Chapter 10
"He'll not last long without his eyes," Arthur was saying to Scudboat, sniggering as he recounted the events of last night - again. Tommy inhaled his cigarette and exhaled smoke in silence – as he had been doing the whole time. As he had done every time he'd listened to Arthur telling a new person.
Dalton had turned up at the school yesterday – hadn't taken Friday's meeting seriously. That was the trouble when people came from out of town. People like teachers, who didn't live in Small Heath, who didn't know the lay of the fucking land. When Polly had done the pick up yesterday he'd been in the school yard, talking to parents – holding the new fucking cane he'd obviously got since they'd snapped his old one. They'd told him he was fucking lucky they weren't smashing it over his back. But they'd held back. They'd figured the middle-class prick would be intimidated enough by the three of them in his office. This was what fucking happened, Arthur had said – when they led with words instead of action.
And he might have been right. But now Tommy figured if the new head – whoever that would end up being – ever needed a bit of a reminder of how he treated kids from 6 Watery Lane, there was a nice record of the Shelby brothers having a meeting on a Friday, and now there would be a nice record of the head teacher being attacked on the Monday night in the papers – and if the new head could easily be informed that the two incidents were connected, if needbe.
He'd done it himself. He'd thought about the marks on Rosie's hands and about Dalton parading that new cane across the school yard – probably had rushed out to buy it himself at the fucking weekend – and his rage had descended, along with his hat. They'd left him alone in his precious semi-detached house with its garden, knocking over the ugly statues and uprooting some of the flowers as they tramped through them for good measure. Whatever happened to him, he wouldn't be caning kids anymore.
Finn caught his eye through the open double doors at the top of the shop, rooting through the kitchen cupboards looking – Tommy presumed – for a biscuit. Polly came in behind him – shouting at him to get outside and get some fresh air instead of stuffing his face - and passed through into the shop.
He raised an eyebrow at her expectantly.
"Gone," she confirmed with a nod.
"Good," he nodded back.
Of course, he knew the man would be gone. But it was always good to have it confirmed that what he knew had become a known general fact of life in Small Heath.
"Where's Lily?" he asked.
She gave him one of her 'looks' – letting him know fine well that she knew who else he was asking about.
"Lily," she emphasised the name, as if she thought he hadn't seen her look, "Is in the front room, I've told her she can't come in the shop when it's open."
Tommy nodded. They had had the same rule for Finn – there were too many strangers wandering in and out of the shop through the day for kids to be running around and John was over fond of leaving his gun lying on the sideboard. They had never technically removed the rule for Finn, the boy just worked it out on a day by day basis whether they were happy for him to be wandering the shop or whether they were sending him away – sometimes with a stinging rear end for his trouble.
"What's she doin', Pol? Celebrating that teacher being gone?" Arthur asked.
Scudboat took the opportunity to head off to a desk whilst Arthur was otherwise engaged. The truth was, for all Arthur was supposed to be the boss, Arthur was more of a drinker and a talker than a worker, and he got in the way of the workers doing their work. For all John left his gun lying around – and Tommy wasn't sure how they stopped that because he'd been told enough times and it just didn't seem to sink through his brother's thick fucking skull – John at least took the bets and wrote them in the book.
"He wasn't her teacher Arthur," Tommy replied.
"Right, yeah," Arthur replied, though Tommy wasn't sure his brother had even attended school enough to remember any difference between the junior school and the big school.
"She's drawing," Polly told Arthur.
"I'm gonna go help her, I was good at drawin'," Arthur announced, heading off up through the doors.
Tommy managed to contain his snort – Arthur actually did used to be good at drawing back when they were younger but no matter what Lily had been doing, Arthur would have been off to help her do it. Polly had been entirely right when she'd said Arthur was always sweet with babies – and Lily was no exception. His aunt gave him another look, and he finished his cigarette, stubbing it out and following his brother out of the shop and into the house, ignoring her and whatever that second look had been about.
"I'll draw you a horse Lily," Arthur was saying to the child, who passed him a crayon and paper from her bag.
