Chapter 35
Moss didn't have much new information for him – only an apology and an assurance that he hadn't been aware of the plan to attack Arthur until that morning. Tommy accepted it as the truth - but warned Moss if he ever found out anything to the contrary he would take his eyes and his tongue and leave him with not much life in his body. Moss had paled and nodded.
"How are the other men liking him Moss?"
"No better than yesterday."
"Do they know he didn't serve?"
"Some of them do."
"Make sure all of them do," Tommy said, turning and walking away.
The war had been hell. But there was no quicker way now to turn those of them who had served against the one who didn't than to highlight it.
There were some in the reserved occupations who had been needed, sure. But there were some who had ensured they'd be kept back as the one doing that job that was needed. Campbell struck him as that type. He was a coward. And he was the type who knew it and hated it about himself. Only a coward tried to beat people into submission by placing four men against one. And by not even doing their own dirty work – by letting the other three do the actual beating.
There were similarities between them that he couldn't ignore – they both sat at the top, Campbell more officially than him, but their drive was different. Campbell was driven by fear, that much was clear – fear of the IRA, fear of communists, fear of the world he'd live in if they got their way – even fear of local razor gangs. Campbell's fear was an upset to the order of the world, the order he liked his place in. Tommy was driven by a need to punch up and out. He was driven by a refusal to stay in the order of the world he'd been born to, refusal to stay in the infantry line, ordered around by the cavalry. Refusal to accept the life he was supposed to. Ergo, as Rosie would say, it came full circle – he was the embodiment of what drove Campbell. Of what the inspector feared. And Campbell, there to ensure the order was kept – he was the embodiment of everything Tommy had to punch against. But he had the guns. So, he wasn't punching bare fisted this time. He was going to this fight with more ammunition that he could ever have dreamed of.
He arrived at Charlie's yard just as Curly was finishing hammering the final box shut and he and Charlie were loading it on to the boat.
"Uncle Charlie," he said, to get the man's attention, "A word."
"They're aboard. There's no moon," Charlie said, coming over, "We can take them out to the turning point beyond Gas Street and leave them on the bank. They'll be found by railway men first thing."
Tommy plucked his cigarette from his mouth and exhaled, thinking on it one last time before he committed.
"Is that agreement?" Charlie asked.
His Uncle Charlie knew him well, he could probably sense the fight in him.
Tommy blinked and didn't look at the man, but in that minute he had decided – he was committing to seeing this through. He was going to punch up and out – for him, for Rosie, for Lily. For Ada and Finn. Hell, even for Arthur – so nothing like what had happened that morning would ever happen again.
"I changed my mind," Tommy said, evenly.
"You what?" Charlie demanded of him.
He still didn't look to his uncle. This was his decision.
He nodded his head, a tiny movement that only anyone as close to him as his uncle would have seen, "I have an alternative strategy. Tell Curly to take her out to the old tobacco wharf, there's a lock up mooring we use to keep cigarettes – he knows it."
He could feel the tension in his uncle.
"When the boat leaves your yard, it's no longer your concern," he told him, in an attempt to reassure him.
Charlie puffed on his cigarette, evidently not reassured, "Have you lost your fucking mind?" he hissed, "Have you not seen the streets? They've sent a fucking army to find these things."
"That's right," Tommy agreed, smirking, "They've shown their hand."
"Their hand?" Charlie scoffed, incredulous.
"If they want them back this bad, they'll have to pay," Tommy answered, "That's the way of the world. Fortune drops something valuable into your lap, you don't just dump it on the bank of the cut."
"You're blood Tommy," Charlie said, "I've always looked out for you like a dad."
Tommy tried not to wince as he thought of the last time Charlie had started talking like this to him, of the time he had left the house and been too ashamed to go back and face them. Of how Lily had come running to his arms when he finally had plucked up the courage to return. Of how Rosie had understood the smoke and muck in his head, of how he had knelt in front of her and laid his head on her lap and begged forgiveness - and how she had offered it, given him it. He owed her the first true peace he had known, the first stillness, the first nights he slept dreamless and restful. So, he owed her this, he owed it to her to get them out of Watery Lane, out of situations where coppers would try and beat them into submission on the street.
