Thank you again all so much for the reviews! I don't quite know what's going on as a few of them don't seem to be displaying - but I get an email every time someone leaves one even if it doesn't display and it genuinely does make my day and I massively appreciate them.

Like the majority of the world I am currently working from home due to the Coronavirus situation, writing this is a good escape from it and getting the reviews makes me feel some kind of connection to the people in the world outside my house, so I hope reading it gives you an escape too and we can all feel connected through our Peaky Blinders love!

Chapter 9

"Now what was the point in getting a bed for both of us if I get chucked out for the doll and the bears to get in?" he heard Rosie ask her sister from inside the room when he reached the top of the stairs.

"They don't take up much space," he heard Lily reply.

"Well I suppose it is a very big bed," she conceded, "But you still like Sylvia Bear, right?"

"I love Sylvia Bear," corrected Lily earnestly, "But now her and Tommy can be friends."

Rosie snorted, "So the new bear is called Tommy?"

"Yeah."

"Any reason why?"

"Cause apparently you two like to liken me to animals," he said, pushing the door open, putting her boots down in the corner and sticking his hands in his pockets, "Not sure what I like best – the baboon, the bat or the bear."

"I didn't think you'd particularly liked the baboon suggestion at all," Rosie said dryly, not looking at him.

She was standing by the edge of the bed, whilst Lily stood on it, clasping her new bear and smiling at him over her sister's shoulder. Clearly the upset of earlier had already passed for the child - because six-year-olds were that easy. He was under no illusions that the six-year-old's sister was also going to be that easy.

He cleared his throat and rocked on his feet.

"I didn't like it," he told her, "But there are parts of myself I don't like sometimes – sometimes I notice them at the time, other times I notice my baboon tendencies with the benefit of hindsight."

"Did you give the doll a name?" Rosie asked her sister, not acknowledging his words.

"Well I was going to call her Arthur but Ada said I couldn't because that's a boy's name," Lily said, her brow creased to show she still didn't understand Ada's reasoning, "So I called her Ada instead."

"That's nice. Did Ada like that?" she asked, and Lily smiled and nodded in return.

She sounded quite genuine, which Tommy was slightly surprised at.

"Did you name anything Polly by any chance?" she asked her sister.

"No, but Aunt Polly bought me a book called Pollyanna, it's next to your books," Lily said, jumping off the bed, laying the bear down next to her other toys and grabbing her sister's hand to pull her towards the books that lay on top of the newly added chest of drawers at the other end of the room, opposite the foot of the bed.

They had taken the chest from his parents' old room, emptying out the contents to drop in at the parish authorities with Rosie's old things, and it was now filled with new clothes for the redhead – clothes Polly and Ada and Lily had picked between them. The suitcase she had brought lay at the side, holding the toys and games Lily had chosen to bring when they'd returned to the house.

"See," Lily said, struggling up on her tip toes to reach the top of the chest and pointing at the smallest book, which her older sister picked up and turned over in her hands.

"I told her I didn't like books and that you liked books and I just liked hearing the stories from you, but she said I should have a book of my own. And Ada said they sometimes show Pollyanna at the picture house and she'll take me if they do. But I don't think it's about Aunt Polly."

Rosie snorted, "I assure you, it's not."

"Have you read it?" he asked her, trying to remind her that he was in the room.

"Have you?" she shot back.

He realised she had not forgotten he was in the room in the slightest but was actively not engaging with him.

"Can't say I have, but maybe Lily will tell me about, will you Lily, once you've read it?" he said, hoping the sister might draw him in better. He was still nervous about invading their space.

Probably realising he wasn't going to allow her to freeze him out so easily, she replied, "It's about counting your blessings and being glad even when bad things happen."

But she still didn't look at him.

"A good lesson for us all, eh Lily?" he said, since the child was looking over at him.

"Not convinced it's not a way to brainwash the children born into poverty and hardship in this world that they should pretend to be okay with it," she mused to the chest, as if he hadn't spoken.

"Children born into poverty and hardship in this world often can't read, and they don't get books," he replied, his voice even.

"So, if someone gets you a book you should be grateful?" came the snippy retort.

He exhaled loudly.

"Lily my love," he said, "Would you mind going back down and helping Aunt Polly and Ada again while me and your sister have a boring adult conversation?"

The girl looked between them, then nodded once her sister did.

