Chapter 31

"I have ten minutes - what do you want?" he asked Polly.

The sunlight streaming in through the church windows didn't seem to reach his aunt's head with its macabre black lace covering – no longer a requirement of women in church but one she willingly continued to abide by. He thought perhaps it was similar to Rosie's school-boy friends calling her 'Jackson', and what she'd said about it helping her to keep everything separate – perhaps adopting that pious widow look helped Polly to reconcile her, against all odds, still very much deep and genuine faith with her daily life.

His aunt knew, or had known at least, that he had no faith left – though he wondered if some part of her hoped his weekly visits to the church with Rosie and Lily had changed that for him. Perhaps that was why she had asked him to meet her there, hopeful that the church would force the truth from him.

The reality was, it was respect for her that pulled the truth from him. She told him she had spoken to the wives of factory hands from the BSA factory – letting him know she had done her own research. Letting him know she knew there had been a robbery of some sort. Letting him know her suspicions. But she had had the respect for him not to tell his brothers and, out of his respect for her, he told her the truth – told her the details of the robbery that had taken place, admitted that it hadn't actually been as planned, told her that more or less, the chances were that the robbery he'd managed to entangle himself in, was behind the copper from Belfast's arrival.

She rained blows on him, which he patiently endured, before giving her verdict and advice – "Dump them somewhere the police can find them. Maybe if they know they haven't fallen into the wrong hands, this might blow over."

He respected her, but he could predict her. He hadn't needed her to say it, because he'd known what she'd day – he had considered it.

It was dangerous. Of course it was dangerous. But with risk came reward.

He was glad Polly left without asking him to commit to agreeing to abide by her advice. In fact, he bought himself some time – she accepted that Charlie wouldn't move contraband under a full moon. He had bought himself three more days to make his decision about whether he was punching up and out using the guns or not. Three days for Billy Kimber to get in touch or not get in touch about his race.

For now, he had a bookshop to get to, and some books to purchase for a certain redhead whose magical ideas had caused a flurry of bets to be placed, and whose idea would grow after the horse won this afternoon whilst they were walking home from school. A girl whose idea would help build his empire, a girl who would sit by his side once he had his crown, wearing one of her own. For all he was sure her too strategical for her own good brain would find her over his knee sooner or later. To be fair, he'd have been disappointed to find out otherwise.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Tommy!" Lily shouted and waved at him as she came out the junior school door.

He crouched down to let her run to his arms, swinging her up, "Hello my little love, how was your day?"

"Oh, it is so lovely to see a man willing to hold his child in public," a woman nearby crooned at them.

He gave a tight smile to the woman as they passed, whilst Lily giggled up at him – amused by the idea she was his child. Children saw everything in such a black and white way, the adults they called mum and dad were their parents, nobody else. He doubted she even thought of herself as being Rosie's kid. But then, she seemed to accept she was loved and cared for and he supposed as long as she was happy then figures with the official titles being missing wasn't an issue.

"What's in the bag Tommy?"

"A present for your sister," he told her.

"Is it for her birthday?" Lily asked, peering at the bag he was carrying in the hand he didn't have wrapped around her.

He frowned, "No it's because of her good idea and all the money it's going to make us when it pays off… When is her birthday Lily?"

The child shrugged, "It was last week."

He stopped walking.

"Her birthday was last week?"

Lily nodded, "Yeah. I forgot but she told me after."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice harsher than he meant for it to be as a result of the cold panic that was setting in his stomach.

"I thought she'd tell you," Lily said, looking worriedly at him, her fingers uncurling from around his neck to go to her mouth.

He hoisted the bag up onto his forearm to free his hand and took her wrist, gently guiding it back to where it had been, "Hey, no fingers in mouth bab, eh? Nothing to be worried about."

"I'm sorry Tommy," she whispered.

"What have you got to be sorry for sweetheart?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"I didn't know to tell you."

"Well you don't be sorry for not knowing things Lily, okay? You only be sorry when you've made a mistake or been disobedient."

"But was it not a mistake not to tell you?"