"You're going to bring holy hell down on your head," his uncle said, "This copper takes no prisoners."
"I'm told he didn't serve," Tommy said, cutting his uncle off, "Reserved occupation."
"Is it another war you're looking for, Tommy?"
It was. A war he would win. A war against all the shit that kept them down, kept them operating in cash, kept them unable to move up even though they likely had more cash in their safe than the fucking copper had in his bank.
"The tobacco wharf," he told his uncle, refusing to be drawn in any further to Charlie's conversation.
He plucked the keys from his own pocket and tucked them into Charlie's, "By order of the Peaky Blinders."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
His thoughts were on Finn as he walked back to Watery Lane. He hoped Polly had got through to him where he had failed.
The thing was, he felt like a fraud trying to parent Finn at times. He had told Polly he knew how a boy's mind worked when she had pointed out he had never been as clueless with Finn as he was with Lily. And that was the truth, he did know how a boy's mind worked – because he'd had one. Almost everything he had to punish his brother over was something he'd done himself at one time or another. How many times had he been in the cut? And how was he supposed to know when to be lenient and let the boy off with a few swats and a warning and when to come down hard? If he had come down hard on Finn the first time he'd had proof he had been at the cut, maybe the boy wouldn't have been back there today, and wouldn't have fallen in – or dived in, fully clothed, whatever the hell had happened. His stomach clenched at the idea of what could have happened. Thank god he had taken Finn swimming as a kid. The Moseley Road Baths had been a staple part of their weekly routine for years before the war – they had never been since he had come back.
He needed to find something for them to do. Something that wouldn't make Finn feel like a kid. The Spring fayre wasn't too far off, he'd take him to that with Arthur and John. But he probably needed something to do more regularly with the boy, rather than just going to the fayre when it came to town.
The problem was, all he had wanted to do when he was eleven was run around the streets with Freddie and Arthur and Danny, his own father had never been great anyway, but he'd been long gone when Tommy was eleven. He didn't know what fathers – or father figures – did with kids at that age. He had spent a lot of his time at Charlie's yard, with the horses. But Finn didn't care for horses, he wasn't as interested as Tommy had been – even as a child Tommy had played with horse figures, whereas Finn had always wanted the toy cars and planes that still littered his bedroom – no longer played with properly, at least not that Tommy knew of, but still important enough to Finn that he hadn't passed them on to George.
And as for Ada? She had been nine or so when he went, and still playing with her dolls and her tea sets. She had been starting to get an attitude and she'd been over his knee plenty, but she hadn't been a bad child – not really. Then he'd come back, and the dolls and tea sets were gone, and she didn't want to talk to him, she wanted to go places with her friends and swoon over the stars of her picture shows. He didn't know how the transition had happened.
He'd never been in charge of an eleven-year-old before – and he didn't want to fuck it up. But he didn't know what to do either.
He'd ask Rosie – she might have read something.
He was so distracted he was at the front door before he realised there was still light emanating from the front room of the house. He glanced at his watch, it was nearly midnight, but he was back earlier than he'd thought he'd be. He hoped Polly hadn't stayed. He didn't need her interrogating him. He took off his hat, shoving it in his pocket and opened the door.
It wasn't Polly though, it was the redhead who was still awake, her legs drawn up to her on the seat wearing her new pyjamas and robe they'd got her for her birthday, her nose in a book and her face screwed up as she read from it. She started and slammed it over when she looked up and saw him in the door way.
"Tommy! You're – you're earlier than – than I thought you'd be," she stammered, tripping over her words, her face flushing.
He raised an eyebrow at her nervous demeanour.
"I – I kept you a plate back, it's on the side," she stammered, sliding the book behind a cushion.
So, she was nervous - and she didn't want him to see what the little hardback was.