"So, Arthur's drawing a horse, what are you drawing Lily?" he asked her.
"Sylvia and Tommy," she smiled up at him.
"Who's Sylvia?" Arthur asked.
"Sylvia and Tommy are Lily's bears," Tommy answered, not looking at his brother, knowing Arthur would be laughing at him for getting a kid's bear named after him – not that he cared.
"Tommy for our Tommy?" Arthur asked her, and she nodded.
"So who's Sylvia?"
Lily shrugged, "Rosie said Sylvia made the bear, so we named the bear after her."
Arthur raised his eyes to Tommy, and Tommy shrugged.
"Where is Rosie, Lily?" he asked the girl.
Lily thought for a moment, then said, "I don't know," in the very calm way that only a child could answer that question.
Tommy took a moment to breathe silently through his nose, considered going back in to ask Polly why Lily didn't know where her sister was and then decided he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
"Didn't she walk home with you?" he pressed Lily, his voice gentle.
"No," Lily answered simply, continuing to draw.
"Lily," Arthur asked, interrupting Tommy's next question, "How come you named the bear Tommy and not Arthur?"
"Well I was going to name the doll Arthur but then Ada said I couldn't," Lily told him, very seriously.
"Why not?"
"Because it's a boy's name."
"Right – is the doll not a boy?"
Lily shrugged.
"What did the doll get called?"
"Ada."
"Right – I'll tell you what Lily, I'm gonna buy you a big massive bear – better than Tommy or Sylvia – and you'll call him Arthur, right?"
"She doesn't need another bear, Arthur," Tommy said, his voice sharp.
He hadn't forgiven himself yet for how Rosie had told him their spoiling of Lily had made her feel.
Lily looked up at him, heeding his tone.
"Did I do something bad Tommy?" she asked, biting her lip.
"No love, but you've got two bears so you don't need any more bears, do you? Need to fit your sister in the bed beside you all, eh?"
She nodded, but seemed unconvinced until he gave her a smile and asked her, "Who's my best girl Lily?"
"Me?" she asked, uncertain.
"That's right," he told her, "You're my best girl – so I made sure you got the best bears already, didn't I?"
She smiled and nodded, going back to her picture.
He wasn't entirely sure he followed his own logic really, but as long as she knew he wasn't withholding any bears from her because of anything she'd done – that was the main thing. As long as that questioning note wasn't in her voice and she knew she was his best girl and he'd make sure she had what she needed – that was enough to keep them both happy. It was true that they were all bloody soft on the child, but she was an easy baby to be soft on. She smiled easily and though she seemed to upset easily too – often at nothing more than a harsh tone, which was something he was trying to be aware of when he was around her - her grievances were easily forgotten. She didn't hold grudges and, as long as she got some reassurance, she seemed to have naturally accepted that they all wanted to take care of her. Not like the sister whose whereabouts were currently unknown. He supposed maybe someone who was used to being taken care of would accept it from a wider group of people without much question. Someone not used to being taken care of – well, she'd keep trying to take care of herself until someone set her straight.
He shot Arthur a look, telling him to keep his mouth shut. His brother screwed up his face in confusion, but Tommy gave a shake of his head and Arthur didn't say anything – even if he didn't entirely understand.
The front door flew open then and Ada came scrambling in, throwing her bag carelessly in the chair and looking around wildly – catching sight of him and Arthur and saying, "There's six massive rats up the street, can I have a gun?"
"Chasing rats with a revolver Ada – thought you weren't interested in that anymore," Tommy said mildly, trying to keep from laughing at his sister's obvious hurry to get back out and do exactly that.
"I'm still a bloody Shelby - give me a gun Tommy, please?" she said, her voice quick and breathless.
He half thought about cuffing her for her language, but he figured it was the least of the bad words – and he was quite pleased at her vision of herself as a 'bloody Shelby' really, complete with gun, so he fished his smallest out his pocket and handed it over saying, "Mind you only point it at the rats Ada," but she was off out again before he had even finished the sentence.