"No, you didn't know to tell me. It's not a mistake not to know things."

She bit her lip but nodded, and he kissed her head before bouncing her a little, "Now, Lily, tell you what we're going to do – we're going to pretend you haven't told me, okay? And we're going to go send Rosie and Ada off on an errand to get them out the house and then you and me and Aunt Polly are going to arrange a surprise birthday tea this evening, okay?"

She smiled at that, "With cake?"

"With cake," he confirmed, nodding, "Though god only knows it'll be nothing compared to Ada's birthday cakes."

Ada didn't even bother pretending to be displeased at her plans being interrupted when Tommy presented her with a pound note and some shillings and told her to go keep her and Rosie out of the house for a few hours. On her own arrival at the school gates Rosie seemed more annoyed at it – she did eventually allow herself to be led away by Ada, though all the while staring back at him with suspicious, narrowed eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Now, Lily, think hard," Tommy urged the baby, who sat at the kitchen table, the eyes of all the Shelby's on her, "Is there anything she's mentioned that she wanted recently?"

Lily screwed up her face but shook her head, "No. She said she got the best birthday present already."

"Was that having you in her life?" Arthur asked Lily with a smirk.

"No," Lily answered, quite seriously, "She said she was staying at school to do the leaver's certificate so she could go help Sylvia. Then she said Tommy wouldn't let her help Sylvia, but she could maybe do something of use."

"Who's Sylvia?" John asked.

"Sylvia made my bear," Lily said with a shrug.

Tommy rolled his eyes to the ceiling, he was going to need to find out who that bear was named after and why she thought he wouldn't let her help a toymaker.

"Okay other than Sylvia, is there anything she's mentioned wanting?"

Lily screwed up her face, "Just women's lib- women's lib-…" she shook her head and trailed off.

"Women's libraries?" Polly suggested.

Lily thought hard for a moment, then nodded.

"What in hell does she want women's libraries for?" Arthur asked.

Maybe she wanted libraries full of books on how to raise children, Tommy thought. Libraries full of books on women's business.

Or… No.

Deeds not words – she'd literally quoted it at him, that day at her house, during her rant on why whore wasn't an insult.

"Lads," he grinned, "I don't think she wants women's libraries."

They looked at him and he looked at Lily, trying not to laugh.

"Is there any chance she wants women's liberation Lily?"

The child's affirmative answer was lost as the room descended into laughter.

"Oh, fuck me Tom, it would be like you to go an' find a fucking suffragette wouldn't it?" Arthur howled.

"Suffragettes – like the one who threw herself in front of the horse, remember that?" John said, with more of a grin than was maybe entirely appropriate for talking about a woman's death.

"Emily Davison," Tommy said, with a nod, "1913, year before we went to war."

"Christ!" Polly said, dragging on her cigarette.

John caught Arthur's eye and the two of them started again.

"Right – right – we don't have time for standing about having a laugh, and they got themselves the vote anyway," Tommy said, trying to quell the situation.

"No," Lily said, shaking her head, "Rosie said the vote isn't right yet, it's not the same."

"Did she say that indeed?" Tommy asked, trying to keep his face straight when talking to the baby as John threw back his head and laughed with tears rolling down his face.

"Uhuh," Lily nodded, "Tommy?"

"What sweetheart?"

"What is the vote?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"Rosie says all women need to worry about it."

"Well you're a girl, Lily, you're not a woman yet so you don't need to worry about it. What we need to worry about right now is that Ada and Rosie will be back here anytime after six o'clock, it's half four and all we've got is the only cake they had left in the bakery and a pie from the butchers."

"They're not gonna be as good as her cakes or pies," John said wistfully.

"No they won't," Tommy replied, "But the point is she's not doing any work. I've had it with the amount of bloody work she is doing, to be fucking honest, she cleaned the bloody carpets on Thursday night she said."

He glared at Polly as he said it and she raised an eyebrow, "I didn't tell her to clean them, I just said they needed cleaned."

"I told you to let her contribute, not take over running the house."

"Well I can be here and run the house or I can give you privacy and let her run the house, it's your choice Thomas," she retorted tartly.

