Chapter 21

Tommy didn't like to claim any real powers through his gypsy blood, but he sometimes had an instinct for things that he couldn't quite explain - and a prickly feeling started up in him the next afternoon. He couldn't gauge what it was but when Polly appeared back from the school run with Finn and Lily and said Rosie had gone to make a start on her Christmas shopping, he just knew it was one of those times. Something wasn't right. What he didn't know was what that something was.

Maybe he had been stupid to demand the dance with her, but she'd appeared that morning for breakfast with Lily and given no sign that anything was amiss. No sign that she had been in his arms the night before after the rest of them had gone to bed either, of course, but no sign that anything was wrong.

"Did she say where she was going Pol?"

"Nah, gone by the time Lily and I got there – Ada told us."

"Where is Ada?"

"Walking home with her friends."

"Well at least she gave you the message this time," he said, rolling his eyes.

He figured he could go out and try and track Rosie down blind, he could wait and see if Ada could give him any more insight then go track her or he could wait for her to come home herself. The thing was, he was Tommy Shelby and the third option was a matter of something happening outside of his terms, so the third option really wasn't an option. And the first was what he most wanted to do, but it was the least sensible. He would feel like he was acting more quickly, but really the second option was his best if he wanted to find her.

Of course, Ada had to be dragging her feet somewhere and he paced the living room while he waited for her – Arthur had taken Finn and Lily out the back to slide on the ice that had appeared on the ground and Polly had gone out to keep an eye on the proceedings and shriek anytime any of the three of them wobbled.

"Finally," he snapped when she came in.

She froze, evidently thinking she was in some kind of trouble.

"Where's Rosie?" he demanded, trying to soften his tone and failing.

"She said she was going Christmas shopping," Ada said, shrugging and unwinding her scarf from her neck.

"Where?"

"In town?"

"Did anything happen today that I should know about?"

Ada glanced guiltily around the room. So he had been right, something had happened.

"Ada!"

"It wasn't my fault!" his sister protested.

"What wasn't your fault?"

"Well, they… They figured out she's living here."

"Who did?"

"I don't know – the boys from my party and then Henry Evans said you had got her the day off on Saturday for it and that you met her after work a lot and then someone asked me, and I didn't know no one was supposed to know – she never said! She never says anything Tommy! And then everyone knew, and she didn't deny it or anything, just glared around but people were – were saying things about her so she punched someone in the mouth then told me to tell you and Aunt Polly she had gone Christmas shopping and she'd be home later, and she left."

"When did she leave?"

"Lunchtime?" Ada said, biting her lip.

"Right," he nodded and began pulling his coat and gloves on, his hat already on his head.

"Tommy…" Ada said and trailed off when his eyes went to her.

She was nervous, and he wasn't sure why.

He patted her head and said, "You're not in trouble Ada, I know you didn't mean to cause anything by saying she lived here."

She looked only slightly relieved then asked, "Is Rosie in trouble?"

There was still a nervousness in her voice, and if he wasn't as worried as he suddenly was about the redhead, he might have smiled at it.

"I'm not happy she left school, but no – she's not in trouble," he assured his sister, "Not if people have been saying things about her."

"They called her a whore Tommy," Ada whispered.

His heart clenched. He had figured as much when she said they'd said things. God damn it.

He patted Ada's head again, "I'll deal with it Ada."

"I don't think she'll want you to Tommy."

"No, she won't, but sometimes even that little wench is going to have to accept what's good for her - even if it's not to her liking," Tommy replied, resolved already, "You don't know where she was going?"

Ada shook her head and he nodded curtly at her, pushing past his sister out onto Watery Lane.

Apart from anything else, Evans bandying about his movements and business at home, where his son could pick up on them and divulge them at whim, indicated Evans needed to be put on a leash. Just a little fright. Maybe a wage increase for Rosie, if she wanted to keep her job. If she didn't want to keep her job – maybe Evans didn't need a shop really after all. Or his tongue.

He cut across in the direction of the way she'd walk back from the town, hoping he might meet her en route if she'd calmed down and decided to come home. If she'd gone at lunch time she would have had a few hours on her own by now – and maybe that would have been enough.

He frowned when he saw Freddie Thorne and didn't stop to talk, only exchanging another curt nod. He had nothing to say to Freddie, though once he'd located the redhead and assessed how she was, he'd need to come back and think on Freddie some more. That was twice he'd been around now, and Tommy really didn't care for it. Bloody safe houses. He'd make the houses unsafe if he had to.

