Chapter 22

The run up to Christmas was different with a child in the house – Lily was equally excited for Christmas Day to arrive and slightly worried that Father Christmas wouldn't know she had moved - and they all had to take turns at reassuring her that he would definitely know where to find her.

Tommy was pleased to see Finn making an effort with her, and the two of them did most of the decorating of the Christmas tree that they put up in the living room, with Ada sighing and adjusting things in their wake whilst he and Rosie sat on the couch watching them and advising when asked to. Finn even held the chair Lily stood on to reach the higher branches of the tree, which left Tommy feeling almost useless until he was at least called upon to lift her so she could put the angel on the very top.

Her adjustment period, as Rosie had termed it, seemed to be settling, there were less tantrums and tears – they weren't gone altogether by any means, but they became more manageable and Tommy began to recognise them more quickly when they started. He found that carrying her off and out the room, out of the situation, was often the easiest way to settle her before she got into the full swing of one and they'd avoided a descent into threats of smacks or being put in the corner again so far.

Her behaviour was good enough that they went to town one day after school to look at the tree and get the dress from the window – though Tommy braced himself for a tantrum from the older Jackson sister when he paid for it, sliding the money across the counter before the assistant had even rung the dress up. It was a red dress with a black velvet bow around the middle and layers upon layers of tulle on the skirt, which Tommy could just envision going up in flames if it went anywhere near the fire, and he was damn glad she hadn't had the bloody thing to wear to Ada's birthday tea.

Rosie glared at him as he lent over the counter to take the bag from the sales assistant, her amber eyes just visible over the chunky rust coloured scarf he'd unceremoniously wrapped around her neck before school the morning after the day at her old house, pressing the matching gloves into her hands and placing the hat atop her unruly mane. He was quite pleased with himself – the colour matched her hair and her eyes and the green coat. And she had made the effort to seem displeased with them, but she'd worn them every day since.

"You straighten your face or I'll suggest to Lily we find you a matching dress for Christmas Day," he murmured into her ear as Lily eagerly took the parcel from his hands, determined to carry it herself, despite it being practically her size.

Rosie gave him a kick in the shin for his words but didn't rise as much as he thought she might have. His words about minding her tongue if she wanted to be in his business seemed to have had a good effect on her – though she was still quick with her words when it was just the two of them.

If he had been worried that she was losing her mouth altogether though, the next stop on their trip would have proved him wrong.

They went to Harrison's on the way home after the dress had been purchased and it seemed it was common knowledge now that the Jackson sisters lived at 6 Watery Lane under the care of Tommy Shelby – not that anyone from the parish had shoved their nose in yet.

"Mr Shelby, what can I do for you?" Harrison asked as they entered the sweet shop.

"Right Lily, what do you fancy?" Tommy asked the child, picking her up onto his hip so she could see the jars of sweets that lined the walls behind the counter and look at the chocolate bars.

"Ice cream," she replied, pointing at the dispenser in the back corner.

"Ice cream eh?" Tommy said with a grin, but Rosie cut across to say, "Absolutely not Lily – it's too cold for a start and you'll make a mess with it before we get home."

"You calm down, I'd have talked her out of it," Tommy said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her but smirking as he did so.

"No use telling a redhead to calm down Mr Shelby," Harrison replied.

"Oh don't I know it," Tommy replied, flicking his eyebrows at the redhead in question.

"Hmm," was all she said in reply.

"Lots of girls getting their hair cut short like that these days, seems to be on trend," Harrison said, nodding to her.

"Hmm," was the repeated reply, though her eyes looked to the shopkeeper this time.

It was true. Despite her haircut being a thoroughly practical choice, the ironic thing was the fashion seemed to be moving towards the bobbed cut and Ada wasn't alone in trying to turn her straight hair into something that more closely resembled what Rosie's did of its own accord. Ada's hair, to his sister's delight, had become much more accommodating since the introduction of the contraption Rosie had bought her for her birthday, though Tommy didn't thank her for the burning smell they now had to endure every Friday or Saturday night.

