Chapter 48
The next day at breakfast she wasn't normal – and he hadn't expected her to be. But she gave a good impression of it. Enough of an impression that no one else would have noticed anything amiss. He didn't trust it, he didn't believe it. It made him flinch to think of what lay underneath it – to try and figure out what had been on her mind the night before when she'd spouted her madness, to try and figure out whether that was just under the surface of her eggs and bacon making, of the way she accepted Arthur's grinned thanks and John's hands on her waist over at the range, his younger brother so eager for food he could barely wait till it was cooked, nicking bacon straight from the pan even as she tutted at him.
She was normal with all of them, but not with him. She didn't meet his eyes even as she said, "Thomas – eggs? Bacon? Tomatoes?"
"Please," he replied, his eyes on her back.
She set a plate to him - but bent over the table from the opposite site to put it down, not coming behind him or resting her hand on his shoulder as she usually did. Nothing anyone else would notice. But he noticed.
"Rosie girl, where would we be without you?" John asked through a mouthful of toast that he'd mopped up egg yolk with.
"Oh, I'm sure you'd be just fine," she returned.
Tommy let out a derisive snort. But if she heard it, she didn't acknowledge it, concentrating on the spluttering pan instead. She did it so well he wasn't sure if his disagreement with her statement had been lost to the sizzle of fat and frying or to the place in her head where she had somehow managed to paint him in whatever light she'd seen him in the night before. When Ada had made her believe she was his lapdog – whatever that was supposed to mean.
As soon as the last plate had been put down to Finn she washed the pan and took Lily up the stairs, got her ready and reappeared down, announcing she was taking her into town for the day – so they'd be out of the way for the big race being lost. She managed to make it sound like she was doing them a favour, rather than leaving him alone.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The big race was lost as planned, with thousands, almost hitting into double figures of thousands, bet on him. They'd never seen that much money off of one race. And it had all been her idea. He put a cut into an envelope for her and put it in his desk drawer, unsure of when to give her it. How to give her it. It lay beside the tarot deck. He had given her the Strength card. He still had to give her The Fool, The Magician and Death. He had had such plans for Death. And now – now he didn't even know whether she'd speak normally to him again when they were alone, nevermind accept…
"Well Tommy, ya proved yerself," Arthur admitted, clapping him on the back and swigging a bottle of whisky, interrupting his thoughts on plans gone awry.
"Thanks Arthur," he managed to paste on a smile as he addressed his brother, "We'll give some of it back – to the people worst affected by those raids. Make sure people are on our side, eh?"
"That's why you're the smart one Tom," Arthur replied, "And the rest of it?"
"God knows," he replied, flicking his eyebrows.
Only God did know. They were cash rich. They had steadily been making more and more money since they returned from the war, other than the post-Christmas lulls. But this was another level. There wasn't much they could do with this cash without raising eyebrows and interest – of the Chief Inspector sort. A small illegal gambling den a blind eye could be turned to. Even coppers liked a bet. But one that generated cash like this? Spending this cash – buying the big house he wanted to with this kind of cash? It would lead to the house being seized, to them being turfed out and left with nothing when they couldn't prove the money used to buy it hadn't been stolen.
And right now, he felt alone enough in his current house. He didn't want to imagine himself rattling around a big house.
"Rosie!"
Tommy jumped at John's loud greeting and looked out through the glass of his office to see Rosie and Lily in the doorway between the kitchen and the shop.
"He lost then?" Rosie asked.
"As planned," John nodded, waving a wad of cash in his hand.
"What da ya make of it Lily, eh?" Arthur shouted, stumbling out of the office and holding his arms out to the child, who went to them and let his brother lift her up, throwing her up above his head and making her laugh, "We made lots of money today."
"You make us a cake to celebrate Rosie? Ice the date and Monaghan Boy Lost onto it," John said to the elder sister.
"You're not sticking around here for dinner or cake tonight John-boy," Tommy said, leaning in the doorframe of his office, "You and Arthur will be heading out – redistribute some of the funds to people hit worst by the raids."
He wanted them away before Polly came. He hadn't told them about Ada. He still wanted Polly to come over and say it was all sorted. He chanced a glance at the redhead, who was staring at the chalkboard at the end of the room, studying it like it was a source of endless fascination to her.
He didn't want her to be his fucking lapdog – and he wanted to wring Ada's neck for saying that to her, for putting that idea in her head. But whatever the fuck was going on in her head, she had outlined that she would be his – albeit not in the way he wanted - once he'd made things right with Ada.
So, that was his first step then. He had to make things right with Ada, whatever that meant. Whatever that involved. And once that was done, he could start pulling down the walls she had put up and he could start trying to get things back to how they had been. Ada was the first brick.
"That Tom's a clever one, eh Lily?" Arthur said to the child in his arms.
She nodded, her eyes looking over to him.