He stopped in his tracks and swivelled, changing direction. Safe houses. She'd probably gone to her own house to regroup.

Sure enough, when he hammered on the door there were footsteps he recognised as hers and the door swung open.

She started in surprise, "Tommy."

"Expecting someone else?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She sighed, "I said I'd be back later Thomas."

"Yeah, you can be back later – doesn't mean I won't come find you in the meantime."

She rolled her eyes.

"Are you going to invite me in?" he pushed.

"Do you need to come in?"

"No, we can do this on the doorstep if you like."

"Do what?"

"We're going to have a discussion about what's going on in your head," he told her.

"Or I could shut the door on your face," she replied, though he could hear a slight hint of nerves underneath the even overtones.

He wondered if anyone else would have noticed them. He thought not.

"You're not in trouble," he said mildly, cocking an eyebrow at her, "I just want to know what you're thinking."

She snorted, "And why would I be in trouble?"

"Because you left school at lunchtime today and one of the first things we agreed on was that you'd go to school."

"Technically I went to school."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're not in trouble yet but you can talk yourself into it if you fancy with that tongue of yours."

She sighed, "Bloody Ada."

"Yeah, bloody Ada. She was worried about you. She didn't know you hadn't-"

"I know, I know," Rosie replied, waving her hands about, "I'm not angry with her – I told her that."

"She thought I'd be angry with her – went out on her usual defensive of how it wasn't her fault."

"Yeah well, it wasn't her fault," Rosie said with a shrug.

"I know – now do you want to continue this here or do you want to go inside?"

She sighed and stood back, allowing him to cross the threshold and shut the door behind him. He was suddenly aware that they were alone again and that they'd been in one another's arms the night before after weeks of not touching.

The front room in her old house was much the same as the one in Watery Lane, so he moved to stand by the empty fireplace, keeping his coat and hat on but removing his gloves, shoving them into his pocket. He looked across at her where she had come to rest against the wall by the door, her arms folded.

"Sit down," he said, gesturing at the sofa.

She raised an eyebrow, "It's my house, why don't you sit down?"

He raised an eyebrow back at her and motioned to the sofa with his eyes.

She stared at him for a moment, deliberating, then sighed and sat down, keeping her arms folded.

They didn't say anything for a while, just looked at one another.

"Why did you come back here?" he asked eventually.

"To see if there were any letters, to see if the landlord had put anything through to say the rent was overdue," her eyes were piercing into him as she said it – and he almost had a funny feeling she knew he'd paid her rent a few times. But she couldn't know - he'd put the fear of god into the man and told him no one should hear about it if he valued his tongue and his eyes.

"Were there?"

"No."

"So why are you still here if you've assessed that?"

She shrugged, "Just having a think."

"A think about what?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

He didn't want to make it too gruff, or she'd know the emotion it covered. He didn't want to make it too flippant, lest she underestimated the truth of it.

She didn't answer.

"I'll take their tongues," he said suddenly, his voice slightly feverish, crossing to crouch in front of her where she sat, his face searching up into hers, "You tell me who it was that called you a whore and I will take their tongues and their eyes and I will make it so no one will dare to say that of you again – do you hear? You just tell me their names."

She frowned down at him, "Do you think that bothers me Thomas?"

He frowned back at her, unsure what she meant.

"Being called a whore," she answered his unasked question, "Do you think that bothers me?"

He stood up, unsure how to answer that.

"You said you knew my mother had up and left us, do you know why? Do you know where she went? Do you know what she did – for a living?"

He nodded carefully.

"Good," she nodded, "Good."

She looked off to the side and seemed to think for a minute before flicking her eyes directly up to his again, "Y'see Thomas – people have an opinion on women who are whores. Men who work in factories or who forge or who fight fires – no one has those opinions of them. Men can use the strength in their bodies and get paid for it – but a woman uses anything in her body to make money and there's some moral judgement to it. Everyone's a whore in this world, they just sell different parts of themselves and people judge them based on the fucking part they choose to offer to the market."

"It's not the same…" Tommy said but he wasn't convinced of his own words and they trailed off as she stood up in front of him, her eyes blazing.

"No, it's not the same, is it? Because it'll never be the same. You know what a good whore does Tommy? They read you. They read your emotions and your mood and they figure out what you need from them and they give you it as best they can. I reckon that's what men don't like about whores. That they see them for what they are. There's a power in that, y'know, a power that is fuck all to do with how hard you can hammer a bit of metal. A power you can't put on a scale and measure. Men get in a room with a good whore and the only power they have suddenly is the power she lets them think they have – and they pay her for it too. And they don't fucking like it – but what can they do? Nothing, because they need her. Men can't do without whores. So they take back the power where they can – outside of the room. They vilify whores. Make them sub-human, make them immoral, make them low. Make their job a slur. Tell me, you ever visited a whore Tommy?"

