Chapter 43
Rosie set out on her first reconnaissance of The Garrison the next afternoon, leaving Lily at the kitchen table finishing a plate of sandwiches and drawing something from her Alice in Wonderland story. Leaving Tommy with strict instructions to keep an eye on her. He had assured her that he would, obviously, and he hadn't been intending to do anything else, but he did find her concern slightly amusing and slightly unnecessary. Other than her clinginess immediately afterwards, Lily seemed to have recovered from her first spanking just fine.
He had told Rosie to check with George, who was playing out on the street, whether John was home or not before she went - making sure she wasn't going to turn up in an attempt to be undercover only to have his brother give her away at the first hurdle. After George had confirmed his father was still in the house, nursing last night's hangover no doubt, Tommy had sent Finn to Arthur's house to fetch his older brother, assuring Rosie he would keep them both away from the Garrison for a few hours.
Arthur announced his presence by throwing open the front door and looking wildly around the living room, demanding to know where the child was.
"She's in the kitchen Arthur," was Tommy's reply, his eyebrow raised.
"Heard you gave her a spankin' yesterday," Arthur growled at him.
Tommy focussed his eyes back on the paper, adeptly hiding the laugh he wanted to give, "She earned it."
Arthur snorted and went through to the kitchen, where Tommy heard himself being berated by his brother for the child's benefit. He rolled his eyes to the empty room as he listened - and John thought he was going soft. Lily giggled at Arthur's words, but did admit that she deserved it - telling Arthur 'even' Rosie hadn't tried to stop him because she'd wandered off.
"And wandering off is dangerous," Tommy shouted through.
Arthur must have pulled a face of some sort because Lily's giggle reached Tommy's ears again, but finding out why Lily had landed herself across his lap did seem to make his older brother settle.
"Well, no more wanderin' Lily," Arthur told her gruffly, "I can't take being this upset again if I hear my precious little one has gone an' got herself spanked by that grouchy brother of mine."
The precious little one in question confirmed she was never going to wander away again - then asked Arthur to help her draw a horse.
His brother agreed but asked, "An' where is that sister of yours Lily? I need her to look at my addin' up?"
"She's working," Lily replied.
"Workin' on a Sunday?"
"Doing something for Tommy," Lily replied.
He could see the shrug that no doubt accompanied the sentence. Lily was so used to Rosie working that she never seemed to think anything of it whenever Rosie proclaimed she was off to work.
"Doing summat for our Tommy, eh? Is that summat to do with why I've been summoned over here like a bloody skivvy?"
Tommy went to the kitchen and leant casually in the doorway, lighting a cigarette, taking in the scene of Arthur having sat down and Lily having settled on his lap to continue her drawing, his arms around her waist. His brother really was soft on the baby, just as much as he was. He felt a twinge of jealousy, remembering how at Christmas Polly had chided him for not disciplining her. Well, he'd done it now. The threshold had been crossed and there was no going back. That space for an adult in her life who didn't parent her was all Arthur's to occupy. And he knew he'd done the right thing, and he knew children needed boundaries and discipline to feel like they were safe and secure and knew their place in the world. And he knew both at the yard and yesterday that he'd made sure to tell her she was loved and forgiven afterwards. But he also knew Arthur would now always be the fun one to her in a way that he never would be able to be again.
"Rosie's out on women's business," he told Arthur, then, pausing, ensuring he seemed natural, not like he had already checked, "Where's John?"
Arthur shrugged.
"We need to plan the staff for Saturday, that's why I brought you over," Tommy told Arthur, "We're going to the fayre."
"That's two Saturdays in a row you'll have taken off Tom," Arthur replied, a note of challenge in his voice.
Probably caused by feeling like he had been summoned like a skivvy. Tommy had to try and remember how delicate Arthur's feelings were under his gruffness, or no doubt Arthur would express them with his fists on Tommy's face - and this was no time for infighting.
