Mercy, London, November 1925 - The Black Hand
My body has healed a great deal in the last three weeks. My ankle is still tender, the blow to my leg still throbs occasionally, and my ribs are mending quickly. It barely twinges when I roll to my side now.
I've been staring at our bedroom window for hours now, watching as it slowly lightens from black to smudged gray.
My head is pillowed on Alfie's arm, his chest pressed to my back, his other arm wrapped around my torso. It's heavy and uncomfortable against my ribs but I don't move him. I like the security.
I know when he wakes, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing and squeezing me closer.
Hot breath tickles my neck when he nuzzles into me.
"'Ow do you feel, love?"
"Mmm, just fine."
I stretch, rolling over to drape myself over his chest, idly running my fingers through the soft golden hairs at the nape of his neck.
"Doctor'll be 'ere today to look you over," he mumbles idly.
I hum in agreement. His hands rub up and down my back in firm strokes, swiping down over my bottom occasionally. Despite the firmness digging into my belly, Alfie won't take it further. He hasn't made love to me since I came back to him. At first I understood, I was hurting all over, my face growing a startling shade of purple, my joints felt like they ground together each time I moved. I was so thirsty that the first glass of water I drank, I threw back up. It wasn't much better with food. But now I am getting impatient. I want my husband in every way.
Alfie had stayed home with me and nursed me back to health. The doctor came twice a week. Rebecca came too, doing house work and making dinner. In a quiet moment where Alfie had actually given me privacy with the doctor he told me that I was not pregnant. It hurt and relieved me. I felt guilt for my relief but reasoned that it wasn't because I didn't want Alfie's child. I wanted a safe place to have him. I never wanted to know how it felt to be Tommy while his son was missing. There was also the wiggling feeling that something was wrong with me for going this long without conceiving.
I have been treated like a national hero since I returned. Alfie's men that come to the house look at me with a sort of reverent awe. Before I had just their respect as his wife. Now they looked almost fearful. According to Alfie there had been arguments over who would stand watch around the house, so many of them had wanted to help and play a part.
The first morning I woke, I was commanded not to speak. The doctor wasn't sure if I'd broken my jaw or not. The swelling in my face and neck was awful. After a few pokes and prods though he was happy that the bones were still all connected and I was allowed to talk. Not that I could, much above a whisper. My vocal cords had been shredded from screaming.
Alfie had bundled me in a warm blanket, curled me up into his lap and held me in our bed as I told him everything. I told him of the dream, going shopping, and meeting Polly Gray to ask about the dream. I told him what I remembered of being taken and then of waking and trying to jump up to the hole in the ceiling. How they beat me because of it. How they beat me again a day later for fun. How they slapped and kicked and punched at me.
I told him of the smells and the dripping and the rats. I told him of the slop bucket and when I heard Charles brought in. I told him of the meeting with Changretta who I didn't know at the time. I told him of how I escaped and what happened when I took the car and then did my best to retrace my path to London.
Alfie listened patiently, his hands stroking my back and hair, his overgrown beard twitching every so often, his green blue eyes like flinty marble. Soft kisses pressed to my temple and he held me gingerly, softly, even as he felt carved from stone.
"It was wrong of ya to deceive me, Dove. It was wrong. But I understand, yeah. I would 'ave told ya 'no' wouldn't I? And that's on me. For being a fuckin' arshole about your ways. That's on me. But no more, Mercy. You'll tell me, yeah? All your dreams and your thoughts. I'll listen and not be an arshole."
I nod, relieved and slightly put off by not having to fight my corner more. After a while I feel myself drifting when Alfie starts to talk again in a low, hushed voice.
"You said, don't go into the gold clouds. You made me promise. I remember that day often, love. I remember your face so full of panic and fear. Fuckin' hell it makes me insides tremble now just thinkin' about it. 'Don't go into the gold clouds, Alfie. Promise me. Don't let it touch you.' And I knew it was important to you. Important enough that you chased me down at the station. Important enough that you were fuckin' terrified and soundin' like a fuckin' loon but not carin'."