He stared at her, then opted for the truth, nodding wordlessly.

"So, you've visited a whore, used a whore. You're not above it, because you need them like any other man needs them. But someone calls me a whore and you'll take their tongue for me because I should be so insulted to be called that which you and every other man in this city relies on?"

"Whores need men as much as men need whores, or no one's paying them," Tommy snapped at her, defensive.

She laughed mirthlessly, "No. That's where you've got it all wrong Tommy. If there were no men, there'd be no whores. Because there would be other options for the women who become whores. But there's men and so there's none."

He pulled a face, telling her to explain what she meant.

"Think about it Thomas," she said, her eyes flashing, "Say there's a kid. Its family can't support it and it's on its own – it's about to turn sixteen so it can leave school and get a job and make a life for itself. It's not particularly smart, no more than average – and it's had the same education as any other kid who goes to school around here gets. Say that kid's a boy – what can it do? Apprenticeship, learn a trade, hell, he can do what he wants. Now, say it's a girl – she can't type in a fancy office cause she can't spell any better than that boy who could go get an apprenticeship can. And say because she's on her own she's not the most respectable looking thing, so she can't work in a shop can she? Because that's the thing if you're a girl and you want to work in a shop – it's not enough to know stock or count money, you've got to speak nicely and do your hair and wear a fucking girdle because you're not supposed to be able to breathe while you're working. And she doesn't have spare money for girdles and hair shit. So what can she do? She needs money, needs to support herself and she can't go do a manual job because the factories only want men in those jobs. She can spread her fucking legs Thomas, she can take the fact she's a woman and she can sell it. It's the only fucking option this entire fucked up society we live in has left for her. And when she takes it they'll tear her apart for daring to."

He was stunned for a moment and he didn't quite know what to say – but he could see she was getting worked up and he needed to reign her in when she couldn't reign herself in.

So he clicked his tongue and said, "Well that's all mighty fine sounding – but you work in a shop and I don't see you wearing girdles or doing your hair."

She flared, "No, I don't. But I work in a tobacco shop. And the thing about that Thomas – is that I can handle money, I can count and do math in my head – quickly – and I can read and write because I was born lucky enough to have a brain that let me pick it up, so I can do the letters and the correspondence and the deliveries. If I was a boy I'd have got the job without being able to do that – and I'd get paid more too. And he'd have to hire someone else on top of me to be able to do the deliveries and the letters and the shop boy would just be a shop boy. But no, I can do that, so I get to do all of it, and I get to do what would be at least two men's jobs for less money than one man. That's what I really don't get about any of it, y'know – all you men have engineered this whole damn world so you can use women however you bloody like and we can't do fuck all about it and half the time you'd all still choose to employ another man anyway!"

Dear god she was magnificent in her rage, her passion was... overwhelming. He'd lose all control in a minute and just wrap his arms around her and kiss her until she was quiet from fainting. But he couldn't do that.

"Will you calm down?" he snapped at her instead.

"Why should I?" she shrieked, "You know I half thought this war – god forgive me – might be a good thing when I saw how women stepped up during it, how we did all the jobs while you were all away. I thought maybe when you came back things would change, but they didn't! You just came back and chucked all the women back into what they did before and told them to be okay with it! Told them to get back to women's business."

She glared at him, her fury suddenly less aimed at men in general and specifically aimed at him.

"Now you look here Rosie, when I said about women's business-"

"Oh I know! You meant the kitchen, where women belong in your opinion!" she shouted at him.

"Do you need a good spanking to make you settle down and see reason?" he snapped, knowing he had no intention of spanking her to settle her down but not knowing what else to say to get her attention.

"Oh by all means Thomas, use your brute force to beat me into submission! That's exactly the way forward!"

She really was getting hysterical, so he grabbed her shoulders and shook her, willing her to be quiet for a moment. And to his relief – and hers though he was sure she wouldn't admit it – she did still her tongue, glaring up at him and breathing heavily as he held her.

"You look here, I don't beat women. I've never beaten a woman in my life and I don't plan to start with you, alright?"