He gave her a smile then said, "Aye well – the magic trick was Rosie's idea to start with."
"They're some team the two of them, eh Lily? Tommy and Rosie. Smarter than all of us, ain't they?" Arthur grinned.
She smiled at that, her eyes going between him and her sister.
"Your cut is in my drawer," he told her sister, addressing her directly, wondering how she'd respond.
Non-verbally, as it turned out.
She met his eyes quickly for a second, nodded, then looked to Arthur and asked, with a grin, "Where are your ledgers? I'd better make a start on them, I'm sure they're enough of a mess over the past few days what with this going on that if I leave them till the weekend I'll be here for a week to unpick them."
Acknowledging him, then moving the conversation on, away from them having to interact.
"Ah, good shout Rosie lass," Arthur nodded, putting Lily down and going to his office, returning with the books, which she held out her arms to take.
"We can't have Rosie doing books and us handing out cash tonight," John said, shaking his head, "We should celebrate. Rosie, how should we celebrate this victory, eh? What will we buy with this cash?"
"I suppose you could start by upgrading everything," she replied, a tight smile.
He was sure he hadn't imagined it that her eyes had, almost imperceptibly, flickered to him when she said it.
Upgrade? What was he supposed to fucking upgrade? Ada's train ticket to Cardiff to see Polly's woman? Get his sister a first-class seat for all the trouble she had caused him?
Would that count with her as making things right?
"If Tommy wants you out handing cash out though you'd better do it," she added, her eyes going to John and a smile coming across her face that didn't quite reach them, "That's what we're all here for, isn't it? To rise and fall on the whim of Thomas Almighty."
John threw back his head and laughed at what she had managed to make sound like a joke – when in reality it was anything but.
"Oh, you've finally got her in line with it have you Tommy?" John cackled.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Later, after darkness had consumed the waking hours, Tommy found himself at a desk, counting cash, marking up his own book keeping, drinking whisky.
Arthur and John had gone out and not returned, presumably having made it to The Garrison after they did their rounds. Rosie had gone upstairs with Lily straight after dinner, claiming she needed to work on the books and Lily needed to get back into a good night time routine for school going back the next week. Finn had stayed out with Isaiah until Tommy had looked at the time and gone outside to drag him in, sending him to bed with the threat of a set of boxed ears if he ever tried to stay out so late again.
He was alone.
He had had nights like this before – nights in his own company. It had never really bothered him. But she was so near, so damn near. Just a flight of steps and a closed door away. And yet it was arguable whether she was even in the damn building. He sipped the whisky and put the glass down, resting his chin on his clasped hands. Trying, still, to make sense of last night.
Signing up for you to use me as you pleased.
That was what she said she had done. Signing up for him to use her as he pleased.
But surely – surely she didn't believe that? She didn't believe herself, her own words, did she? She had to be trying to hurt him, didn't she? She couldn't actually think that? He had told her that wasn't why he'd brought her here.
But then – she had known he'd paid her rent. She had felt already like he'd bought her, and he hadn't known. But surely – surely if she'd believed that, she'd have expected him to use her – to use her like she would have known her mother was being used? He hadn't done that. Christ, it had been last month before he'd even kissed her. And whilst he kissed her as often as he could. Or whilst he had kissed her as often as he could – when she had let him kiss her – he had never gone beyond it. He had groped at her arse, sure. She had moaned into him whenever he did though, which had made him believe she wasn't against it. Unless – unless she was just a thoroughly excellent actress? But no, he'd have known, wouldn't he? There had been plenty of girls in his life. He could tell the difference between one who was willing and one who wasn't.
He was sure she had been willing. But then – maybe she had only been willing because she saw it as what paying her rent had bought him the right to do. She might have half believed herself. Half believed that to be the truth, but she couldn't completely believe it. Not entirely. Because she had rescinded his rights. She had known they were hers to grant or revoke.
I'll be what you need me to be, Thomas. I'll do what you need me to do. I'll be your fucking lapdog who reports back and doesn't question you. But you make this right with Ada. You can use me how you see fit, I'll stand by it – but only when my sister and yours are happy. Then at least the sacrifice of my dignity and self-respect will be in the pursuit of something decent.
He did respect her. Regardless of what she thought. She handled herself, she looked after Lily. Christ, it was his respect for the fact she did everything she did, and without complaint, that had led to him paying the fucking rent, wasn't it? He admired her. He admired her strength. But somehow, in expressing his admiration, he had made her believe she had no dignity, no self-respect.
No, his anger flared, he hadn't made her believe that – she'd been angry at him before she went to Ada, but she hadn't been the shell she was when she returned. Whatever Ada had said to her. Whatever Ada had made her believe – that was what was at the root of it.
It was Ada's fault. Ada's selfish, stupid, immature fault. Ada had gone and got herself pregnant then she'd told Rosie she was nothing but his lapdog. And the redhead had believed her. He hated his sister in that moment.
