The old healer looked at the family in front of her; these three smartly-dressed young men and their aunt, all waiting for her to speak. In Polly, she recognised a woman with a core of steel but unaware of her own value. She definitely held this family together – as did most women – with wit, determination and a great deal of careful diplomacy; allowing the men to pilot the ship whilst being the silent rudder steering the way. The youngest brother reminded Greenleaf so much of the young men in her own family: full of life and energy, desperately wanting to belong somewhere whilst at the same time desperately wanting to break away and find his own identity. The oldest brother was teeming with emotions, she could feel them from where she stood – fear, shame, self-loathing and so much anger. He was a pot about to boil over. But it was the middle brother who drew her interest – Tommy, the one who had begged her to heal his young sister. He was a powerful one, alright. He led his family, and his business she had no doubt, with a quiet strength and deep intelligence. He was always in control, always had a plan and was wildly ambitious. And, as if that wasn't enough, he was absolutely fearless. This, combined with his ruthless thirst for power, made him a very dangerous man. Fearlessness was a trait which came, she knew, from having stared death in the face too many times. She'd heard that the Shelby boys had fought in the war and she'd heard enough about that terrible evil to know why John Shelby was restless to experience the most of what life could offer, why Arthur Shelby was struggling to hold himself together and why Thomas Shelby no longer feared anything that life could throw at him.

Except, it would seem, the deathly illness which currently held his sister in its grip. And well he should fear it, for Rose Shelby was currently in a place between life and death which even Greenleaf Young couldn't pull her away from. She'd done all she could and more, and now she knew that it was up to Rose to pull herself back to this life. She looked at the expectant faces in front of her and knew she was about to tell them what they didn't want to hear.

Greenleaf didn't believe in mincing her words. "I've done all I can. It's up to Rose now."

She watched each of them process this information in their own way.

John didn't want to understand. "What do you mean, it's up to her? What's she supposed to do lying in that tent?"

Arthur winced and his whole body seemed to deflate. He knew it - she wasn't going to pull through this. As if he hadn't been through enough. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to hold together his fragile emotions.

Tommy's face remained expressionless, but Greenleaf watched the fear flash in his eyes. She was right about those eyes being the window into his soul. She knew his mind was racing, processing this information and trying to make a plan, trying to find a way to control the uncontrollable.

Polly refused to believe the worst. "She'll come back to us. She's done it before. That girl has been a fighter since she was born."

Greenleaf nodded. "She's a strong one, that's for sure. I can sense it in her. But her body is tired."

Tommy stepped forward. "I want to see her." He looked at Greenleaf steadily, he wasn't in the mood to be told no.

Greenleaf nodded and stepped aside. "One at a time, mind. She'll be overcome with too many people."

Tommy stepped inside the tent and had to stand still whilst his eyes adjusted to the gloom inside. There was a small fire close to the entrance with a large pot of water boiling on it. He felt the steam moist and warm against his skin and his nostrils filled with the scent of many and various herbs. As his eyes got used to the low light, he spotted Rose lying on a mattress on the ground in the middle of the tent. One of Greenleaf's healers was tending to her but moved away when she saw Tommy enter.

"Come," she said and indicated a space next to Rose. She left the tent, replacing the blanket over the doorway.

Tommy approached and lowered himself onto the ground next to Rose's prone body. He could hear her breathe, slower than when he'd brought her, but still ragged and laboured. Her face was flushed and blotchy, her hair stuck to her face from the sweat of the fever. She looked so fragile and so tiny he was afraid to touch her. But he reached out and took her hand nonetheless. She needed to know he was there. Her hand was hot and clammy and he held it gently. He noticed how small it was in his and his mind was flooded with a memory of her tiny fingers grasping one of his as he held her when she was first born.

"Mouse?" He waited but she didn't move. He hadn't really expected her to. "Mouse? I'm here."

He looked into her face, willing her eyes to open. She remained still. He sighed. He didn't really know what to say. He wasn't very good at this kind of thing.

"Mouse, you need to wake up now, do you hear? Come on back to us. It's not time to give up, is it, eh? Rose?"

Rose didn't move. Her chest rose and fell painfully and her fever continued to burn inside her. Tommy had never felt so helpless. He badly wanted to break something, to destroy something as a way of releasing his anger at being so impotent. He wanted to take Rose by the shoulders and shake her and shout at her to come back. He swore. Then he swore again. Life was pernicious and relentless. There was never any break from all the bad things it threw at you. Just when he felt he was getting back on his feet, he found himself knocked off them again.