She glared at him, then gave him a curt nod when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Good. Now let me make this clear – I don't mind you, or any women for that matter, having opinions. Christ I'd sometimes love to hear Ada have an opinion of her own. But I'm not going to take you screaming them at me – especially not when my company treasurer is a woman. And I believe I insisted I would fry bacon before I'd let you do it the day after you came to stay with me – and I believe you were the one who insisted you wanted to make dinner, I told you I didn't want anything from you, but you were the one who insisted. So I don't care for your accusations."

She continued to glare at him but didn't answer.

"Oh, now you can mind that tongue can you? Now that I've pointed out how unfounded your words are?"

She stayed silent and he rolled his eyes and released her shoulders. She crossed her arms, not softening her look.

"Well? Is that it? Nothing more to say?" he prompted her.

"Oh plenty more to say," she growled.

He crossed back to the fireplace, pulled a cigarette from his case and lit it, not hurrying himself to do so, then gestured it at her, "Well – go ahead then."

She looked taken aback for a minute then said, more calmly than before, "Well fine – I will… Thomas I like being in the kitchen, I like cooking-"

"And you're good at it," he interjected, nodding at her before returning to his cigarette.

"Well I'm glad you think so," she offered, slightly chided it seemed, "But in any case – I like it. And I don't mind that being women's business. I don't even mind the idea of women's business, not really, as a concept. But I mind when women's business to men's minds is compromised of stupid stuff because you reckon women can't wrap their brains around the things that are men's business when women can – and they did whilst the men were all away fighting. And I mind when there's women's business that you condone, like cooking and whatever, but when you think there's women's business – like whoring – that you can make a judgement on. We don't judge you for using whores."

He snorted, "Don't you?"

"Well, I don't," she replied, her voice stone.

"Look," he said, "If you're looking for a man to blame for everything, it's not me. I told John to marry a whore yesterday – and I meant it. I take your point - I do. I agree with you actually, on the principal of it. But it doesn't change anything - whatever the words were, I'll take tongues from anyone who speaks badly about you. It's not the words that bother me, it's the spirit they're offered in, alright?"

"Yeah, well, I punched one of them in the mouth for their tone so there's no need for you to get involved," she said.

"Yes I heard," he told her, "You have a habit of punching don't you?"

"Deeds not words," she replied.

He snorted, "Deeds indeed. Well, you can punch whoever you like as long as its deserved – I don't mind that. I'd advise not becoming known for a signature move though, or people learn how to avoid it and if you've got nothing else to rely on you're stuck."

She looked at him in surprise for a minute before she nodded, swallowed and looked at the ground before looking back up to him and saying, "I'm sorry Tommy."

He nodded, "Forget about it," he told her out the side of his mouth, where he'd stuck the cigarette back in.

"I know you're not as pig headed as most of them, I wouldn't have agreed to come with you – and not with Lily - if I'd thought you were."

"Still a bit pig headed though?" he asked, letting his tone get slightly warmer.

"I think all men are a bit pig headed to an extent," she replied, a small smile on her pretty little mouth.

He snorted, "I prefer to think I'm vaguely chivalrous."

"Because you wouldn't beat a woman but you'd beat a man?"

He nodded.

"How gentlemanly."

"Oh I never said I was a gentleman," he said, throwing the cigarette into the empty fireplace and crossing back to her, pulling her to him and running his hand down her back, pleased to see her lower lip do that thing again where it fell slightly at his touch and her cheeks flushed a little.

"But if you value your ability to sit comfortably on this," he said, running his hands right down to squeeze at her arse, a hardening happening in his trousers when she let out a seemingly involuntary little high pitched noise from the back of her throat, "You'll learn to mind that temper and that tone. You can think what you like and I'll accept it even if I don't agree with it – and I do agree with it in this instance," he said, raising his eyebrows at her as she opened her mouth ready to speak; she closed it at his look, obedient for once, and he nodded his approval. "So long as you do as I tell you and keep yourself safe. But I'll not be shouted at. I mean, shout at other men all you like, but not me. Though I don't recommend going for Arthur either, I warned you before he's not as easy going as me."

"Easy going indeed," she snorted.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry Tommy," she muttered, looking over his shoulder rather than at him, "I'm just upset and I don't – I mean – I don't really do all that crying stuff usually when I'm upset, I just get a bit angry and lose my temper a bit."

He nodded, gliding his hands back up to the sides of her waist and taking a slight step back, hoping she couldn't work out what was going on below his waist, "I know. That's why we're having one of your discussions and you're not just over my knee for walking out of school half way through the day. But you learn to keep that temper in check where I'm concerned - I give you a lot of liberties I don't give anyone else, and you know it, but I have a line even for you my darling girl."