Tommy took his time to suck on his cigarette and blow smoke back out before answering, "Monaghan Boy's third race is a week on Wednesday. We'll make enough we can all take Saturdays off."
Arthur rolled his eyes then said to Lily, "Tommy knows better than all of us Lily."
Lily nodded seriously then said, "Except Rosie."
Her innocence brought the touch of a smile to Arthur's lips, "Except Rosie, eh?"
"Uhuh, Rosie always knows best."
"Me and John think the two of them are as bad as each other," Arthur told the child conspiratorially, "Rosie an' Tommy - never explaining anythin' to anyone an' everyone's to just go along with it an' not question 'em."
"That's about it," Ada said, wandering into the room still in her nightdress and robe, "She's taking me to the bloody doctor this week, even though I don't want to go. Wouldn't listen to me. Bossy, the two of them."
"You need someone to be bossin' ya around and mindin' ya Ada," Arthur said, "Me and John don't."
"You feeling better Ada?" Tommy asked, his eyes on his sister as she poked around the cupboards and finally straightened up with a biscuit.
"No, but I'm hungry," she replied, yawning.
"Ada didn't go to church this morning because she's sick," Lily told Arthur.
"Must be on yer deathbed if Polly let ya skip church," Arthur said to their sister, who shrugged and wandered back out the room and up the stairs.
Tommy shook his head, wishing Rosie was here to deal with Ada. She was the one who'd got her out of bed last night to have some dinner and had convinced her to take the medicine she insisted she didn't want.
But Rosie wasn't there because she was at The Garrison doing his work, and he needed to make sure John didn't appear there and fuck it up. He'd think about Ada later.
He went to the front door and pushed it open, his eyes scanning for Finn or George, finding the latter first and calling out to him, beckoning him down to him.
"Your dad still at home?" he asked.
"Yes Uncle Tommy," George told him.
"Go get him for me, tell him me and Arthur need a word in my kitchen."
"Yes Uncle Tommy," George nodded and ran off.
Tommy narrowed his eyes and puffed on his cigarette as he watched the boy's retreating figure. A bit too polite, too Uncle Tommy-ish and too quick to accommodate for his normal self - but then George had been in the kitchen yesterday when they had arrived home and it did usually follow any of them getting it that the rest of them also magically became better behaved for a while afterwards.
He wasn't sure how he felt about it that there was no marked difference in Lily's behaviour. Mainly because there didn't need to be. She was a well-behaved kid. But whilst he didn't want her misbehaving, not technically, he wouldn't have minded if she had become slightly more rambunctious. But as long as she was happy, and she seemed to be, that was the main thing. He guessed he just wasn't used to quiet children, but his heart had swollen a little when she stood up to Katie the day before and a little more of that attitude wasn't something he'd consider amiss in her. The problem was, she wasn't going to develop it if he didn't make her go out and socialise with them - but she seemed happiest inside with him and Rosie and, well, the fact was he bloody well liked it when it was just the three of them.
He knew the rest of the family loved him - and probably loved Rosie too in their own way - but he knew they were also slightly baffled by them both. Rosie was better at being social than he was once she was comfortable, though she'd go silent when she wasn't, but they both kept the real stuff under wraps. He supposed maybe that was why their illicit affair, their kissing only when doors were locked, and they were alone, worked for them. Because neither of them would have been advertising it anyway.
It was part of the way he felt safe with her, she didn't have a big mouth and, even when she was chatting, she was always able to keep it light. He trusted her, above everyone else. Arthur and John meant well, most of the time anyway, but get a drink in them and they weren't reliable, not truly. Polly he respected - and he did trust her, but Polly didn't take kindly to anyone not following her advice and if you confided anything to her and didn't do as she suggested, she'd pull faces and make acidic comments until something else came along that bothered her more. Telling Polly things before he was finished doing them could be more hassle than it was worth, the pointed looks he was getting about the guns at the moment being a case in point. Ada was too young in the head to be entrusted with real responsibilities.
