PERCUSSION
Five months later
Alfie sat grumpily at the busy table, grumbling to himself as he scanned the other guests at the table. Occasionally making eye contact with the puffed up cavalry officers in their pompous red uniforms before they nervously shifted their eyes away from him. Ignoring their disgruntled and disgusted huffing at their end of the table, Alfie reached up to scratch irritatedly at his beard. His skin had been pestering him a lot lately, the aggressive rash had spread across the left side of his face and despite Sophie's insistence that he get it checked out he had done his best to ignore it's existence. Without even looking at her husband, Sophie raised her hand to push Alfie's hand away from his face whilst continuing her conversation with Michael. She pulled his hand into her lap and cradled it in both hands. He huffed and took a big swig of the amber coloured whiskey in his untouched glass.
The table was grand and lined with fancy table runners covered with bouquets of fresh flowers amongst tall flickering candles. With the warm and romantic atmosphere it was almost hard to catch the stern and disapproving looks being passed between the two ends of the table. Sophie and Alfie sat towards the top of the table, in between John and Esme and Michael and Ada. Esme had been in a foul mood since the ceremony, ranting about the stuck-up pricks in the red coats and how the Lees would ridicule her for sitting at the very same table, and so she had not been very good company to the couple whilst they waited for Tommy and Grace to join them at the table. Instead, Alfie amused himself by listening to Ada's incessant ranting about communism and socialism.
"Christ, she's giving me a headache." Michael grumbled to Sophie, keeping his voice low so Ada didn't overhear. Stifling a laugh, Sophie glanced to the otherside of the table who were forced to play audience to her rambling.
"Just wait til she finds out she's talking to a soviet." She spoke lowly. Her eyes were glued to the gaunt man sat listening with sharp eyes. She knew the guest list for Thomas' wedding and this man certainly wasn't on it, meaning he must be the russian they'd been told to expect.
"He's-" Michael began questioningly. Sophie quickly shushed him and nodded her head at him covertly. "Well shit." he breathed.
"How's Polly, anyway?" Sophie asked, eager to change the topic. Alfie grew very tense anytime she mentioned anything to do with the business and she was already pushing her luck with getting him to agree to attend her brother's wedding.
"Wishes you'd stop by more, keeps telling me about your baby and he isn't even born yet." He tactfully followed along with her subject change. Michael was smart, almost too smart for his own good, Sophie thought. He'd excelled in the business and was now an important member of the legitimate work that the Shelby Company did, but Sophie could see he wanted more.
"Well I'll-" Sophie was distracted by Lizzies departure from the table, as the tall woman left the room and wandered out into the hall. Michael noticed her silence and turned in his seat to follow her gaze. Making a quick nod back at Sophie, he swiftly left the table to follow after her.
"Alf, I'll be back in a second. I just need to go find my useless family." She hissed to him angrily, anticipating Michael putting his foot in his mouth where Lizzie is concerned.
"Soph." Alfie groaned, gripping her arm as she moved to stand up.
"Alfie, please I won't be long I swear." She placated, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before rushing off. Her blush pink dress swayed with her walk, the loose fabric around her legs glimmering in the low light. Her long curly hair had been pinned up into an elegant bun, with a few strands loose to frame her makeupless face. Alfie had spent hours that morning staring at her delicate freckles splayed across her upturned nose and cheeks and kissing wherever they dusted while she lay sleepily in bed. He'd been so affectionately fascinated that she'd decided to not cover them with makeup. Sophie had thrown on a beautiful and loose fitting pale pink dress that reached down to her calves, with careful gold stitching across the bodice and around the cuffs of its long sleeves. It wrapped tightly around her swollen stomach, the small bump becoming very noticeable now she was in the tail end of her second trimester.
"So I'm not allowed a man on my arm, is that it?" Lizzie exclaimed from the end of the hallway where she stood bickering with Michael. As Sophie made her way towards the pair, she saw Arthur walking just ahead of her.
"Michael, speeches, c'mon." He commanded simply, before snatching a bottle of some expensive looking alcohol.
"Arthur, you know why he didn't come, don't you?" Lizzie sneered with her hands on her hips.
"Why who didn't come?" He asked, his attention on the alcohol in his grasp.
"My bloody man." She hissed.
"Oh you mean the wop." Arthur replied, eliciting a groan from Sophie as she reached the group.
"I just heard there was a fire at his restaurant, midnight last night. And a smashed back window and a smell of petrol." She accused, glaring at the three of them.
"Lizzie, we tried to talk some sense into you." Michael said calmly, lighting a cigarette.
"Liz' c'mon." Sophie tried to calm her, placing her hand gently on the taller woman's shoulder before being shrugged off and given a seething glare. At Lizzies reaction, she sighed before leaning back against the wall. "We did checks on him, he's had five different names in the last six years, and he's got connection with the Naples boys. It's for your own good, Liz."