"What you reading?" he asked, smirking.
It was probably some romance she thought he'd laugh at her for having.
She froze, her fingers still on the volume.
"I'll heat it up for you," she whispered, clearly hoping he would allow her to distract him with the food.
"The book? You'll heat up a book for me, will you?"
"Tommy…"
There was a guilt to her, which he needed to figure out.
"Rosie?"
She met his eye, then bit her lip and dropped her gaze, finding the carpet suddenly more interesting.
"Give me it," he ordered her, holding his hand out.
She handed it over slowly, trepidation etched all over her body, from the tension in her wrist to the hitch in her breathing.
He took it and turned it over in his hands, his heart hammering.
"What the fuck is this?" he demanded, his voice cool, calm even, not betraying his internal rhythm.
"Tommy, I'm sorry – I just…"
"You just what?"
She didn't answer.
"You just sat there knowing I was trusting your judgement and all the while you were blatantly defying me?"
"No, Tommy," she shook her head.
"Then what? Because I clearly remember saying no fucking communists – I believe I said if one was coming near you, you should cross the fucking street, am I wrong?"
"No Tommy but-"
"But what? What? Why the fuck do you have their fucking manifesto?" he shouted suddenly losing the ability to control himself, waving it at her like a man possessed.
Why did she have it? What did it mean? Had she just decided to ignore his instructions?
"Tommy – please – please listen to me," she pleaded, her eyes wide.
"I'm fucking listening," he snarled at her, his own eyes wide.
The thing was, he wanted to listen. He wanted her to have some kind of explanation that would make it okay.
"Tommy, you told me no communists, I know that," she said, her voice small, but with a steel behind it, "But you didn't tell me why. And Freddie Thorne-"
She broke off as he snarled at the name, but he reigned himself in from saying anything, letting her continue.
"Freddie Thorne told me you'd been a communist yourself once. Said you were the one who got him involved in the first place."
He was going to fucking kill Freddie fucking Thorne.
"Tommy, I just wanted to understand – and I tried to ask you and you wouldn't talk about it."
He pinched his nose with his fingertips, breathing hard.
"Rosie – I have done my best to have your discussions. I have," he told her, his voice low and trembling with anger, "They don't come naturally to me, but I have tried. That was why I sat Finn and Ada and Lily on that sofa tonight and explained why I was so angry. But there are times I need you all to just do what you're fucking told, without questioning me and without needing a fucking discussion, alright? There are things I know a hell of a lot more about than you – and it's safer if you don't know some things, okay? I want you safe – I want you all safe and I don't know how the fuck I do that when you don't trust my judgement."
"I do trust it Tommy," she said, her own voice shaking slightly.
"Then what the fuck is this? Why did you need to read this?" he said, holding it out, his voice feeling like it might break.
"Tommy, I'm sorry – I-"
"Throw it in the fire," he said, still holding it out.
"What?"
"Throw it in the fire so we can be done with it."
"Tommy, I- I can't - it's not – it's not mine," she whispered, "If it was I mine I'd throw it in the fire, I swear I would. I promise you I would. But it's not mine."
"Whose is it?"
She didn't answer.
"Is it Freddie's?"
She shook her head.
"Then whose is it?" he demanded.
She looked like she might be about to cry, and he yanked the cover open, nearly breaking the spine in the process, hoping whoever she had acquired it from might have written their name on it.
'To Princess Ada, To fill your head with all my ideals, Love always, your communist frog.'
He looked back to Rosie.
"You kept this from me?" he said, his heart in his stomach.
He threw the book on the side table, knocking over a framed photo, and turned and strode from the room, throwing open the shop door and shouting, "Ada! Ada get out your fucking bed and get down here right fucking now!"
"Tommy," Rosie said, running through after him and grabbing his arm, "Tommy please, you'll wake up Finn and Lily."
"Frankly right now, I don't fucking care, Rosie," he snarled down at her, then shouted back up the stairs, "Ada! Get down here this fucking minute!"