And he hated her for the power she held over Rosie – because the girl had returned to him that night, stripped of all her fire. And despite that, she had tried to bargain for her, for Ada. Make things right with Ada? He'd make things right with Ada. He'd bring her back here and he'd put a lock on her room and keep her there for all of her days – that was the only way to make anything right with Ada.
He downed his drink angrily and poured another one, spilling the liquid on the desk in the process.
Ada was pregnant. His fifteen-year-old sister was pregnant. He let out a sigh, the spiked rage ebbing as he tipped the liquid down his throat. If he wanted to claim he hadn't been thinking straight yesterday after he'd come back from seeing her, when he'd convinced himself Rosie had known – had betrayed him… He had to believe Ada wasn't thinking straight either. How could she be? And if Polly had told the truth, that Ada hadn't even realised, in her stupidity and ignorance, what was actually happening to her until the previous night… He put his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do? What could he do?
It was Freddie's fault. That was it. He could blame Freddie. Freddie had gone and loaded Ada with his bastard – and for what? So that he could get close to the Peaky Blinders? So that he could get access to them, to use them for his cause? It had been Freddie who had told him about the messages from Churchill. Something about a robbery. A robbery of national significance. He had known it at the time that Freddie was declaring an interest in the guns. He hadn't indulged him. That was what this was all about. The guns. Freddie had ruined Ada's life just because he suspected it was Tommy who had the guns. He had manipulated Ada just to make sure Tommy knew what lengths he was prepared to go to. Because as far as Freddie was concerned, sacrificing Ada for his cause was fine. Ada wasn't special to Freddie. He might have been to her, but Ada was nothing to him, Tommy was sure of it. Freddie just saw Ada as someone, something, to be used. And when he had what he wanted, he'd replace her.
No one really wants to confront how completely replaceable they are, do they? Rosie's voice loomed in his mind.
He wasn't like Freddie. He didn't know where she'd gotten that idea from. That she was replaceable. She was irreplaceable to him. He didn't know why she didn't know that – why she didn't believe that. There was no one else like her. No one could come close to her.
"So, Monaghan Boy finally lost," Polly said quietly, coming into the shop, putting her hat and bag down on a desk and taking in the piles of money.
He hadn't even heard her open the door. He was too lost in his own thoughts.
"Third time unlucky," he confirmed, "We took money from all over the city."
"Yeah but you'll pay it back to people round here, buy your popularity back."
If he had been in another mood he might have frowned at her, barking orders at him in a clipped tone.
But he was in the mood he was in, and so his, "Already done," that he gave her in response, glancing up at her before putting his chin back in his hands, was quiet, non-confrontational.
"Taught you well," she replied.
He didn't say anything to that. He didn't want to discuss this business. He wanted to know about Ada. He wanted to know about how to start fixing this – any of it. He didn't know how to fix things with Rosie. But he knew she wanted him to make things right with Ada. So that was his first step.
But Polly, it seemed, wasn't done.
"And you fixed this race without the permission of Billy Kimber?" she questioned, looming over him on the desk.
He met her eye for a minute, then tried to dismiss her question by looking to his drink – unprepared for the level of her sudden ire as she snatched it from his hand and threw the glass against the wall, where it smashed, and his arms raised to shield himself from the particles that ricocheted back.
"Obviously didn't teach you well enough," she snapped, "Rule one – you don't punch above your weight."
He didn't have the fucking energy for this.
"Billy Kimber is there for the taking," he told her, keeping his own tone calm.
"Says who?" she demanded, "Says Tommy and his parliament of one? I ran this business for five years-"
"Yeah, while I was away fighting, remember?" he said, cutting across her, "Where I learned some things such as you strike when your enemy is weak."
And Billy Kimber was weak. Billy Kimber was being run riot by the Lees and Billy Kimber needed help. He could provide that help. He could use Billy Kimber to get a legal license.
He stood, lifting his cigarette from the ashtray since his glass had been smashed, noticing a figure on the stairs. He wondered if it was Polly's presence that had called her. He figured it was.
He leant against a table, glancing up at the redhead, letting her know he had seen her, before prompting his aunt "And I thought you came here to talk family business?"
Polly threw up her hands and straightened off the desk, going to her bag and beginning to gather her things.
"I'll deal with it – you're too busy taking over the world," she told him, shaking her head in disgust.
He was fucking fed up of people looking at him in disgust.
"Polly!" he said, raising his voice a little, pulling her eyes to him.
"If it's about Ada, I need to know," he told her.
His aunt went into her bag and, for a horrible moment, he thought she was going back to gathering her things, leaving without telling him anything, without giving him – or the figure on the stairs – any kind of hope. But instead she produced an envelope.