He decided not to acknowledge her, instead turning to his brothers, "Arthur – go and bring the car around, we need to get a move on. John – you go get everyone out the shop and shut it up; Finn – give John a hand tidying and once you've done the shop tidy up in here a bit too for her."

Finn seemed less than happy at the idea of being assigned to tidying up, but he wasn't going to turn down a chance at being willingly sent into the shop.

"Lily darling, you go change out of your school dress for me while they're getting the car," Polly told the child, who slid off the seat and went through the open shop doors after John and Finn, heading up the stairs.

"So, she's sixteen now," Polly said to Tommy once they were alone.

He just looked at her, keeping his face blank.

"You taking her to church?"

"Every Sunday, Pol," he replied, a warning in his tone.

"Thomas!"

"Polly!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"She's still a child," he said, his eye glinting dangerously.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again – that girl's never been a child," she pushed on, giving little regard for his glinting eyes.

He didn't say anything – but he accepted she was going to say whatever it was she was going to say, and it didn't matter whether he took out his gun and cocked it at her head or not – he'd hear it.

Thinking on it, maybe it had been the wrong thing to bring Rosie into the house and see Polly's example in front of her. Though, by all accounts, they had been as wilful as one another before they ever met – bloody suffragettes. If Polly had ever had any respect for living her life within the boundaries set by the people in power, he guessed she'd have been a suffragette too. As it was, she thought politics beneath her. Polly thought of herself as a Gypsy princess and that was the only set of politics she cared about.

"Thomas!" his aunt said again, clearly not believing she had his attention.

He raised his eyebrows.

"She never had a childhood – and it's too late. You can't force one on her now she's too old for it just because it wasn't fair that she was at the back of the queue for them being handed out. We give the sister one, sure. But her chance at a childhood is done – and you're going to do more harm than good trying to stop her living all the life stages she's got to live yet because she missed out on one."

"She might be sixteen, but she's not a woman yet Polly," he replied.

"Because Thomas Shelby knows so much about what makes a woman?" Polly growled at him.

He didn't answer, and she sighed, then said, "Fine – maybe she's not a woman yet but she's no child. She's in the in-between and when she starts exploring all the things that in between makes her want to, it's you who's going to be hurt when it's not with you she does it with."

He looked at her scathingly, but his aunt's face was dark and deadly serious, "Thomas – I was pregnant when I was the age she is now."

He found himself, for once, unable to hide his shock. He hadn't known. He should have known. He'd have been… He thought on it. He'd have been ten when Polly was sixteen. Maybe he shouldn't have known then. He tried to imagine Finn knowing. Finn wouldn't have a clue. And when he was ten, their father had been gone. He hadn't come back for a few years to put Ada into their mother, Tommy wouldn't have known any signs.

But still… He couldn't believe something so enormous had happened without him knowing.

"Oh, I didn't dare tell anyone – and I took care of it," she replied, nodding her head grimly, "Nearly killed myself in the process. But you have that girl on a pristine pedestal – you have ideas about what a sixteen-year-old girl is Thomas, and you've never been one. So, you heed my advice before you hurt yourself. All of my advice."

He knew she meant the guns too. He dropped his eyes to the floor then, processing her words. She had been pregnant. At the age Rosie was now.

It was all mixed up – he looked at Rosie and everything about her called out to him, every sweet curve of her body, the tiny mouth he'd like to taste, the eyes he wanted to watch become hazy as he brought them together. And beyond all the physical, he enjoyed a verbal spar with her – he loved her mind, how it worked. Even if he was going to have to have a word with her about this women's liberation nonsense before she got herself into some real trouble - and figure out who bloody Sylvia was.

And when they were both with Lily… It was so easy to imagine them with a child he had put in her – a little combination of them, though God only knew how that child would turn out – Tommy could well imagine his right hand would fall off trying to keep that child in line, keep it safe. But he wanted to keep her safe too. And he could do that more easily if he didn't act on any of it, if he kept her under him. In the non-biblical sense.

