Chapter 40

Rosie, as it turned out, was true to her word. She wasn't speaking to him.

He told Pol he'd do the school pick up since she'd strode out that morning without acknowledging him but even then she managed to make it the entire way home without saying a word to him - speaking only to Lily and Finn and then veering off at a point, telling them she was going to get something from the butchers for dinner and she'd see them at home.

He felt his brother and Lily's eyes on him and decided the best course of action was to act as though nothing was going on.

He smiled down at Lily, whose hand was in his and said, "I'm sure the dinner will be worth the loss of her company for the rest of the walk, eh?"

The dinner, as usual, was worth it – though he got no response to his compliment of it, and he did take note of his portion size being somewhat smaller than usual. When the cake came his portion size went from being smaller to being non-existent, though the other slices seemed bigger than normal.

"Are you and Tommy not having cake?" Lily asked her sister, who had busied herself at the sink.

"Oh, there wasn't enough left for us all, so I decided the oldest two in the room would forfeit to the youngest," Rosie answered with a brightness in her voice – though he detected the acid underneath it.

"I can share?" Lily offered him.

"Don't be ridiculous Lily, no one is taking cake away from you," Rosie said at once.

"Thanks my little love," Tommy told her, ignoring Rosie, "But I'll be fine."

"I don't think Tommy's supposed to be getting any cake as far as Rosie's concerned," Ada grinned devilishly, her eyes flicking between the back of the girl at the sink and him.

"Ada, you watch your cheek," he warned her with a frown.

How had it been only six days ago she had seemed so thoroughly chastised and ready to obey him, yet here she was delighting in stirring the pot? God, he despaired of women.

"Tommy," Lily said, her voice suddenly stern, her chin tilted down and her eyes looking up at him in that perfect imitation she did of his face, "What did you do?"

"Don't you speak to me in that tone of voice either Lily or I'll send the whole lot of you to bed this minute with smacked backsides," he told her, his frustration slipping into his voice.

"No Tommy!" Lily said, dropping her tone immediately and coming off her seat to climb up on his lap, "No smacks!" she told her, winding her arms around his neck and pouting at him.

Even the six-year-old knew how to get him round her finger. Bloody females. What in god's name had possessed him to bring two into the house and let him and Finn be outnumbered?

Still, he was around her finger, so he smiled, despite his annoyance, and kissed her forehead, hugging her to him, "There'll be no smacks if there are no children who speak disrespectfully to their elders."

He sat her round on his lap and pulled her cake over to them, keeping his arms around her as she finished.

"Finn, do the rest of the dishes," he told his brother as soon as his own gigantic slab of cake had disappeared.

"What, you do something and I'm being punished?" Finn asked with a grin to Ada.

And now Finn was making sure they knew he was on their side too. Just what he needed.

"Doing dishes isn't a punishment, it's a way for you to thank Rosie for making you dinner and cake by not leaving her to deal with the mess," Tommy answered, not rising to the bait – and hoping Rosie would appreciate his ordering of not leaving her with the mess - "And no cheek from you either."

"Rosie," Ada called over with a sudden change of tactic, "Why didn't Tommy get any cake?"

"I told you Ada," Rosie said, putting the dishes she had washed and dried already away on the sideboard, "There wasn't enough."

"No but what's the real reason?"

"That was the real reason," Rosie insisted.

"Why haven't you spoken to him all day then?" Ada persisted.

"I'm not speaking to him," Rosie said lightly.

"Why not?"

"That's between me and him Ada," Rosie told his sister, effectively shutting her down in a way he had never quite seemed to manage.

Lily looked up to him, a slight anxiousness on her face.

"Oh, for goodness sake," he said, standing up and keeping Lily in his arms, "You're upsetting the child with your nonsense!"

"Lily, sweetheart, are you upset?" she said, turning at once from the dishes and coming over to her sister.

Lily looked between them and didn't answer, but her hand made its way to her mouth.

"Oh no, you come to me a minute Lily," Rosie said, a genuine distress coming into her voice, plucking her sister from his arms and holding her, "I'm not very pleased with Tommy right now but that's between me and him, you don't need to be upset about it."

His frustration flared as he noticed Finn and Ada looking delightedly at one another.