"You should really do something about it, Mr Shelby," Harrison said, moving his eyes to Tommy's.

Tommy kept his face blank.

"It's not respectable for a girl to have hair like that – if my wife or daughter came in with hair like that I'd give her a damn good spanking."

He opened his mouth, about to point out that Rosie was neither his wife nor his daughter, but before he could the man had a knife at his throat, Rosie wielding it.

Harrison took a quick step back, but she hopped up as quick as a flash on the counter, closing the gap.

"Funny how your words don't leave your throat so easily when there's a knife there, eh?"

Harrison's eyes flicked to his.

"No, don't you look at him," she said, her voice icy calm, "You might think my non-respectable hair has something to do with him, but it doesn't. It's funny though – it doesn't have much to do with you either - unless I'm mistaken, I don't recall asking you what you thought about my hair."

Harrison didn't say anything, and she swung her legs round so they dangled on his side of the counter, where she could jump down at any minute.

"My hair may be not be respectable – but I'll tell you Harrison, I've got enough self-respect that I'm not going to take comments like that from the likes of you. Now, why don't you just do what you're supposed to do rather than giving your unsolicited opinions – my sister wants a fucking ice cream and I've got a mind for some rhubarbs and custards, so just toddle along and busy yourself with that, eh?"

Tommy turned around to hide his laugh and put Lily down so he could fish in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Rosie dropped herself back on the customer side of the counter and said thank you very sweetly when Harrison handed her the ice cream and the sweets, but she passed Lily the tub and flounced out, shoving the paper bag of rhubarb and custards in her pocket without paying.

Tommy lit his cigarette, inhaled deeply, exhaled and nodded his head to the shocked man behind the counter before following the girl outside - also without paying. If Harrison thought he was going to undermine the point she was making, the shop keeper was greatly mistaken.

"Give me that bag Lily before you make a mess and get ice cream all over your new dress before we even get to Christmas morning," Rosie said, reverting to her home-self and fussing over the child as soon as the door had closed.

Lily clutched her tub of ice cream in one hand and her bag in the other and looked up to him, the small look of defiance that he was beginning to recognise coming into her eyes.

"You give me that bag Lily, your sister's mad as a hatter and I don't fancy our chances arguing with her," he said, hoping the joke would calm her before the tears or screaming started, "And apart from anything else you need both hands to eat that ice cream."

The child sighed and considered but eventually held out the bag to him, which he threw on his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at her. She blushed and turned her attention to the ice cream, docile again.

"Never mind mad as a hatter - her sister's mad as hell," Rosie snapped, "What bloody right does he think he has to comment on my hair? And for him to – to say that you should do something about. Bloody hell! Bloody men! I'd like to run the whole bloody lot of you off the face of this earth."

"Well I don't think he'll be saying anything again," Tommy said evenly.

She growled and shoved her hands in her pockets, scuffing her shoe and they began the walk towards Watery Lane, Lily dripping the ice cream down her coat – which he noticed Rosie noticing and rolling her eyes at, but she didn't comment – evidently willing to bear the results of the rod she'd created for her own back.

"So, where did you get it?" he asked her once they were back in the house and Lily had taken the dress and run through to the shop to show it to Arthur and John and Polly.

"Arthur gave me it," she replied, not looking at him.

"Why?"

She smirked, "Because you told me not to become known for a signature move, so I figured I'd learn how to do something other than punch."

He clicked his tongue then said, "Well fair enough," and went to move through to the shop and find out how bad business had been for the day.

"Tommy," she said suddenly.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her.

"What he said – about if his wife or daughter had hair like mine…"

"That he'd give them a good spanking?"

She nodded, flushing.

"Who'd give who a good spanking?" Polly's voice interrupted as she came through from the kitchen.

Rosie looked off to the side.