"Ada wants you to give Freddie this letter," Polly said, "She wants Freddie to know she's having his baby - he deserves an opportunity to do the right thing."
She put the letter down on the desk and came around the side of it, coming slightly nearer him, "I say we give them a chance."
He sighed, feeling the eyes of both the women on him and picked up the letter, settling himself back down against the table, turning the envelope over in his hands, staring at his baby sister's hand writing. A letter was in this envelope in that hand writing, proclaiming she was having a baby. The thing was, he could wring his sister's neck – but he also expected this kind of thinking from her. Even from Rosie. But Polly – Polly should know fucking better.
"For a woman whose had a hard life with men you're still full of romance, eh?" he said, shaking his head at the paper in his hand before raising his eyes to the older woman, brandishing the envelope at her, demanding of her, "What do you think Freddie sees in our Ada?"
"That's Freddie's business," she replied with a shrug.
"No," Tommy replied, shaking his head.
This was the fucking problem, none of this was something to be shrugged off. He wasn't going to lose his sister to this – and Polly and Rosie had to understand that. He'd make things right with Ada – and regardless of Rosie's orders, he did want that, he wanted to make things right with her. But it wasn't just about being right with her – it was about what was right for her.
"No," he continued raising his voice so Rosie would hear him clearly, so she would understand, "I'll tell you what he sees. He sees machine guns and rifles and ammunition and some glorious revolution."
"What is it you really don't like about Freddie?" Polly asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
As if it mattered whether he even personally liked or disliked Freddie. As if it was even about that.
"She'll have no life with a man on the run - if you can't see that you can't see much," he told her, dropping the envelope into the incinerator that was giving a heat to the room.
Polly let out a small gasp and grabbed the poker, as if she thought to fish the damn thing out – then – realising she wouldn't be able to she lifted it as though to strike him.
He met her eyes and stared her down. She stood for a moment, poised to beat him, then threw it back to where she'd found it.
"Damn them for what they did to you in France!" she lashed the air verbally in place of him.
He closed his eyes. This had nothing to do with France, with war. This wasn't about him being heartless or controlling or whatever it was they seemed to believe it was. This was about doing what was best for Ada.
He opened eyes again, taking a deep breath, before saying, "Tell Ada Freddie went to America."
Polly shook her head and crossed to begin gathering her things again. If he could make Ada believe Freddie had gone, had gone for good – that he had broken the promise she had told Polly hed made her about coming back… He could start to make her see that nothing Freddie had ever told her was to be believed or trusted. He could start to break the fucker's hold on her.
"Or Russia," he added, sarcastically, wishing his aunt would see sense.
She didn't respond, just grabbed her things.
"Polly, it'd do no good for Ada to bring a baby into the world alone," he said, beginning to shout after her as she walked away, "Pol, listen! The truth is – you would have hit me with that thing if it weren't for the fact that you know I'm right!"
He kicked the table he was sitting on, almost toppling it, before moving his cigarette to his mouth, his eyes flicking up to the girl on the stairs.
She came down wordlessly, holding his eye contact the whole way.
"I would've hit you with that thing," she snarled when she got to the bottom.
In spite of what she said, in spite of how she said it, his heart thumped a little in hope at the venom in her voice. At least he recognised it.
"Well at least you sound more like yourself," he told her.
She let out a scoff and started walking again, making her way into the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" he snapped, standing and following her, watching as she opened the cupboard door.
"To empty my bladder and brush my fucking teeth, is that alright? Do I have your permission for that Mr Shelby?" she said, slamming the cupboard door and brandishing the toothbrush and paste at him.
He didn't know what to say to that and stood motionless as she marched by him, heading out the back, staying where he was, desperately trying to figure out what to say to her, how to unpick what was going on in her mind, still not having found the answers by the time she appeared back in and swept by him to put the toothbrush away.
"Rosie," he said, his voice as low and calm as he could manage.
"What?" she replied, her own tone clipped – practically spitting the t at the end of the word.
"I want what's best for Ada," he offered, "And I know she's upset and scared and I'm sorry for whatever she said to you yesterday, but you have to know she's lashing out at me, not you – because she doesn't understand that I just want what's best, what's safest, for her."
The redhead's eyebrows shot up and she scoffed, "Ada's the one whose pregnant and you honestly think it's for you to decide what's best for her?"
"She's not thinking straight – keeping Freddie's baby – she's not seeing sense."
"Cause bringing a baby into the world alone does no good, is that is? So - me – Lily – bringing either of us into the world did no good, is that it? We're no good?"
"That's not what I said and damn well you know it," he shouted at her, "Christ! I didn't even think…" he broke off, breathing for a moment before he began again, more in control, "But you – on that basis Rosalie – you should know, better than anyone. You've had a fucking hard life, a hard childhood – would you wish that on anyone?"