He drops off into silence again but I know he's not done.
"I went a whole year without seein' it but when I did… when I did me whole body went hot. I got fuckin' chills seein' it. It looked just like you said. Big gold cloud just creepin' over the black earth. Commander ordered a retreat and we fell back until the wind changed and blew that shit away. I saw it four more times and four more times we retreated. Other battalions were not so lucky. Some pressed and they died. Some pressed and survived. But more often than not, they were dead after the gas passed over 'em. The masks were supposed to protect us. The masks were supposed to keep us alive. So when I was made Captain it only took two weeks for meself to be tested. Follow the orders of me country or follow the orders of me girl.
"I made you a promise, Mercy. They said press and when that cloud rolled toward us, I called retreat. We 'ad masks but I promised ya. We ran. We fuckin' ran and lost our advantage. We lost over a 'undred meters of ground that day and I got reamed, I did. But all fifty of me men made it back to the trenches. All fifty o' 'em.
"I've thought of that day a lot. I thought of that choice I made. Would we 'ave won the war sooner if I'd pressed? Would other men who died, 'ave lived? What was the cost of that day?
"Two months ago, I saw 'arold Kaplan, 'e was in a right bad way, Mercy, 'is skin…"
"It's okay, Alfie. You don't have to-"
"It were the gas, 'e said. The doctors told 'im, it were the gas. Gave 'im cancer. Said many men who survived the gas with their masks were dyin' now. Said they didn't know before, but they fuckin' knew now."
I squeeze Alfie, my body buzzing with anxiety.
"You knew. You didn't but ya did. You knew it. You saved me from that. Me and those fifty men, Mercy. So, I know… I know those things you see ain't no fuckin' laugh. I know in me heart I will never disparage you for those dreams, love. Not fuckin' ever."
"I know, Alfie. I know. It's okay. I- I'm sorry about Mr. Kaplan."
Alfie holds me tighter, pressing a kiss to my temple.
Alfie's men were searching all of England for Changretta. We had no way of knowing if he was still here or if he found passage back to America but Tommy was sure that he had stayed. That he would find a way to bring more men to his aide and continue his vendetta. The dead Shelby that I had heard of was John. My heart had hurt for Esme. She must be devastated.
Polly's son, Michael, was also shot and was currently in the hospital. Tommy had enlisted a gypsy mercenary to take care of Changretta's men that had come after them in Small Heath. From what I understood there was a deal involving his son but I had taken laudanum when Alfie was explaining and my memory is a bit fuzzy.
When I wake up, I'm tucked into Alfie's side. He's propped his head up on his hand while the other explores my stomach and hips.
I kiss Alfie's neck, stroking my hands through his hair and over his beard.
He'd let it grow out more and I was still deciding if I liked it. It made him look older but I reasoned that we both looked older and more worn down these days.
I open my mouth to ask if I would be allowed in the kitchen to make us breakfast when a loud pounding comes from downstairs. I jump and Alfie slides away from me so quickly, I barely have a chance to register the motion. He's pulling on his pants and grabbing his shirt before I can pull the bed sheets up over my chest. The banging continues, near constant, and frantic. My heart pounds until I realize it's someone knocking on the front door and if they were going to hurt us, they would have broken it down by now. They also would have had to get past the four guard stations Alfie had set around the block.
As I dress, Ollie's nervous voice floats up at me. I can't make out his words but he sounds agitated.
When I come down the stairs, he's twisting his hands together and Alfie is sitting at his desk, another card in his hand.
This time, I walk to his desk and slip it from his fingers. He lets me.
I'd like to sit down and discuss our situation. It seems I have made an error in judgment regarding our possible relationship.
The letter included the location of a restaurant in London and a meeting time of seven tomorrow night.
I tap the card against my palm.
"Ollie, how was this delivered?"
"Post."
I hum. Moving around the desk, I sit in Alfie's lap and pull open his top drawer. I lift out a blank letter and envelope.
