Hello!

Thank you all once again for reading and reviewing or messaging me, I really appreciate it!

Not sure if anyone's that interested but I have a tumblr and I have shared on it some of my inspiration/intend to use it to have visual references for things as I go alone - I haven't said before but Rosie's aesthetic is based pretty much on Clara Bow for example. I can't link on here but it's Finding His Red Right Hand dot Tumblr dot com

Obviously I'll be posting the story here so the tumblr is mainly for myself - but thought I'd share in case anyone wants the visual reference!

Chapter 11

"Don't know why she can't just fix it herself," Arthur grumbled as he sat at the kitchen table, looking over his ledger that Polly had seen fit to busy herself with the previous night whilst Rosie took over the kitchen.

"Because she can't make bloody head nor tail of it Arthur," John grinned from the countertop where he'd sat himself, drinking beer and watching their brother sweat, as he did whenever he had to do business that was brain led.

"She knows how much money's in the safe, can't she just work backwards from that?"

"That's not how it works, Arthur," Tommy bit out, his own response to Arthur's frustration much less amused than John's.

Arthur needed to sort himself out, or just admit he wasn't fit to be the head of the organisation. When it came to the physical side of what they did, Arthur was brilliant. He got a high from that, from working off his instincts and he was good at it. He was less… precise than Tommy was himself. But that was partly why he was so good – when it came to intimidating people, having a man who went a bit wild and couldn't be counted on to be precise, well – it was a good threat to be able to unleash on people.

They heard the front door open and a flurry of footsteps announced the return of their aunt from the school pick up.

"Go away Lily," they heard Finn say exasperatedly, followed by the sound of a muffled clout and his aunt's voice telling him to watch his tone and get out of her sight before she decided to give him a good seeing to. The front door opened and shut as Finn took her advice and Tommy rolled his eyes, wondering what Finn had been up to this time.

"Aww Lily, if Finn's tellin' you to go away you come in here and see me, I never wants ya to go away," Arthur shouted through.

"Not until you've fixed that ledger Arthur Shelby," Polly's voice rang through, but Lily had already appeared in the kitchen and climbed up onto Arthur's lap.

"What have you done wrong with the ledger?" Rosie asked with a smile, following her sister through but stopping to lean in the doorway.

Arthur rolled his eyes and shrugged, "I don't know."

"Well if you don't know how the hell am I supposed to know?" Polly said, stepping round Rosie to glare at Arthur. Her eyes fell on the open doors through to the shop and she threw her hands up, "And I have told you to keep those doors shut when the shop's open and the kids are in!" she snapped, reaching for the handles and slamming them over at the same time, pulling the curtains over them for good measure.

Arthur mumbled under his breath to Lily, but he wasn't stupid enough to actually pick a fight with his aunt, she was clearly in a mood about something – and Tommy wasn't going to bother asking her because he knew she'd make sure he knew what it was sooner or later whether he asked or not.

"Lily, Arthur needs to get that sorted for me, so you come down off his lap and let him concentrate," Polly said to the child, who looked nervously up at Arthur but slid down obediently.

Tommy was about the reach out to the little girl, who had put her fingers in her mouth and began to chew on them as she watched his aunt clatter about the kitchen, but John spoke to her first, saying, "Oh don't you worry about Aunt Pol, Lily, it's Arthur and his adding up she's mad at, not you."

"You get off that counter John Shelby, it was clean before you sat your arse on it," Polly snapped at him, but she looked to the girl and softened, "I'm going to the fishmonger Lily, then over to the Italian shops – do you want to come with me? Get you an ice cream?"

"Aw no – are you making dinner tonight Pol?" John asked, not shifting himself of the counter.

She gave him a cool look, "I'm not making it for you."

"Heard you made some right bostin' fittle last night," he said to Rosie with a grin, ignoring their aunt.

She shrugged, and Tommy frowned slightly, she really was no good at taking compliments. She didn't rise to bait, one way or the other.

"It was the best steak pie I ever had," he told the room, catching her eye and holding her gaze as he said it.

"Well if he ate it, it must have been somethin' special," Arthur commented with a snort.

They heard the door open in the front room.

"We finished off your cake," John continued on, "That was…" he trailed off and patted his stomach, closing his eyes and sighing to illustrate his point.

