Alfie's voice fades away. I'm shaking, I'm cold. So cold. My bones ache, they feel brittle like dry twigs. My chest burns, I'm crying.

A barren room with warped floorboards, peeling wallpaper, a hole in the ceiling and the sounds of dripping water. A dark gray cat with long tufted hair prowls out from behind a box. Its eyes are the color of coal. It moves with fluid grace but it is not beautiful. It's a terrifying creature. Its legs are too long, its body is thin and bowed.

Blood blooms on the soiled rug in the center of the room, saturating it from several spots. The walls begin to crumble, the cat circles me, its black eyes shining in the low light. It growls and hisses, razor sharp claws leave deep grooves in the curling wood floor. There's a child crying. I can't see it but I hear it, a young child, crying and crying, wailing.

My chest constrics, a searing pain blossoms in my side. Another in my leg, just under my hip. Suddenly my vision is coated in red, the cat is on my chest, pawing and scratching, tearing out flesh in chunks, going for my eyes.

I flail and swat at it but it's strong, too strong.

Then there are more cats, all different colors and sizes, all angry and hissing and biting.

My hands are swinging blindly now, trying to dislodge them all but they keep coming over and over and when my fingertips feel something slick and scaled, I grasp onto it. A black snake coils in my clenched fist, its angry silver eyes watch me and I know what I must tell it. I must tell it, must use it to save me but it's a bad omen, a black snake and I must be prepared to suffer its consequences.

"Mercy! Fuckin' 'ell do somethin', she's shakin' apart!"

Alfie… but he's not here. Alfie is not here, it is only me here and the child…

The child is important. It's important to me but how?

The child screams louder, his wails cutting through the deafening noise of the cats and I yank on the snake, its mouth striking out in quick succession. Snap, snap, snap, the cats scatter. The gray long haired feline tyrant stands high up on a crate, watching with displeased eyes.

My mouth does not move but my words ring through the still air, 'He will kill you for this.'

'You're in no position to threaten me, girl,' the gray cat hisses.

'It's not a threat. It's a promise,' I whisper.

The house begins to clatter and shake, boards snapping and clacking and heaving around me. I bolt for the bundle of blankets in the corner, holding the warm ball against my chest and my legs spring under me in bursts. The cats chase and chase me through the ramshackle house until I reach a space that has walls but no ceiling. Ice cold air pervades the damp heat from before. I shiver, rocking the bundle, hunching over it.

The walls heave thrice and splinter and burn. Red embers swirl in cascading torrents. Cats flee in all directions, blood spurting from their heads, their backs, their sides. A gnarled beast heaves from the darkness, long sharp claws till the soil and a feral roar deafens me. I watch its hunched shoulders, wiry golden fur raised in fury. A muzzle of gleaming white fangs snap toward the gray cat. In the shadows behind the beast is the black stallion, pawing, snorting, and pacing, powerful muscles moving fluidly under its coal coat. I turn and watch as the beast lunges in a mighty arc. The gray cat leaps to meet it, fangs bared, black eyes burning…

And the room spins and spins and spins until I'm dizzy and nauseous and sweating.

"-to a hospital. It appears she's had a seizure of some kind. I cannot treat her here."

"Mercy? Mercy can you 'ear me, love?"

I blink, my eyes wet and blurry. Alfie looks down at me, eyes frantic and wide, his lips are white and his cheeks are flushed.

"Fuckin' 'ell. Talk to me. Say something."

"Mr. Solomons, she's disoriented. Give her a moment. She'll need to get her bearings."

Alfie's snarl is a jumble of curses. My fingers twitch on his hands and his face comes back to me, looming and solemn.

"Can you sit up,? C'mon, 'old onto me. Sit up, yeah."

Strong hands slip beneath my armpits and pull me up like a baby. My head lolls to the side, dropping down on his shoulder. My body feels like wet paper.

"Alfie? What happened?"

Fingers stroke my head and I'm shifted until I rest against Alfie's chest. We're on the sofa in his office. My eyes roll lazily and I see Ollie standing beside Alfie's desk, his hands on his hips, his face peaked. Another man stands beside the sofa. He seems familiar but I cannot name him or place how I know him.