"Tommy!" Rosie pleaded, coming in front of him and laying her hands on his chest, trying to push him back, "Tommy she's – she's not up there."
He grabbed a hold of her wrists and looked down, repeating it back to her, slowly, "She's not up there?"
Rosie shook her head.
"Then where is she?"
"I- I don't know Tommy," she said, shaking her head again, "I'm sorry – I-"
"You don't know?"
"Tommy – please – sit in the front room and listen to me – please?"
He dropped her wrists and walked through, wordless, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, his heart not so much racing with individual beats as it was buzzing with pure energy.
She shut the door he had thrown open and came through.
"Sit," he ordered, pointing to the sofa with his eyes.
She obeyed him.
"Talk."
"Tommy – you told me no communists."
He nodded.
"But you didn't tell Ada," she said, biting her lip.
His mouth dropped open, "Are you being fucking serious?"
"Tommy, Ada and I thought it was – well – it doesn't matter what we thought. But we thought you only meant me."
"Why would you think that?" he demanded, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Because you said it to me Tommy," she told him, her eyes wide, "You didn't say it to Ada."
"Well here's the deal – if it's not safe for you it's not safe for any of them," he growled.
"But you didn't say it wasn't safe, you didn't explain it or say why Tommy," she said, "So we just thought – well – it doesn't matter what we thought, it was stupid, I know but-"
"Yeah, it was stupid. You need to trust my judgement and if I judge that you can't handle something, then absolutely none of them are going to be able to handle it."
"Yes Tommy," she whispered.
"Get on with it," he said, pulling out a cigarette to stop himself from grabbing her and shaking her till her teeth rattled.
"Well, Ada has been seeing someone – a communist," she said, shuffling her feet.
"So I gathered," he said.
"I thought – well Tommy I thought it was a good thing at first. You were so worried she was making a fool of herself and I encouraged her. She was running around with different boys every week to parade them in front of him and make him jealous and I thought you'd be more angry if you found that out, so I – Tommy I'm sorry, but I told her to stop that and to just tell him how she felt, I thought it was the right thing to do."
He exhaled a stream of smoke, "And when did you realise it wasn't right?"
She gulped under his gaze and looked to the ground.
"No, look at me – not at the floor, at me," he told her.
She raised her eyes slowly, "Tommy I – I realised when you said at the meeting about that new inspector being here for communists that maybe you hadn't meant just me when you said about not speaking to communists."
"So why didn't you come to me then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"I – I thought I'd get both of us into trouble Tommy," she said, "And I know how shit that sounds – I know it does. But it took Ada and I a while to find our – our way of syncing with each other. And I didn't want to ruin that. I thought – Tommy I'm sorry but I thought I could convince her to speak to you herself or to break it off, either way I figured we could avoid – avoid this. I just didn't want to be caught in the middle between you – and – and I'm sorry because I know I should have come to you, but I didn't know – I didn't realise how far she had gone."
"What do you mean how far she had gone?"
His heart was hammering, and he felt sick – he bit down on the cigarette to keep it from sliding from his mouth, to keep from letting his face go slack as it wanted to at the idea of what she could mean.
"Tommy, she's been lying to me too. And I swear I didn't know that until tonight – she said she was going out and I told her she was mad. And she said if she was facing a spanking in the morning she may as well earn it, so she was going. So, I said what if I went to whoever's house it was they were going to tonight and said she was sick and couldn't come – and that way she didn't lose face, but she didn't disobey you either."
"Did you miss everything I said earlier about being where I thought you were at any given time? Did you think just because I try to make sure and treat you differently to Finn and Ada in front of your sister – because I'm trying to ensure we come across as a team with her and I'm not undermining you – do you think that means the rules don't apply to you?" he snapped.
She shifted her hands so that she was sitting on them.
"Oh, I hope your arse is tingling while you sit there," he told her, "It'll be the last time you sit comfortably for a while."
She nodded and bowed her head to the floor again, accepting his judgement without arguing - finally.