"How is she not meant to be upset about it?" he snarled.

"Well it would help if you adjusted your tone Thomas instead of doing all that growling," she suggested.

"As if you've not had acid in your voice all afternoon and evening," he retorted.

"Well you know how to stop it," she told him, rocking Lily in her arms.

"Oh, I know how to put a stop to this alright," Tommy threatened her.

"Yes, you do – I just said that," she told him, feigning misunderstanding of his implications, "Look Lily, see, we're talking. Aren't we Tommy?" she added the end pointedly, her eyes wide, glancing between him and the child, whose face was buried in her shoulder.

He pulled a face at her then came over to them and stroked his hand down Lily's hair, "Lily, my little love, look at me a minute, eh?"

She turned slightly so she could meet his eyes, her head still resting on her sister's chest.

He lifted one of her little hands off of Rosie and kissed it, then said, "Rosie and I are just having a disagreement – adults do that sometimes. I disagree with Arthur and Polly all the time. We're just having an argument and whatever is going on between any of us is nothing to do with you Lily, so you don't need to let it upset you, alright? We'll sort it, I promise."

"You promise?" Lily asked, her eyes wide.

"We do," he told her, "Don't we?" he nudged Rosie with his hip.

"Of course we'll sort it Lily," Rosie told her sister, not looking at him.

He waited for her to add on that he could sort it by apologising to her, which she was clearly still expecting him to do, but she didn't. Whatever remorse Lily being upset had caused in her was genuine.

"Don't you two want to go outside and play?" Tommy asked his brother and sister who were watching, clearly still finding it highly amusing.

Ada frowned and said, "I don't play, Tommy."

"Well go whatever it is you do," he told her, rolling his eyes, "No leaving Watery Lane though. Why don't you go with them, eh Lily? You could see if Katie wants to come out and play?"

Lily shook her head ad tightened her grip on her sister, "I want to stay with Rosie."

"Come on Finn, let's let those two sort it out," Ada said, smirking at him and heading out through the front room, Finn on her heels.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and felt his insides move as Rosie met his eyes for the first time since the night before. She had as much fire in her eyes as he did ice in his, that was what Polly had said. That same disconcerting look. There was a fire in her, usually, but he didn't see it now. The flames had been doused and somehow the amber of her eyes had become cold. Her steel had hardened in her and there was no fire to liquify it. He'd have to bring the fire himself if he wanted her to bend. But did he want her to bend? He didn't even know. He didn't want to bend, he knew that much. And yet… And yet, although he wanted to put her over his knee and turn her rear end into such a blazing inferno that she would bend for weeks - reminded to do so every time she attempted to sit - for the way she had brought their argument into the public domain of the house, the way she had let it upset Lily… He couldn't deny that some part of him almost admired the determination she had in herself. Even when it meant he'd got his face slapped. Not, of course, that he'd let her know he held any admiration for it.

"Are you going to apologise?" she asked.

"Apologise for what?" he asked, pulling the cigarette case out of his pocket and lighting one.

"You know what."

"Tommy you say sorry," Lily pleaded with him, "You sort it out."

His heart broke a little bit at her tone, but nonetheless he refused her, "Lily me saying sorry when I don't know what I'm apologising for isn't sorting it – your sister is pretending this is about me not telling her something but it's not about that at all."

"Yes it is, if Rosie says it is then it is," Lily insisted.

Rosie gave him a self-satisfied smirk over the top of the child's head. His anger flared. He knew the child would always hold her sister higher in esteem than she did him. Of course he knew that. But to see her take such obvious delight in it in this moment – it seemed beneath her. What in holy hell was bothering her so much that it was bringing out a malice in her he'd never been on the receiving end of?

And no matter what it was, he didn't feel he deserved to be on the receiving end, so he gave her a chilly look then moved his eyes to Lily, "Lily, remember when we had our talk and I said you're always my best girl, no matter what has happened?"

Lily nodded.

"Good, well you're still my best girl even though your sister and I are disagreeing about things. And your sister," he turned a flinty eye back to the sister, "Is still my favourite girl, even when she and I are disagreeing. So, here's what's going to happen – I'm going out, you and Ada and Finn will be in bed by the time I'm back, but Rosie is going to wait up for me and she and I will sit down and sort it out then, alright? So you don't need to worry."