Alfie doesn't answer me, just strokes my hair and squeezes me tighter against his chest.

"Mr. Solomons, if we could get her to my office, I can examine her there."

"'Ow do you feel, love? Look at me. That's it, let's see those pretty eyes."

His hands stroke over my head and neck, cupping my jaw and looking over my face.

"I feel… tired. A little sore. My throat feels dry."

The man beside us sighs and kneels down beside me.

"Do you feel dizzy? Can you follow my finger?"

My eyes follow his movements and he reaches forward to pull at my eyelids, watching for something. He grabs my wrist and Alfie tenses but the man just looks at his watch and waits.

"Your vitals are back to normal. You seem able to focus. I'd like to run more tests, though."

His eyes flick up to Alfie and I don't know what he sees but he's sighing and standing.

"If you feel nauseous or faint again, let me know right away. If you feel suddenly dizzy or have a metallic taste in your mouth, get to a hospital right away. I would like to repeat that I feel strongly about her getting a full examination at this time."

Alfie nods at Ollie and he moves forward to usher the man out. A wad of bills is shoved in his hands before he's passed through the doorway.

Ollie returns and moves to the bathroom around the corner. He comes back, handing Alfie a glass of water and I try to grip the cold glass but my fingers won't cooperate. They're too weak to curl around it so Alfie keeps a hold of it and tilts the rim against my parched lips.

"What happened, Mercy?"

That is the question isn't it. I'd never blacked out from a vision before. They'd always come in dreams. I'd see it happen to Mama Mina. She'd go stiff as a board sitting in her vardo and roll onto her side. Her niece, Amethyst would grab a leather strap and press it between her teeth before wiping away sweat and tears. She'd stay with Mama Mina until she was herself again.

I want to tell Alfie what I know happened but I'm not sure. Not with Ollie standing here, watching us carefully.

My eyes flicker over to him and then away again.

"I just got dizzy, that's all. I felt dizzy and then I fell."

Alfie's hum is thoughtful. He doesn't believe me but he's not willing to push. He has his demons and I have mine.

I visit the doctor the following Thursday. I go when I know Alfie will be busy with shipment orders for the following week. It's a mess of papers and he always complains about them but I know it makes him happy to have so many. To be busy now is a blessing.

The doctor checks me over, testing my eyes and reflexes, asking me many questions about dizziness and fainting and my diet and if I take any medications, drink excessively, or do any drugs. He's stumped. When I tell him I think I might be pregnant he ponders that. He asks me to pee inside a metal tin and tells me he'll know in a week if I'm with child. I don't hear anything past the white noise in my ears.

When I leave the doctors office, my feet carry me on reflex as my mind wanders. I haven't been able to sort out the business with the cat. There was nothing of the beast in any of my dreams and I could not put my finger on exactly what kind of animal it had been. Larger than any dog I'd ever seen, not quite like the bears at the circus but perhaps a blend of both.

Was the child in the vision my own? Does that mean that I was with child and that it would be years until this misfortune came to pass? And why was Thomas Shelby there? Why the black stallion, because surely that was him.

There is only one person I know who can help me answer my questions and I am loathe to reach out. Not only would Alfie have a conniption but I wasn't sure I wanted to venture down that path. Would Polly Gray want a favor in return? Would she even be able to help me?

Sighing, I get back to the bakery and see Alfie, standing at my stool, an irate look on his face.

I don't make it halfway through the tables before he's intercepted me and I'm being led down the stairs and through the cellar. He is so tense beside me I can feel the displeasure rolling off him in waves. The workers part ahead of him like the Red Sea before Moses.

When the door to the office is slammed shut behind me Alfie doesn't turn.

"Where were you?"

"I went to see the doctor, Alfie."

His shoulders droop and he turns, running a hand over his face before tugging on his beard.

"And?"

I sigh and unwrap my scarf before tossing it on the couch. Turning, I lean against his desk and watch him carefully.