"Eyes on me," he reminded her, "So, you figured you were above obeying me too and suggested you'd go out – then what?"
"I figured she was in enough trouble Tommy," she said, her voice betraying her nerves, "But she said she wasn't going to see the girls, she was going to see him – and I couldn't talk her out of it so when she left I went into her room to find that manifesto and I thought I could try and understand it. I thought if I could figure out what you didn't like in it I could use it to make her see sense. I'm sorry, I am - I just didn't know what else to do and you were away out and Polly was away and I felt like I had to do something - anything - just so I wasn't sitting here feeling useless. I thought I'd wait for her to get back then convince her not to do it again and that would be the end of it. I just thought if I could reason with her tonight and you were going to punish her in the morning anyway that it could end after that, without her being in any more trouble than she already was..."
She trailed off, looking up at him. Her thumb went to her mouth and she began to chew on her nail as he held her gaze - a sort of more adult version of the way Lily stuck her fingers in her mouth when she was nervous. God, she was so little. And he was furious, he was, but she'd been trying to help, in her misguided way.
"Has she been seeing him every Saturday that she's said she was seeing her friends?" he asked, not convinced he really wanted to know.
"I don't know Tommy – they have all been staying at each other's a lot recently, that's been happening. But I don't know how often she's gone where she's said she's going and how often she's gone – gone somewhere else. I didn't know she wasn't just going to her friends' houses the entire time, I swear – I just thought she was letting him walk her home after school or whatever."
"Well I can only assume some school-boy who fancies himself a communist has parents, so surely she's been sleeping where I've thought she's been sleeping," he muttered aloud.
Rosie's eyes widened.
"What?"
She shook her head, swallowing.
"Don't make this any worse – what is it?"
"Tommy he's – he's not a school boy."
"Who is he?"
She stared at him for a moment, her mouth opening and closing and no sound emitting.
"Rosie?" he prompted after he had endured it as long as he could.
And then it hit him.
No.
No.
No.
He had been going to kill Freddie Thorne before. Now he was going to tear the fucker limb from limb.
"Rosie," he asked, "Is it who I think it is?"
She opened her mouth again – but whether she had ever been going to find the words to answer him or not, he didn't know, because the door opened at that moment and his sister, wearing the damned coat, appeared in the living room.
She froze when she saw Tommy and her mouth fell open.
"Get in here," he croaked at her, and she came slowly into the room, shutting the front door behind her, though her hand lingered on it, as though she was considering trying to bolt back out it while she could.
He turned to pick up the book, stubbing the cigarette out and clearing his throat.
"Who is your communist frog, Ada?" he asked her quietly, holding up the book
"Tommy – I – have you been in my room?" she asked.
He wanted to throttle her on the spot. She had been told to stay in and she'd gone out – after everything that had happened earlier. She knew he didn't want her near any communists – and he didn't accept that she hadn't thought it had been aimed at her, her refusal to take Rosie's advice of Monday night and speak to him about it proved that – and here she was, sneaking out to see one. And yet, her response was whether or not anyone had been in her room.
"I -" Rosie started to say, but he cut her off with a look.
He glanced between then two of them. Ada was defiant, even now, in her ridiculous coat – and lipstick smeared across her face. Rosie was at least penitent, it seemed. God, he didn't approve of what she had done or the decisions she had made, but at least he understood them. Which was more than he could say for his sister's.
"Yes, Ada, I was in your room," he told her, feeling Rosie's eyes on him from her place on the sofa, "I came home and stuck my head in to check on you and make sure your fire would last. I do that nearly every damn night Ada, you should know that because you're awake half the time, even when you should be asleep."
He saw Ada sag a little and lower her chin, just slightly. Not entirely though.
"So, imagine my surprise when you weren't there, after I'd told you you were to stay in and that I was going to give you a spanking tomorrow morning for your lying and manipulation and attempt to sneak out behind my back without asking permission."
"Tommy, I-" she started to say.