"You finished that cake?" Ada's voice came indignantly. She had appeared in the doorway now, beside Rosie.

"You snooze you lose Ada," John replied with a grin.

"I was at school John," she moaned, "That's not bloody fair."

"Ada, stop swearing, I've told you - you're not old enough," Tommy said, aware that Lily was still in the room.

"Well it's not fair – having it stolen out from under me!" she retorted.

John just laughed at her.

"Here," she said suddenly, turning to Rosie, "It's my birthday soon, will you make a cake for my party?"

"You're having a party?" Tommy asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Aunt Polly said I could," she told him smugly.

He raised his eyes to the heavens. Parties. Strangers in his house. Just what he needed.

"Aye well, not your full class Ada," he replied, determined to gain some degree of control over the bloody party he hadn't approved.

She rolled her eyes, "I don't like my whole class," she told him, then, turning her attention back to Rosie, "So, will you make us a cake?"

"If you like," Rosie said mildly, nodding.

He supposed she was well aware that she wouldn't have been making the cut for an invite a few weeks ago, and here she was catering the damn thing. He had half a mind to tell Ada to shove her cake and her party, but he'd said he'd let them redraw their lines between them, so he stayed silent - much as he'd like to just dictate to Ada where her lines should and would be if she knew what was good for her.

"Here," Ada said again, her face suddenly lighting up and her voice taking on a tone of mischief he definitely didn't care for, "Could you get Becker to come to my party?"

"Becker?" Rosie asked, her own tone taking on an edge that hadn't been there a minute ago.

Ada nodded, "He's always running about with your lot, he'll come if you ask him."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Rosie replied.

Ada looked at her, widening her own eyes and Rosie raised her eyebrows in turn.

"Why do I get the feeling there's a conversation happening that the rest of us aren't part of?" Tommy asked with a stab of annoyance.

Who the hell was this Becker kid? And why did Ada want to invite him and why did Rosie not want Ada to invite him?

"That's as it should be Thomas," Polly answered him sardonically, "There's been enough conversations you've been partial to in your lifetime that you shouldn't have been, do you some good to be left out. Besides you've made your feelings on being included in women's business quite clear."

He rolled his eyes and caught Lily's gaze, "Lily – don't you be turning out like any of these women, you stay my best girl, okay?"

"You could do worse than turn out like me – means you can sort out the Tommy Shelby's of the world when it's needed and there's not many can do that Lily, I'll tell you that for free," Polly said to the girl with a smile and she giggled, her eyes moving between him and his aunt.

"Back to this Becker lad," he said, refusing to be side-tracked by Polly, "How come one of you thinks it's a good idea he comes and one of you doesn't?"

Rosie's eyes flashed between him and Ada, then she let that blank look she used sometimes, so no one could tell what she was thinking, come over her face, and said, "Well I didn't say it wasn't a good idea."

He rolled his eyes to the heavens, that was more or less exactly what she had said and fine well she knew it. And he didn't care for that blank look that didn't give anything away.

"He's just a boy in our class," Ada said, not meeting his eye, "And I'd like him to come to my party."

"Well why can't you ask him yourself?" he asked her - and noted Rosie's eyes widening as she pulled a face to herself at that question. At least that was an improvement on the blankness, even if it wasn't entirely comforting.

"I can," Ada replied, "But he's her friend so it's just better if she asks him."

"Well I'll ask him," Rosie said, a sudden flash in her eye, "But you know if you want him here then Wrighty'll come whether he's asked or not."

"Well Lewis Cartwright isn't bloody welcome at my party," Ada snapped.

"Ada! Stop the swearing or there won't be a party!" Tommy snapped over at her, annoyed she hadn't heeded him the first time. Girl would drive him to his wits' end.

"Why is Lewis Cartwright not welcome Ada?" John asked with a grin.

Tommy gave a sharp, irritated exhale, but no one heard him. He could always count on his bloody brother to not take anything seriously.

It was just as well they had left Finn and Ada to him and Polly really, even if he didn't remember to be particularly glad of it most of the time. Arthur's temper was much shorter than his own - Tommy knew Arthur's thoughts were that Ada should have been given a dose of the strap long ago. His brother wasn't calm enough to be consistent though and Tommy was fairly sure Ada and Finn would have ended up scared of him if he'd stayed around to raise them – and not in the slightly scared way they were of his hand, the amount of scared he needed them to be to keep them, for the most part, in line. Arthur was – well, he was much sweeter with the kids than their father had ever been with them – but Arthur had inherited their dad's lack of patience and tendency to fly off the handle one day over something that wouldn't have bothered him the day before.