"Mr Harrison who owns the sweet shop-" Tommy began.

"Oh he figured out you distracted everyone and let those kids turn over his shop eh?" Polly said to Rosie with a grin.

She moved her eyes between him and Polly and frowned, clearly not realising Polly knew about it.

"You think I didn't tell her?" Tommy asked, smirking at the girl being on the back foot for once.

Rosie crossed her arms and glared back at the two of them, "I don't see why it was relevant that you'd tell-"

"Because I was explaining that you understand strategy," he cut across her, raising an eyebrow.

"It was hardly a strategy," she said, rolling her own eyes.

"Oh it was," he said, "Not the most complicated or sophisticated of strategies I grant you, but strategy nonetheless."

"He was explaining why he needs you," Polly told the girl.

"I don't believe I said need," he said quickly, defensive.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Polly huffed and turned back to the kitchen, "Maybe it's the two of you that need a good spanking!"

The air was thick for a moment before he prompted her, "Well, what about what he said?"

She bit her lip and looked off to the side again, "Would you – I mean – for my hair?"

He pulled a face, "What do I care about how you do your hair?"

"You got rid of all my clothes Thomas."

"Yeah, I did," he said, realising where her mind was going, "Because they weren't fit for purpose. I care about you being safe – do what you like with your bloody hair."

She gave him a half smile, "Good, I will."

"You do that," he nodded and turned back, continuing through to the shop, before changing his mind and coming back to the front room and deciding to commit to what he'd been thinking on for a while.

"Do you know how to shoot?"

She blinked at him, "Why would I know how to shoot?"

"Well, you punch well and you were pretty convincing with that knife."

"No, I don't know how to shoot. And I don't really know what I'm doing with the knife either but Arthur said I just had to act confident and it would do the work for me."

He snorted, "Aye that's Arthur – arms you then half remembers you're a woman and not a fucking blinder."

She didn't say anything. He lit a fresh cigarette and took a long drag.

"Right – after Christmas. I'm going to teach you how to shoot. If you're determined to have that mouth on you you'll probably need to know soon enough how to back it up and confidence will only get you so far," he said, waving his cigarette at her.

"You told me I could shout at any man who wasn't you," she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I did, but I didn't say there wouldn't be consequences, I just said I wouldn't give you any. Besides, you didn't shout - which is why I've decided to let you keep the knife and think you might be ready to learn how to hold a gun, if you can keep hold of your temper finally."

"Let me keep it?!"

"Yes," he said firmly, raising an eyebrow, "Let you keep it."

She snorted at that and he turned and passed Polly in the kitchen, avoiding the hard look she was giving him, heading through to the shop. John and Arthur were still there, sitting at the main middle desks, counting up the day's takings. Neither of them looking up when he came through the doors.

"Well?" he asked, his cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth after a few moments of silence.

"Well - you're failing at getting new business in Tommy," Arthur growled.

He raised an eyebrow.

"We know it's like this every Christmas Arthur," John said, "People ain't got no money for betting when their wives are wanting duck on the table."

Arthur grunted in response.

"Where's Ada? Saw Finn out on the street, didn't see her," Tommy asked, attempting to change the subject – he needed whatever was going on between him and Arthur to stop, especially if his brother was going to insist on going around putting knives in the hands of girls, albeit capable seeming girls, without anyone telling him.

"Fuck should I know?" Arthur snapped, "Do I look like her fucking keeper? Ask Polly."

"Christ Arthur, I take one fucking afternoon off and you let her disappear," he snapped back.

"Let who disappear?" Rosie asked, clearly having decided to follow him through.

Tommy glared at her and blew out a stream of smoke, "That bloody sister of mine."

"Where's the sister of mine?" she asked, coming into the room properly, glancing around.

"She went to put that dress up in her room," John replied, "You'd think it was spun of solid gold from the way she looks at it – asked Arthur if his hands were clean before he could touch it."

