As always thank you for all your reviews and messages - they're spurring me on to write more every day! Enjoy :)

Chapter 16

In the time he had spent with Rosie in the house, both of them relaxed and as unreserved as either of them knew how to be, and watching her be soft with her sister, Tommy had forgotten how much command she held outside of the house – how imposing and even intimidating she could be. He imagined she had perhaps forgotten his reputation a little too, though she had never fully seen him in action.

He was reminded as he spent that Saturday stuck in his kitchen for the afternoon. Stuck by his own choice - determined to ensure no one was going anywhere near the shop. He had intended to focus on work, but he found himself listening to the chatter that drifted through from Ada's party in the front room.

Ada had minded him and not invited her whole class – but the twelve teenagers gathered were more than enough by his standards. As well as his sister and Rosie (whom Evans had agreed to giving the day off to without any fight, it was a nice side line of the Peaky Blinders protecting the shop that they also got to stock their wares in it and demand the time of staff members) there were five other girls from their class and five boys – only four of whom had been invited from what he could discern from their chat (apparently Rosie was right and Wrighty – and Tommy still wasn't sure which voice belonged to Wrighty – went wherever Becker went, whether he was invited or not.) The chairs had been carried through from the kitchen, the small table that usually sat in the corner had been pushed to the middle of the room and Ada was over the moon with the sponge caked iced neatly with her name on it that had been placed on the table.

It was funny to him, the way that Rosie sat almost in complete silence the majority of the time – and yet even without seeing her he knew she held the most presence in the room. He longed to go through and witness her hold her court with his own eyes because his brain could barely reconcile the girl in the room next door – whose opinion everyone seemed to request on everything and be denied on most things – with the woman who had made him a steak pie, smacked him with a towel and got him drying her dishes.

The girls Ada was friendly with seemed nervous to speak to her – they asked her questions in a tone he often heard people address him in. A mix of titillation and fascination and a slight fear on the edge of it all. He realised quickly that she didn't answer most questions though – at least not verbally. And sometimes people's questions died on their lips when they began asking, which he presumed meant she had moved those fire orbs to regard them and their tongues had been burned in the process.

The boys asked her who she'd bet on in various fights between people he presumed they were in school with – and he noticed no matter what anyone else had said, as soon as her judgement was passed everyone accepted it as gospel.

He had begun to think of her as impressive in so many ways he hadn't before – impressive with her sister, impressive in her care taking, impressive in her cooking, impressive in her diplomacy with his family. But he'd forgotten just how bloody impressive she was when it came to dealing with people, impressive with her lack of diplomacy in a way. He'd known it of course, from the way he'd heard her handle customers in the shop when she needed to, but he'd become so used to her softer side the memories had become hazier than he'd realised.

She appeared through in the kitchen at one point without any warning, giving no one any explanation as to why she was up and leaving – but she slammed the door behind her when she did and rolled her eyes at the room before realising he was in it.

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Having fun?"

She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall opposite him, answering his question with another, "Why are you in here on your own on a Saturday anyway?"

"Strangers in the house – did you think I wouldn't be here?"

"I figured you were in the shop."

"I've locked the shop over, not worth the risk of anyone seeing or hearing what they shouldn't – customers know to use the shop door anyway."

She nodded, uncrossed her arms and stuck her hands in her pockets. She was wearing the new trousers Polly had picked out for her – and unlike her old trousers they were cut for a woman. He had thought the old trousers indecent, far too big at her waist and too tight across other areas for what had to be both his and her comfort, but now he wasn't entirely sure the new ones weren't bloody worse. They were tailored in around her waist, which seemed only to enhance the curve of her general body more – even if the material wasn't technically as tight, there was still more than enough on show. And the top she had on – it was tucked into the trousers and he realised he'd never really noticed her chest before and now he didn't know how he'd missed it. Maybe because she crossed her arms over it so much. Or maybe because the dresses she wore for school and church didn't really make much of her shape. He wished she was the kind of girl who wore dresses all the time – shapeless sack dresses preferably.