He stood up swiftly and left the tent. He couldn't bear to be in there any longer. To have to look death in the face again, and this time the death of the one person who anchored him to his own life, was too much.

Arthur and Polly turned to him in surprise as he came out of the tent. He'd barely been in there five minutes. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"Pol, you go on in. You can probably help her more than I can."

Polly touched his arm gently as she moved past him into the tent. She was eager to see Rose.

"How is she, Tom?"

Tommy looked at Arthur's anxious face, knowing there was nothing he could tell him to make him feel better. He ignored the question and instead asked one of his own.

"Where's John?"

"He went to take Michael home. He'll be back."

"Michael's here?"

"Yeah. Well, he was. He wanted to see a real life Gypsy camp. See where all his rebellious traits come from. Elias wouldn't let him in the camp."

Tommy nodded, not really interested. He pulled on his cigarette again and walked towards the fire. It was getting dark and the day was losing its heat.

Arthur looked at him. He had a curious relationship with his brother. Before the war, Arthur, as the oldest, was the leader of their little gang and the family business (with not a little help from his Aunt Polly). He had called the shots and had expected Tommy to do as he told him. Tommy usually had, but every now and again, he'd kept himself apart from the gang of young men who had latched onto the Shelby family. He marched to the beat of his own drum did Tommy. When they'd gone to France, the family dynamics changed. Tommy's natural ability to lead and his strategic mind had quickly made him stand out from the other men and he'd swiftly risen to the rank of Sergeant Major. Men followed him loyally and would happily have died for him, Arthur included. Arthur should have realised then that Tommy wasn't going to settle for less when they got home after the war.

And so it was Tommy who was now head of the Shelby family. Truth be told, apart from an initial annoyance, Arthur really didn't mind. He didn't have the head for it and, after France, he didn't have the heart for it either. In fact, he didn't have the heart for very much these days. He didn't know why he couldn't keep it together like Tommy did. "Shut the door on it, Arthur. Like I did." That's what he'd told him. "Take a long hard look at yourself," he'd said. He'd made it sound so simple, and yet it was the hardest thing Arthur had ever faced. The medicine the doctor gave him had helped, but now it was just the Tokyo which kept his demons at bay. He felt invincible when he'd had some - trouble was, he needed it more and more. He wished he could have some now.

As he watched Tommy stare into the flames, he knew how much he was struggling with not being able to fix what was happening with Rose. Apart from Polly, no-one knew Tommy as well as his older brother did. Tommy was always in control. He always knew what to do. Everyone always looked to him to sort things out. But this was something the great Tommy Shelby couldn't do a thing about. He had to wait it out like the rest of them. Arthur felt a surge of protectiveness towards his younger brother. He moved the stand next to him, watching the fire as it danced and whirled in the dusk, casting off embers.

"Hey Tom, do you remember when our Rose brought that mouse home?"

Tommy didn't answer, just kept staring into the fire, smoking his cigarette.

Arthur chuckled softly. "It had broken its leg and Rosie wanted to nurse it. Polly went mad, do you remember? 'Get that vermin out of the house!' But Rosie smuggled it upstairs when Pol wasn't looking and kept it under her bed in a nest she'd made out of a shoebox and some rags. She hid bits of food in her pocket and took them upstairs for the mouse to eat. 'Course, it died. She was heartbroken, do you remember?"

Tommy did remember. He and Arthur had rushed upstairs at the sound of her wailing, expecting to find an intruder or an injured Rose. Instead, they found her sat on the floor of her room, cradling a dead mouse and sobbing. 'He died,' she'd said, holding the dead animal out towards them, 'I wanted to make him better but he died.' Tommy's first instinct had been to laugh, but her little face was so upset that he stopped himself.

"Do you remember what you said to her?"

Tommy remembered that too.

"You told her that it wasn't her fault that it had died. That sometimes, no matter what we do, bad things happen. There's nothing we can do to stop them and there's no-one to blame. They just happen."

Tommy finished his cigarette and flicked it into the fire.

"We held a funeral for that mouse, Arthur."