He shook his head, "No, Ada. See, your partner in crime there tells me I didn't make things clear enough to you that you weren't to go near any communists. When I confronted her with this, asked her what she knew about it – she tells me the two of you thought it was just her that was to be away from them. I'm not sure why you would think that – but you aren't going to say a fucking word right now, I'm going to talk and I'm going to make things crystal fucking clear Ada. When I realised you weren't home, that you'd snuck out anyway, despite everything Ada, despite our entire discussion earlier," he broke off to breathe, rub his hand across his chin and regain his composure, before continuing, "When you weren't there, I went in and got this one out of bed to find out what the fuck was going on. And she didn't know where you'd gone or who you were away to see. So, I went back into your room to see if I could find anything that might give me an idea – and I noticed this. You don't have a lot of books Ada, so it wasn't so hard to notice. Now, the fact Rosie has no clue whose house you were meant to be going to tonight – and since everyone's been going to these weekend gatherings, I figure if there was a gathering at someone's house, she'd know where it was. But she didn't. So, I'm guessing, from that – and from the fact your lipstick is all across your face – you weren't seeing your friends tonight. I'm guessing you were seeing this communist frog of yours."
He stared at her until she nodded, her eyes looking slightly watery.
"Yeah, I thought so," he continued, glaring at her, "So, you've been lying to me for weeks I guess about where you've been going on these Saturday nights? And you lied to me tonight, even when you knew fine well that I was angry – you stood in that kitchen and lied to my face, Ada."
"I'm sorry Tommy," she said, a few tears coming over her eyes.
"Ada are those tears because you're sorry or because you're sorry you got caught?" he asked, not remotely moved by them.
"I'm sorry Tommy, I'm really sorry."
"I fucking hope you are Ada – the lying and the sneaking out is bad enough, but you heard me at that meeting last Saturday and you saw Arthur this morning. This new inspector isn't playing around Ada, he's here because he thinks the communists or the IRA have stolen something. I've been out speaking to Moss, I've been getting the information on this man. You saw what he did to Arthur – that was what he did to get someone to help him, what do you think he'll do to people affiliated with the people he thinks stole the thing he's after? Communists are this government's number one fear right now Ada, Winston fucking Churchill himself sent that copper here, do you understand that? Do you understand how dangerous it is to be near a communist right now? Do you understand how dangerous it is to even have this book in the house? Do you want to live your whole life on the run, never settling anywhere, in one safe house after another – because that is your life if you end up with a communist Ada. No more fancy coats or shoes. None of the things you like in your life, do you understand that? The communists send all their spare cash to their unions and their cause – and you're not cut out for it, Ada. So, I want you to take this fucking book, and throw it in that fire and then I want us to move on and never speak of this again, you hear me?"
"Tommy, Tommy please! No! Please," Ada cried out, shaking her head fervently.
"Ada – what did I just say that wasn't clear? It's not a safe thing to have in the fucking house. If you get associated with communists, your life as you know it is over. If you drag the rest of this family into it by association, it's over for all of us. This copper isn't fucking playing, Ada. You've already dragged her," he gestured to Rosie, who was still on the sofa, still looking up at him, "Into this. I would hope that might make some fucking impact on you. I would hope you're not an entirely self-centred, selfish little hellcat. If you've read this you'll know you literally can't be a communist and be a self-centred, self-serving kind of a person, it doesn't fucking work."
"Tommy, I'm sorry," his sister said, coming around and holding out her hand for the book.
He passed her it, glad she was showing willing, "Into the fire Ada."
"Tommy, please, can I just rip out this page and keep it," she pleaded, opening it to the inscription.
"Rip it out Ada," he told her, his face hard.
She did so, looking at him, clearly not trusting that he was letting her rip it for her own purposes. He let her hold it for a second, waited till she started drawing it back, about to put it in her pocket-
"You can get that page in the fire first Ada," he told her.
"Tommy – Tommy no, please," she began to beg, her voice breaking as she started crying.