He should do as he'd said, he should wait till she was an adult. But Polly – well, Polly was a woman and had once been a sixteen-year-old girl. So maybe Polly was right.

His aunt had pulled on her coat and picked up her bag by this time, but she hesitated in the doorway, clearly with something else she wanted to say before they got in the car.

"Come on Polly - don't stop now - spit it out," he ordered her, his voice irritated.

"Fine," she replied, her eyes flashing at him "I've said you'll hurt yourself – and you will. But if you hurt yourself you'll hurt her too, she's devoted to you Thomas, just as much as you are her. And the pair of you are as stubborn as each other and you both need a bloody good hiding as far as I'm concerned - but I knew the minute you left this house to get her that day that you were bringing her here to make it this her home. So, make it her home, Thomas – god knows she's already running it."

And before he could return her anything, the door had shut behind her for her to wait on the street for Arthur to bring the car around.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and massaged at his temples.

The problem was, he wanted to give Rosie everything. He wanted to do everything he had ever done with any other girl – take her to the tearooms, take her for a fancy dinner at the Midland Hotel. No, fuck that, he'd take her to London. He'd take her to the Ritz. They'd go to the zoo, so he could tease her about all the animals she called him, and they'd pick up some stuffed animals at the gift shop for Lily. He'd take her to the theatre. He'd take her to an opera, he'd buy her a gown and he'd put on a penguin suit and they'd act like toffs for the night. Except she'd be smirking at him the entire time for how ridiculous it was and then they'd go back and ruin the fancy hotel room he'd book for them.

But no – London and hotel rooms would have to wait. They'd have to wait till he could afford what he wanted to give her. He was cash rich – richer than most people would have realised. But it was always teetering, never sure, never certain. He wanted to give her certainty. Not the existence they'd had – where their father would come in one day to shower them with toys and jewellery for their mother because a job had gone well or he'd sold a horse; then a week later they'd be on the road in what they'd think was an adventure but what he knew now was a way of avoiding people his father owed money to.

He wouldn't put her or Lily through that.

He'd give her this birthday tea tonight and then he'd take her to the Midland for dinner on Saturday – luxury, but affordable luxury. He'd go get her the day off work and he'd get Ada to help him pick out a dress for her. A dress, not a ballgown. And she'd complain but she'd let him take her hand and drive them there and, out the sight of the people who knew them, they could pretend to be any other set of young people and he'd court her like one of the gentlemen in the books he had bought her.

That was the crux of it, he wanted to court her and make things special for her, but it was hard to do that when they lived in the same Watery Lane house.

They had their routines and boundaries established – he could smack her arse, when she gave him cause to (and she seemed to make the effort to give him cause often), he could pat her arse in warning that she was close to it being smacked, and he could touch her waist. She could touch his shoulder and arm, occasionally his waist. She could lay her head on his shoulder on the couch – and in that situation he could touch her feet. Sometimes they'd touch each other's faces – only sometimes though. He'd pressed his lips to her forehead twice now. And he'd pulled her down to sit on his lap once.

The things they'd done more than once, they did freely enough when alone, or with Lily or Finn. They reduced them around Ada. They reduced them even further around Polly and his brothers. They didn't do anything out of the house, other than allow their hands to entwine in her pocket.

He had fucked this all up so royally – he had given in to ways to pervert his resolve of not touching her and now that he was considering asking if he could touch her, it was difficult to know how to phrase that when he was already touching her regularly but just not touching her fully. And they'd never really discussed it, they just had these wordless agreements that meant the idea of discussing anything became even more uncomfortable. If he had always kept the distance he had sworn to, it would be easy enough to ask to cross a line. But it was more difficult to figure out how to put it when he was straddling the line already.

And the thing was, it was all so awkward, but he knew she'd agree to whatever he proposed. He knew she wanted him too.

So, he had to think exactly about what his proposal was.

He still needed her safe. And they couldn't afford to attract any attention about Lily being without her mother, not until Rosie was eighteen and could legally adopt her. They needed to not draw any attention at all, ideally. Especially given he hadn't decided what he was doing with these guns yet and this inspector and his men would be arriving any day now. He'd make a point of tracking down Moss the next day, of finding out what they were expecting – how many men, and what their aims were.