He exchanged a grin with Arthur, then went to the door to watch as she high tailed down the street, towards where Finn and his friends were also grouped, all clearly invested in watching the rats. In fact, he was fairly sure he recognised a few of the boys who were grouped there too – boys he was pretty sure were in Ada's class who normally ran about with Rosie. But he couldn't see any red hair amongst them, and the red hair was hard to miss at the best of times – as long as you weren't his Uncle Charlie – never mind when you were actively looking for it.
He frowned and glanced the other way up the street, catching the eye of a man he didn't care to.
The man nodded and, out of politeness, Tommy nodded back.
"I see you've put a gun in your sister's hand now Thomas," the man commented.
"She's chasing rats Freddie - so you might want to scarper."
The man grinned, "That my marching order, Sergeant Major?"
"Nope," Tommy said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, "Just friendly advice."
He stepped back into the house and pulled the door closed, ending the exchange. Freddie Thorne – once upon a time his best friend, a man he owed his life to, and a dangerous man to have close by. And quite what he was doing skulking about Watery Lane on his own Tommy didn't know. He made a mental note to investigate if anyone knew of any movement on the street, any newcomers. Communist safehouses were not what he wanted popping up close to where his family lay their heads.
"Rosie's not out there with them," he said, half to Arthur and half to no one in particular, then, "Lily did she say why she wasn't walking home with you? She likes walking with you."
Lily paused her colouring for a moment and thought then said, "No – she wasn't there when we got there. But she works on a Tuesday," then went back to her colouring, nodding her head to herself. Obviously the whereabouts of her sister hadn't been overly bothering to her in the first place and now they'd clearly been sorted in her head. He supposed that was what came of the child having been used to being alone so often.
"Right," he said, trying – and probably failing – to keep his voice gentle.
The bloody miscreant would soon know all about it if she'd gone against their compromise. He hadn't wanted to compromise in the bloody first place, but he'd done it. Maybe Arthur was right and he should have gone all in to start with – roasted her for even suggesting a compromise rather than her compliance.
He tried not to let the door slam behind him as he left the house and headed for the tobacco shop.
He wasn't even trying not to let it slam when he returned, an hour or so later. She hadn't been in the shop – Evans had been in himself and had reported that she had indeed told him she'd only be able to work the Saturday going forward. He'd gone to her old house then, hammered on the door in case she'd gone there, but there had been no answer. He'd even gone to the school, in case she'd forgotten something and had turned back to get it, but the place had been deserted.
Lily smiled up at him from where she now sat surrounded by pictures – Arthur's horse amongst them – and he made his best effort to give her a decent smile in return. No use worrying her.
His smile probably flickered though when he heard her voice ask, "Polly – is there a big mixing bowl anywhere?"
He was through the little front room and pushing the kitchen door fully open in a matter of seconds, his eyes glaring first and then softening as he took in the sight of her - stood at the kitchen table, a knife in her hand and an apron tied over her new school dress, surrounded by lumps of dough and a pie dish, a pile of vegetables she was chopping resting in front of her. It took his breath away for a minute just how much she looked like she belonged there, in his kitchen, taking over it exactly as she was.
He hardened his eyes again though and cleared his throat, causing her to look up at him, her eyes questioning. She had a smudge of something on her cheek and what looked to be a bit of carrot peel tangled in her hair and he wanted to go wipe her down gently, but now wasn't the time.
"She was getting things for dinner," Polly told him, catching the look on his face as she stood back from the big cupboard in the corner and passed over a bowl.
"And you didn't think to tell anyone where you were going? I've just been traipsing around looking for you," he demanded, his eyes still on hers.
"I told Ada to tell you where I was going," she replied, her voice a strange mixture of being both defiant and uncertain at the same time, "The butcher's shuts at four, Tommy, I didn't have much time. Arthur said you'd just left when I got here."
And Arthur had made himself scarce, presuming he knew how Tommy would react.
But it wasn't her fault. He tried to give her a smile then, which he imagined came out as more of a grimace as the frustration of the last few hours coursed through him, nodded and then turned on his heel, heading back to the front door. Trying to process the emotions that the girl in the kitchen had stirred up in him.