"I don't know how Ada stands all that chatter all the bloody time. And all the questions," she offered suddenly.

He shrugged, "The less you agree to tell people the more they want to know."

"They all want to know what the hell I'm doing here is what they all want to know – not that they'd come out and just ask. Not that it would be any of their fucking business if they did anyway."

"What do you mean they want to know why you're here – don't they know you live here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why would they know that?"

He had just presumed people would know because they'd have seen her and Lily go in and out of the house – and people talked. Or… most people talked.

"You didn't mention to anyone you'd moved?"

"I didn't mention to anyone where I lived before, why would I mention I moved?" she said with a frown.

He stilled his laugh in his throat, "You should just start telling them all everything. They'd lose interest."

"That what you do to keep people from asking questions?" she asked, an eyebrow raised pointedly.

"Me? Oh no, I just cut out their tongues," he replied with a relaxed shrug, "Seems effective so far."

"Sounds it, if you fancy giving me any lessons on that there are five girls in there I could practise on?"

"Lessons on cutting out tongues eh?"

"Yeah – you show me how to make people blind and dumb, I'll show you how to cook."

"I thought you'd forgotten about that."

"I don't forget anything Thomas," she replied with a glint in her eye.

He shook his head, "Blinderin' isn't a good career for a girl."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"What's your basis?"

"How'd you mean?"

"Have you ever tried letting a girl do it?"

"No."

"Then you've no bloody leg to stand on Thomas Shelby."

"I've got two legs just fine thanks Rosalie Jackson."

"You know what I'm saying. And don't call me that."

"I've noticed those boys all call you Jackson."

"Yeah, so?"

"Just saying I've noticed."

"Good for you – you keep noticing," she said sarcastically.

"Oh, I will, I notice everything," he replied, flicking his brows at her, "Should I start calling you Jackson?"

She snorted, "You can call me what you like Thomas."

"I think I'll stick to Rosie."

"Aye, good."

"Why good?"

She shrugged and looked over out the window, avoiding him, "Just helps keep it all separate, y'know?"

He nodded. He did know.

"I better go back in, I've probably taken the piss on how long it can take someone to go for a piss."

"You didn't really come in here for anything?"

"I came in for five minutes peace and quiet – then you had to go ahead and be here," she said, rolling her eyes.

"My apologies Lady Rosalie of the Jacksons of Birmingham – heaven forbid a man be in his own kitchen of a day," he said, inclining his head in what he imagined was a subservient fashion.

"When that man, by his own admission, doesn't eat, I don't expect to find him in his kitchen of any day."

"He didn't used to eat," Tommy snorted, "But then this girl came along and started cooking and things changed a bit. Eats every Tuesday now. Getting' fat."

He patted his practically concave stomach and she shook her head and snorted, turning and disappearing back to the front room.

"Who were you talkin' to?" one of the boys asked as soon as the door closed behind her.

"Tommy," she replied, her voice suddenly blank again. It was really quite impressive how quickly she could switch it.

"Tommy Shelby?"

"It is his house."

"Jesus!"

"No, not quite," she replied sarcastically, and Tommy snorted to himself.

"What was he sayin'? And why's he speakin' to you? Ada how come your brother's speakin' to her?"

"If you're so interested go in and speak to him yourself," she snapped before Ada could say anything, shutting down the line of conversation.

Tommy turned it over in his mind just how little she did let anyone know about her. Again, he'd almost forgotten how intensely private she was. He remembered the time between them meeting and getting to know one another as a series of conversations and he knew he had spent time pulling more than one-word answers from her than anyone else had ever made him spend. But now he was so used to listening to her – to reading her face even when she wasn't speaking…

The party continued on with Ada and the girls awkwardly trying to assess which of the girls in their class the boys thought the most interesting – throughout all of which Rosie didn't utter a single word, and her silence continued even when it switched around and the girls started discussing the boys. They asked her about specific boys but he didn't hear anything, so she must have either refused to answer or answered with a look or a movement rather than words. It was frustrating, being on the other side of the door. And it was frustrating that, whilst he would stick to his word and distance himself from her until she was older, he couldn't seem to make his instincts want to distance themselves. He cared about what she thought about boys in her class, like he was some fifteen-year-old himself who wanted to know how he'd measure up against her undisclosed tastes.