Rosie though, she was his strength, the one he could rely on, beyond them all. And Lily was the perfect complement to them, more open and affectionate than they were with both her words and her actions but quiet in her own ways. He had been pretty proud of Finn the night before too though, he had come in and sat with Lily, playing snap with her and waiting till Tommy and Rosie were seemingly absorbed in their own thoughts to ask her if she was alright, his hand reaching out to squeeze hers in a slightly awkward gesture of comfort. When he got them out of here, when he got that big house, he'd take Finn with them.
John arrived about ten minutes later and Tommy poured him a drink and got him to sit in the kitchen with them, under the pretence of discussing the staff for the shop on Saturday when they'd got to the fayre.
Tommy felt his hypocrisy acutely when Katie appeared, asking Lily if she wanted to come out and play and Lily agreed. He thought about calling her back, knowing the way she'd left her things strewn across the table would annoy Rosie, knowing her sister would make her stop and put them away, but whilst he didn't want Lily to go out the door, he didn't want to hinder her either.
"Stay on the lane," he got up and shouted at the two of them from the front door, "And you know what'll happen if you're not here when I come looking for you."
He clicked his tongue and headed back to the kitchen, gathering Lily's papers up into a bundle and placing them on the sideboard where no drinks would be knocked over onto them, glancing through her drawings as he did so. She really wasn't half bad for her age. He'd get her some art lessons when she was older, if she still liked it as much as she did at the moment.
"So, you went through with it then?" John asked, "I reckoned Rosie would stop you."
"I thought she'd try," Tommy admitted, "But she didn't, told the kid she'd earned it by wandering away."
"Thought she was going to go for me," John grinned to Arthur, "You want to have heard her Arthur, 'let me tell you something John Shelby!'" he shouted in a high-pitched imitation of Rosie, "Grabbed my ear and everything. Scary woman that one, outside of the kitchen."
"Drink your beer," Tommy directed, rolling his eyes, hoping John would get comfortable holding court for Arthur in the kitchen, John always was good at keeping everyone amused.
It was a gift neither him nor Arthur had inherited. Or had had time to nurture if it had ever been inherited. He had been quite good at doing impressions as a kid, but he hadn't done any in years. Didn't know if he knew how anymore.
"Where is our beloved Rosie today anyway and has she made any cake I can eat?" John asked, glancing around as though she was going to have been standing at the range the entire time and he just hadn't noticed.
"He's got her out on business today," Arthur sniggered to John.
"Business?"
"Women's business," Arthur repeated what Tommy had told him, "Whatever that fuckin' means."
"She reckons Ada's got an iron deficiency, she's not been well and she's sleeping more and more," Tommy said.
It wasn't not true. It just also wasn't anything to do with why she was at The Garrison.
His brothers took the bait though, believing the business to be linked to Ada's state of unwellness and moving on in conversation - reckoning Ada's potential iron deficiency wasn't the stuff great stories were going to come of.
"D'you reckon we should take George to the fayre since we're taking Finn?" Tommy asked as they made their plans.
He didn't bother sharing with them that they'd be stopping off to see Johnny Dogs about the horse first. The deal he had struck with Johnny, back in Charlie's Yard the day he had bought the tarot deck, was that they'd play two up - if Johnny won Tommy would pay him for the horse with cash, if Tommy won he paid for the horse by letting Dogs have a ride in the car. His side intention, which no one knew about, was to let Arthur think he was gambling with the car, get his brother to say something stupid to get the Lees to laugh at him and then use it as a way to pick a fight with them. Monaghan Boy's third race - the one he'd lose - was on the horizon. Billy Kimber might have been quiet till now, but it would all change after that. And a common enemy was a good bond to forge alliances over.
"I'll take the lot of them together, if George goes with us on Saturday the rest of them'll kick off," John said, rolling his eyes, knocking back the remnants of his mug and reaching for a refill.