Tommy patted her on the head on her way by, saying, "Good girl Lily," which earned him another of the child's winning smiles.

God help him when the day came that she needed anything other than a stern tone and a threat of not being his best girl anymore to keep her in line. Though there had been a time he thought that of Ada.

Rosie was still stood down at the other end of the room, looking at the books on the new chest.

"Most of them books are for you," he said, "I asked for popular books that aren't too romantic."

"You think I don't like romance?" she said, not turning to him.

"I don't know," he replied, not knowing what to say at all.

Truthfully, no – he didn't think she would like romance. Or he hadn't thought so. Lily had told him that Rosie liked books set in the real world and didn't like the Alice in Wonderland book she liked, the only book she had brought from the old house. And he knew Rosie's tongue. And he knew her humour. And he knew how little interest she showed in being pretty around the boys she hung about with. And now he reckoned that maybe there was more to that sharp tongue and lack of embroidered dresses than a simple distaste for all the things Ada lost her head over.

"You don't know as much about me as you think you do Thomas Shelby," she said.

He sat down on the bed and rubbed his hands in his face. He wanted a cigarette, but something in him told him he didn't deserve the fucking crutch during this conversation.

She turned and lent against the chest then, staring at him where he sat on the new double bed, the yellow cover Lily had picked out spread across it, her new bear and doll – named for him and Ada – lying atop one of the pillows, her old bear – Sylvia (he wondered vaguely who that had been named for) – next to them.

He met her eyes, expecting her glare, but when he looked at her - her oversized old clothes that she had worn to work that morning drowning her, her hair indeed looking like it had never become acquainted with a hairbrush - he realised that, really, she just looked tired. She had folded the coat over the edge of the bed rail, and it hung there, limp and done – and she looked like the human equivalent.

"Lily showed me the books already Thomas," she said, "And she showed me all the clothes in this chest. And the shoes and boots too."

He looked at her, not sure what he was supposed to say.

He ended up saying, "You wore the old coat to work, so Polly got the size of the new coat and used that to guess the rest." And as soon as it was out his mouth he was sure it wasn't the right thing to say.

"Where are my clothes Thomas?" she asked him, her voice quiet.

Two Thomases in a row.

He got to his feet and paced what little he could in the room – the length of the bed and back a few times, wishing they were having this discussion somewhere with more space. All the while she stood completely still, watching him. Eventually he came to a halt, not quite daring to go near her exactly, but at the same end of the room as her and said, "I'm sorry."

She looked at him and there was still an annoyance in her, but he felt safer crossing to stand in front of her. He wanted to put his arms around her, and hold her, and smooth her unruly hair, and tell her to get to her bed because up close the circles under her eyes were as black as she seemed to imagine his lungs were. But he didn't do any of that. He shoved his hands in his pockets and wished he had a cigarette to blacken his lungs.

"I'm used to getting my own way – you know that," he told her.

She nodded.

"And I forget sometimes that just because I see things a certain way doesn't mean everybody does. And to be fair to me, Rosie, your clothes weren't new when you bought them, and they needed replaced – truth be told I tried to hand your bloody clothes in to the parish and they wouldn't take them. The bloody parish didn't want your clothes because they weren't fit to hand on!" he had started gently but his usual harsh tone had crept in and by the end he was admonishing her, exactly as he was trying not to do.

And he wasn't even angry with her. He was just angry at the situation – at the fact she'd had to wear those worn out clothes. Hell, she could wear men's clothes if that was what she wanted – he'd take her down to the bloody shop himself and buy her them. She could take all the clothes back and buy them all in sizes far too big for her if that made her happy. He didn't give a damn what she actually wore. He just wanted what she wore to be half decent. But, of course, his voice had gone harsh and he was glaring and it looked like he was blaming her for her clothes and he didn't bloody well know how to stop it coming across like that.

"It wasn't your choice to make, Thomas," she said, that steel grit in her own tone.

He looked down at his own boots, trying not to give her any more stern looks that he didn't really intend, and noticed her socks. They looked a lot like the ones he had worn in the trenches and confirmed to him that the boots she had been wearing over them were far too big for her.

He kept his gaze on them for a bit, trying to curb his natural attitude, before looking back up at her, continuing as softly as he could manage, "The thing is Rosie, your clothes weren't fit for purpose. If you had worn those clothes into this winter, you'd have got pneumonia and then where would Lily be?"