He heard the front door open and John's voice came, "Rosie girl, that cake one of yours?"

She must have nodded because he said, "Aye, make sure you save me a piece eh?" then the door opened, and he appeared in the kitchen, tried to get into the shop, rattling the door handles when he realised they were locked, as if that would magically open them.

Tommy crossed to open them, let his brother in saying "Use the fucking shop door, I don't want this one open when there's strangers in," and pulled them over and locked them again behind him, rolling his eyes at John's return of "Aye, bunch of kids – big threat Tommy!"

John would always underestimate a situation and run in headfirst.

"Did you bake a cake?" one of the male voices from the next room was asking, laughing as he did.

"Aye, what of it?"

The laughter continued, "Jackson mate – since when can you bake?"

"Since when can I not bake?"

"Will you do me summat for my birthday Jackson?" came another male voice, clearly making fun of her.

Her own voice went very sing song for a moment, "Do you something Walker? For your birthday? Aye I'll do you something," her voice hardened, "I'll knock all the fucking teeth out your mouth, that's what I'll fucking do for you – would that suit you?"

Tommy grinned and shook his head, his heart swelling a little with pride at the little wench. The voices were quick to change their tune and become deferential to her again. She had them in hand, he'd give her it.

It was a while later, when the cake had been cut, some of the guests had drifted off home to their dinner and it was dark outside – that the kitchen door opened, and a boy crossed through it, presumably headed out the back to the outhouse. Tommy stood so silently by the fire the boy didn't notice him. He had given up listening, it was too frustrating when she said so little – and he had dedicated the time to turning his own thoughts over instead. This wasn't an easy time of year to get new money in a betting shop – coming up to Christmas, when people would spend on their families, then January when they had nothing left to spend. This was the time of year when the acquiring of certain in-demand items became more useful than owning the shop. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that the boy didn't really make an impact on him.

His attention was drawn properly though when the door opened again, and she came following through, glancing at Tommy but not stopping, following the boy outside. In her haste she wasn't too careful with the door and it didn't close properly behind her. He could feel the winter air coming in, even as he stood by the fire, but with air came sound.

"Becker – what the fuck are you playing at?" she demanded, her voice harsh.

Tommy's ears pricked up. So, this was Becker. And she was following him outside, seemingly displeased. All of a sudden, the boy was of much more interest.

"What d'you mean Jackson?"

"You know fine well what I mean."

"Mate, some of are interested in not wanking off alone."

"Mate, some of us don't want to know about your wanking habits," she replied, sounding genuinely disgusted. Tommy hoped she truly wasn't interested in the boy's habits – preferably his habits of any kind.

"Why you askin' then?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you that you're even considering it? Why are you still here?"

"Why are you still here? Go fuckin' home if you don't like it."

"Aye, I'll go fucking home and let you make a big fucking mess, sure thing! Mate – Wrighty is in that front room with you – what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wrighty said if I have a go and she's up for it then I should feel free."

"Aye so he did!"

"He did!"

"I don't fucking believe you – will I go get him and ask him?"

"Don't you fuckin' dare."

"Thought not."

The boy sighed, irritated, "What's your fuckin' problem anyway Jackson?"

"My fucking problem? My fucking problem is that I don't understand why you'd take a punt on someone your pal has had their heart broken by."

"He wasn't heartbroken."

"Well he wasn't fucking celebrating."

"Mate she's made it clear she wants me, why are you fucking this up?"

"Cause I don't want stuck in the fucking middle when you two end up knocking each other's teeth out for nothing."

"It's not for fucking nothin' – it's Ada Shelby!"