John they wouldn't have been scared of, but they'd also have got nothing done - ever. John couldn't maintain any discipline, he was more interested in being kept entertained by the escapades of the younger Shelby kids. Although maybe he was being harsh. John had come through for him the day of Ada's last real spanking, and he had appreciated it. He supposed John had enough parenting to do and maybe if he wasn't doing that at home so much he wouldn't begrudge the idea of doing it outside of his own house. Even still, he wasn't convinced any of John's parenting was that effective. He had kept John's comments from that day - about needing a woman - in his mind, but nothing had come up yet.

"It doesn't matter why he's not invited, he's not invited," Ada's words were a reply to John's, but her eyes were on Rosie and her mouth was forming into a scowl.

The redhead shrugged, "Well you tell him that, but I doubt it'd stop them – you don't get one without the other."

"Yes, you do," Ada said pointedly, raising her eyebrows.

"That was about the only time though, and, if anything, the fall out left Wrighty more glued to Becker than before," Rosie replied, raising her own eyebrows.

"Oh, for god's sake! Fine!" Ada snapped, "You're as bad as them! What use is it you practically being a boy if you can't even split one off for me?"

"I can split another one off, but you'll not get Becker alone after what happened with Wrighty – you should pick them better!" Rosie snapped back.

The two glared at each other then, a conversation continuing between them with their eyes. Tommy fished out his cigarette case and lit up, annoyed that he didn't know what was going on.

"I think there's a shell about to land and go bang," he said, after he had inhaled a few times.

The girls were still glaring at each other.

"Rosie?" Lily enquired.

Her sister's eyes shifted over to her, "What is it Lily?" she asked, evidently trying to soften her tone.

"What's going on?"

"Wouldn't we all like to know Lily," Tommy growled.

"You're too young to know Lily, I'll tell you when you're older," she replied, and John dissolved into laughter, slamming his hand down on the counter and shaking his head.

"Jesus Christ, thanks a lot!" Ada shrieked at her, her eyes flashing to him and Arthur, then she turned on her heel, shouting "I'm going out!"

"Ada Shelby, you get back in here!" he called after her.

"I think that's our cue to go Lily," Polly said, "Give me your hand, there's a good girl. Are you two staying for dinner even if I'm the one cooking it?"

"I'll be here till dinner tomorrow sortin' this," Arthur grumbled, indicating the open ledger – as if he'd given it a glance since the conversation had started.

"Right, John?"

"You told me you weren't makin' me any dinner Pol," John replied.

His aunt glared at him and he had the sense to wind his neck in a little.

"Nah, thanks Pol," he offered instead, "Lizzie's looking after the kids, so I better go let her go. She'll have done them their tea so there should be some left for me."

"Lizzie who?" Arthur asked.

"Lizzie Stark," John replied, looking up at the ceiling so he didn't need to see their reactions.

It was Arthur who took a fit of laughter then, saying, "Oh aye – better let her go get to work then, eh?"

"Right Pol, get Lily out of here before her ears hear anymore," Tommy said, glaring at the back of Arthur's head and blowing out a long stream of smoke.

He made an effort to smile at Lily, who waved at him as Polly pulled her from the room, then he turned his eyes on his sister, who was hovering half way across the front room, just about still in his eyeline through the open doors.

"In here Ada," he repeated himself.

She sighed but walked, albeit slowly and coming to a stop as soon as she stood over the threshold of the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow, and dragged on his cigarette, inviting her to offer an explanation, but she didn't.

"You making a fool of yourself Ada?" he prompted her when it became clear she wasn't going to say anything of her own accord.

Rosie had folded her hands in against her lower back and leant against them, staring very directly at the ground, scuffing her shoe and clearly wishing she had been invited for ice cream from the Italian shop.

"Oh, for god's sake Tommy," his sister cried, clearly wanting the ground to swallow her up and looking very directly over his shoulder at the wall, "Like you never kissed anyone!"

"You're fourteen Ada," he replied.