She glared at him then, as she did whenever Lily's potential less than perfect wellbeing was raised.

"I tried to get you to pick things yourself with Polly during the week," he told her, "And you wouldn't pick anything."

"I told you, I don't want your charity."

"You agreed to the deal – I provide food and shelter and whatever you and Lily need, and you go to school and do as you're told."

"And we had a deal about discussions."

"I know. That's why I'm apologising Rosie. I should have sat you down and made you see this my way, not just gone and done it – I'm just… I'm used to my family accepting most of what I say and not needing to discuss things. So, it's new to me. I'm apologising for not upholding my end of that."

She glanced into his eyes, then looked off to the side, processing what he had said. But she didn't say anything, so he continued.

"But I'm not apologising for buying you clothes that are actually fit for purpose. Leaving you running around in those worn out things would be me not taking care of you, in my book, and I want to take care of you," he told her, letting it hang before adding, "Of both of you."

She nodded and he was hopeful for a minute, but then she seemed almost to physically sag, as though a great weight was on her shoulders.

"Tommy I'm not – I'm honestly not trying to seem ungrateful," she sighed, suddenly also becoming very interested in his boots and her own socks, "But the clothes and the shoes and the books and the bed – it's just so much. It's – it's overwhelming."

She looked up at him then and her eyes were overwhelming to him, with a million stories in them and, he was fairly sure, if she'd been anyone else there would have been tears in them alongside those stories. But she wasn't anyone else. And the vulnerability there was almost harder to take in its subtleties.

"I know. I realise that, in hindsight," he said, nodding.

"Fucking baboon," she replied, with an attempt at a smile that she couldn't quite commit to.

His heard thudded.

"I've said I'm sorry – and I am. I won't keep apologising to you, it's not who I am," he told her, a note of frustration creeping into his voice, "But I need you to know that I might not always handle things the right way – I know I'm a hard man to be around sometimes – but, as far as you and Lily are concerned, I mean to do the right thing. My intentions are good, even if my actions can be… not ideal, at times. Alright?"

She regarded him for a while, then, slowly, nodded.

"Right," he said, nodding, then – hoping they were done - he suggested, "Will we go back down? Lily missed you today – you're the only thing she talked about all day, everywhere we went it was Rosie this and Rosie that. Ada kept trying to get you a bunch of things she liked and Lily was insistent that you didn't like bows and frills. I think Ada was quite put out at her tastes being challenged."

He smiled at her, but he didn't get a reaction, even to make fun of his sister, so he pushed on, "And I've told Ada to leave you alone, by the way."

"You leave Ada alone," she replied, frowning at him, "Ada's just defending her territory."

He gave her a brief look of confusion then shook his head, "Alright then, you and Ada have your – your turf war. But she bothers you, you let me know."

"I can take care of myself Thomas."

"I know you can. But you shouldn't have to. And you agreed to let me shove myself into your life, and all that comes with that," he said grinning at her, trying again to produce a proper smile from her in return.

His efforts failed.

"I doubt I've scraped the surface of all that comes with you Thomas Shelby."

He nodded, "True - I might have more animals to add to my bat, bear, baboon combination personality. You can name them as you find them."

She fixated on the bear on the bed then.

He sighed, "What else is going on in that head of yours? Talk to me?"

"Tommy, I- I know why I agreed to this. And Lily was-"

"I know, Lily was your reason for it," he nodded.

She looked at him for a moment, then seemed to let something pass, and looked down again, not meeting his eye.

"She doesn't usually take to people, but she's taken to you – to all of you," she said, chewing on her lip, "And down there tonight – she just chatted away, and she barely speaks to people usually."

"So?"

"So - I'm worried I've held her back Thomas – you say you're not easy to be around, I'm well aware I'm bloody difficult to be around myself. And I just – I see her with you all and I think – I think maybe I've been really bloody selfish keeping her, maybe I should have – should have handed her over to the parish," she said, breaking off and trying to breathe as tears that she couldn't hold eventually spilled over her eyes.

Tommy couldn't contain himself anymore either, his hands were out his pockets and his arms around her then before he could even think about it, one hand over her shoulders, one on the back of her head, burying his face into the top of her head and murmuring gypsy words of comfort that she wouldn't understand.