So then, what exactly was it he was offering her? Was it really any more than they were currently doing? He wouldn't risk putting a child in her. Not yet. Not until he'd married her. And he would marry her, he knew that. But he'd marry her when her name being Shelby was less of a risk than this new Chief Inspector might make it.

But, god above, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. Regularly. Just simple kisses. Just his lips on hers. Innocent and gentle and sweet and loving. Except of course, that with everything he would be trying to convey to her with his kisses, the kisses would be anything but simple.

Was that all he wanted to ask her – if he could kiss her?

And, of course, with that - there was the worry.

He ached for her. As he had done from the day he had seen her make herself at home in his kitchen. That was the day it had all changed.

He had enjoyed her company before then. He had flirted with her, he'd admit it now. He had tried to charm her. He had always thought she was pretty, if slightly untidy with her haphazard hair. And he'd had to control himself a few times not to break his stoic stance and laugh when she put the men in the shop in their place. But something had settled into his belly when they'd gone to her house that night, when he'd first met Lily. People were different at home and he'd seen her relaxed and tender with the child, as he'd never seen her before. And whatever it was that had settled had sprouted that weekend when he'd seen her cry as she'd worried about her sister, when he'd seen her begin to trust him enough to be vulnerable.

And when he'd seen her cooking in his kitchen, an apron tied over her dress, a knife in hand - with smudges of something on her cheek and carrot peel in her hair? That was the moment he realised whatever it was in him had grown and taken over him, like ivy on a building, climbing and curling all around him and nestling in areas of himself he'd forgotten about. That was when he'd realised he loved her.

It wasn't that that was the minute he'd fallen in love with her. Loving her had been a done deal long before then. He just hadn't known it. Hell, he'd stake all his money on it that Polly had probably known it before he did.

But that had been the moment he had realised he was hers. And it was foreign and terrifying – and yet it felt like it was what he'd always been meant to do. And so, he'd left the room to get his sister and smacked her about the front room so he could use the time to remember how to breathe while he processed what Rosie had caused in him.

He had hated himself at first – because it wasn't why he'd brought her. And he had sworn off touching her, which he'd managed – for a while. And then he'd given in to his want to touch her and they'd ended up where they were now. And now, he wanted to give in to his want to kiss her – and maybe she'd let them and, like his hand on her waist had felt at first delicious maybe those kisses would satisfy him – for a while. But if he went down this path, how long would it be before all he want to do was touch her even more intimately? How long before he would end up giving in to his desire to put a child in her?

Maybe it was better not to go down this path at all – maybe it was easier to stay resolved where they were rather than always trying to satisfy the next hunger? Always promising themselves that it would be just a hand at a waist, or just a kiss, or just a feel, or just a look, or just a taste or just him burying himself in her so deeply neither of them would know where one of them started and one of them ended. Just.

But he respected Polly's opinion. And Rosie was now sixteen, she was now legal. And he didn't want to hurt her, like Polly predicted he would, if he didn't take her advice. And he certainly didn't want her doing any 'exploring' with anyone else.

God, maybe this was why she hadn't told him. Maybe she was trying to figure out what it all meant and she had decided it was easier if they just didn't confront it yet.

He could have screamed. He needed to know what he was dealing with, before he could know what he was actually wanting to ask her, before he could figure out how to phrase that.

He needed to let it go for tonight. He needed to put it aside till he had the information, the answers, the handle on the situation that he needed to have to figure out how to control it.

Tonight wouldn't be about asking her anything, anyway – maybe other than finding out what her women's liberation nonsense was about. Tonight would just be about her birthday being celebrated – though perhaps while he was at it with finding out what her women's liberation nonsense was about he'd also do his best to find out why she had hidden her birthday from him. And if it was because she wanted to avoid complicating things then he would respect that.

Whatever happened, and whatever she decided – he would respect it. He didn't have to like it, but he would respect it.

Again, thank you so much for all the reviews and messages, I massively appreciate them! xx