"Ada," he shouted out down the street.
She looked up from where she was sitting with some other girls, the rat episode evidently done with. He crooked a finger at her and she sighed theatrically for the benefit of her friends but got up and came towards him. He lunged for her arm as soon as she was within reaching distance, yanking her to him and pulling her in the house – resisting the urge to let her friends see exactly where her sighing would get her.
"You got anything you were supposed to tell me?" he asked.
She frowned at him and defiantly threw up the arm he wasn't holding, saying, "No."
"Right," he said, then spun her around and landed his hand on her rear, "So you don't remember Rosie saying to you to tell us she was going to the butcher?"
"Oh Jesus Christ Tommy – I forgot – I just forgot, okay?" she snapped back, trying to move out of his way as he began properly.
"Well if you're told to give me a message, don't forget," he answered, accompanying every word with a smack.
She reached her free hand back to shield herself, so he moved to the tops of her thighs instead, which elicited a high yowl from her.
"Jesus Tommy – did you never forget anything in your life?" she demanded.
"I'm sure I did, and I'm sure I was made to remember – just like you will in the future," he replied.
He glanced over to where Lily was staring at the scene, her eyes round and her mouth open.
"Ah, don't you worry Lily, she's earned herself these smacks," he told the child with a smile, still swatting away, "And they don't hurt her as much as you'd think – she's just caterwauling for effect."
"I am not Tommy – they do hurt!" Ada snapped, jumping from foot to foot.
"Can't hurt that much if you're still snapping at me," he replied calmly, rounding off with a flurry of quick, sharp smacks and releasing her.
She glared at him and moved her hands to her behind, rubbing out what he knew could really only be a slight bit of a sting. Ada had seen her first picture show and never looked back from her own dramatic flair thereafter.
"You'll sit fine for your dinner Ada so don't be looking for sympathy," he said, looking up to the kitchen door then – where Rosie was stood with the mixing bowl resting on her hip, frowning at him.
"Now, see Ada – if I'd looked up I might have got Rosie there to pass me that wooden spoon, and then you'd have had something to glare at me about."
"I wouldn't have passed you anything Thomas Shelby," Rosie's imperious tone carried across the room and he noted that it earned her a grin from Ada.
"Well I'd have come and got off you then," he told her, then, raising an eyebrow, "I still might."
She smirked at the threat and he couldn't help but smirk back.
"What are you making for dinner?" Ada asked.
"Steak pie and ginger cake for after."
"You can make a cake?" Ada asked, her surprise evident.
Rosie frowned, "What – you think 'cause I didn't want to play houses with you when we were kids that I don't know how to make a cake?"
"Just didn't think baking was your idea of a good time."
"Not many people would," Rosie replied breezily, not rising to it, "But I thought Dalton being gone was a good reason to celebrate."
Her eyes flashed to Tommy's with a proper smile.
He smiled back at her over Ada's shoulder, thinking how little he did know of her. Truthfully, like Ada, he would have thought her lack of time for girl's pursuits would have meant she didn't know how to bake a cake, never mind make a steak pie from scratch. He wasn't actually sure if Polly knew how to do either of those things. And he knew for a fact Ada didn't.
"Well you're playing bloody houses now," Ada said, looking between himself and Rosie.
He raised an eyebrow at her for her language, but was stopped from saying anything by Rosie replying, "Aye but that's cause your brother came and bullied me into it. Kid's games, honestly! Heard he had this terrifying reputation then I find out he's soft in the head."
"Dunno about the head but he's not soft in the hand," Ada replied, chancing another frown at him and rubbing her hand over her rear end again.
"Away you back outside before I show you how not soft my hand can be," he said, nodding his head towards the door, then, to Rosie, "What time will this steak pie and cake be done for?"
"An hour or so?"
He glanced at the clock, "You be back in here for seven Ada – and tell Finn the same, if you can remember. And if you don't know the time - get in and check the time, I'm not having you two coming in late and messing up Rosie's celebration, right?"
He watched Ada disappear through the door and, once it had shut behind her, he turned back to Rosie, "So does calling me soft in the head help your turf war come to a truce?"