"That's what's going to happen is it?" Rosie snorted.

"Yes, it is," he told her, then reached out his arms to Lily.

He was glad when Rosie passed her back over to him and hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead and telling her to have a good sleep, jiggling her until he elicited a smile from her.

"Alright Lily, I'll see you in the morning sweetheart," he told her, kissing her a final time then placing her gently down on the nearest of the kitchen chairs.

"I'll see you tonight," he told Rosie, then kissed her forehead too, perfunctory more than tenderly, but hoping she might take from it that he wanted to make some kind of amends – though he certainly had no intention of apologising. Not at least until she could convince him he had done anything to apologise for.

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

He went over the thing in his mind as he walked in the direction of The Garrison. The crux of the whole god-damn thing, he was sure, was in whatever she had started to say she worried about. He had asked if she was feeling left out, and she had said she supposed so, had said she felt half his and half not then said 'I worry…' and trailed off. She worried about what?

He had reassured her as best he could that he trusted her and had told her she was his until she didn't want to be anymore. So that couldn't be her worry. He had told her, hadn't he? But then, when did women ever listen to what was being said? In his experience half the time they ignored that and just put their own meanings on things, interpreting them as they saw fit. But how in hell could she interpret him telling him she was his until she chose not to be as being anything other than a declaration of him saying he would always want her? That his want for her would outlast hers for him?

He'd learned the name of the new Irish barmaid at The Garrison was Grace – and she was working tonight, he noted, as he entered the pub, glancing at the bar and pushing his way into the snug, preparing to throw whoever had presumed to be in it out of it. The snug was for Shelbys. Upon yanking open the door though, it was Shelby faces that greeted him – Polly, Charlie, Arthur and John, who were all mid conversation and broke off in surprise at the sight of him.

"Yer early tonight," Arthur remarked.

Had it really been so long since he had last been in the pub at this time?

"This what you do with your nights now?" he asked his aunt, ignoring his brother's comment.

"Since I don't need to make dinner and watch over Finn and Ada? Yes, taking some time to enjoy a drink has become a habit," Polly told him, blowing smoke and raising an eyebrow, "I'll be off soon to get George and Katie and the twins sorted for the night though, if my presence is bothering you."

He ignored her too and went to the window, opening it and knocking on the sill to demand service. It was Harry who came to him, the woman, Grace, was in the middle of pulling a pint for someone else. She was concentrating hard on it too, not pulling it in the second nature way most barmaids did.

"Whisky," Tommy told Harry shortly upon the man's approach, knowing Harry would know Irish without him needing to specify it.

No, that woman was no natural barmaid. That woman needed to be investigated - but women were harder to investigate than men. Especially women who were, as it seemed, nothing to do with anyone.

Harry put a bottle and a glass down on the sill and Tommy plucked coins from his pocket, picked up the bottle and glass, turned, clicked his tongue and turned back, placing them back down.

"Harry – I've changed my mind – beer," he told the man, interrupting without thought the service he had started to offer another patron.

The barman hastened to pull Tommy's pint before giving the other customer his change.

"You expectin' trouble?" John asked, nodding at the choice of drink.

Tommy put it down and sat without acknowledging the question.

The problem was, if Grace needed to be investigated the job was better done by a woman. Women talked to other women in a way they didn't to men – though god knew they seemed to expect men to talk to them. His mind dawdled back to the redhead. He had promised Lily that they would sort it tonight, and he meant to. But sorting it was going to require her telling him what the fuck was actually going on.

His eyes settled on Polly's cigarette for a moment as he reached into his own pocket to bring out his own. No, Polly would be no good. By knowing about the guns Polly knew enough. She didn't need to know of his suspicions of the barmaid. Besides, if his suspicions were accurate, the woman wouldn't divulge anything of note to Polly, since she'd know Polly was one of them. If his suspicions were accurate, the woman would have taken note of who was in the snug tonight. Would be trying to listen to whatever she could.

"Maybe he's expecting trouble, but not here," Charlie smirked over at John, answering the question Tommy had left unanswered.