"Ever seen a man so browbeat by his own kids?" Arthur grinned at Tommy.
"Aye, an' he reckons I'm going soft," Tommy replied, giving a slight shake of his head.
"You are goin' soft," John snorted.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
What did go slightly soft was the inside of Tommy's stomach upon their return from the fayre the next Saturday. The car wound its way slowly through the dirty streets, the horse box with Lily's new white horse following it. Riding through Small Heath was no exercise in looking at beauty at any time - and following their trip out through the greenery that led to the fayre it would have always seemed greyer and smoggier than usual on their return. But this was the sort of scene he never had wanted to see again.
He'd seen if before, the contents of homes littering the streets, smoke in the air and fires still burning. But then the civilians had usually all left. They were still here though. And in a way it made it worse. He watched a woman struggle to turn over her sofa, that had been ripped and left upended by her door, what looked like her kitchen chairs chucked alongside them. Eyes were always on them, but he felt them more keenly now, as people watched their approach. Eyes usually fearful of being met, eyes that usually glanced away stayed on them now.
As they reached The Chain pub, Tommy brought the car to a halt, taking in the pub's smashed windows and the flames that still glowed inside it, though the men gathered outside, bare chests painted with smoke, had clearly worked to get the fire under control. The Chain paid them for protection.
Whatever was going on here, it either didn't know or care about who they were, to have so casually ripped apart what was theirs to look after without fear of the consequences. Or it was a direct challenge to them.
His heart thudded as he looked at the furniture the buildings had vomited out, as the smoke filled his nostrils, even thicker and blacker than usual. Rosie. Lily. Ada. He needed to get home. He needed to find them, to find the people who didn't pay him for protection, the people he'd protect with his life if need be.
"Now what the bloody hell's been going on here then?" Arthur asked aloud.
What the fuck had been going on? Was this Kimber's way of getting in touch over a few fixed races? Had he bitten off more than he could chew?
"Jesus Christ," was all Tommy said in reply as he watched kids help to gather up broken chairs that had been thrown from the pub.
He wanted to know what was going on, but the eyes on them - it meant something more than usual that people were looking at them so obviously, so blatantly. They needed to get back to Watery Lane, he needed to check on the girls and they needed to find out from someone they trusted what was going on. He hoped to hell Polly would know.
He pulled the car up outside number six, noticing that Watery Lane was, unlike every other street they'd gone through, not turned inside out. The street was - well, it was hardly a clean and neat suburban dream, but it was as it ever was, and furniture seemed to still be inside the homes. But the people were all inside too. Saturdays at this time there were usually kids all over it, especially during school holidays – they'd stretch out the hours until their parents called them, or in some cases dragged them, in. But not today.
He told Arthur to take the car round and park it and headed into the shop, sending one of the shop staff out to drive the horsebox over to Charlie's Yard before pushing through to the kitchen, finding Polly waiting for him.
"Where is she?" he asked her, knowing Polly would know what he meant. Who he meant.
"She took Lily down to John's."
"Ada?"
"She went to John's too."
He went to go, the need to see with his own eyes that they were all safe outweighing what he knew logically should be his greater need - to know what was going on.
"It was that copper," Pol told him.
Not Kimber then.
He glanced over his shoulder at her but went out the back door without answering her. He wouldn't be long, he'd be back. He just needed to satisfy himself first. Just for a minute.
He strode down the back of the row of houses until he reached John's, whereupon he opened the door without knocking. His eyes were greeted with the sight of the kids, Lily, Katie, George, Jack and Alfie sat at the table playing a board game of some sort, Rosie stood against the wall, her arms crossed and her eyes on them.
Her eyes shifted to him as he entered the room and stopped just over the threshold. Neither of them said anything but after she held his gaze for a moment she nodded. She was okay. They were okay.
His eyes went down to the table, where Lily had stood up on her chair, holding the back of it and looking at him. He smiled at her as best he could and crossed to stand in front of her.