She snorted and turned to head back to the kitchen calling over her shoulder, "It's not my war, it's Ada's."
"Ah but they were your words Miss Jackson."
"Hurt your feelings did they Mr Shelby?" she shouted through in the blithe tone he'd come to recognise as part of her repertoire.
"Christ you're a brave one girl," he heard Polly mutter.
"There's brave and there's foolish Pol," he called through.
"Yeah but right now I'm still holding the wooden spoon," she replied. He could picture the smirk on her face.
"I've still half a mind to come in there and take it off you," he said, trying – and failing - to make his tone imposing.
"You going to stir the cake mix Tommy? That'd be a real help actually," came the bright reply.
He couldn't help but grin and he turned to Lily and said, "Your sister wants me to stir a cake mix, Lily, have you ever heard of such a thing? Asking me to get involved in women's business?"
She giggled and he swooped down and picked her, throwing her up into the air before settling her on his hip, "Shall we go see if you can help Lily? You'll be much better than me I imagine."
She nodded and they headed through, to find Rosie bent over the table, weighing out – well, weighing out stuff he didn't know the name of that he presumed was going in the cake. He couldn't resist the position and he reached out and swatted her well-presented rear end.
She grinned over her shoulder at him and he gave her a mockingly stern look saying, "Asking me to do women's business."
"Women did all the business when you lot were away," she replied, "We've forgotten what belongs in what column."
"Well, we're back," he told her, "So if you need reminding, just you let me know."
He accompanied his words by patting her a couple of times on her hind and she wriggled back against his hand, almost absent-mindedly as her eyes continued to peer at the scales she was trying to balance. He felt stirrings in his trousers as his hand rested lightly on the curve of her and he quickly withdrew it, stuffing it in his pocket, where it could stay out of trouble – as his mother had used to say, 'Whenever your hands are about to do something that'll get you on the wrong side of me, you just get them in your pockets before they can act of their own accord Thomas, or your backside'll be sorry.' There was no one to make his backside sorry now, but the hands in pockets advice had stuck with him for whenever he was unsure about what he was doing and whether it was a good idea.
He could feel Polly's keen gaze on him and decided not to risk meeting her eye for fear of the guilt she might see in his – as if she hadn't already assessed exactly why his hand had been snuggly shoved into the pocket in question.
He cleared his throat, "Lily will be able to help you though – if you tell her what needs done."
"That's because Lily's a good girl, isn't it bab?" Rosie said, standing and taking one of Lily's hands from around Tommy's neck and kissing it, before laying it back down, her hands brushing his neck as she did so, the brief skin to skin contact making his neck tingle.
"That she is," Tommy agreed, bouncing Lily a little on his hip, "Not like her wench of a sister."
"Ah well, a wench she may be, but that's still a cut above a baboon in my mind," the sister in question replied.
"Baboon!" Lily repeated, smiling – blissfully unaware of what or who Rosie had meant with the term.
They exchanged a smile before Rosie's eyes moved to her sister and said, "Alright, no more baboon-ing from you Lily. Now, if I put this bowl on the chair here, can you reach it to stir this spoon round in it?"
Lily could reach it fine well, but Tommy stayed crouched behind her, one hand on her waist and the other hand helping her to push the spoon about. Somehow, he had ended up mixing the bloody cake after all. But as Lily babbled away about what she'd done at school that day, he didn't find that he minded.
When the pie was in the oven and Rosie had switched Lily's task to be greasing up a tin for the cake, Tommy stood back against the sideboard, watching the redhead bustle about the kitchen.
He had loved someone before. Greta Jurossi. And it had been love, real love, but it had been a boy's real love of a girl. He had wanted her and desired her and in his head he had thought to marry her – but what he'd really thought of was the marriage bed. And he'd imagined them sitting in their own front room surrounded by children, in a vague, unspecific way, like a parody of what his parents might have been like if his father had been in the picture more often. He'd meant it all, but it had been a kid's game of houses he'd been playing in his mind. And he just hadn't really known it till that moment. Since Greta, he'd had girls, had women - plenty of them. And he had desired them all, to varying degrees. But he'd never pictured any of them in his kitchen. It had never occurred to him to picture it.
