Chapter 56
They arrived the next morning at the National Gallery to find it closed on Mondays, though he suspected that Lily was far less disappointed about it than Rosie seemed to think she would be.
"Oh sweetheart I'm so sorry, we'll come back before the end of the week, eh?" Rosie said, crouching down to Lily and stroke her hair in a consoling manner.
The baby nodded then asked, "Can we go to the zoo today then?" in a tone that seemed far more excited about the prospect of going to the zoo than she had been about the gallery anyway.
Rosie looked up to him to answer – she had agreed to let him take charge of organising the week since she had never been to London before and had no idea of the logistics of the sprawling city.
He dragged on his cigarette thoughtfully before asking, "D'you like a puppet show, Lily?"
"I don't know," she answered.
"C'mon, we'll go find out," he said, holding the hand that was free of cigarette out to her.
She took it and he led them in the direction of Covent Garden, an area he had gone through when he'd been in London on his way back from France. Any time he'd been to London since had been for business and he hadn't been back, but he remembered it. Of course he remembered it, it would be hard to forget – it was an area that bustled with life and contradictions. Grand theatres and the opera house turned it into a sea of evening gowns and suits by night, whilst now, with the sun high, the main piazza was home to market stalls laden with exotic fruits and vegetables, hawked by men and women with rough-hewn accents and rougher hands, entirely reminiscent of the Bullring's stalls and staff. On the fringes of the hall there were flowers of all types, bought by women to be tucked into their baskets in bursts of colour – the scenes they might have been privy to had the gallery been open were reflected in abstract ways by these bouquets, lilies piled by peonies and hydrangeas, the colours and textures of the petals as they lay side by side – to be sold on later by their buyers to the toffs who descended in the evenings with their gowns and suits. A myriad of the high and low and a circle of money being earned and frittered.
And, tucked in amongst it all, the Punch and Judy pub - named for the small, free standing puppet theatre with its red and white striped awning that stood opposite the pub doors where the characters enthralled the children of the buyers and sellers alike, costing pennies to be enjoyed from the benches and costing nothing to skulk on the sidelines to watch – though the further away, the more the puppets' dialogue was lost in the deluge of bartering.
The next show would start in ten minutes, and he parted with the penny to let Lily sit in the front row, clutching her ticket, whilst Rosie stood at the back, her eyes on her sister.
"So, what do you think of London so far?" he asked Lily, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bench.
She smiled and nodded, not giving a verbal answer but displaying that she liked it well enough. She had a child's way of being excited about something purely because the idea of it excited her. They had done very little the night before - just walking to get dinner, with the only thing of note they passed being St Paul's Cathedral, before coming back to the hotel to play snap for a while until he headed to his room and Rosie put Lily to bed. This morning had so far consisted of breakfast in the hotel's dining room (which admittedly was impressive and oppressive in the same breath and which pleased Lily in the same way that the tea rooms back home did) and a walk in the opposite direction up the Strand to a closed gallery followed by a walk to Covent Garden. And yet, it had all happened in London and that was enough for Lily to find it all incredibly thrilling.
"What about your sister, eh? You think she likes London?"
"She likes the bath," Lily replied with a smile.
"She in it last night?"
"Uhuh."
He smiled at that. He could tuck baths away next to books on his Things Rosie Actually Likes list.
"I want your sister to have a good time here Lily," he confessed, his eyes moving to the redhead at the back.
The child nodded.
"You remember when your horse di- went lame?" he asked, stopping himself from saying it had died and sticking to the story he had fed her in a cowardly way to try and save himself from her grief, "And we had to send him to Scotland?"
Lily nodded again, sadness sweeping over her face.
"Don't be sad, sweetheart, I promised you another one, didn't I?" he said quickly, squeezing her knee.
She nodded and he continued, swiftly trying to move the conversation on, "But you remember you asked me if it was because you were bad because you had upset Rosie?"
She nodded again.
"Well, it was me who upset her Lily, not you, when I asked the barmaid to come to the races with me without asking Rosie first if it was okay."
"Why did you ask her?"
"Business, sweetheart."
"You don't love her?"
"The barmaid?"
"Yeah."
"No, no I don't love the barmaid."
"Good."
He chuckled at Lily's sage nod and proclamation that this was simply 'good' as far as she was concerned.
"Lily?"
"Tommy?"
"I want you sister to have a perfect week, to make up for what I did."
"So it can be like before?"
He internally winced at this simple confirmation the child offered him that as much as they hadn't argued in front of anyone, they hadn't fooled anyone either.
"Yes, so it can be like before," he said, nodding, not letting her see his shame.
"Good. I liked it better," she told him with her simple, unconsidered honesty.