She hugged him around the waist and asked, "What's going on Tommy?"
"Nothing you need to worry yourself about," he assured her, stroking his hand over her hair.
"Is my Daddy back?" Katie asked him, twisted round on the chair next to Lily.
He could tell from Katie's unusually subdued tone that even the kids had picked up on it that something was going on, as untouched as Watery Lane seemed to be.
"We're all back," he told her, resting his other hand on her head, "We're just going to have a meeting to get this sorted and then he'll be along for you, alright?"
His eyes flicked to Rosie's. Her eyes flicked to the kids. He nodded. She'd stay and watch them. She didn't want to leave them alone. That was fine, he'd fill her in later.
"Ada?" he questioned.
Her eyes flicked in the direction of the front room, but at the mention of her name his sister appeared in the doorway, her eyes red and wet. He took his hand off of Katie's head and gently unwrapped Lily's arms from around him before he held his arm out to Ada and she scurried to him, letting him fold her in, her arms hooking around his back.
He wasn't entirely sure why she was so deeply upset, more so than anyone else it seemed, but he figured if she was still on her courses she'd still be more emotional than normal - though a worry that the new chief inspector had tried to find her because she was a Shelby also crossed his mind. Over the top of Ada's head, he tried to meet Rosie's eyes but hers were focussed on the wall.
"Right, you're alright, you're alright," he soothed his sister, rubbing her back.
It wasn't like Ada, other than when she had just been in trouble, to seek comfort from him these days. As a child, she'd come running to him for everything from skint knees to someone making fun of her, but as she'd grown up Polly had been her go to for advice or solace. He put it half down to his absence during the war and half down to the fact she was female.
It bothered him a little, how much he almost liked having an excuse to hold her. It wasn't that he wanted her to be upset, but he wanted her to need him like she had always done. Maybe it was his issue, that he couldn't let go of the kid he'd left behind when he went off to war. But the truth, as much as he didn't care to admit it, was that it was more than that. There was a distance between them. A distance between him and all of them. But the rest of them he could bridge with business and cards and whisky. Ada wasn't interested in business or cards. And he bloody well hoped she wasn't interested in whisky. He didn't know how to bridge to Ada. But he wanted to - he did. He worried that it might be too late. But he could hope. And he would do him damndest to make sure that distance didn't happen between him and Lily.
Ada pulled herself from his grasp and folded her arms around herself.
He let his eyes rake up and down her. She still seemed slightly puffy - though the blotchiness wasn't there on her skin. Still, he reckoned that was down to the fact she had clearly had make up on at some point in the day, judging by the black smudges under her red eyes from where that black cake of stuff she brushed on her lashes had run, rather than choosing to believe the blotchiness itself was gone.
Tommy cleared his throat before saying, "I'll be back. You lot stay here. And keep the doors locked."
He met Rosie's eyes again and patted Lily on the head once more before going back the way he had come in, heading back down to number six.
His brothers, along with Scudboat and Lovelock, had gathered in the kitchen, a bucket of beer on the table.
He told Finn to get down the back to John's and stay there till he came for them. The kid usually wanted to be involved in their business, but for once he went without protestation.
What had happened was that the new chief inspector had brought his entire set of recruits out that morning, smashed into peoples' homes whilst they were still asleep and rounded up all the known communists in the area - presumably, though Polly didn't say so, in hopes one of them would give a lead on the guns. But Watery Lane, that had been left untouched on purpose.
"The coppers told everyone Arthur had agreed to it when he was arrested. They said the Peaky Blinders had cleared out to the fayre to let them do it," Polly told them.
That would explain the stares as they'd arrived back.
John passed him a mug of beer as Arthur snapped, "I never said nothing to that copper about smashing up bloody houses!"
"Alright," Tommy said, trying to keep his older brother calm, "Which pubs did they do?"