He felt her take some deep breathes before she continued on, but though she tilted her head up to meet his eyes, she didn't remove herself from his hold, "I love her Tommy, I really do. And I'm seeing you give her this stuff and you say she needs it and she probably does and I – I couldn't give it to her. I mean – did I have any business keeping her? I know it sounds stupid, but I just – I don't begrudge her any of it. And that's what I mean – I'm honestly not trying to seem ungrateful, not just for what you've got for me but for her too – but I just look at it and it makes me so ashamed and so angry that I couldn't do that for her. And I just think I'm a selfish bitch to have kept her when I couldn't do that – couldn't give her all that."

"Jesus Christ, Rosie," he said, cradling her into him, "I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

"Fucks sake Tommy, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty," she said, sniffing and striking his chest with her fist in an effort to distract him from the strength of her words, trying to keep her voice still, "I'm just trying to explain why I might not be coming across more grateful, more like I maybe should be, okay?"

She backed up a step then, so that her face wasn't pressed into him and swiped at her eyes and nose with her sleeve saying, "Christ, here I am making a bloody fool of myself."

"Yeah – you love your sister, what a big fool to make of yourself," he said, rolling his eyes and lifting his own hands to wipe away some of the tears she had missed, pulling her slightly closer to him again, "Look, I'm sorry – I didn't think about it like that. And the truth is, we did need the bed because you need to get a decent night's sleep - without being shoved against a wall - but as far as the stuff we got for Lily, she didn't need most of it. It's obvious you've given her everything and kept bloody nothing back for you – that's why I wanted to get you some new things. Because you haven't given yourself anything new - ever, as far as I can see. And because you deserve nice things for all you've done for that girl. We just got a bit carried away spoiling her because she's got the sweetest smile in the world after you, eh?"

She snorted at that and, despite it being against his own better judgement, he let his hand rest in the small of her back, stroking his thumb up and down.

"I mean it – that bab's an angel – you've done well, really well, with her."

"Yeah well, she's got a sweet nature. Not like me. I got all the temper and she got all the charm."

"Oh I've seen you now - you're only hard and sour on the outside," he smiled.

She snorted again.

"Seriously though, Lily's great. She couldn't have had anyone better raising her up till now – and I'm not - that is - we're not here to replace you. And I'm sorry if I took away your authority – sorry about that stupid joke I made – I didn't think she'd…" he broke off, running his free hand through his hair, the other still on her back.

She gave a small laugh, "It's fine, I've just changed her whole life from being me and her to being involved with you whole Shelby lot. She'll just test her boundaries till she figures out where she fits in here and knows what she can get away with. Same as Ada. Lines need redrawn."

"Ada'll get her lines redrawn on her backside if she isn't careful."

"Leave it, Thomas" she repeated.

He grumbled, "Yes Rosalie, I said I'd leave it. Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

"Ah, you know my feelings on it being good for you to be unhappy about a few things from time to time."

He smiled softly at her, and stroked her face before he could help himself, "So am I on the road to being forgiven?"

"Am I?" she asked, looking suddenly uncertainly up at him, pressing her cheek into his hand.

"Always," he said, impulsively pressing a kiss to her forehead, "You've got that sweet smile too."

She treated him to it at that.

"So," he said, clearing his throat and stepping back from her, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, where they were safer, less likely to confuse either of them, "We've got a lot to learn about each other still."

"Yeah – and we're both going to be our difficult selves and handle things badly at times."

"Yup. But we agree that you'll remember my intentions are always good underneath it?" he asked, a seriousness underlying the light tone.

She caught it and nodded, "And you'll make more of an effort to discuss things with me first?"

"I promise I will try," he replied. Then added "Can you do me a favour though?"

"Depends what it is," she replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Will you just go to church tomorrow and keep Pol sweet?"

"Will you be going to church tomorrow Thomas?"

"If that's what it'll take to make you go quietly?"

She smirked at him.

"Alright – let's go church tomorrow then."

"Really?"

"Really."

"That betting shop of yours still open downstairs?" she asked.

He shook his head, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Shame - I've just heard Thomas Shelby's going up church tomorrow – and I'm happy to lay down some of today's wages that he'll burst into flames the minute he steps over the threshold."

He laughed, then wagged his finger playfully at her, "You watch your tongue – Lily might not be allowed to give you a smack, but I fucking well am - and don't you doubt that I will - if I decide you need it!"