Maybe if Rosie was feeling left out and whatever she was worried about was linked to that, he should give her a job. Maybe he could share his suspicions of Grace with her, tell her no one else knew, ensure she felt that she was his confidant, more than Polly or Charlie. Maybe that was what it was all about. Maybe giving her a job would set her mind at ease over whatever worry she held that had been activated by him telling her he didn't want her to actually shoot anyone. And giving her one that was something he didn't want anyone else to know about – that would confirm his trust of her. Maybe. It all made sense logically. But something niggled and nagged in the back of his mind that he was still missing something – that he was leaving something unaddressed. But how could he bloody address it if she didn't tell him what it was?!

"Trouble with a certain redhead?" John grinned back to Charlie.

"Nothing but trouble, redheads," Charlie nodded, "Should have remembered that before he brought her home."

Tommy lit his cigarette and glared around the room.

"Come on Tom," Arthur drawled, "Yer never 'ere at this time. Wha's 'appened?"

He felt all the eyes on him as he looked at the scratched, worn table – one they had spilled whisky across and burnt cigarettes into on many nights like this one. The evidence greeted his eyes as he scanned the surface and he figured, though the rest of them would probably never let him live it down, they were family – and Polly might be able to offer some insight into what the fuck was going on in the certain redhead's mind.

"Took her shooting last night," he told them, not looking up, "All went fine until I told her I don't want her to fucking kill anyone and have it on her conscience – I just want her able to look after herself if it comes to it. Next thing she's shouting at me about what's the fucking point of teaching her then if it's not so she can go about killing people, then says, more or less, that she feels left out. I calm her down, she seems to calm for a minute then she starts shouting at me again saying I don't trust her. Then she says she's not talking to me, storms off and hasn't uttered a word to me since. And fucking Finn and Ada and Lily have all fucking picked up on it."

He slammed the cigarette into the ashtray and shoved his thumb and forefingers into the side of his nose, massaging violently at it, as though he could make his brain understand the situation by stimulating his nostrils.

"Fuckin' women, fuckin' crackers the lot of 'em," Arthur offered, whilst John had the decency to give somewhat concealed snorts at first, before they gave way to the peals of laughter Tommy had known would come from his younger brother.

He picked up the cigarette and inhaled deeply, hoping the nicotine would ground him. He glanced to the side and was irked to see Polly also smirking to herself.

"What you finding so fucking funny?" he demanded.

"Many things, Thomas," she told him.

"And would you care to enlighten me on any of those fucking things?" he asked, wishing she'd cut to the chase and explain what was going on.

"You're annoyed because she's literally not talking to you?" Polly asked him.

He nodded.

"Well – first of all, it's childish to do that," Polly said, smirking.

"Exactly," he agreed, slamming his fist down, "It's fucking beneath her."

"Oh it's beneath her alright," Polly nodded, "But you need to make up your mind Thomas-" he was noticing a lot of Thomases being thrown around these days, "-Do you want her to be a child or not? You told me she's not a woman yet just because she's sixteen – yet the first time she acts like a child you're in here in a huff about it."

"I am not in a huff," he growled, indignant at the idea.

"You are a bit mate," John chimed in, earning himself another of Tommy's finest glares.

"So you need to decide – is she a child, should she act like and be treated like a child; or is she, indeed, not a child. Is she someone that acting childishly is beneath?" Polly continued, ignoring them both.

Aye, very fucking good Polly, he wanted to retort. She'd trapped him with his own words and he knew it. He glanced to Charlie, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow and a thin cigarette dangling from his mouth. He shrugged and shook his head slightly when Tommy met his eye – making it appear he had no clue what advice to offer him with regards to his current situation, in reality confirming that he wouldn't say what he had seen had transpired between Tommy and Rosie the previous night.

"The other thing that's so fucking funny, since you asked," Polly said, realising Tommy wasn't going to answer her, "Is that you're annoyed because she's literally not speaking to you. Tommy, you do realise whenever anyone says anything to you that you don't like you just literally don't speak to them? She's doing to you exactly what you do to other people and you've realised you don't like being on the receiving end of your own treatment."

He raised an eyebrow, "I don't engage with stupidity, Polly, there's a difference between that and what she's doing. I don't answer to things I think aren't worth acknowledging, she's ignoring everything that comes out my mouth."