Ignoring Sophie's calmness, Lizzie turned her attention back to Arthur and Michael.
"What do you know about love? About when lightening strikes?"
"So it was lightening, hmm? Not petrol." Arthur mocked, before motioning his head back towards the dining room. Pushing off the wall, Sophie stalked forward to join the two boys and hoping to avoid any further talk of Lizzie's man.
"I thought you were off the whiskey, Arthur?" She enquired, giving him a disapproving look.
"Yeah I am, having a couple now and again to remind myself why I don't drink it." He excused, pulling the cork out of the bottle.
"You set fire to his restaurant to stop him coming! You have no right to choose who I step out with in my own time!" Lizzie shouted down the hall. The three of them halted, making long glances at each other. Taking a deep breath, Sophie turned on her heel and stalked towards the angry woman. Standing a few inches from her, she looked coldly into her eyes.
"Lizzie, you are an important member of the Shelby Company Limited. Who you 'step out with' is very much our business if you want to keep that position." She spoke menacingly, her voice low and barely above her whisper. Lizzie shuddered at the tone. "You got the order, same as us. I suggest you follow through."
Sophie's eyes were ablaze, powerful and commanding as they glimmered in the low light. A mocking smile ghosted her lips, before she spun and returned to the men waiting for her. Arthur looked on at her in half admiration but also in fear, Sophie had never been so cold, so unfeeling and while it impressed him how well she'd taken to the role, he feared the loving and gentle soft Sophie he knew had been lost.
The three rejoined the table, not long followed by a disgruntled Lizzy. The dinner was somehow even more awkward and tense than the hour spent beforehand waiting for the dinner. Arthurs fumbled speech had left a sour taste in Sophie's mouth, exchanging tense looks with Grace as Thomas and Arthur stormed out of the room. She'd preoccupied herself with chatting to Alfie, laughing at his complaining about being in the midst of a big Shelby wedding. When he got particularly grumpy, Sophie would place his hand on her stomach and let him feel the baby move and he would be instantly soothed.
Once the dinner had finished, the crowd stood scattered amongst the cosy hall, with many of the women dancing to the swing band. It was a smaller room compared to the grand hall Sophie and Alfie had been married in, but it was part of Thomas' house and so naturally was built to be significantly smaller. It was equally as fancy however, the walls painted gold with golden framed mirrors hung on each and every wall. Sophie sat at a table in the back, her aching feet propped up on another seat as she sipped on her glass of champagne.
"They dance like they've got sticks shoved up their arse." Alfie grunted, watching the officers in their uniform dance with their women around the floor. He sat next to Sophie, his seat placed as close as possible to her as he leant into her.
"Well what were you expecting, hardly gonna be Josephine Baker are they?" She teased, rubbing her stomach as she laughed.
Sophie's smile dropped as she spotted Tommy making his way speedily towards her. He looked anxious, his brows pulled together as he wove in and out of the moving crowd.
"Where's John?" He demanded as he stood at their table.
"Looking for Esme." Sophie supplied, scanning his face. "Why?"
Thomas' eyes flicked to Alfie momentarily before leaning down to Sophie and speaking in Romani: "Johnny's lit a fire. Be alert." He rushed out before rushing off towards the band.
"What the fuck was that." Alfie questioned, taking in the look of shock on Sophie's face. Her jaw had gone slack, watching her brother's panicked figure.
"It was Romani, which means he's scared." She spoke, mostly to herself.
"Sounded like fucking gibberish to me." Alfie scoffed. His tone was light but his brows were furrowed as he kept his eyes steady on Sophie's face.
"Yeah I suppose it would to you. Sounds just as weird as your yiddish." Sophie joked, snapping herself out of her bewilderment.
"Oi, sacred language that." He connected eyes with her, drinking in the hidden concern in her eyes. It remained unspoken between them, but Alfie wouldn't forget it.
"And how do you know Romani isn't?" She teased, quirking her eyebrow at him.
The couple fell into silence, cheeky grins taking over their faces as they silently agreed to leave that discussion for another time and focus on keeping things lighthearted. She loved that about Alfie; he was incredibly intelligent. He could pick up on her behaviour or intentions without her even needing to speak, and he knew when to let things go unsaid but he also seemed to always know what to say and when.
Their loving trance was broken as Linda had sat herself down at their table politely, placing her bag and gloves onto the table. The two ladies exchanged friendly smiles, Sophie patting Alfie's hand endearingly.
"I don't suppose either of you have seen Arthur? I haven't seen him since dinner." She asked sweetly. Her question wiped the smile off Sophie's face, a heavy dark feeling beginning to swirl in her gut. The light tapping of a cymbal, echoing through her ears like a high pitched scream.