And yet now, as he watched her head out the back to fill a pot with water and bring it back in, heating it and dumping it into the porcelain basin - using it to scrub the dishes as she went, listened to her giving instructions to Lily, watched her pick her sister up to the water so she could dip her hands in it, cleaning them and wiping the remnants of the grease off her fingers with her apron… If she'd been overwhelmed by the few things he had bought her at the weekend – he was overwhelmed in turn by her being in his kitchen. She didn't need to buy anything to overwhelm him, she just needed to exist.
In his whole life, Tommy had never felt what he did now, watching her work. He wanted to take her in his arms and tilt her head back and claim her pretty little mouth. He wanted to ask her to go church with him, and not as a standard Sunday outing. He wanted to ask her to meet him at the altar. He wanted to make her his and ask her to make his kitchen, his life, hers.
But it was a fantasy. An overwhelming fantasy. But a fantasy just the same. Because this wasn't his life. He didn't come home to his dinner at night. Didn't stand in his kitchen if it wasn't a bit of family business that needed attending to. He hadn't even been to church before their Sunday trip in god only knew how long – if god even existed to be counting the missed weeks. He wasn't a domesticated man. He ran a business, an illegal one. He cut and beat people.
But then – wasn't him having cut somebody exactly why she was standing in his kitchen baking him a cake?
He watched as she poured the cake mix into the tin, telling Lily to stand back while she picked up the tin in a towel and opened the door to the furnace, sliding it in on the shelf below the pie.
"Smells good, doesn't it Lily?" he said as the smell went through the kitchen before she shut the door back over.
"What – you suggesting women's business can be worthwhile Thomas?" she asked, straightening up and tossing the towel on the side, a glint in her eye.
"Now see you've taken that as an insult," he told her, "Women's business is women's business because men wouldn't be any good at it."
He heard Polly snort from where she'd sat herself through in the shop, looking over Arthur's ledgers but still very clearly listening. Because when was Polly Gray not bloody listening and seeing and taking things in.
"So, it was a compliment was it indeed?" Rosie asked him, picking up the empty mixing bowl and sticking it in the tub to soak whilst she wiped down the table.
"It was indeed."
"Ah well - 'tis a pity you won't be tasting the fruits of any of this women's labour business then," she said nonchalantly, sweeping the crumbs from the table into her hand and crossing to throw them out the back door, rubbing her hands together to make sure they were all shed – all very business-like - before returning to her basin and dunking the bowl in and out of the water.
"Now what exactly are you meaning by that?" he asked frowning.
"You told me you didn't eat Thomas," she said, turning to him with the soapy bowl in her arms, running the scrubbing brush around the inside of it, her face deadly serious, "So I didn't buy any for you."
He really wasn't sure if she was joking or not.
"You didn't get me any?" he repeated slowly.
"Nope – just got enough for me, Lily, Aunt Pol, Ada and Finn."
"And I'm not giving up my share of something that smells that good," Polly shouted through.
He ignored Polly and kept his eyes on her, but she merely raised an eyebrow and said, "I can't say I'm too keen on the idea of sharing with you either, Tommy."
"I'll share," Lily said brightly, and Tommy bent and reached out his arms, sweeping her up into them.
"Now that is why you're my best girl Lily," he told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, his eyes still on Rosie, "Not like all these other women around here that I've lumped myself with."
"Stealing dinner from a child," she tutted, "And there was me thinking you gangsters had a moral code."
He crossed over to where she was standing, now washing the wooden spoon he still was half tempted to take off her and whack her with – and he would have, he told himself, if he didn't have her sister in his arms, when he had so recently promised not to undermine her in front of Lily.
She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows as if to ask what exactly he wanted, but he could see the wicked glint in her eye now.
"You'll find some dinner in that oven for me, you little wench, if you know what's good for you," he told her with a smile.
She responded with a smile of her own and flicked some of the soapy water out of the tub and onto his shirt.