My hand shakes only slightly when I pick up a pen but it is steady when I write the message.
Come to my bakery. Unarmed. I will hear your proposal. This is the only offer of parlay I will extend.
I seal the letter in the envelope and write 'Changretta' on it. I hand that to Ollie. Digging in Alfie's drawers I finally find a blank cream colored card. Both men watch as I work, the tension in the room growing thick.
When the ink is dry, I close the card and slip it into its matching envelope and write 'Luca' on it.
Ollie holds out a shaking hand but I smile and press the letter to my chest.
"No. This one I will deliver myself."
I watch from the back of the room, hidden in the shadows behind a wall of Alfie's men. He apologizes for taking me. He apologizes for how I was treated. He tries to make a deal with Alfie to get rid of Tommy and the Peaky Blinders. And Alfie agrees. I know it's coming but my heart still clenches.
"I regret my actions against you, Mr. Solomons. Taking your wife was inexcusable. This is not how my mother raised me to be. I ask for your forgiveness and hope that we may find a way to work together."
"Work together, mate? You took my fuckin' wife, right. Took her right from 'er seat, havin' tea with 'er friends. You beat 'er. You fuckin' tortured 'er. Light of me fuckin' life, bruised and bleedin'. You want my forgiveness but I ain't no fucking deity to forgive you your transgressions am I? I'm a fuckin' rum runner a bookmaker. I'm a businessman. And you are in a very nasty place right now, ain't ya. Fuckin' brass balls on you, son, ain't they? To come into my 'ouse, and ask for forgiveness."
Changretta's eyes glance around the room before settling back on Alfie, almost lazily.
"I told my men to treat her with care. I told them she wasn't to be harmed and I would be more than happy to punish those men for their wrong doings but they're not alive anymore for me to do that. Your wife took care of that, didn't she? I lost six men that night and my leverage over Thomas Shelby. Now, it was my mistake to take her. I admit that. I'm here for my vendetta against the Shelbys and word on the street is, you're allied with them. I'm big enough to admit I was wrong, Mr. Solomons. I should have sat down with you first, assessed your position before acting rashly. I'm here to make it right. We could have a very lucrative partnership."
They fall down into brass tacks over the rum but when it comes to the assassination Alfie dawdles.
"Right, so I want… well I want more. I want cash and don't worry, cause I've broken down the cost here. Right… right here. Let me see."
Alfie pulls a folded piece of paper from inside his vest and I suppress a laugh at how ridiculous he's being.
"Well a normal dispatch would cost 500 pounds but… but I'm going to have to add another hundred to that because Thomas Shelby, like me, is from an oppressed people. And I'll need another ton on that because Arthur is a fuckin beast and he will come after me and mine, yeah. And then of course, I'll need another hundred on that yeah, cause well, you're a fuckin' wop, mate.
"And then at the end of it all, I will need another five hundred pounds because like I said, he's a very, very good friend o' mine. Oh, and put another thousand pounds down yeah, for fuckin' with my wife. I would ask for more but she did off six o' your men, yeah by 'erself. Fuckin' wops, man.
"You know she's, what? Five foot tall? I could lift 'er over me 'ead with one arm, I could. I 'ave. I've lifted 'er all over the place, cheeky little minx. She can't even tip over a barrel of rum. My little wife took six o' you Italian fucks in a matter of 'ours. I wonder how many more she'll get before this is all over.
"Yeah, mate. You made a mistake. You made a mistake takin' 'er. Fuckin' savage she is. My fuckin' savage. Maybe I'll turn 'er loose before it's all said and done, yeah? See 'ow many more she can get."
Changretta's on the edge now and I silently will Alfie to back down but I can hear the edge in my husband's voice. He's on the edge too, so close to striking out with that cane. So close to changing our plans. I know what he's thinking. Changretta's here, he can take him, unarmed and avenge me. But it will complicate things. More will come. More will follow. We must play this carefully.