"Aye, exactly – you know who her fucking brothers are, don't you?"

"I'm not scared of them," the Becker kid said – and Tommy considered going and standing in the doorway just to see the effect it would have. He thought it would give her a laugh if nothing else.

"Well you're more fucking stupid than you look – they're called Peaky Blinders for a reason, they'll take your fucking eyes if they think you're looking at their sister wrong."

It seemed excessive and Tommy certainly had no real intentions of taking anyone's eyes because of his sister's school girl antics. He might take Ada's ability to sit if he heard much more of this conversation – but he'd leave the boy's eyes alone.

"I wouldn't be lookin' at her wrong. There's no wrong way to look at Ada Shelby."

Tommy didn't care for the boy's tone, though he thought Ada would. That was the fucking problem, Ada had no judgement. Her and John might have been too far apart in age to be close growing up, but they were the most similar of the Shelby siblings – their traits were the same, they just manifested differently with their different interests.

"Well she's not even looking at you properly so why risk it?"

"What d'you mean Jackson?"

"You know fine well what I mean."

"You jealous Jackson?"

It was a question that had touched his own mind – and he didn't like it. There was a muffled sound and then the unmistakable sound of a punch being landed.

Tommy crossed to the door but relaxed behind it when he heard the boy saying, "I'm sorry, fucks sake Jackson that was my nose, I'm sorry – right? Get off me! Let me up!"

"I'll let you up when I'm sure that knocked some sense into you," she retorted quickly.

"Mate what's the fuckin' deal? For real?"

"You're wasting your time, so don't waste it and fuck everything up for the rest of us, right?"

"How am I wasting my time?"

"Mate – she's not interested in you, she just wants the excitement of parading about holding your hand."

"She's gonna let me do more than hold her hand."

"She might but her brothers won't."

"Mate – Wrighty said she let him slide his hand-"

Tommy's brain roared.

"I don't want to fucking hear it Becker. You're going to cause a fucking upset and if you do I'm with Wrighty, and let's not fucking pretend that doesn't mean you won't lose. Ada Shelby doesn't give a fuck about any of you – she wants excitement and that's why she wanted Wrighty and was bored of him a week later. That's all she'll do with any of you and I'm not standing in the middle to pick up the fucking pieces when she's got you all fighting amongst yourselves. Fucking men – you're all so fucking predictable!"

"Jackson mate, when did you become such a cunt?"

There was another punch.

"Fucks sake!"

"Aye well the first one obviously wasn't hard enough."

"I'm gonna fuckin' get you Jackson," the boy growled.

"I'd like to see you fucking try mate," she replied in that blithe tone of hers.

She might not be particularly worried, but Tommy had heard enough, he swung open the back door and stood there, his hands folded behind his back, letting himself be silhouetted against the light, looking up. He didn't have his hat on, but he figured the look was still near enough as intimidating without it.

Becker was lying on the ground wiping blood away from his nose and froze when he saw Tommy. She was on top of him, one knee in his stomach. Tommy didn't care for the sight in the slightest.

"I imagine getting a broken nose from a woman hurts just as much as getting one from a man. Just a bit more shameful," he said calmly to the boy.

"Tommy," she began – but he turned his ice glare on her and motioned her up and off with his eyes. She stared back at him for a second, glanced at Becker underneath her who was watching them and back to Tommy, clearly deciding whether she would comply with his silent order or not, before she gave a sigh and stood up hissing, "You're fucking lucky Becker," under her breath.

Becker didn't look like he quite believed himself to be lucky in the moment.

"Let me make this quite clear mate," Tommy said, keeping his tone cold and calm, his eyes on the boy, "You lay a hand on her," he nodded his head at Rosie, "You lay a hand on my sister – friendly or otherwise - I'll take your fucking hands. And I don't see how a boy with no trade cause he's got no hands will get far in the world."

Becker made sounds, like he was trying and failing to find words.