"Don't you presume to tell me what I've had," she growled, "That's the thing, isn't it? Men – you all just think it's all about you. I had a hard childhood and you've come in like the fucking lord and saviour, so I should get on my knees and worship you unquestioningly, is that it?"
"Rosie, I paid your rent a couple of times – so what? Why is it so fucking inconceivable that anyone should want to help you without it making them a terrible fucking person? Without it being about you owing them anything? I didn't want you to know - you obviously know I told your landlord you weren't to know! So don't stand there and make out like you think I made some arrangement without you knowing where I laid claim on your soul without your knowledge."
"My soul?" she shrieked, "Don't you dare make assertions about my fucking soul Thomas Shelby."
"Oh has Polly's taking you to mass made you religious?" he snapped.
"Go fuck yourself!" she snapped, then tried to pass him, but he stepped into her path and pushed her back so she was pinned between him and the kitchen table.
"That's it isn't it?" she said suddenly, her voice going quiet and her eyes narrowing, "I was wrong."
"Wrong about what?"
"I thought men didn't like whores because a good whore can see a person for what they are, can figure out what they need. Because when you're in the room with her, the power is hers. That's what I told myself anyway," she broke off and scoffed, shaking her head, "I don't think I believe that anymore, now that I am one. But you still don't like whores. And that's why. Because your money is only good for our bodies. You don't get our fucking souls – and there's nothing you can do about it."
He stared down at her. This was the same talk as the night before. Calling herself a whore.
"What do you want me to say?" he eventually asked, his teeth gritted, "You were the one who told me everyone's a whore – that we all just sell different parts of ourselves. You were angry with me when I said I'd take the tongue of anyone who called you a whore. But now – now you're upset because I paid your rent and you think it's made you a whore. Even though I've never even touched you – even though I told you that wasn't why I brought you here – even though I told you last night I won't lay a finger on you that you don't want laid on you. Should I tell you you are a whore, and that's nothing to be ashamed of? Or should I tell you're not a whore? What do I say that make you feel better, Rosie, eh? You know what you are? With your lofty ideas and your women's lib? You're a fucking little hypocrite."
"I don't need you to make me feel better," she spat, "I don't need anything from you."
He backed off of her, shaking his head. He didn't know what to say to that. He lifted his hands up, looking for words, then closed his mouth and shoved his hands in his pockets. He had told the truth. He didn't know what to say to her. And nothing he could say would be the right thing. Because he couldn't fathom where any of it had come from, couldn't fathom how she'd come to the conclusions she had done t begin to unpick them.
Something seemed to strike her, and her eyes flashed at him, "That cut of money that you said was mine? In your drawer?"
"You want the money?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I earned it didn't I?" she replied, raising her chin.
There was a challenge in that chin raise, but he wasn't going to take it on. She had earned it. It was hers.
Wordlessly he turned, went to his office, took it out the drawer and returned to the kitchen, holding the envelope out to her.
She snatched it and opened it, looking at the notes.
"Five hundred pounds, all yours," he told her.
She kept her eyes down but he saw the colour drain from her, noticed her swallow and her hands shake.
"How many times did you pay my rent, Thomas?" she asked, lifting her head.
He shrugged, "I didn't keep track."
"When did you first pay it then?"
"I don't know," he lied.
"Try harder than that Thomas. Try, for once, to tell me the truth."
For once? What in hell did she think he had concealed from her?
"June."
She raised an eyebrow, inviting an explanation.
"The second week in June I came in to the shop to drop off the cigarettes," he told her, sighing, and rubbing the back of his neck, "I'd walked by a few times and seen you working every night that week. I had thought maybe you wouldn't be in to take the delivery, that you might have had a night off. And I said as much and you said you had rent to pay."
He broke off, meeting her eye, letting her have a chance to say something if she wanted to. But she didn't.
"I knew you were still at school, I didn't understand why you were paying rent. So, I asked about and I found out your mother had left you in March. Which made sense, you'd seemed happier by then – you talked to me more. Didn't just give me one-word answers."
"February," she said.
He paused, wondering if she'd elaborate, but she didn't, she just stared at him.
"I went to your landlord," he continued, "He said your mother had posted the rent for a few months, it had been late in March and a bit short in April – you'd paid the difference - but nothing had come through in May. He'd been to see you and you'd said you'd give him two months' rent at the end of June. I gave him three months' rent that night, said to tell you your mother had posted it late but that it had arrived. Said to tell him to come to me whenever your rent didn't come through."
She nodded, her face taking on that blank look again and his insides clenched.
"So that's May, June and July. August?"
He shook his head.
"September?"
He shook his head again.
"We came to stay here in October. How many times since we came to stay here?"
"Once before Christmas. Once after."
"So that's five times you've paid my rent since May last year. Right," she said, nodding and going into the envelope, fishing out the notes.
"May," she said, holding up the notes to him before turning and placing them on the table.
"June," she said, repeating it.