Alfie agrees to let Changretta's men stand in as seconds on Goliath's fight. I smirk when he tells them they will need to be circumcised.
When we get back home, Alfie broods all the way up to our room. I leave the bathroom, the gold ring I had procured for him clenched tightly in my fist. After I had been taken, Esme and Polly had grabbed my things and brought them to Alfie. I don't think he had looked through them, my dress had still been wrapped in paper. The ring was still wrapped as well.
It takes Alfie a moment to look up from the book he's not actually reading but when he does his mouth parts and his eyes glaze over. The oyster colored negligee feels like cool crisp water over my skin. My nipples are already pebbled. I don't look away as I climb up from the bottom of the bed and straddle his lap.
"I wanted to give you this on our anniversary."
My palm opens and Alfie looks down, studying the ring in my hand. It has the Jewish Chai symbol embossed on the top.
"I want you to remember that we're alive, Alfie. We're together and that my love is for always, no matter what."
He slips the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand, clenching a fist a few times and rotating to inspect it.
Our kisses are soft and tender for a long while, stroking hands that explore gently, softly. But I want more. I want all of him so I push. I rock over him, rubbing my breasts against his chest, mewling into his mouth.
Alfie chucks the book off the bed, missing the nightstand and rolls us over. We blindly push at the blankets until we're skin to skin. His undershorts and my nightgown are all that separate us.
It doesn't take long before he's shed them both and presses into me in a long stroke. Ragged breathing, seeking lips, roving hands, grinding hips, we're a writhing mass of want and desire.
"Mercy, fuck."
"Yes, Alfie, yes, like that."
His thrusts come faster, sharper, harder. I try to meet him at each movement but my hip is not strong enough to keep up with the pace. I let him grab my waist, angling me up toward him as he loses himself. The pleasure builds from the friction and the sounds he emits. Grunts and growls and moans. I'm gasping, my heart hammering when his fingers move to where we're joined and stroke me in tight circles. I fracture with Alfie's name on my lips as I chant through the waves of pleasure.
He's not long behind me, an almost painful moan reverberating into my sweat slicked neck.
We roll onto our sides, his hands smoothing stray strands of hair away from my face.
"I don't want you at the fight."
"So you want me here, hours away from you, and alone?"
"I'd put men outside. I'd have a fuckin' army 'ere until I got back."
"We stay together. I'm safer with you, Alfie. I came tonight and nothing bad happened. We'll go to Birmingham together and nothing bad will happen that we have not already planned to happen."
Alfie sighs and gathers me up, positioning us until he's satisfied and then reaching over to turn out the light.
When our bodies have cooled enough we yank up the blankets and I snuggle into his side.
"I'm here Alfie. I'm here and we're okay. We'll be okay."
My dress is green with a black lace, beaded overlay. It's short and low cut and the matching hat has a lace overlay that comes almost over my eyes. I've gone heavy with the kohl tonight and painted my lips a dark blood red. The green satin shoes are a smidge too tight but I don't have time to get different ones. I need to be noticed so Alfie is noticed. It's all part of the plan.
When we arrive in Birmingham, Alfie leaves me with four of his men and reluctantly goes to find Tommy. I wait, sitting patiently in a seat behind Goliath's corner, the men around me tense and on high alert.
The seats are filling in quickly now and Alfie appears again, his eyes full of relief when they land on me.
He sits down beside me, his hand going to my knee and rests the cane over his lap.
I glance up at him and he winks.
Tommy has been alerted.
Polly and three other women take their seats across the ring from us and she tilts her chin at me, a smile on her face.
Thomas and Arthur join them a few seats down and the match starts. It's brutal but the Gypsy lad has got a hard head on him and Goliath is having trouble keeping up with the smaller man.
I notice halfway through when Arthur disappears.
It's chaos when the fight ends, The gypsy runt peacocking around the ring, Goliath being dragged out under the ropes, blood oozing from cuts on his face.
Alfie sighs, probably aware that he will not hear the end of this loss from Tommy or the boy's father.