"I think maybe it's time you left," she told him, the anger from her own voice gone – replaced by an eerie icy calm, not unlike Tommy's own.

The boy didn't need to be told twice, he scrambled up and ran down the back of the houses, pulling himself over the wall at the end.

"So," Tommy said, appraising her with his eyes and keeping his hand clasped in their rigid position, his face still sullen, "Ada's not doing any more or any less than anyone else?"

"She's not Tommy," she said, mildly defensively, "In fact – I take that back. In a lot of ways, she's actually doing less."

"Cause letting Wrighty," he turned the boy's name over on his tongue and wondered which one he was of the ones still gathered in the front room, "Slide his hand wherever sounds like less."

"Wrighty is full of shit – they all are."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah Tommy, it is," her voice was quite even now, determined.

He crossed to stand over her, but she tilted her head back and met his glare without flinching. More than he could say for most men.

"Get that hand run under that pump," he said gruffly, unclasping his own hands and reaching for her hand and turning it over in his, unsure if he believed her or not.

He hadn't touched her in a skin to skin way without it being to pass Lily between them in so long that it felt suffocatingly intimate now, so he dropped her hand and went to the pump, started up the water, motioning his eyes to tell her to stick her hand under it.

"Two nice punches it sounded like" he commented once she did, as she used her other hand to wipe the blood away.

"Yeah well," she said, shrugging it off. One day he was going to make her take some praise.

"Crazy that they come from the same hands that carry that sister of yours about and bake the best cakes in Birmingham."

"Oh, I'm a multi-faceted woman Mr Shelby."

"Oh, I don't doubt it Miss Jackson."

That undefinable thing hung between them then and he regretted the words coming out his mouth – this was what he had specifically promised not to do. He was going to let her be.

"I'm glad at least one of you can take care of yourselves," he said, fishing out a new cigarette and lighting it, switching his tone.

"Tommy – don't tell Ada about that will you?" she said, wiping her hand down on her trousers – Polly would love that - "He'll be shit scared since you came out, he won't go near her again and there'll be no fights; Ada'll move on in a few weeks and pick someone else."

She adapted to the tone change as if she hadn't even noticed it. He really had forgotten just how good she was. If there ever was a girl he'd trust to be around when he did do the blindering part of being a Peaky Blinder, it was her. Yet at the same time, he wanted her further from it than he ever wanted anyone else – except maybe Lily.

Tommy exhaled smoke into the evening air, "Is that why you did that? To avoid a fight?"

"Keeping the ranks in line – thought you would understand that better than anyone Tommy?"

He nodded, smirking, "Right then Captain Jackson," he said, gesturing at her with his cigarette, "I'm not happy about it because I'd like to smack my sister into next week – but if you promise she's not making a fucking fool of herself I will leave it. This once. For you. And cause it's her birthday."

"I didn't say she wasn't making a fool of herself," Rosie said with a raised eyebrow, "Just that she's no worse than the rest of them and she's a lot less foolish than the worst of them."

It didn't entirely make him feel better, but he thought Rosie at least had Ada's reputation and good intentions at heart when he heard her say to her later, after the last of the guests had left, "Look – you know who you like – so stop trying to make him jealous with other people and just tell him will you? Before there's a fight?"

"Quite like the idea of boys fighting over me," Ada replied with a giggle.

"It'll be your brothers fighting amongst it if you don't watch it, and then no one'll go near you for fear."

The giggling ceased abruptly, "Trust me Rosie, you've got no fucking idea," Ada sighed.

He heard the resignation in her voice and didn't quite know how he felt about it. If she'd pick a decent boy, he'd let her be so long as he didn't think hands were sliding where they shouldn't be.

He'd always thought Ada was a bit of a hopeless romantic in her own way, but he thought now that Rosie probably had the jist of it more than he did – Ada wasn't so much romantic as she was looking for romance. She wanted a romance from a picture show though, not a real one. She wanted drama and excitement. And that was why he was completely sure that she would be incapable of picking a decent boy.