"Rosie, I don't want-"
"July," she spoke over him.
"Rosie, keep the fucking money."
"No!" she turned back to him, her eyes flashing, brandishing the envelope of cash at him, her knuckles white as she gripped it, "No. We will settle this Thomas. I will stay here, with Lily, and you will look after her. Because god knows why you deserve it, but she loves you. And I want to believe you love her-"
"I do love her," he cut across her, insulted that that was even being questioned.
"And I will make a whore of myself to you in payment for that love. But you will take that money – and this, once before Christmas and once after," she said, fishing for the last two payments from the envelope and laying them on the table, "And when Lily is an adult and she doesn't need you anymore, I won't have anything hanging over me when I leave you. I will know then that it is me who is done with you."
"Rosie what the fuck are you on about? I told you – I won't lay a finger on you that you don't want laid on you. I didn't bring you here for anything other than to try and help you."
"I don't believe you," she told him.
There was no bite or anger to it. It was just a statement. She didn't believe him.
"How do I change that?" he asked.
"You can't Thomas. But it's fine. This," she gestured between them, "It is what it is. I signed up for it. But at least now it won't be fucking financial. You look after Lily. You make things right with Ada. And you can have me. That's the deal from now on."
"You shut your fucking mouth with that talk or I'll shut if for you," he growled, his dread at her words exerting itself as anger, "I can have you? I don't fucking want you."
She didn't quite manage to hide her flinch at his words.
"I wouldn't want you like this anyway," he told her, raking his eyes up and down her, "But I've wanted you before and I've restrained myself. And I'll manage again. Because I don't want to be like Freddie, I don't want to ruin your fucking life by making you pregnant at sixteen. I wanted you to come here so I could support you, so that you could do what you wanted to with your life, not have it stopped to look after a child. Not so I could have you, like that. Not so I could ruin you!"
"Ruin me?" she growled, "Is that it – Ada's ruined now?"
"Ada's pregnant and alone."
"And whose fault is that?" she shouted.
"Do you see Freddie anywhere?" he shouted back, throwing his hands wide, "He's left her – he's gone."
She nodded, then walked by him. He let her this time, watching as she reached the stairs, where she turned to him.
"You want me to believe you just paid my rent to be nice? To help me?"
"I did," he growled at her.
She stared at him, then, "And you call me a fucking hypocrite? Maybe Thomas, you should think about why I don't believe you'd do that for me – no agenda involved – when you're leaving your sister to be alone."
"I've not left her alone," he spluttered.
"Then where is she Thomas?"
"She's – she's at Polly's – and she took herself there, she left this house!" he shouted, waving his right hand as he said it.
"And have you been to speak to her?" Rosie demanded, her voice rising as she continued on until she was shouting, "Have you been to ask her how she's feeling or what she wants to do? No! You've gone and demanded to know whose it is. Nothing about her! And then you want to stand here and fucking outline what she's to fucking do and decree what's fucking best for her!"
"How am I supposed to do that, Rosie, eh?" he shouted back, feeling himself losing control, "How am I supposed to look her in the fucking eye?"
"Because you're so fucking disgusted with her for being ruined?" she screamed back at him.
"Because I'm so fucking disgusted with myself! Because I was supposed to protect her! Because I shouldn't have let this happen!"
His words seemed to reverberate all around them, to bounce back at them in the room. There was a silence for a minute, as the vibration of them fizzled out.
"Oh, it's all about you, isn't it?" Rosie growled eventually, quiet and dangerous, "She's in this position and it's about how it makes you feel Thomas? You should be fucking disgusted with yourself."
He ran his hands through the longer strands of his hair, not knowing what to say to that. What she said made sense. But what he had said was true. Painfully true. Truth he hadn't admitted to anyone aloud before, and she didn't even want to hear it.
"No wonder. It's what you're all trained to know from birth, isn't it?" she continued, looking him up and down, "You get to do what you want and everything is about you. Men go from women to women and ruin as many of us as they like – but there are no repercussions for you. It's just us who get to be viewed as ruined. Maybe I should just be fucking grateful that you didn't even want me enough to ruin me before you moved on to the next one."
"Rosie – what are you talking about?" he begged, pleaded to know.
"D'you know what I really can't stand Thomas?" she said, her voice going calm, going that way he hated, "I can't stand that I helped you. I spied for you. Got information about her for you. I helped set it all up – and I did it to please you. Because it meant so much to me that the great Thomas Shelby had picked me. Nobody ever picked me, but you did. The fucking pathetic little thrill I got from pleasing you. God, you must have been laughing at me for every minute of it."
"Rosie, you're not making sense – I picked you, yes. I've never laughed at you," he said, shaking his head.