"I need your help though Lily, eh? Need my best girl's help."
"What?" she asked him, slightly warily.
"If Rosie says she likes anything while we're here I want you to let me know. Anything at all that we do or that she sees in a shop."
"She likes the bath."
"I know," he smiled, "I want to know everything she likes Lily, so I can try and make her as happy as she makes me, eh?"
"You do make her happy. When you don't annoy her."
"When I don't annoy her, eh?" he repeated back amusedly.
Lily nodded again, but as he was about to press her the music for the show started, announcing to passers by that there were mere minutes to take the remaining spaces on the benches.
"Alright my little love, I'm going to stand out the way, you stay here, and I'll come back for you when the show is done."
"Where are you going Tommy?" she asked, suddenly sounding panicked, her fingers making their way to her mouth.
"Just out the way so the other kids can see," he soothed, pointing up the back to where Rosie stood, "Just up beside your sister back there, eh?"
Lily twisted on the bench and turned back to nod, reassured that she knew where to look for them, her hands back in her lap.
"You enjoy the show," he said, standing and pressing his hand to her head before making to move off.
"Tommy," she called just as he started to walk away.
He turned back to look at her.
"You love Rosie don't you?" she asked, twisting her mouth a little.
"I do Lily," he nodded.
She nodded in response, proclaimed that "Good," then turned her eyes to the twitching curtains.
He shook his head in amusement and wandered up the back to the woman he loved.
"She alright?" Rosie asked.
"She's fine, she knows where we are," he said, "Think she thought I was abandoning her when I said I'd come back after the show for her rather than just getting out the way for the other kids."
"She's excited to be here, but she's nervous," Rosie observed.
"Nervous to be here?"
"It's new, and it's a big city. And I told her she had to always be holding on to one of us the whole time we were in London so she didn't get lost," Rosie sighed, something moving on her face as she looked at the back of Lily's head, "I think I make her nervous sometimes, when I worry about things it's like she absorbs it."
"Kids do that."
"I try to be relaxed about most things with her so that when I do need her to do something, or not do something, it's not one of a million other things I've asked of her in a day and it doesn't get lost in amongst other things I don't really care about - but sometimes I think that actually makes it worse when I do need her to do something," she broke off and shook her head, then continued, "It's like, I don't know, I mean it's not like I let her run wild I don't think, but it's like it's unusual for me to tell her she needs to do something and then that makes her nervous."
"You don't let her run wild," he said, curving his hand round her waist and squeezing gently, "You do let her talk to you in a tone of voice I don't think she should be talking to you in, but you don't let her run wild."
Rosie rolled her eyes, "I'm glad she answers me back sometimes, to be honest. It's one of the biggest changes in her since she started running around with Katie – with other kids I suppose but I think she mainly gets that bolshiness from Katie-"
He snorted and interrupted, "Of course she does, Katie's got an attitude problem."
"She doesn't really, she's just not particularly perceptive to anyone's emotions."
"Well she should try."
"She's only six, Tom."
"She's seven this week."
"She reminds you of Ada, that's your problem," Rosie said, her own perception landing exactly on the mark, painfully.
"Lily's perceptive enough about people's emotions," he observed, ignoring the statement.
"I know," Rosie replied, letting it go, "And I sometimes wish she wasn't."
He thought on Lily's frank comment about him and Rosie making it like it was before and nodded in agreement at that.
"I used to think she was too quiet though, and I reckon it was probably my fault, I told her I needed her not to talk about things from home in school and that she couldn't have any friends to the house," Rosie confessed, biting her lip, "And I think I almost scared her of talking to anyone other than me and our neighbour, the one who looked in on her when I was at work. But she talks more now - I know she's a quiet kid overall, but she talks a lot more than she used to and even if she does answer back a bit, I'd rather that than she went back to being as – as withdrawn as she used to be."
He pulled her to him.
"You're a great mother, you hear me?" he told her fiercely, "You've done what you needed to do with a shitty hand, eh? She's been lucky to have you."
Rosie didn't reply, but she laid her head on his chest and tentatively wound her arms around his waist in what felt like the first time in forever. He had missed feeling her anchor him like this.
They watched, entwined as they were, the curtains draw back and Mr Punch appearing to address the seated audience, smiling as they saw Lily's shoulders move with laughter the same as all the other kids around her.
"I'm sorry your gallery was closed," he offered quietly.
As the conversation moved from Lily, she moved from him – her arms dropping from their position around him and shrugged, "I still stood there, that was exciting."
So easily pleased in some ways, so difficult to reassure in others. But that was why they were here. He was going to reassure her.
"You alright to wait here a minute?" he asked, his eyes scanning the fruit and veg stalls in the vicinity.
