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Chapter 4

"Right Finn, Arthur's going to take you out the back, go get it over with," Tommy said, after he had opened his eyes and stopped gripping the kitchen table. He looked sideways at his older brother, who nodded his agreement of taking the task.

Tommy was glad, he had some thinking to do.

"Tommy, please," Finn whispered.

Tommy turned to lean across the kitchen table and look the boy in the eye, "Finn, when you're in school I know where you are, and I know you're safe. When you aren't where I think you are I can't keep you safe, do you understand?"

The boy nodded.

"And you lied to me about it, fed me some story about doing your six times tables," he said.

"I'm sorry Tommy," Finn replied, his voice even more quiet now behind the lip he was biting.

"Yeah, you will be," Tommy replied, standing up, "And you won't do it again in a hurry after you get a good hiding – so go get it done so we can move on."

Moving at a glacial pace, the boy scraped his chair out from under the kitchen table and headed out the back door, his eyes moving from Tommy to Arthur. The older brother rubbed the back of his neck then lifted the razor strop from the hook on the wall, folded it over in his hands and sighed before heading out behind the younger.

Tommy could hear their voices but couldn't make out their words – but the crack of the leather reached his ears.

He sighed himself and ran a hand through his hair.

"You did the right thing Tommy, eh?" John said.

He nodded in response. He was sure he had done the right thing, finally. He was sure he hadn't done it quickly enough. And it had hurt him to do it, but it was done now.

"He did," Polly said, agreeing with John, "When was the last time one of yours caught themselves on the hard end of a hiding?"

"Christ Aunt Pol, they're running rings around me – no idea where to start giving out hidings cause I never know which of them actually did what," John admitted.

Tommy frowned over at his brother. John hadn't mentioned anything before now.

"Four kids without a woman, it's hard," Polly said, patting John's shoulder.

It was hard for John, Tommy knew that. He had George and Katie as well as the twins Jack and Alfie and they were all young - and all boisterous.

"What I really need is to find a good woman to get married to, but what any good woman is going to want with four kids I don't know. I could probably find a bad one, but I don't know if that would help," John answered, grinning.

Polly laughed and Tommy smirked in response, allowing John to think that easy grin he held covered the truth of what he was actually saying, but, still, he siphoned the information away for when it could come in useful at a later date.

Right now though, he had other things to focus on.

"I'm going to the Garrison," he announced, taking his coat from the back of a chair.

"You told Ada you wanted to speak to her," Polly reminded him, "And Fin'll be back in in a minute."

"Finn heard what I said to Ada, clean slate once he's been punished," Tommy said, taking a cigarette out and rolling it across his lip before lighting it, "Besides, I won't be long."

His long coat was back on and he was out the front door before any of them had a chance to respond, though he had seen Polly's murderous look before he turned away. Polly always seemed to bloody know. But he couldn't think about Polly right now. He had to decide whether what he was thinking was completely fucking insane or not. Except that he knew it was. But what the question really was – was would he do it anyway?

A glass and a bottle were pushed over the counter to him as soon as he leant against the bar in The Garrison, Harry waving away his money that, as always, he would leave anyway. He downed the first glass in one, still going over it in his head. He would be playing with fire in a way he'd never played before. And really, how exactly was he going to propose it if he did propose it? He'd come across like a madman. And yet, he wanted it. Even though it was dangerous. Dangerous quite unlike the danger he was used to. And was he being selfish, did he want it for himself or for her? And why did he care anyway?

His eyes spotted the man leaning against the bar, Evans, who owned the tobacco shop – standing with Harrison, the owner of the sweet shop that had been turned over earlier. They were drinking beer.

He motioned to Harry, signalling for another two glasses to be brought, then he picked up the new glasses, his own and the bottle and made his way to where they stood.

"Gentlemen," he said, clearing his throat and placing the glasses down, "Can I interest you?" He held up the whisky.

"If it pleases you Mr Shelby," Evans replied.

"Heard your shop got turned over today Mr Harrison?" Tommy said to the taller man, who nodded his head both to the whisky and the question.

"Bloody kids," Evans chimed in.

"Skiving off school?" Tommy prompted.

"Dunno if they were or not, his Rosie," he jerked his head at Evans.