"He asked me a lot of questions and didn't know what to think at the end of it. He said he would keep a record of the 'episode' and if it happened again he would try to learn more from it."

"Keep a fuckin' record. Worthless arsholes, doctors. Does 'e think 'is records is gonna keep it from 'appenin' again? Does he think-"

Alfie's hands curl into fists and he moves behind the desk, throwing himself back into the armchair, his hands hanging carelessly over the rests.

"Why didn't you tell me you was goin' to the doctor? I would 'ave gone with you. You just left, Mercy. Didn't tell a fuckin' soul where you was goin'."

"I didn't want to worry you. You have so much to worry about right now. You don't need to worry about me."

Lunging forward he slams his palms down on the desk, papers wrinkling under the assault.

"You're me fuckin' wife! I should know where me fuckin' wife is!"

Taking a deep breath I turn and move to slide onto his lap.

The door wings open and Alfie jerks forward, eyes glittering in rage. But Ollie takes one look at him and swivels out, the door shutting firmly behind him.

I press my hands to his shoulders, pushing him back against the chair.

"I am here. I am fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I wanted to go talk to the doctor about my fainting and about some other things. Woman things. I didn't want to have that conversation with you growling over his shoulder."

Alfie's eyes move from my face to study something on his desk. I watch the anger deflate out of him. 'Woman Things' wasn't a complete lie but I knew he would think of my menses first. It was a warped way to hide my true purpose but I tried to reason with myself that it was for our own good. Alfie couldn't understand.

"'Course. But next time you tell me when you're leavin' the bakery. I'd o' let you go with a driver to wait for you. Didn't 'ave to walk all the way there and back."

"You don't let me go anywhere, Alfie Solomons."

His jaw clenches but he nods all the same.

"Too right, love. Too right. I am a servant at your mercy. I live to please my lady, I do."

A smile quirks on my face and I pinch his arm.

"Don't get cheeky with me, you grumpy ol' dragon."

Alfie's arms circle my waist and pull me closer.

"Mmm, I like that. A dragon. And you'll be me treasure that I 'orde."

Fingers press into my ribs and I shriek in surprise and laughter.

"Alfie!"

I'm trapped between him and the desk now though and completely at his mercy. He tickles me until I'm breathless and then our lips find each other. He needs comfort. He needs reassurance and after this morning, so do I.

I get through to the following Tuesday before I can't take it anymore. I need to speak with Polly Gray. It takes some work but I manage to convince Alfie I'm going home early to get through the laundry that's piled up. It's partly true but partly because I want to call Polly and see if she'll meet me in London. There's no way I'd manage to make it to Birmingham without him knowing.

"Hello?"

"Polly Gray?"

The line crackles for several moments.

"Mercy Fury."

"Um, Holland. Mercy Holland."

"You're a Fury girl, lying about it doesn't change it."

"I'm a Holland too- look that's not why I called. I- I have questions and I was hoping you'd help me."

Again the line is quiet aside from the tinny pops and hisses.

"You've seen something. Something that scared you."

I mull that over.

"Yes."

"Come to Birmingham. There are those here-"

"I can't. Alfie would never let me leave Camden Town and I would never go against him. I can meet you in London on Thursday at two o'clock at Tiddy Dols. Please."

"Alright. I'll bite. Tiddy Dols, Thursday, two o' clock."

And the line clicks dead.

I hang the phone back on the cradle and tip toe from Alfie's office even though no one else is home.

I do the laundry, letting the rhythm of the work lull me into a daze. I'm hanging the last of the sheets when Alfie walks into the room. I watch him as he inspects the clothes on the line, the fire roaring in the stove.

"I'll ask Ollie if 'e knows someone to come in and clean, yeah. Too much work for ya to be at the bakery and 'ere doin' all this."

I roll my eyes.

"I like doing our laundry, Alfie. I like taking care of you. Don't take that away from me."

His eyes go flat and he watches me for a few more moments, tracking my hand as it reaches into my apron for a clothespin and then up to where it pins the sheet in place.