I feel bad for Goliath who will not hear the end of losing this fight from Alfie.
Tommy marches through the celebrating and my stomach clenches. I watch as he notifies Polly of something and how the Shelby clan begins to move together into one group. Alfie grabs my arm and we're moving. The men with us push through the celebrating crowd and my vision tilts and jumbles as I'm hauled beside Alfie. We're in our car and racing away from the building when I notice a parked car turn its lights on and drive away in the opposite direction.
Tommy calls Alfie a week later and tells him Changretta took the bait. He'll be at his gin distillery in two days time. Polly confirms that she's spoken with our associate across the pond and he has verified that his work is done. All of our pieces are in place.
The night before the meetup Alfie and I leave under the cover of darkness, just in case Changretta has us watched. We walk three blocks in the cold until we reach a parked car that is waiting for us, suitcases already packed in the back.
The drive is silent and I enjoy the way Alfie holds me against his chest in the back, fingers tracing patterns on the back of my neck.
We were escorted the next morning into a back room of the distillery. Alfie is dressed in his finest suit, his hat steamed and his scarf pristine. I'm wearing a plain black dress with oversized buttons and a starched white collar but I've worn my kohl and dark lipstick and let my hair down, wild and curling around my face.
We can hear everything from this room and it is frightening to think that if one of Changretta's men comes over here, he will see us. But they don't. I listen to Changretta preen. I jump when there's a clatter and commotion, Alfie's hand coming up to grab my neck, soothing me.
Tommy's soft voice begins to explain what's really happening.
"A friend of mine once said, 'Big fucks small.' So I had to find someone bigger than you."
Alfie's lips quirk up in a smile. I tilt my head at him, my eyebrow going up.
Polly's dulcet voice joins in the conversation.
Tommy exposes his men as working for the highest dollar and Alfie takes my hand.
He tugs me out of the room. I see Tommy kneeling on the floor when we move around the large vats. When he sees Alfie, he gets to his feet.
Changretta turns and his eyes go right to Alfie but then skitter over to me. I grin, wide and feral.
From my dress pocket I pull out the letter I had written him. With Alfie's tall presence behind me I walk right up to Luca Changretta and hand him the card.
He studies Alfie, eyes searching his face over my shoulder before he looks down at me.
He's lost and he knows it. Gingerly he takes the card studying his name written on the front and opens it.
My black handprint staring up at him.
"I promised."
Changretta smiles but it's brittle and angry. He jerks his hand up and manages to get his gun into it before Alfie's cane whips out over me and smashes into his knuckles. The gun falls from useless fingers and I rear back just in time for Alfie to surge forward. Tommy has joined the fray, holding Changretta's arms back as Alfie's fists hit again and again and again. When Alfie's breathing heavily and Changretta's face is a bloody mess, Tommy jerks him around, slamming him into a metal post, dropping his body to fall where it will. Alfie drives a hard kick into Changretta's crotch and Tommy hauls him back up. I tear my eyes from Changretta to see my husband, teeth bared in an animalistic snarl.
The golden beast, not quite a dog, not quite a bear.
From our left Arthur Shelby walks in, a force of Peaky Blinders behind him, a revolver pointed at Changretta.
The moment Luca realizes that Arthur is alive is short lived. The sound of the gun sets my ears ringing. I turn, pressing my face into Alfie's back, the sight of Changretta's head splintering imprinted on the back of my eyes. I peek back and see him lying there, blood pouring from his face and back of his head, the card laying beside him, sprayed in blood.
When it's over Polly strokes a hand over my hair and leaves with Finn. Alfie and Tommy share a short quiet conversation as the Italians that came with Luca drag his body out of the distillery.
And then it's over. Luca Changretta is dead. The Shelby's are safe. We are safe. It's finally over.
The drive back to Camden Town is quiet but there's a lightness between us.
"I think we should take a vacation, I do, yeah. I think it's about fuckin' time I took me wife someplace nice. Someplace quiet."