"In the fire. And into the fire with him too – you're not to see him again, do you understand?"
"Tommy please – please, I love him."
"Who is he Ada? What's his name?"
"Tommy…"
"I know who it is Ada, I've guessed alright. I just want to hear it from you."
"Freddie," she choked out, wiping her nose on her sleeve, "Freddie Thorne."
"Uhuh," he said, "And you tell me what you love about Freddie, Ada. Anything at all that you love about him that isn't the fact you know I don't want you anywhere near him."
"Tommy he's – he's kind – and he's, he's fun and exciting."
Tommy nodded, "That's good Ada. Now get it in the fire."
"Tommy – Tommy please!"
"Ada – if that's what you love about him then I have good news for you – there are a lot of men in this world kinder and more fun and more exciting than Freddie Thorne, he was my best friend for years, so I can vouch to it pretty well. And there's a lot of those men won't be dragging you through the safe houses and slums that the Bolsheviks deem acceptable to stay in while they send all their money to Russia."
She didn't move, so he snatched the paper from her and ripped it in half, then in half again, causing her to cry out before he tossed the bits into the flames. She cried freely then, but when he looked pointedly at the book still in her hand, missing only the inscription, she threw the rest of it in without hesitating.
He was still furious, but he was relieved, slightly. She didn't care about communism. Hell, he'd be surprised if she had even read the damn thing. All she had wanted was that page he had addressed to her, the page that summed up just how exciting and fun Freddie Thorne was. The fucking irony of it – Princess Ada. As if a communist and a princess would ever work.
And maybe that was it. He'd signed it as a frog. Did he think by kissing her, by entrapping his sister, he would get access to them, to him? Did he think that was his way back into the workings of Thomas' life? Access to guns and ammunition – so he could pass them on to his fucking comrades for their revolution?
God, he was furious with his sister. But he knew his sister – she wanted her life to be exciting and grand, like something out of a film. And Freddie was providing that for her – seducing her with it. His sister was young, naive. Freddie, the fucker, had taken advantage of her. Had decided she was the weakest link in the Shelby chain, the one he'd pull at to get himself involved.
Tommy raked his eyes over Ada, her face swollen and puffy already from crying, her lipstick still a mess. She looked so ridiculous now, her make up gone awry – she just looked like his baby sister, dressed up in a woman's coat and shoes.
He was so angry with her, angrier than he had ever been. And he was scared by what she'd nearly got herself entangled in. He just wanted her to be safe. He wanted them all to be safe. But they didn't fucking listen. She didn't fucking listen, because safe wasn't exciting. Safe wasn't fun. And if he couldn't make safe seductive enough to compete, he just had to make the consequences of giving in to what she did find seductive too severe for her to ever contemplate giving in to it again.
"Ada," he said, "You will not put yourself in danger again, do you understand me? You will not put this family in danger again, are we clear?"
She nodded.
"Words, Ada," he demanded.
"I - I under-understand, Tommy," she said, still quivering from her tears.
"You are in for the hiding of your life, Ada," he pronounced, keeping his voice quiet, "I just pray it's enough to keep you from doing anything as fucking stupid as this ever again. You will never lie to me again Ada, you will never keep anything from me, are we clear? No matter how much trouble you – or you," he said, raising his voice to address Rosie, to ensure she knew she was included, "Think you've got yourselves into, the consequences of keeping it from me will be worse than any trouble you'd have been in originally, got it?"
They both nodded, he surveyed them for a minute.
"Right Ada, let's get this done – I don't want to get Lily or Finn upset at this fucking time of night, so go through to my office, here's the key," he said, pulling the bundle from his pocket and picking out the right one, "Take that bloody coat off and put it somewhere then get your nose in the corner and I'll be through."
"Tommy, couldn't – couldn't this wait till the morning," Rosie asked in a small voice, looking up at him.