"Yeah – and John married Martha the day after she was sixteen!"

He had done – because Martha's father had been ready to march the two of them to the church with a pistol in each of their backs if he hadn't. And there wouldn't have been much ground on which Tommy or Arthur could contest it, given Martha popped out their first boy, George, barely six months later. Still, with another three following pretty quickly, the two had seemed happy until she had been taken by the Spanish flu.

"There's a big difference between fourteen and sixteen."

"Well I'm nearly fifteen and if we were living gypsy-"

"Ada! We've had the conversation about 'if we were living gypsy' – and it didn't end so well for you if I recall," he told her.

She stamped her foot.

"Aye there's someone right grown up and ready to be kissin' boys," John said, his amusement evident in his tone.

Ada kept her eyes on the wall but let out a frustrated squeal.

"Ada," he said, prompting again, in a harsher tone, "Ada! Look at me!" when she didn't respond to his first attempt.

He took a few puffs on his cigarette, holding her eyes throughout, then, keeping himself calm but pointing at her with the cigarette for emphasis, "Let me make this quite clear Ada – I hear you're making a fool of yourself an' you'll be on the school walk with Lily and Finn and going nowhere except this house and school until you're sixteen, d'you understand?"

She nodded, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes Tommy," she bit out, "I understand."

He nodded, then moved his eyes off of her to gaze at nothing in particular, letting her know he was done.

"Can I go now?" she asked, her tone still dark.

"Aye Ada, get back outside – just no playin' with the boys," Arthur told her, a mirth in his brother's tone that Tommy really wished wasn't there.

She turned then and hissed, "Thanks a-fucking-lot," at Rosie on her way out. He didn't know if she didn't think he would hear her, or if she just didn't care if he would hear her.

His eyes focused on them, ready to say something, but Rosie's head had snapped up and she met Ada's own eyes quite defiantly, not breaking off until Ada tossed her head and stormed out. As far as whatever their war was she wasn't rising to Ada's bait, but she was clearly happy to stand up to her if she wanted to. Women. He didn't understand their politics – and he wasn't at all following whatever the bloody situation with Becker and Wrighty, whoever they were supposed to be when they were at home. And part of him wanted to go investigate it right away and part of him was disgusted that he was at all bothered about getting involved in the affairs of kids.

"Fucks sake," John commented, shaking his head, once he heard the door slam behind her.

Tommy finished his cigarette and crossed the room to throw it into the fire, hearing her sigh as he did so. He glanced over his shoulder at her – she had crossed her arms in front of her now and was looking blankly into the middle distance. God, he hated that blank look. If she was annoyed he'd rather she screamed and threw things than gave anyone that blank look, at least he'd know how she felt.

"Well?" he asked her.

She gave a slow blink, then met his eyes, wordlessly.

"Is she making a fool of herself?"

She glanced to John and Arthur before saying, "She's not doing any more or any less than anyone else is doing for the most part Tommy."

"For the most part," he snorted, as if she thought he wouldn't recognise that as a way of dodging the question, "You're saying you're not squealing then?"

"I'm saying it's not fair of you to ask me."

"Not fucking fair? I'll give you not fair my girl," he retorted.

"What's not fair is Polly askin' me to sort this out as if I know what to do – how's your numbers Rosie?" Arthur asked her.

"Arthur, asking you to sort out your own ledger might actually count as quite fair," Rosie replied with a grin, but she was taking the few steps to reach the table and have a look over it before Arthur was even done responding to her that that was the last time he'd be offering her an escape from Tommy.

"Did he get you bad yesterday?" John asked her, "Arthur said he was mad when he left here to go get you."

"Didn't get her at all yesterday," Tommy said, answering his brother for her and crossing back over to stand by the window where he had been - then promptly wishing he hadn't because he was stood looking at her arse as she bent over the table looking at the ledger and it made him slightly uncomfortable, "She told bloody Ada where she was going so it was Ada's fault that I didn't get the message." He hardened his tone and raised his voice to add, "So god only knows why someone wants to be sticking up for Ada when Ada nearly had that someone catching it yesterday."

"Arthur are these all bets that were won or lost?" she asked his brother, ignoring him.

"Both," Arthur replied.