Arthur laughed at the memory. "Polly's eyes almost rolled into the back of her head! Rosie never did understand why she couldn't save that mouse."

"She talked about it for weeks afterwards."

"Yeah, no-one could convince her that there was nothing she could have done to save it. She takes it all on her shoulders, that one. Makes it her business to fix things. Like this trip to London. But sometimes, there's nothing anyone can do and no-one's to blame."

The two brothers stood quietly, side by side, staring into the fire, allowing the movement of the flames – and the words which hung between them - to bring a tiny bit of peace to their souls.

Elias came and stood next to Greenleaf as she watched Arthur and Tommy standing by the fire.

"Will the little one make it, Greeny?"

"Aye, Eli, I hope so. I don't want to think what they will become without her."

"A hurt man is a dangerous one, that's for sure."

"She needs a reason to come back. Something which only she can do, something which makes the pain of this life worth it."

"Hard for a grown man to work out the reason for his life, let alone a little one."

Greenleaf looked at Elias and smiled. "Maybe we should help her then."

Elias didn't know what she meant, but he had long ago learnt not to question her ways. She understood many things that he didn't.

Greenleaf walked to the tent, lifted the blanket and went inside. Polly looked up as she entered.

"This fever needs to break, Baba Greenleaf. You're right; her body can't keep fighting much longer."

Greenleaf had nothing more to add to the discussion about Rose's illness. She moved closer.

"I heard your son came back to you, Polly Grey. And your daughter."

Polly flinched a little and felt the tears prick her eyes. "Yes, Michael came to find me. Anna is dead."

"But she came to you in your dreams?"

Polly marveled at the Gypsy grapevine. Nothing remained hidden.

"Yes, that's right. She made the journey all the way from Australia. She was always bound to me. Blood binds beyond death."

"It does. And this little one will feel the pull towards her mother right now too. She needs a reason to stay."

Polly looked back at Rose and knew Greenleaf was right. She put her hand over Rose's.

"Rose, sweetheart, this family isn't complete without you. You have to stay. We need you."

"Do you think she believes you?"

Polly looked sharply at the old healer. "What?"

Greenleaf spoke gently, knowing her words would leave a mark. "Does she really believe that you need her?"

"Of course she does."

"Polly, you have spent your life yearning for the children you lost. You love the Shelbys; you raised them but they couldn't replace what you lost. A child can sense this. Rose may find it hard to believe you need her."

Polly was horrified at this thought. "But I do," she whispered.

"Put yourself in her skin. Who does she think she's important to? You are preoccupied, Tommy is busy running the business and chasing his ambition. The other brothers and sisters –they have families?"

"John does and Ada, not Arthur. Finn is too young."

"If you were Rose, who would you stay for?"

Polly, although stunned, could see the truth in Greenleaf's words. She studied Rose's small face and thought about how much she struggled being the youngest in the family. She was often ignored and overlooked, her little tantrums and rebellions dismissed as childish foibles. They laughed at her when she said she wanted to be a Peaky Blinder. They all just expected that she would grow up, marry a solid Peaky lad and produce the next generation of Peaky lads. Polly and Tommy had often expressed to Rose how frustrated they were with her, how they expected her to do as she was told and stay out of their way. Rose had missed Ada desperately when she'd moved to London. John had his hands full with his brood and didn't have much time for another child in his life. Finn was always out with his friends. Only Arthur still managed to find time to just be with Rose. Polly knew being with Rose helped Arthur to feel calm and distracted him from the mess that was in his head. And Rose, in turn, didn't feel the need prove anything to Arthur and was happy just to be herself with him. She knew he loved her because he told her, and he never tried to control her or change her so she didn't feel the need to push against him. Polly knew that Rose was aware of how Arthur was struggling more and more recently even if she didn't fully understand why. Polly would often find Rose sat near Arthur when he was home. She would lean against him on the sofa or sit next to him at the table, silently reassuring him and letting him know she was there for him.

Polly stood up. "I'll get Arthur."

Greenleaf nodded and followed her out of the tent.

"Arthur"

Arthur and Tommy turned at the sound of Polly's voice, fearing the worst.

"Arthur, go on in. She needs you."

Arthur, surprised, looked at Tommy and then back at Polly.

"You mean Tommy?"

"No, I mean you. If I'd meant Tommy, I'd have said Tommy, wouldn't I?"