"Well maybe nothing's come out your mouth she thinks is worth acknowledging," Poly retorted, her own eyebrow raised.

He grimaced – and half wished Polly was of an age where he could threaten to send her to bed with a smacked backside for her cheek.

"The point is," he said, "She had calmed down then got all riled back up over nothing. She's just determined to be in a mood about something, she won't tell me what it bloody well is and now she's dragging everyone else into it."

"She on her course maybe Tommy?" Arthur said, seriously, "They get even more fuckin' mental than usual that time of the month. Best avoided."

"Because you know so much about it do you?" Polly asked acerbically.

The truth was Tommy had no idea about Rosie's courses, he had no need to, but he resolved to watch her again in four weeks time to see if Arthur wasn't right. For all Polly's indignance, there could be something to his brother's theory.

"Arthur, John, go take the empty glasses up to the bar," their aunt barked.

"There's a barmaid for that," Arthur replied, irritated.

"Aye, a pretty one," John grinned.

"Then go use it as an excuse to talk to her – show her what gentlemen you are by helping her out," Polly directed them.

They grumbled but gathered the glasses – the chance to peacock in front of the blonde barmaid too much to resist.

"There's only one thing can blind a man as smart as you Tommy," Polly told him starkly once his brothers were gone, "Love. Don't argue with me," she warned him, seeing him open his mouth, "You love that girl and she loves you, god only knows why because god knows you're insufferable at times. But take yourself out of it and think about her for a minute – in fact, imagine her as a horse, that always works for you, think of her as a horse you got from an abusive owner. You've got to be gentle and -"

"When am I not bloody gentle?" he interrupted his aunt, "With the lot of them anyway."

"We're not talking about the lot of them, we're talking about her," Polly told him, her voice firm, "We're talking about a girl who never had a father and whose mother has left a whole lot to be desired. We're talking about a girl who is used to being let down and abandoned by people who are supposed to love her, by people who probably told her they loved her then let their actions speak different. We're talking about a girl who has become used to relying on herself. And she's probably realising she loves you, and she's probably realising that means she's vulnerable to being hurt by you – you probably upset her by making her feel left out and then she's realised just how much not being left out means to her as far as you're concerned. And she probably feels weak and annoyed with herself for being weak."

"But I told her," Tommy spoke over his aunt, "I told her I trusted her. I brought her into my house for fuck's sake, what else am I meant to do?"

"Do it again," Polly told him, rolling her eyes, "Tell her over and over and show her over and over. You wouldn't take a horse from an abusive owner and be surprised when it took turns. We don't question why Danny Whizzbang has turns every so often Tommy, whilst being quite normal in between. Trauma is trauma. You can't take a child who has been abandoned and abused and been left to see herself into womanhood then question it when she lashes out because she's worried that you're freezing her out. She's used to being told one thing whilst something else is happening – every time you tell her something she'll want to believe it, but there will be a part of her that doesn't. You can't just tell her once and think it's done, box ticked, case closed. You need to reassure her – and you need to be gentle about it."

Tommy stared at his aunt. What she said both made sense and didn't make sense. He didn't see how Rosie could be worried that he was freezing her out – he had explained it all to her, hadn't he? Did he need to explain it to her every damn day? He would, of course, if that was what was needed but – but he also couldn't wrap his head around the idea of Rosie as a trauma victim. She wasn't like an abused horse, for all his aunt's comparisons, she wasn't meek and timid and nervous. She was shy, but so was Lily. She didn't enjoy a spotlight. But she could stand up for herself – hold her own amongst boys and men, quite easily. How could she do that and underneath it be the traumatised little victim Polly was making her sound like?

He voiced his query and his aunt simply turned a flinty eye on him and replied, "If I was you I wouldn't answer that for the stupidity of it. Not everyone has the same response to things, for god's sake. Look at you and Arthur and John and Danny – you all went through the same thing – Arthur drinks more, you, well, you got all sullen and withdrawn, John makes more jokes and Danny has his turns. If you think she can't be still hurting and healing from what her parents, of lack of, did to her just because she holds it together for that sister of hers or because she can handle you lot you're not just blinded by love Tommy, you've been made into a fool."

He jabbed the end of his cigarette into the ashtray and was glad Arthur and John pushed the door open at that moment, arguing between them which of them had the better chance with Grace.