Tommy frowned slightly before he could stop himself, His Rosie?

"My shop girl, My Shelby," Evans clarified, mistaking whatever the truth behind the frown Tommy had been unable to contain was with confusion.

He nodded and busied himself lighting another cigarette, knowing sticking something in his damn mouth might stop it doing something it shouldn't. His problem was actually his eyes more than his mouth, but there was nothing he could do about that except try and exert more control. Which wasn't usually a problem.

"She was buying some sweets, think it was their lunch break," Harrison picked up, "I'm chatting to her and getting her stuff ready and next thing I know there's a wild bunch o' them behind the counter, grabbing at everything, tipping over jars – handfuls of bars away at a time. I've got a bloody sign in the door saying no more than three kids at a time, but they weren't caring."

So, Rosie Jackson had provided the distraction whilst the rest of them rammed in then. Not a bad technique, he had to admit.

"Well, Evans here can attest to the proficiency of the Peaky Blinders' protection – as can Harry behind the bar," Tommy said, giving a small snort to show he was joking. He didn't need a sweet shop in their portfolio.

"Very happy I am with it too, Mr Shelby," Evans said, raising his glass in a toast and downing the contents.

"Happy enough you're shutting early, it's barely gone five?" Tommy asked nonchalantly, refilling the emptied glass.

"Rosie's in, she'll run it tonight and lock up for me. She's a good girl."

"What age is she?" Tommy asked, his voice cool.

"Fifteen, same year as your Ada at school I believe," Evans wittered on, not catching the warning in Tommy's tone, "She's asking about going full time as soon as she's sixteen, I don't know that I can afford her full time yet, but I can definitely see me enjoying more time here than I currently do!"

"So you've got a fifteen year old girl cashing up and locking up then wandering home alone in the dark."

The smile faltered on Evans' face, "She puts the money in the safe Mr Shelby, fills out what was there for me."

"Sounds like you need more of a guard than an insurance policy if you're going to have school kids working for you on their own," Tommy remarked.

"She's never had any problems, Mr Shelby."

That she's told you about, Tommy thought darkly, but he didn't say anything. Bloody idiot, leaving her on her own to lock up and get home in the dark. And what about the sister, where was she when Rosie was in the shop till all hours?

Well, he had decided – he was going to do what he was going to do and that was one of the first things he'd be putting a stop to when he did.

"I'm not worried about her problems, Mr Evans," he lied, blowing a cloud of smoke into the man's face, "I'm just worried about you claiming from us because you've done something stupid. See that wouldn't really be in the terms of our agreement."

Evans' face paled, "Mr Shelby, I-"

Tommy cut him off by waving his cigarette, "Yeah, yeah, I get it – just make sure you use your head. Fifteen year old girls need protected round here, not left to be the protection."

"Yes Mr Shelby," Evans muttered.

There was a silence then, as Tommy puffed away and Harrison eventually tried to break the tension, "You'll have experience of fifteen year old girls Mr Shelby."

Tommy raised an eyebrow in question.

"Your sister," he clarified.

Tommy gave a curt nod.

"She's a good girl, your Ada," Harrison ran on.

Tommy didn't answer that verbally either. Good girl indeed! Impudent, cheeky, disobedient – they were words he was more likely to attribute to his sister. And he was fairly sure whatever her attitude in the house, she dialled it up even more out of the house – where she was safe in the knowledge no one would dare to raise a finger against her. But that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Ada and Finn, they had that protection of their surname.

Ada wasn't a good girl. Oh, he wasn't under any impressions that she was a terribly bad kid either, not at her core. But he was under no illusions that his sister was an angel – though she'd act like one for the next few days following the incident in the kitchen earlier. But no one would dare to say anything about her other than that she was a good kid. And no one would challenge her. There were definitely times his sister should be challenged, he was sure of that. But she wouldn't be. Not by teachers or local businessmen or random people from Small Heath who might see her locking up a shop and walking home herself. She wouldn't be challenged like other girls, who didn't have the Shelby surname, might be.

"Enjoy gents," he broke his reverie to say aloud, indicating the remnants of the bottle he had put beside them and turning to walk away.

He heard them shout thanks after him but he didn't acknowledge them, just walked out of the pub, resolved in what was going to do. As mad as it may be.