Exhaling heavily, Sophie sat up in her seat. "No, I'll go find him - I have an idea of where he may be." She stood steadily, pushing her chairs underneath the table. "I'll be back."
She strode out of the room, heading towards the outside of the house, leaving Linda and Alfie in an awkward silence before he excused himself to get another drink.
The cold air outside was refreshing, but the quiet ringing in her ears began to amplify as she surveyed the group of shirtless men fighting amongst themselves outside. Not one of them seemed to be Arthur, raising the hair on the back of her neck before she returned inside, skulking the corridors for any sign of her eldest brother. The high pitched tinkling of cymbals had morphed into a quiet but steady beat of a marching drum as anxiety filled her throat, forcing her to swallow repeatedly in hopes of clearing her airway. The dark feeling in her stomach grew heavier and heavier the longer she looked. The panic became so strong, she'd taken a moment to unstrap the small pistol she'd holstered to her thigh as she checked every room along the dark hallways. Everywhere was empty, no one to be found except a few nervous maids and butlers. Maybe Sophie was wrong, maybe she'd misunderstood Tommy's words and Arthur was just somewhere smoking and drinking away from his godly wife. Her wistful thinking was brought to a screeching halt at the sound of scuffling a few rooms ahead of her. Painful grunts could be heard from the room, too quiet for her to distinguish who it was.
"No! No! No! No!" She heard the raspy voice of Arthur call out painfully. They were echoed by a quieter voice repeating his words back to him. Gripping the gun tighter, she sped up taking purposeful steps closer to the room. Entering she could see the gaunt russian man from earlier at the table on his hands and knees looking up at Arthur, who held a gun towards the man's head and was staggered into the wall, turning his head as he screamed. He was in mental agony, fighting against what he wanted to do and what he'd been ordered to do. He begged himself to just shoot the man, get it over with and move on, but his body wouldn't comply.
Sophie couldn't bear it anymore, taking three quick but uncertain steps towards the two and raised her weapon at the man on the floor. She quickly fired, shooting the man in the forehead, a perfect shot. The drums silenced for a moment, before large bass drums began to pound inside her head, a fast rhythm deafening her mind. She could feel her chest heaving exaggeratedly as heavy breaths escaped her lips, her eyes wide with adrenaline. Arthur slumped against the wall, sobbing to himself as his eyes flitted between his baby sister and the dead man at his feet.
"Get up." She said simply. "Get up now, Arthur."
Swiping at his eyes angrily, Arthur stood straight and gathered himself before taking the gun from Sophie. He spoke to her but she couldn't hear him, the pounding in her ears too loud as saliva filled her mouth. The same hot guilt she'd felt when she had killed those two Italians flooded her body, her cheeks flushing red hot as her brain whirred quicker than she could process. Her vision fixated on the man's crumpled body, crimson liquid slowly flowing from his head onto the concrete floor beneath him. Two coarse hands gripped her face and pulled her view from the violent image, as she saw similar blue eyes to her own and Arthur's thick bushy eyebrows.
"Soph. Go, get a drink and get out of here. I'll get Johnny." Arthur instructed. She could feel herself nodding at his words and her feet began to carry her out of the room and up the stairs to the main house. Stumbling, she caught herself on the wall at the top of the stairs, and hunched over. She began to dry heave, gagging but nothing coming out as her body tried to purge the darkness inside her. Sophie wasn't sure how long she stayed there like that, but her body had settled and her breathing had calmed slightly. She stood up and composed herself, a shaky breath exiting her lips as Sophie walked back into the hall she'd left Alfie in. She spotted him immediately, his towering figure stood at one of the tall tables with her aunt. Sophie walked towards them, narrowly avoiding the drunk guests as they flung themselves around the room to the fast music. The flurry of movement blurred her vision, her head felt like it was spinning wildly on her neck. She reached her husband's table, gripping onto its edges to stop her from sinking to the floor. Alfie's eyes flooded with concern, his wife's dishevelled appearance striking him.
"Soph-" Alfie started, freezing when he clocked onto the tremor of her hands as she reached for his glass. She gulped the whiskey down, emptying the glass completely. Sophie could barely feel the sting as she swallowed, the drums becoming a thunderous rhythm in her skull.
"Soph, what the fuck?" Alfie barked, shocked by her drinking. She was the one to tell him that whiskey was bad for the baby, alarm bells were blaring in his mind. All it took was for him to make eye contact with her once and he could read exactly what happened. From the tremor in her hands, her wide bloodshot eyes and the lost expression, it was scarily similar to the same state he'd seen her in once before. It was scaring him now as much as it had then.
"We're leaving." He declared.