"Besides, that's the last one. I'm done. Let me wash up and I'll start on dinner. Go wash up and get changed, love. I'm making a roast."

I hang my apron and move to the sink, letting the water rinse over my arms, scrubbing the strong smell of the detergent and whitener off my skin.

When I turn, Alfie still stands in the doorway, his eyes quiet, his shoulders hunched.

"You're acting differently."

I give him a deadpan look.

"How so?"

His eyes narrow.

"What are you 'iding, Mercy?"

"Nothing. Just like I'm going shopping on Thursday in town and I'm going to buy something that I'm also not 'hiding' from you until it's time for you to open it and I swear to you, Alfie, if you ruin my surprises I'll be very cross with you."

Alfie's eyebrows shoot up. I watch his face as he calculates dates in his head.

"Our anniversary. Fuck me."

"I knew you'd forget."

"Oi, I didn't forget! I had it written down, I did!"

I roll my eyes, a small smile on my face but inside I'm withering. It feels wrong to mislead him like this. It's true that I was going to town to shop for him but it's also the reason I decided to reach out to Polly. I had a reason to be in London, an honest reason and I tried to tell myself that I wasn't lying to Alfie I just wasn't telling him everything. But I couldn't stand the chance that he would tell me no. I couldn't stand it if he looked at me differently because I had to tell him I had a vision and I wanted another gypsy to confer with.

Alfie backpedals both physically and verbally although with a mix of guilt and relief I see his shoulders relax.

"Already know what me gift will be, yeah. Already got it…"

But his eyes are cast toward the kitchen and I know he's trying to come up with something quickly.

"Alfie, love. Calm down. I don't expect anything. I was just giving you a hard time, sweetheart."

He absently rubs his hand over his beard before nodding and walking toward his office.

"No, Alfie. I'm serious. No more work tonight. Go get cleaned up for dinner. Take a bath."

He turns at the stairs and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you tryin' to tell me I stink, love?"

"I wasn't going to outright say it."

His barking laugh seems to surprise us both. Alfie shakes his head and goes up the stairs and I turn back to the kitchen, already going through the steps to make the stew in my head but also thinking how sad it was to be surprised.

Thursday drizzled, thunder rumbling in the distance. It was bleak and gray and when I had told Alfie that I was not deterred to go shop, he had scowled and demanded I take Ollie with me to drive. I rolled my eyes and gave him a resounding no. I told him I had to pick some things up and Ollie would faithfully report to him each place I'd been and he would ruin my surprise. I would be safe in public and home before he was.

It wasn't a complete lie either. I had been so, so careful to wrap all of my deceit in truth. I had things to pick up. I had made calls for weeks before our anniversary getting things ready for Saturday. A fine meal to be prepared and delivered by Sultan's, flowers to be delivered that morning to freshen the house. Rebecca was to come first thing in the morning and change out the bedding and clean the house. I wanted it all to be fresh and clean and nice.

I had bought a new dress, one that made me nervous to wear but I knew Alfie would like it, or at least I hoped he would. It was a bit risque but since we weren't leaving the house, I thought it would be nice to see if he liked the low cut neckline and delicate beading. Along with the dress were undergarments made from lacy and silk. The pearlescent shade would make the ruby necklace stand out.

I had a plan. A plan to spoil Alfie as much as he'd spoiled me over the years. Despite how stifled I felt inside living in one place, doing the same thing every day, over and over. Despite how disconnected I felt from my old life and my old ways.

At a jewelry shop in Camden Town was technically supported by Alfie but I had gone in and made a request for a ring to be made. The jeweler was patient, if not a little put off by me. It was painfully awkward to explain what I wanted but he did not rebuff me. He promised the ring would be done in a week's time and I told him when I would pick it up. I think maybe he had seen how badly I wanted the ring to be done and felt a little tenderness toward me at the end. I paid upfront and he had dipped his head in a respectful bow.

So, I had collected the ring, the dress, the undergarments, and put in my orders for the flowers and food. I had confirmed again with Rebecca before I left this morning that she would be available to come early Saturday morning and now I was sitting in the back of Tiddy Dols, a hot pot of tea surrounded by fancy cakes and biscuits. It was a fancy women's tea room. Lush flowers in ornate vases, the walls papered in floral pink swirls.