Rosie grinned and rolled her eyes, "Your hands ever been clean Arthur?"

Tommy moved his eyes from her to his brother, ready to intervene if need be, but to his surprise Arthur's frown lifted slightly – almost to a smile.

"Our hands can't all be pristine like yours love," Arthur replied.

"Like mine indeed," she snorted, coming to stand beside him at the desk.

"She used that knife you gave her today Arthur," Tommy said, letting his brother know that he knew.

"Don't exaggerate," she rolled her eyes at him, "I threatened to use it, I didn't use it."

"Well done Rosie girl, who'd you go for?" John asked, smiling from ear to ear.

So obviously John had known about it - he wasn't sure if he was pleased that she was close enough to his brothers to have them all making decisions like her acquiring knives without him or if he was annoyed about it.

"Harrison – he was rude about my hair," she told him.

John snorted, "Rude about your hair so you pulled a knife on him – bloody women!"

"Be warned lads, this bloody woman wants to run all men off the face of the earth – and apparently we Shelby's have decided to arm her to let her do it," Tommy said with a smirk.

She snorted, "You know a lot of people would say you Shelby's are the worst of all men, but if I was choosing any men to keep around it might be you lot."

Arthur grinned up at her and John gave her a friendly punch on the arm.

"I'm sorry, was that a compliment?" Tommy asked, feigning shock.

"Oh, don't you get used to it Tommy Shelby," she replied, smirking, "I'm just being warm hearted because it's so close to Christmas. And Ada was going up The Cut to go skating with everyone else after school so stop your worrying."

"It'll take more than you to make me stop worrying about Ada," he replied with a grimace, "And it's late, she should be home before now no matter what she's doing."

"What about Ada?" came Ada's voice, the back door slamming as she appeared in the double doorway - wearing that ridiculous coat she'd got for her birthday.

"Your brother worries about you," Rosie called over her shoulder.

The two girls exchanged looks, though he couldn't see what the redhead's face was doing as it was turned away from him.

"How was skating Ada?" he asked her pointedly.

"The ice wasn't thick enough for skating on The Cut, but maybe next week," she replied, coming over to gather around the desk with them.

"Next week indeed?" Rosie grinned, flicking her eyebrows.

"Yes," Ada replied, widening her eyes conspiratorially at the girl, "Next week."

"A Merry Christmas for you then," Rosie said.

"Hopefully," Ada giggled, "Did Lily get the dress?"

"She did," Rosie nodded, "Big poufy thing, awful really – you'll probably love it."

"Is it upstairs?"

"Uhuh."

"Show it to me?" Ada said, pushing off the table and heading to the stairs, her eyes on Rosie's.

The redhead grinned and nodded, "Alright then," and followed Ada, the two of them pulling various faces at each other, Ada snorting with laughter the whole way up the stairs.

The three brothers exchanged looks, disbelief in John and Arthur's eyes, annoyance in Tommy's.

"Tells me not to worry about Ada then makes it perfectly clear there's plenty going on with Ada I should be worrying about," Tommy growled, his eyes on the spot on the stairs where they had disappeared, "As if she gives a toss about showing Ada that dress."

"At some point you need to trust her a bit Tom," John said.

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. He didn't need John's advice on how to raise their sister.

"Speaking of trust," he said, his eyes meeting Arthur's.

His older brother raised an eyebrow at him.

"I've been working on new business, just been putting my efforts into the business that makes the real money."

"Is that right Tom?"

"Yeah Arthur, it is. And I've got a buyer for motorbikes, so I need some of our men that we trust in the BSA factory. Get it organised for them to come to Charlie's yard tomorrow night to get their orders, eh? Tell them there's enough in it that they can give their wives all the fucking ducks they want on their tables this Christmas with the assurance January will have a nice bonus in it if they deliver."

Once again thank you so much for reading along, following, favouriting, reviewing and messaging me! It genuinely does make my day when I get an email to say someone has done any of those things.