"John," he interrupted their chatter, "I need you to do something for me tomorrow."

"I'm working in the shop tomorrow," John told him, falling back into his seat with a fresh beer.

"The boys can cover you," he replied, "I need you to take the car and head out – you know the woods with the lake where mum used to take us?"

John nodded.

"Johnny Dogs has his wagon in there, on the other side. Find him in the morning and tell him I want to buy his tarot deck, say I'll give him a good price for it and bring him to Charlie's Yard with the deck, alright?"

John stared at him for a while, struck dumb by the oddness of the request.

"A fuckin' tarot deck Tom?" Arthur sniggered.

"You've gone fuckin' mad Tommy," John proclaimed, stirred back to speech by the sound of Arthur's voice.

"Just do it," Tommy told him, not engaging any further on it.

"Everything set for tomorrow?" Charlie asked, breaking the silence Tommy was grateful he had kept.

Tommy got up and went to the window, opening it and demanding another beer, using the chance to ensure no one was hanging about too near them to overhear.

"Everything's set. Danny doesn't know anything yet, and I'm going to let him think it's happening as it should be, let him wake up on your boat. See if it doesn't knock some sense into him."

"And Charlie's going to take him to London?" Arthur asked.

Tommy nodded, "Take him to London and we'll pay him to keep his nose to the ground for us down there, see what business there is to be had. One pound ten shilling a week seems fair. We got good money for those motorbikes back in January – there will be more where that came from and we just need to make sure they hear that we can secure things as and when needed. Be good for business to have someone down there."

"Right," Arthur nodded.

"We'll put word out that he's dead though, and we'll dig a grave and put a headstone up," Tommy continued.

"Why?" John asked, confused.

So that I can hide the fucking guns there and no one will think to dig up a body, Tommy thought, but instead he answered, "To avoid the Italians asking questions. They know we need to get the body out of the city, know we need to do it undercover. But we'll need to pay off a doctor to do a death certificate calling it suicide and make sure there are no loose ends for this chief inspector to pull at. There needs to be a story we can't be implicated in, but there needs to be a proof of a death - we can do without a war with the Italians."

"Italians and Chief Inspectors," John grunted, "We're the Peaky fuckin' Blinders, I thought we ran this city."

"Not quite yet John, but we will," Tommy replied, "Soon enough we will."

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

Polly had left not long after their discussion about Danny and the night had ended in him and John supporting Arthur home after closing, Arthur having lost money to both of them through multiple rounds of poker. He was in a good mood though, despite the loss of both his capital and his control of his legs.

After Tommy bid his brothers a goodnight, he headed back to number six, where he presumed that the redhead would have obeyed him by waiting up for him.

He wanted to make it right, and he knew she did to. It was all that made this bearable – that she had assured Lily alongside him that they would sort it out, and that she had handed Lily over to him before he'd left. The beginnings of the reconciliation where already present in those actions.

And yet his presumption was wrong. The door was unlocked, no one had shut him out, but no one waited up for his return either.

He found she wasn't in the kitchen once he had locked the front door himself and proceeded through and so he fetched himself some water, wondering if he had just happened to arrive in the moment she was out the back. But after emptying the water and heading to the outhouse himself, he was forced to believe she wasn't to be found there.

He locked the back door and headed through the shop and up the stairs, checking in on Finn and Ada first, both of whom were asleep. His heart thudded as he approached the third bedroom – slightly afraid of what he might find, or not find, in it. What if she had left?

The fire flickered low but it illuminated the redhead's figure on the bed and he felt himself relax slightly. He crept softly over, seeing Lily asleep next to her sister. Lily had lain down, had actually gone to bed, that much was clear. Rosie, on the other hand, was sitting upright, her book open. He thought that she had probably meant to wait up for him then and a smile touched his face as he sat gently on the edge of the bed and took the book from her hands.

She started awake at the movement and instinctually jolted to cover Lily, her hand coming out to push him before she realised, "Oh Tommy, it's you."

Her hand went to her chest and she took a deep breath, steadying herself from the fright.

"Just me," he confirmed, reaching out to stroke her hair.

"What are you doing here? You were meant to be out till late?"

"It is late, you fell asleep."