"Well I imagine that's your first issue – you probably want them in separate columns, so you know what's money in and what's money out. Is there a record of the results on these races so you can mark the ones that are money in to be added up separately to the ones that are money out?"

"Jesus Christ Arthur – even I know to write down what's come in and what's gone out in separate bits," John howled, slapping the counter again.

"So you bloody should," Tommy growled, "So should both of you - it's not fucking funny John – it's a basic premise of the business. If I'm going to be in charge of drumming up new business you two need to be able to handle the business I bring through the doors. And asking a fifteen-year-old to sort out your bloody disgrace of a ledger Arthur, honest to god!"

"He's so miserable, my brother – whatever made you choose to come put up with him round the clock?" Arthur asked Rosie.

"Oh Arthur, he charmed me," she replied, then, looking over her shoulder at him, "Said I had a fat arse."

John snorted and Tommy reached up to give the area in question a small kick. In the presence of his brothers it felt slightly less intimate than reaching over to give her a good smack with his hand – which he was sorely tempted to do as she bent over the table, presenting the target to him in such a blatant fashion. And he wondered slightly, based on that look over her shoulder, whether she knew what she was doing when she positioned herself like that.

"Aye, Tommy never did complain when a woman had a good fat arse on her," John grinned over at him.

"Aye, a woman with a good fat arse," he replied to John, "I don't go looking at the arses of fifteen-year-olds, fat or not."

"Aye, whatever you say Tom," John grinned back.

"Fuck off John," he snapped.

"Jesus – never mind trying to have a joke with you then," his brother replied, sliding off the counter and chucking his empty beer mug into the sink, "See you later lads, I know where I'm not wanted."

"Bye John," Rosie called out, her eyes still on the numbers.

He paused and turned in the door way, suddenly with the same tone of mischief in his voice that Ada had had – and Tommy didn't bloody well like it coming from either of them - "Rosie girl, would you mind coming over to mine and making a steak pie sometime?"

"I'll bloody well mind, I didn't bring her here so she could cook for you," he told John, then, to Arthur, "Or to do your bloody ledgers for you."

"Aye and you didn't bring her here to gawk at her fat arse either," John grinned, then high tailed it across the front room and got himself out the front door before Tommy could catch up to him.

He kicked the door angrily behind his brother, then stuck his hands in his pockets – and felt for all the world like he was a kid having a tantrum - but his feelings of ridiculousness were all mixed in with genuine anger and mortification and complete self-denial. And for all she did have a good fat arse on her, that wasn't why he'd brought her. He hadn't actually noticed her bloody arse before because she was behind the counter in the shop most of the time they spoke. This was what happened when Shelby's tried to do good things. They weren't cut out for it, weren't supposed to do them. And when they did they'd get fucked over and here he was getting fucked over by his own brother.

He returned to the kitchen breathing heavily and his eyes met hers. It was odd, how the warmth in those amber eyes could seem to cool him a little.

"Sorry, he's got a shitty sense of humour," he told her, pulling the cigarette case out and lighting up.

He wished Arthur wasn't fucking there so he could take her hand lightly as he said it, and she'd give it a squeeze and say it was fine. But they both knew, when other people were around – maybe other than Lily – she gave him more deference than she gave him when it was just them and he gave her more distance.

He could feel Arthur's gaze on him then, so he stared into the fire for a minute, then abruptly pulled open the curtains Polly had shut and headed into the shop to help clear out the last of the stragglers and get shut for the day. To help distract himself.

"Don't mind him Rosie, he's a grumpy git," he heard Arthur tell her.

Fucking Arthur and John. At least if Polly had her thoughts she kept them to herself.

How was it that only last night he had sat, his stomach warm and full on a home cooked meal and a baby on his knee feeling like a normal man, the woman who had cooked the meal sat next to him on the couch?

He should have known that wasn't going to last – he was Tommy fucking Shelby, after all. He needed to remind himself of that. He'd go see Lizzie Stark tonight, find out what the hell that was all about. Then he'd bend her over and fuck her and try not to be too disappointed in her scrawny arse. And then he'd pay for it. Because that was the only pleasures Shelby's could count on – the ones they paid the king's shilling for, fair and square. Fate didn't owe them any pleasures they didn't pay for, he was sure of that. And the pleasure of Rosie Jackson in his kitchen? He hadn't done enough in his entire life to earn the right to that pleasure.