"I reported everything back to you – about her. About Ada. Ada won't talk to me because she thinks I'm your lapdog, that anything she says to me will go straight back to you. And no wonder. Because I screwed over another woman already for you. Because I screwed Ada over, jumping to tell you the minute you got back from the fayre about the fact she wasn't home. And why? Because I'd convinced myself that she might have been in danger? I thought so. I genuinely thought so. But now I look back and think – god – it was just that it meant so much to me to think that you trusted me, to think I was proving myself to you. At the cost of what? I look in the fucking glass now Thomas and I don't recognise myself. I lost myself in the – in the madness of believing that - that this was something. That I meant something to you. And now I see it's just the same arrangement as you have with god only knows how many others all over this city – you bought me the same way you buy that Sergeant Moss!"
She broke off and took a deep breath, steading herself, steadying her voice that had begun to shake, before she met his eye and continued, "But I suppose it doesn't matter does it? It doesn't matter that I haven't an ounce of dignity or self-respect. It doesn't matter that I sacrificed it all for the flutter it gave me to think I had pleased you, to that little flicker that happened in me when you complimented me. Because at least, as far as you're concerned, as far as all the great men of this world are concerned, I can be a version – an imitation of a person, pared back and with no substance because it's all been used up and chucked away in the chase of feeling like someone wanted me – and it doesn't matter because at least I'm not ruined."
He gaped at her, his mouth moving and no sound exiting past his constricted throat. That was the silence in which she turned away from him and headed up the stairs, leaving him, once again, alone.
Hello! So I am understanding from my messages that the last chapter, and potentially this one, have been slightly confusing in terms of Rosie and Tommy. As always, if a handful of people take the time to say it I know other people must be thinking it, so I wanted to take the time to chat about it here.
Unfortunately I have decided to write this in closed third person from Tommy's POV, which means that right now Tommy is confused too.
From a reader's POV all I can do is remind you that Rosie is her own character with her own story going on, both inside and outside of what she shares with Tommy in that storyline. In terms of her character the main reminders here are:
a.) What Rosie's mother does for a living.
b.) The fact that when her mother was pregnant with Lily, Rosie's reaction as a nine year old child herself was to go to the library and read up on how to raise a child because she knew the welfare of the child was at risk with their mother.
c.) Chapter 13 where she understands Tommy's mental health issues because she has her own
d.) Chapter 37 where she feels that absolving herself of guilt is a bit like clearing the smoke and mud from her head, ie she is a self blamer. Combine that with point b - you have someone who is used to taking responsibility not only for herself but for everyone around her because she expects other people to fail. That's a hell of a lot of things she's taking on herself, a lot of which are actually outside of her control. That's a lot of self blame, internal beration and guilt that she's taking on, which leads to feeling like she's always failing, feeling inadequate and essentially, when her mental health is at its worst, into a spiral of self loathing. We also know from chapter 13 that this girl's method of coping with her mental health spirals are to focus on her sister. She consistently puts herself last in her own list of priorities and doesn't actually address her own lack of self esteem at any point.
e.) Polly's advice to Tommy in chapter 40 about Rosie being traumatised by her childhood, particularly the lines "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" and "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 her's or because she can handle you lot you're not just blinded by love Tommy, you've been made into a fool."
f.) When Tommy arrives home in chapter 6 with Rosie and Lily he notes 'Rosie and Ada were more or less indifferent to one another.' In chapter 15, which is the end of November, just before Ada's birthday, Rosie hasn't taken the time off work for Ada's party because she doesn't expect to be invited. Despite this, she buys Ada a very thoughtful gift which becomes a bit of a turning point in their relationship. Again, because this is closed third person to Tommy the interaction between the two females isn't at the forefront of what he takes note of, but he does note them becoming closer, sharing things and developing a bond, even though he doesn't much understand it because they're so different in their interests. Chapter 24 plot wise very much becomes about what Tommy overhears Polly, Ada and Rosie discussing - communists and the misunderstanding from that that leads on to chapter 35 onwards. What Tommy doesn't note is that the three of them have got to a point in their relationship development where they're sitting together as three women discussing men and what they want from life - what Ada wants to see in the tea leaves. In chapter 32 Tommy overhears Rosie and Ada discussing something Ada is keeping from him - as readers we see Ada is confiding in Rosie and we see that at other points in more subtle ways - such as when Rosie helps convince Tommy Ada should be allowed to go to a friend's house in chapter 30. Chapter 38 we see Rosie arguing for Ada's case against Tommy. Basically, whether Tommy has taken full note of it or not, her relationship with Ada is very important to Rosie.
g.) The times we see Rosie interact with people outside the family - Ada's birthday (Chapter 16) and Chapter 22 with Harrison at the sweet shop - she's like a different person. At Ada's birthday the boys she hangs around with at school are amazed she's made a cake - something traditionally feminine and domesticated. Even the way she is on the first night when he brings her home versus how she is with Polly after he's done his disappearing act. We consistently see Rosie through Tommy's gaze because of the nature of the story and at the beginning of the story Tommy and Rosie have been building their relationship through his visits to the shop for over a year (let's be real, actually writing that was going to take 'slow burn' to the next level so I decided we were skipping it!) but it shouldn't be under-appreciated just how much she has let her guard down with him and how much work that has taken for her.
h.) She's stoic and proud. Our first interactions with her reveal that she's been beaten in school and taken it in silence. She does the same thing in chapter 37. She doesn't want to be seen to show weakness.