She looked to him and raised an eyebrow but nodded.
"I'll be right back," he promised, kissing her forehead (wishing it was her lips and wondering how much longer he would need to wait before they would be his to taste again,) then heading into the maze of colours and smells, looking for something small, brown and hairy.
Once the item was safely in his overcoat pocket, he proceeded to the outer stalls, purchasing a large bouquet of deep red roses. Deep red, not bright red. Not ones that were gaudy and suitable for the type of woman who stood on chairs to sing, vulgar and obvious and flirty and light. Given flippantly, received flippantly and tossed out flippantly too. These roses were like the velvet of burgundy theatre curtains, like the colour of blood that came out of a deep wound, blood from deep places in the body that was almost verging on to brown. These roses didn't represent a fancy he had taken for her. They represented that if anything were to happen to her, she didn't have to worry or fear death because he would reach into his chest and wrench out his own heart to put it in her if need be.
With a smidgeon less of intensity he purchased a posy of white lilies too.
The show was winding up by the time he returned to the redhead's side and she eyed the flowers but didn't say anything.
"She enjoying the show?" he asked, nodding at Lily.
Rosie smiled softly, the way she usually did when she was watching the child, "I think so. She's been laughing. Keeps looking around to make sure she can see me though."
As if on cue, Lily turned and looked to where they were standing and Tommy returned the smile the child offered him when she saw him.
Once the puppets had taken their final bow and the curtains had closed, he picked his way through the kids to get back down to the front to where Lily sat.
"You enjoy it?" he asked.
She nodded enthusiastically.
"Got you a present," he said, offering her the lilies.
"What are they?" she asked, taking them and sniffing them, coming away with yellow pollen on her cheeks which he licked his thumb to rub off.
"Lilies, Lily, like in your poem."
"Oh," she replied, then, "I thought lilies were yellow."
"Maybe they can be, but it was white lilies in the poem, wasn't it?"
She nodded, still seeming confused at the idea of the flowers being able to be different colours, but stood up, taking her flowers in one hand and tucking her ticket into her pocket before placing the other hand in his.
"There's a bin outside, you can chuck your ticket in there, you won't need it again," he told her as he led her past the benches, up towards her sister.
"Can I keep it?" she asked, biting her lip.
"If you like," he told her, supressing a smile, "Why?"
"Put it in a book," she mumbled, "To remember it."
"Like a photograph album?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Do you have one?"
She shook her head.
"Alright, we'll get you one and you can put your ticket in it."
He wasn't entirely sure where they would get such a thing, but he was sure if there was anywhere to get one it would be London. It was the sort of thing women dealt with - photos. Not that they had many, but his mother had always sorted the ones they did have – and Polly had got the ones of them in their war uniforms framed. They'd never had an album, getting photos done had been expensive when they were growing up, so it was generally a case of getting one done and framed and then not getting another done for a few years, until they'd all changed significantly enough to warrant it. But you could buy cameras for taking pictures at home now – some of the cavalry officers had even brought them to war. Maybe they should buy a camera. In fact, he decided, he should definitely buy a camera. Immediately.
"Can I put my flowers in it?" Lily was asking him as they reached Rosie.
"Put your flowers in what?" Rosie asked, eyeing the posy in Lily's hand and the bouquet still in his other arm.
"Tommy says he'll get me a book for my ticket."
"A book for your ticket?"
"A photograph album," he told her.
"Like your recipe book from before," Lily said.
"Oh, a scrapbook for you to paste into?"
Tommy didn't know what a scrapbook was, but Lily nodded.
"Alright, we'll get you a scrapbook," Rosie said.
"I've decided we should buy a camera," Tommy said aloud, looking for Rosie's reaction.
As expected she pulled a face, "As long as I don't need to be in any of the pictures."
"Don't be ridiculous, the whole point would be to take pictures of our London trip and then Lily can put them in her scrapbook and it could be a way for us to remember the trip."
Lily looked wildly enthused at the idea of the pictures.
"I'll take them then and they can be of you two and London," Rosie persisted.
"Talks some amount of nonsense that sister of yours, eh Lily?" he said, deciding to ignore her.
Lily giggled then asked, "Are the other flowers for Rosie?"
"Yup," he replied swinging her hand and beginning to lead them out of the piazza.
"Have you given her them yet?"
"Nope."
He caught Rosie's eye as he answered her sister and was pleased to see an amused smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she listened to his antics.
"Why not?"
"Remember when I said I need everything to be perfect this week Lily?"
"Uhuh."
"I'm going to give her them when it's the perfect time to give her them."
"When will that be?"
"That's for me to know and your sister to find out Lily. Look – a sweet shop, do you fancy some sweets?"