"The Guns, The Chain, The Marquis, all the ones that pay you to protect them," Polly said, lighting a cigarette, "The only one they didn't touch was The Garrison."
Funny that, Tommy thought to himself, keeping his face neutral, staring at the ground. He ran his thumb across an itch that had developed on his top lip then shoved his hand in his pocket. Funny that The Garrison, where the new barmaid would have been working, hadn't been touched. Funny that they hadn't told anyone outside the family that they were going to the fayre that day - it was never a good idea to advertise when none of them would be around and the shop would be guarded only by staff – and yet it had been known. In fact, the only way the coppers would have known they were going to the fayre would be if they had been overheard discussing it in The Garrison's snug and it had been passed on. He'd be asking Moss when he next saw him exactly how they'd known when they'd be gone.
He had advised Rosie to go softly with her proceedings, but she had managed, last weekend, to get it out of Grace that her story was that she had worked in a pub in Dublin called The Whistling Kettle, and he had asked Johnny to get it out to his contacts in Ireland to see if anyone knew about a Grace who had worked at a pub by that name in Dublin, along with a description of her. But he knew, deep down, that it was a waste of time to even ask. There were too many coincidences.
"Make sure people think we were in on it, he's smart this copper," Polly told the room, then ordered them, "So go on, drink your beers - get out. You better show people you're still the cocks of the walk."
There was an immediate setting down of mugs and turning to go at her words.
"Hand out some cash to the landlords of the pubs," Tommy added to her orders before they all disappeared, "Pay some veterans to fix the places up."
"So what about you Tommy?" Arthur asked, lingering behind the others as he put his coat on.
Tommy knew what Arthur was doing, he was looking to Tommy for reassurance. Arthur knew he wasn't really the leader, not truly. And he wanted to be led. He wanted Tommy to explain to him exactly what they were going to do and he wanted Tommy to come with him while they did it, so he didn't have to go alone.
But he knew Polly had more to say to him. And he had questions for her too. So Arthur was going to have to go it alone.
"I have to go to," he said, thinking quickly, "To Charlie's to stable the horse, she looked footsore in the box."
He busied himself lighting his cigarette, so he didn't have to say anymore. He got the feeling Arthur knew he was lying, and his brother hesitated but eventually turned to go.
"Let them see your faces," Polly said as Arthur followed John, Lovelock and Scudboat through to the shop, following them a little so she could pull over the kitchen doors before she turned back to address him, "So, we both know what they were looking for."
She gave him a long while to answer, sitting herself down and looking up to him. He dragged on his cigarette and let her figure it out for herself that he wasn't going to.
"You don't read the papers," she began.
"Racing papers," he interjected.
She rolled her eyes upwards then fixed them on him, "So let me tell you the odds - I reckon it's three to one there'll be a revolution."
"I wouldn't bet on that," he said, thinking of Freddie and trying to picture him marching Bolsheviks through Small Heath.
People were fed up. They'd been forced to march in France, they'd all lost someone, friend or family. The war was over, but its presence wasn't gone. And sure, they were questioning what it had been for when they'd come back to the same shitty conditions - if not worse, after years of shortages and rationing - than they had left. The glorious Great Britain they'd fought for didn't seem to exist off the posters and propaganda. Communism was gaining a foothold as an idea, there was no doubt about it. But civil war like what was going on in Russia? He didn't reckon any of them had returned from one war to get into another one. Other than the fucking Irish, but they'd always been fucking mad.
"That copper's betting on it," Polly answered, "He's not going to let it rest till he gets those guns back."
So, she had spoken to the new Chief Inspector herself. And she was shaken by it.
He sat down slowly, flicking his ash and giving her the dignity of not looking at her when he asked, "Did he talk to you Pol?"
"In the church," she answered.
Typical Polly, Rosie had freed up her Saturdays by being there to look after the kids and Polly Gray spent them going to church. He could only presume the sanctity of the church had provided her some kind of protection from the man, which he was grateful for.