Arthur was confused. He wasn't the one who fixed things. What could he do in there?

"Arthur, go on in now."

Arthur looked at Tommy for help, but Tommy shrugged. "Go on, Arthur. She's your sister too."

Arthur moved towards the tent.

"Polly, what am I supposed to do in there?"

"Just go in and be with her. She needs you."

Arthur frowned but moved the blanket aside and stepped into the tent. Like Tommy, he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. As soon as he could see her, he moved to Rose and sat down beside her. She looked so ill his heart broke. He adored Rose, but like most things in the family he left the responsibility for her to Tommy and Polly. They were the ones who took it upon themselves to raise her. He had his opinions, of course. He felt they were too harsh with her at times and treated her like a problem to be solved rather than a child. He often picked up the pieces; trying to console her after a telling-off, attempting to distract her when she was angry with them, explaining to her why she'd been chastised. And he enjoyed making her laugh, taking her to see the horses at Charlie's yard, buying her sweets, reading to her or just holding her whilst she cried hot, angry tears. He recognised in her that short fuse which he himself struggled to control and worried about what trouble it would land her in. But she was smarter than him, quick as a whip and always three steps ahead. A trait she shared with Tommy and which led to many a clash between them. But Rose possessed something neither of them did, nor John for that matter. France had seen to that. Rose had empathy. She had a keen sense for when someone was upset or unhappy, and she made it her business to help. Of course, the Shelbys saw it as a weakness to admit they were struggling so Rose was often blown off and told to stop fussing. But Arthur had learnt to appreciate it. He sometimes sought her out when his head started tipping. And she was happy to keep him company. She knew it helped him to be with her. When she was smaller, she'd climb onto his lap and just stay there, often falling asleep, content in his arms. Her presence grounded him and allowed him to stay in the present. His head stopped keening and he felt himself in calm waters.

Rose was Tommy's girl though. Ever since she could move she'd followed him round like a puppy, wanting his attention and approval which she often got. After Billy Kimber though, Tommy's ambition knew no bounds and his attentions were directed elsewhere. Not that this stopped Rose from still seeking it. She was becoming more and more reckless in her increasingly stupid attempts to hijack Tommy's time. She was frequently out when Arthur went round to see her and Arthur missed her company and the calmness it brought him. He knew he was spiraling but had no way to stop. He took his sister's hand and cleared his throat.

"It's me, Rosie. It's Arthur. Polly said I should come in and sit with you. She said you needed me, but I don't know how to help you. That old healer said it was up to you now. Is she right? I mean, if she is then you have to come back eh? You have to fight. 'Cause you're not done yet, are you? You're a Shelby, aren't you? And Shelbys don't give up, they fight. And I know you're a fighter. Half the kids in Small Heath have been in a fight with you. Wasn't it you who broke that lad's nose just recently?" He chuckled softly. "Rosie, Aunt Pol is outside with Tommy, and John is on his way. He said he'd bring Finn. They all want you better. You can't let them down, can you? What will Finn do without his baby sister to tease and push about? Who's going to keep me on my toes if you're not there?" His voice cracked and he swallowed. "We need you back, Rose. I need you back. I mean, it's hard enough as it is but without you … I don't know …. I couldn't keep on, you know? You're the only one who helps me forget. Tommy said it's been over a year now since France and that I should move on like he did, but…"

Arthur stopped, not knowing how to voice what was going on inside him, having never voiced it before. He sniffed and shook his head. What was he thinking, talking to her like that? He reached out and stroked her hair away from her hot forehead. She was so vulnerable lying there, she seemed so alone. Without thinking, he shifted himself around so that he was lying next to her. He lifted up her head, slipped his arm underneath her shoulders and pulled her into his side, her head resting on his chest. He wrapped his other arm around her and held her close. There she was. His Rose, her presence grounding him, giving him a reason to hope. He knew why Polly had sent him in to her. He was the reason Rose would fight because she knew he needed her the most.

He lay there for a long time with Rose, holding her, silently willing her to live with every fibre of his being. Then, as he heard the birds singing to signal the dawning of a new day, he felt an almost imperceptible movement. Then he felt it again. Rose shifted in his arms, breathing in deeply and exhaling smoothly. He felt her fingers grip his shirt slightly and, as he looked up at the wooden frame holding the tent canvas, he smiled. She'd come back for him.