I know this is a really long story (believe me, when I started I had no idea we'd be talking about the length this is worming its way to being!) and that it can be difficult to remember those little details, especially when Tommy isn't always making connections himself, but I hope that helps!
I do really appreciate any and all feedback, even the negative, so please do let me know when things aren't clear - in this case, it works if it's not completely clear but one thing I'm struggling with as a writer is the itch to develop every relationship on the page the way I have in my head, whilst also looking at my word count thus far and being like 'Actually we can scratch this John and Rosie interaction, it's not technically essential.' If things don't seem natural between people, I want to know about it because it tells that maybe I do need to keep in more interactions between those characters or whatever. Honestly, whatever feedback you have - I am here for it and I do appreciate the time it takes to leave it!
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I also want to fill in a bit of history here in case it's not clear - Rosie gets Lily's 'Sylvia' bear from the East London Toy Factory which was started by Sylvia Pankhurst, that's discussed in chapter 32 where Rosie tells Tommy: "I don't think I have any strong political allegiances to any parties - but she did stuff that actually helped, you know?" her hands flew about as she talked, her eyes sparkling with her clear admiration for the woman, "There was the toy factory for women, and a nursery to watch the kids of the women who worked there. And she organised these legal advice centres for women who were having trouble whilst their husbands were at war. And she set up cost price restaurants to help women feed their families during the war, but so they didn't need to feel like they were charity cases."
This is my particular academic interest area, so I will try and keep things brief but we think now of the suffragette movement as one, but it split off - Sylvia was chucked out of the WSPU by her mother (Emmeline) and her sister because she kept an alignment with workers' rights as part of her feminism. Basically Sylvia was an early adopter of intersectional feminism (side note - the toy factory she started also produced baby dolls in ethnicities other than white during WWI which, given the lack of diversity in toy manufacturing even now, is another indicator of how ahead of her times she was) and she was able to identify struggles faced because of differences in class, race and gender. Emmeline Pankhurst and her party, what we think of as the 'main' suffragette group, was focused solely on women, and particularly on middle and upper class women. Whilst I absolutely, as a woman, celebrate her work in securing the vote for women over the age of 30, Emmeline was an imperialist and ended her life a member of the conservative party once the vote had been won. Working class women, like Rosie, were not really represented by what we think of as 'the suffragettes.' What that really translates to, especially for women like Rosie, is that the philosophies and values of the WSPU and those in favour of women's suffrage appealed, but they had to figure out how those things applied to their own lives. Rosie has this academic understanding of feminism that she can't quite marry up with her own existence because none of the main people who got a platform to discuss women's rights on were coming from a working class existence. She's basically making the rules for herself as she goes along based on the existence of people with privilege she doesn't have, then she's berating herself when she can't uphold them.
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Anyway, my particular academic passions aside - I need to write this in the way I've chosen to thus far, which is from Tommy's POV. Ergo, it's not always going to be clear what's going on in any other character's head, it's always going to be Tommy's interpretation of what's going on and that isn't always going to be on the money, because no one is ever on the money all the time no matter how perceptive they are and I want to make sure my characters are real. Which means mistakes and contradictions and believing one thing on paper and another in practise and struggling with their own demons. To be honest, in a way, I'm glad if the last two chapters have been a bit confusing because personally I find it incredibly frustrating to read 'conflict' where there's no actual basis for conflict and it's a case of characters being deliberately obtuse in an effort to make a plot.
Having said all that - this will unravel because I have not spent hours of my life up till now writing these two to have them reach an impasse. It's in the blurb that this is a romance between these two and whilst that doesn't mean it's going to be super easy and smooth, their relationship is 'endgame.' Therefore, if you stick with this story, it will be explained and my proposal here would not be in any way essential reading - but would you want me to write the last chapter from Rosie's POV and put it up as a stand alone? I am totally happy to do that because I know what Rosie's emotional journey has been through that chapter, even if Tommy, and therefore potentially the reader, doesn't. As I say, this will unravel for Tommy so it wouldn't be an essential read by any means, but if hearing it in her voice would be of interest, it is something I'm happy to post - so let me know if you'd like to read that? It will contain spoilers for things that Tommy doesn't necessarily know yet though, so that would be my only warning if it is something you want me to go ahead and write up!
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Once again thank you for reading along and interacting with me, I really do appreciate every single one of you! xx