And speaking of protection from the man.
"Did he try to find our Ada?" he asked, hoping she would offer some explanation as to why Ada was so upset.
"She was sleeping," Pol replied.
He wasn't a fool, he could spot the avoidance of answering his question just fine. And he remembered Rosie's eyes focussing on the wall when he'd tried to meet them as he held his sister to him. He allowed himself a quiet scoff and an unbelieving smile that she would have gone somewhere without his permission when she wasn't in a well state.
Now he turned his head fully to his aunt, turning his cold eyes on her, "Where was she sleeping Pol?" he asked.
She gave him a tight smirk, "Thought you didn't care for women's business."
So, she had been somewhere, with someone. And, he guessed, that was probably how Polly knew they had been rounding up communists.
How in holy hell could she have the fucking gall to disobey him after the hiding he'd given her? He flicked his ash, keeping his demeanour cool as his insides raced. Fucking Ada. There he was worrying on how to bridge the gap and being grateful to be able to hold her. As soon as she was well he had half a mind to give her a dose of the fucking strap he'd been unable to dish out to her before. Or maybe he'd go along to John's and just give her it over there right in that moment - if she was fucking well enough to disobey him, she should be well enough to take the consequences. He'd told them at dinner the night before that they weren't to leave the lane today with them all gone. But no, Ada had to see the opportunity there, even in her unwell state, to slap make up on her face and go where she wasn't meant to.
"He knows you're the boss, he wants to meet you," Polly distracted him from his thoughts by saying.
Of course the fucker wanted to meet him. His blow had been struck, his coppers had told everyone they had them in their pockets. They were on the back foot and the man knew it. Well, as furious as he might be with Ada at the given moment, he would protect his family at all costs. This town wasn't the fucking copper's, it was theirs. And Chief Inspector Campbell would get a reminder of that in return for his actions, not a meeting.
And how he had realised Tommy was the one that actually gave the majority of the orders, he didn't know. They had attacked Arthur first. Their paperwork had said Arthur. But anyone who had listened in at The Garrison to their drunken chatter - they would have probably figured out that the paperwork was wrong.
"Will you talk to him?" Polly asked.
"No," Tommy told her, "You don't parley when you're on the back foot. We'll strike a blow back first."
He got up, picking up his coat and pushing through the shop, figuring that if the people of this city were supposed to look to him for leadership he'd better join his brothers in getting his face out there, help people get their furniture back in order, hand out cash where it was most needed. Buy their popularity back, fix the damage the inspector had succeeded in doing. And he'd need to go to Charlie's to check on the horse, like he'd said he would.
He pulled his hat on his head, low, so his eyes were shielded.
If Lily and Rosie hadn't been in his house now, if they had been in their own, they'd have been raided today. And depending on the time Rosie might have been at work and Lily might have been home alone. He thought of the baby crying as men ripped her house apart, no one there to comfort her and his blood rushed in his ears.
If it was a fucking war Campbell wanted, it was a fucking war he'd get.
And the thing about a war? Tommy, Arthur, John - they had all been through one, they knew what they were doing. He'd come home with a promotion and a bunch of medals. Inspector Campbell hadn't made it to France. He had no idea of the hell he was about to try and fucking walk through. And Tommy was going to make sure it was fucking hell.
Well, 43 chapters and over 200,000 words in and we're finally onto the events of episode 2 of season 1! I honestly just look at my original outline and chapter plan and laugh at my own naivety. I should know myself better by now.
Anyway, thank you for being here, 43 chapters deep. I hope you're still enjoying it and as always thank you so much for your messages and comments, they do really spur me on and keep me focussed!
I was chatting with one of my readers on Tumblr earlier today (hello!) and one thing I didn't realise was that this site sometimes censors things. Anyway basically I'm considering moving over to AO3, which I've never used before but which a few people have mentioned - is everyone who reads on here also reading over there, should I move over altogether or post on both?
Thanks for reading! x