The tables around me are filled with women wearing pastel colored dresses and ornate hats.

I realize now that I look out of place in my navy blue dress and simple rounded cap.

But I do not look as out of place as Polly Gray. When she clears the threshold the room quiets to a hushed murmur. A fur lined coat pulled tightly against her throat and a jaunty fedora perched on her head. Another woman stands beside her, dark hair braided in ropes down her shoulders, dark eyes lined in coal.

Polly's eyes find me almost immediately and she smirks before coming to sit beside me, her eyes fluttering over the biscuits and tea.

"What a lovely place for a fortune telling," Polly drawls.

I jerk and lean forward.

"Keep your voice down," I hiss.

"I've traveled all the way from Birmingham. A cuppa and some biscuits isn't going to sustain me, dear."

From her purse she produces a flask and pours a healthy amount into the teacup before filling it the rest of the way with tea.

"This is Esme, John's wife. She's a Lee. She has knowledge."

I blink at Esme and we stare at each other for a moment before I look down at my empty teacup.

"So let's cut to the meat of it shall we. What did you see?"

I take a deep breath, avoiding her piercing stare and quietly recount what happened. All of it. Entering the bakery, falling, the abandoned house, the cats, the child, the beast, and the stallion. I explain about seeing the black stallion before Alfie met Tommy and she nods her eyes studying my face with rapt attention. Esme shifts uncomfortably beside her.

"You grew up in a vardo, on the moors. I know your mum was close to those who could have taught you about this."

"Mama Mina was… she was teaching me but we had to leave and then… I was left here in London. I had no idea how to get back."

Polly eyes me curiously, a sadness radiating from her.

"Cats are bad omens. They're cunning and smart. They kill for sport unlike their counterparts who kill for sustenance. The beast I'll admit I'm not sure about. I guess it's appropriate that Tommy would show himself as a stallion. Always one with horses, that one. You're alone, without your Mr. Solomons, and a child…"

She leans back her gaze flowing over me like icy creek water.

"Not your child. No. So whose child?"

"Maybe not a child at all. Maybe a trick. She never saw the child in the dream, did she? Only a bundle of cloth," Esme says. Her thick brogue takes me back to my childhood and a part of my heart throbs at the cadence.

Polly considers this, tapping her cigarillo against a crystal tray.

"You've not told your husband any of this?"

I shake my head.

"Alfie is not accustomed to gypsy ways. He doesn't understand."

"And you're afraid he'll scorn you."

I flinch but nod. My darkest fear being spoken aloud makes the churning in my belly worsen.

"I feel it. The foresight. I feel it every day when I get up. It's getting worse and worse. I'm terrified. I can't explain it to him but I know he feels it."

Polly's eyes go unfocused just over my shoulder and she nods slowly as if listening to another person from far away.

"You will be taken. You will be harmed. The cat is an adversary but one you haven't met yet. The child may be a distraction or something else, I cannot say and the spirits do not tell me. Tell your husband. It might change the vision."

But my heart is hammering harder now in blind panic. Her words are growing faint and far away. Out of the corner of my eye I see a car screech to a halt in front of the tea room. Polly rears back out of her chair and the windows shatter in a spray of glass. Women scream, surging to their feet as gunshots crack in rapid succession. Esme and Polly dive down, their body's kicking frantically on the tile floor, moving behind the counter against the back wall. I topple from my chair, a low hum surrounding me as my heartbeat throbs inside my head.

And then my arms are being yanked and jerked. Sound explodes against my eardrums as if I'd been pulled from viscous fluid. Screams, shouting, gunfire, the crackle of flames. I'm thrown into the back of a car bashing my head against the opposite side, blood oozing in my right eye.

The car rocks wildly as it veers, men speaking in rapid fire Italian.

I'm shoved down on the floor of the car, a boot pressed against my back pressing all the breath out of me. I feel the crack against my skull before the blackness swallows me.