She met his eye for a second and then looked down but nodded her understanding. He wondered if she had noticed the term he'd given her in his head slip out his mouth twice now.

"If it wasn't the whore thing, what was it? Why are you upset?" he pressed her.

"Because people know I'm living with you."

"I'm going to need more than that."

"Tommy – what if it reaches the wrong ears. What if people figure out Lily's there too and they realise Molly's left? I can't adopt her 'til I'm eighteen, they could take her away. And they could take me too – I'm not sixteen for a few months yet. I don't want her going to the parish Tommy, they'd take her till she was eighteen and there would be nothing I could do."

He undid the step he'd taken away from her and pulled her to him, one hand going around her waist, the other sliding up to the back of her head.

"Rosie – I promised you, you'll get everything you need from me alright? That was the bargain we made. And believe me, if the parish authorities start sniffing around and you need me to make them fuck off, I'll make sure they do, alright?"

"You're not god Tommy," she said to his chest.

"No, I'm not god. So, I'm happy doing things that would shame him. You believe me, those parish authorities aren't all the saints they're cracked up to be either and I can make sure they know I know it. So you listen to me, eh?" he stepped back and brought his face to hers, "You have nothing to worry about. No one is taking your sister away from you. I will take every tongue, every eye and every life in this city if I have to before that would happen, do you understand me? I promised you I would give you everything you needed – everything you and Lily needed – and you need peace of mind and Lily needs a stable upbringing in a stable house. And by god I know it's maybe not the most peaceful of houses, but it's stable. We're a family and you're both part of that. And no fucker is taking you away from me, you understand? Not you or Lily."

She looked at him, met his eyes and nodded, but he needed to hear her say it.

"Rosie – do you understand? You are safe. You are mine. You have my promise, do you understand?"

She had his promise, in more ways than one. He wondered, when she nodded and gave an audible yes, if she understood how many ways she had his promise.

"Good," he said brusquely, trying to make himself more comfortable with the words he'd just offered the room, offered her, "Now I've got business to get on with and I cut it short to come find you and figure out what was happening in your head."

He turned and walked to the door without glancing at her, holding it open and sighing as she went to fetch her bag and coat.

"Have you not got a scarf and gloves?" he asked her when she eventually made her way under his arm, out to the street.

"Nope."

"For fucks sake. Just as bloody well I came along when I did."

"You're awfully self-satisfied Tommy," she said as she locked the door.

"Oi! I'm still not convinced you haven't earned yourself a spanking somewhere in the middle of this, you watch that tongue," he snapped at her.

"Well I'll make you a steak pie tomorrow for dinner and that can be it alright between us again," she replied.

"At some point you're not going to be able to buy me off with your cooking."

"And you'll need to go through with one of these threats of yours," she said, almost challenging him, her eyebrow raised.

"We can head back in there right now if you're so eager for me to follow through," he said, raising an eyebrow back at her.

She bit her lip and shook her head, her cheeks flushing.

"Right – well get on home before I change my mind," he barked at her, "Ada knew I was coming to look for you, so you may as well tell her we met when you were walking home and after I made sure you were okay I went off to do some business. None of the rest of them need to know you didn't just go Christmas shopping." Don't tell Polly I squeezed your arse, might have been the more accurate statement for him to make, but they were out the room now and back in the open, so he didn't. "Make things okay between you – she's worried and I know you two have developed a care for one another despite all your differences. And I'll be late, lock up – I have keys."

"Where are you going?" she asked, not commenting on his unspecified instruction not to tell anyone about them being alone together in her front room.

"What business is that of yours?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

"Well you made it your business to know where I'd gone."

He grabbed her arm and spun her round, landing a swat on her rear – figuring he had broken his resolution not to touch her now anyway; though he was sure that, through her green wool coat, the smack wouldn't really make all that much of an impact. It was a symbol more than anything else.

He spoke into her ear, "You've used all your liberties for the day my girl – in fact, you've used them all for the week. I have business that doesn't concern you so get on home."

"You know you told me you wanted me because you were collecting smart people for your business," she replied with a little too much snark in her voice for comfort.

He swatted her again.

"Don't test me Rosie," he growled this time, "If you want involved in my business you need to learn when to hold your tongue. Now – get."

He released his hold on her with a final smack across her coat.

She huffed and tossed her head but she pulled her satchel up onto her shoulder and began to walk in the direction of Watery Lane. He watched her go for a minute, then pulled his gloves out of his coat pocket and pulled them on, turning to walk the other way – in the direction of the tobacco shop.

He wondered just how much time they were going to spend dancing, in one way or another.