"You are honestly-fucking-daring to question me right now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, "This is getting done now for your benefit, so that once I'm done with my sister, you and I can have a discussion about how we're going to settle your deceit. And I want to get that done tonight because I don't want your sister overhearing anything about it tomorrow morning. I promised not to undermine you in front of her, so I won't. I will keep every promise I give you, no matter what you do. But that does not mean you are forgiven yet, do you understand me?"
She dropped her eyes and nodded.
"Tommy," Ada spoke up, "It wasn't her fault – she tried to get me to tell you, she tried to stop me going out. I swore if I got caught it would be me who got in trouble and not her."
He clicked his tongue and nodded, "I'm proud of you for telling me that Ada," he told her, "But maybe this will be a lesson to you in not swearing to things you can't control. You didn't plan to get caught for a start – but you should have known you would have. I told you earlier I knew there was a boy somewhere in the scene. Christ knows I didn't imagine this, but I knew something was going on – I was always going to find out. So, you should have known that. And you should have had the sense to know when I found out, you weren't going to be able to dictate how it happened. So why you thought you could swear to anyone that you'd keep them out of it, I don't know. Just another stupid thought of yours I suppose. But you're going to learn to use your brain and to think, Ada. Do you hear me? Corner – now!"
"Tommy, I'm sorry - I don't want to go in the corner like a child," Ada whispered, shaking her head and letting her hands drift to her backside.
"Ada, your choices here are in the corner of my office or in the corner of the kitchen – I suggested my office first because this one," he nodded to Rosie, "Is going to sit in here until I'm done with you. I figured my office gave you a bit more privacy. But if you'd rather we did this in the kitchen while she sits here and hears it all, you be my guest. But whether it's the kitchen or the office is the only thing you have any say in right now – and I suggest you move yourself before I make the decision for you."
Ada left the room without any more words, only shooting Rosie a look of what seemed like sincere commiserations.
Neither of them said anything until the shop door closed behind Ada.
"Why did you do that Tommy?" she asked.
He let her stew for a bit, pacing up and down the small room, feeling caged.
"I'm angry with you for not coming to me sooner," he said eventually, meeting her eyes, "But I understand that you didn't want to risk your relationship with Ada."
She nodded.
"But if you have concerns Rosie, if its about Ada or Finn – or even Lily if you can't handle it yourself – I need to know. And even where Lily is concerned, if you can handle it yourself, I'd prefer you let me know. Because I want to be there to support you with her. But, as far as my sister and brother are concerned - where I can I will deal with it as discreetly as possible and I will keep you out of it," he continued, "But don't keep me in the dark when you know things aren't right. I'm not asking you to come to me every time Ada tells a lie or Finn swears or steals a cigarette from Ada's bloody secret stash. But I need to keep you all safe. And you are clever enough to know when that's threatened. I trust you – and I don't trust many people Rosie-"
"You still trust me?" she asked.
He nodded, speaking slowly, "I think you made some silly decisions about what you prioritised. But I understand why you made them, which is why I'm promising you here and now that if you come to me and you want it kept in confidence, I will keep it in confidence. I've told you before – I don't go around telling people thing. But you will repay my trust by trusting me, we clear? It's not your job to keep Ada or Finn safe, that's not why I brought you here. So, don't take that on yourself, don't take that into your head and worry about it – come to me, let me deal with it. I chose them. It's my job."
She nodded, "Alright."
They looked at each other a while longer – and he wanted to touch her, to pat her head or just something, anything, to offer her the reassurance her eyes told him she needed, even if she wouldn't verbalise it. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to forgive her. And he had told her the truth, he did understand why she had done it – he wouldn't have lied for her otherwise. But whatever the reasons were, he still felt she had betrayed him, he still felt angry with her.
"I'm going to deal with my sister – wait here; I'll come back through when that's done and we'll figure out how we settle this between us," he told her eventually.
She nodded, chewing her lip and sliding her hands back under her backside as she sat on the sofa.
He picked up the clothes brush from the side table. He'd been naive enough to think the last time he'd used it on his sister would be the first and last time. But this time, this would be the last bloody time. He'd make sure of it.