"Did I?"

"Uhuh."

"Well that's your fault," she told him crossly, defensively.

Freshly woken up and already in a mood with him.

"Is it?"

"Yes, I told you I don't want to go to bed with things hanging over me and you didn't apologise last night and I got no sleep because of it, I was bloody exhausted."

He put the book down on the chest and moved further up the bed, so they were nearly nose to nose.

"I'm sorry you didn't get a good sleep," he told her, watching her eyebrows raise, "I didn't understand what you were upset about last night – but I'm sorry it bothered you enough that you didn't sleep. And I'm sorry for not understanding. And I'm sorry you felt left out."

"So you should be," she muttered.

"You should be more graceful in accepting an apology if you want people to offer you them."

She flushed slightly at that and looked down at the bed cover.

"Am I forgiven?" he pushed.

She glanced up and nodded.

"Good," he murmured then took her face in his hands and kissed her, "I missed this last night," he told her, breaking off from her lips to trace kisses across her cheeks and forehead, his hands caressing where his lips didn't.

"Me too," she said, her own hands wrapping around his neck and catching his lips with hers.

"Still half a mind to take you over my knee for that kicking mind you," he told her with a smirk, landing kisses on her face as he spoke.

She smirked and kissed him back in between her own words, "Well perhaps the kicking wasn't very nice."

"No it was not," he said, kissing up her jawline and sinking his teeth in just below her ear before kissing the bite and returning to her mouth, glad that she had accepted his apology – though there was part of him that was still wounded to have had to offer it, given he felt the apology she was truly owed was more her mother's than his. But still, the gain was worth the wound.

"Have you sorted it out Tommy?" Lily's sleepy voice came.

He sighed against Rosie's mouth and kissed her forehead with finality before turning his head to the younger sister.

"You, my little love, should be asleep," he told her with a raised eyebrow, "Very naughty of you to be awake so late, I think you need a good tickling."

He moved his hand to feel for her stomach under the covers and she squirmed, batting at him until she had caught his hand in hers, rendering her stomach safe.

"I was - you woke me up," she told him with a giggle.

"I am very sorry," he told her, leaning over to drop kisses on her forehead and cheeks, "But your sister and I promised you we would sort it out between us – so we did, to answer your question. But it's too late for little girls to be awake so you'd better get back to sleep, alright?"

"Do I have to Tommy?" she sighed.

"Yes, you do, it's nowhere near morning," he told her squeezing her hand gently, "I'm going to bed in a minute too."

She pouted but rolled onto her side, still holding his hand tightly. Rosie reached an arm around her and stroked her hair and the child went back to sleep fairly quickly, despite clearly fighting to keep her eyes open for as long as she could.

They sat in silence watching her breathing become deeper before Tommy extracted his hand and cleared his throat, saying, "You go back to sleep too. We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Are you going to shoot your friend tomorrow?" she asked in a small voice, taking the hand Lily had relinquished into her own and running her thumb over it.

"As far as the Italians are concerned, yes," he told her, "But I've filled a shell with sheep's brains and blood. It'll hurt like hell and knock him out, but he'll live."

"That's good," she nodded, bringing the hand in her possession to her mouth and kissing it, "I'm glad you don't need it on your conscience."

"Sleep," he told her, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead, "What I don't want on my conscience is you having two sleepless nights."

She released his hand and he stood up, running his fingers down the side of her smooth little face, "Goodnight my love – I presume I can call you that again?"

She nodded and gave an awkward smile.

"Good," he nodded, bending down and pressing his lips to hers, "Sleep well then."

"Goodnight Tommy," she said, her hand pressing to the back of his head for her to kiss him back before she released him to let him stand and head out of the room down to his own.

They still had things to discuss – he wasn't going to stand for it that she would let the entire house be notified of her moods when she had them, and he certainly wasn't going to let her kick or slap him just because her temper got the better of her. But he would sleep more easily tonight than he had done the night before too, knowing that, though they would argue and disagree, it didn't necessarily foreshadow his world collapsing around him.

Thank you so much for all the reviews as always, particularly the reviewer who mentioned that they liked the pacing of the story as I've been getting more and more worried about how long it seems to be taking to tell, so I massively appreciate that! xx