"Now look at what she did Lily, she's an awful clumsy one your sister, isn't she?" he said, shaking his head at the child, who giggled.
"Ah that'll do you no harm if you've got no plans to have a bath again between now and Saturday night," she replied.
"Well in that case…" he replied, reaching into the tub and flicking some of the bubbles up at her.
She grinned then said, "D'you want some Lily?", lifting a few soapy suds onto her finger and placing them on the tip of Lily's scrunched little nose.
"Well, now that we're all washed up for dinner," he said, "There had better be enough dinner for all of us. Bringing my bath night forward, eh Lily? The cheek of her!"
"Of course there's dinner for you, you daft lump," she gave in and told him, batting him with the towel she had picked up to dry her washed dishes with.
"Good to know you've got some sense in you," he told her, grabbing the towel out of her grasp and batting her right back with it.
"Well now the towel's in your hand you might as well dry," she told him, walking away from the sink and removing her apron, hanging it up on the back of the door and going through to the front room, not looking back at him. He watched her go, imagining - he thought quite accurately - the self satisfied smirk that would be on her face at that exact moment.
He pulled a face at the child in his arms, "Drying dishes Lily eh? Whatever next? Your sister's trying to make a skivvy of me," he said. But he put Lily down and did dry the bowl and spoon – and emptied out the water from the tub and collected more from out the back that could be heated when the dinner was done. Though he'd be making Ada and Finn do those dishes.
And to his surprise, he found sitting down to a dinner with his household and his aunt really wasn't the tedious affair he would have pictured. He'd go as far as saying he enjoyed himself and, afterwards, when Polly had left and Finn and Ada were doing the dishes – which they accepted being tasked with without too much mumping – he sat on the sofa with Lily on his lap and Rosie at his side and Lily talked them through all the pictures she had drawn that afternoon. And, quite frankly, it was better than any game of houses he'd ever played in his mind.
Thank you so much for reading along - and, as always, for the reviews!
I got a question in the reviews about how soon one or other of these two will make a move so I just wanted to take the time down here and say that yes, this is absolutely going to be a romance story - but I'm afraid my tastes run along the lines of a Jane Austen novel ie the Slow Burn Romance. So yes, Rosie and Tommy's story will unfold in a romance but they're not going to be getting together for their happily ever after in the next three chapters or anything like that. I know that maybe isn't to everyone's tastes so I just thought it was easier to say that here and now! I completely understand that some people love a delayed gratification and others find it incredibly frustrating so if it's not your bag then that's totally fair enough!
Apart from the fact that personally I'm all about a slow burn romance, I also want this to be about the family aspects of Peaky Blinders - this isn't just her and Lily moving in with Tommy, there's also Ada and Finn that Rosie and Lily need to find a dynamic with in the house, as well as the wider family. I don't personally feel I can do justice to Rosie and Tommy as a couple without taking the time to meld their lives together fully, inclusive of all the main players in the family - in particular her and Ada's relationship, I just realistically can't have Tommy arrive home with a girl who is in Ada's class in school, announce she's moving in with them and then think these two will happily fall into step beside one another. There's trust to be built up by multiple parties before it's all going to slot neatly into place (if anything in the Peaky Blinders world ever neatly slots into place!) the way Tommy would like.
My intentions for this story are that it will span about three years of a timeline and will include a lot of the elements of the first season - meaning Grace does appear later down the line to add some spice to it all, there is angst to be faced by these characters and I'm sure most of you will have caught the low-key introduction of Freddie Thorne in this chapter.
I am posting this as I write it and I have the main points and scenes of the story plotted out in my notebook but it's not all written yet - so I am open to suggestions and requests of things you'd like to see and if they fit with the overall narrative I will try to work them in so please do feel free to let me know what you're interested in seeing!
A few of you have asked about the first time Tommy has to take Lily in hand and how Rosie will react - that scene is indeed already written and it's significant in more ways than one, so it's one I'm excited to get to post!
Once again, thank you all so much for taking the time to read this little project of mine and thank you for all your kind words!