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
That evening, after Lily had gone to bed and Rosie had undoubtedly run herself a bath, Tommy stood downstairs at the desk, ringing the bell for the concierge.
"How can I help you, Sir?" the man asked, appearing from behind a screen door instantly.
Tommy put the roses, still wrapped in their brown paper, Lily's spent roll of film, and a wad of notes down on the desk, "I have a list."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Jeremy, the concierge, delivered the fresh rolls of film personally to their table at breakfast the next morning, presenting them on a small silver tray and informing them that the pictures from the roll he had put in to be developed would be delivered to room 206 (Rosie and Lily's) before the day was done. He then placed before Rosie a second silver tray on which lay a card with 'Cecelia James, By Appointment Only, Suite 5, Harrods, Knightsbridge' along with a phone number printed on one side and, by hand on the other, '11am.'
Rosie turned it over then looked confusedly up at the concierge, who had already assured Tommy that the car would be ready for them at 10am as requested, bowed and departed.
Her eyes moved to him, narrowing distrustfully.
"You need a dress for tomorrow night," he told her.
"I said I didn't want to deal with shop assistants."
"I know," he nodded, "So this woman isn't a shop assistant, she's a personal shopper. You sit in your suite and drink tea – or champagne, your choice - and get your hair combed or whatever while she does all the shopping, then she brings it up to you and you try it on there. No shopping, no sales assistants, just peace and quiet and you getting some new clothes."
Her eyebrows performed their usual ascension, "This has turned from one dress to new clothes in two sentences. And I don't need my hair combed."
"You need the dress," he said calmly, sipping his own tea, "And you might see other things you like."
She huffed and raised her eyes to the ceiling, shaking her head. She had no intentions of finding anything she liked, that much was quite clear.
"What's tomorrow night?" Lily asked.
"I'm taking your sister out," he told her with a smile, "For a meal we were supposed to have a long time ago."
"Am I coming?"
"No sweetheart," he told her, and Rosie's eyes left the ceiling to look sharply at him, "You'll be staying here, I've arranged with my friend Jeremy, the man who brought you the new film, for a nursemaid to come stay with you for the evening."
"I'm not sick."
"Not a nurse for the sick, bab, a nursemaid. A lady who looks after children."
Lily screwed up her face and didn't seem keen on the idea.
"Besides my grumpy little love," he continued, reaching out to poke her on the tip of her nose, "You and I are going to go to the Harrods toy department today while your sister is getting her wardrobe stocked up, and tomorrow we'll go to Hamley's, so you'll have lots of new toys and you'll have lots of pictures back too to paste in your new book, so I daresay you'll be able to amuse yourself without Rosie for the evening."
As Lily's face dropped its sour countenance and returned to her usual sunny disposition, Rosie sighed.
"On your head be it Thomas if she turns into the most entitled child in Britain," was her comment.
"Lily," he said gravely, raising an eyebrow at the child, "What do you say when you get a present?"
She stared at his solemn face for a minute before asking him, "Thank you?"
"Exactly," he nodded, twitching the corners of his mouth enough that he watched her relax before he addressed the elder sister, "See? Nothing entitled about her."
Rosie glared in response.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
When the car Jeremy had arranged for them dropped them at Harrods, having detoured first by Buckingham Palace so Lily could see where the King lived and have her picture taken in front of it, it was quarter to eleven. Upon producing the printed card for the uniformed doorman, they were directed to Cecelia James' suite via firstly the moving staircase (by which Lily was greatly impressed and Rosie much less so) at the top of which they were offered smelling salts and Brandy, both of which they declined, and then up another, less excitingly, still staircase and along some corridors until finally they were at a door marked 'Private – By Appointment Only' whereupon they rang a bell and waited for an answer.
Another uniformed young man answered and, upon inspection of the card, led them into a lift (Rosie seemed to be getting used to the lift thanks to the hotel and she was not quite so tight jawed in it as she had been on the moving staircase), up another floor and out along a salmon pink corridor to a white door with an elegant gold number five on the door.
Tommy privately wondered if the maze was a case of ensuring clients were not allowed to leave until they had spent enough money, doomed to wander the corridors and stairs and lifts forevermore if they were deemed not to have paid the ferryman adequately. He could have cursed it all, he had meant this to make the dress shopping easier for Rosie, not more of a palaver. She had the tight, slightly strained and determined look on her face that he knew meant she was resolved to doing something she didn't want to do. Still, she was resolved, that was something.
Cecelia James, he was thankful to find, was not some kind of intimidating aristocratic huntress ("What in holy hell am I meant to say to some named fucking Cecelia?!" Rosie had hissed at him when they slid into the car and he had responded by patting her hand and saying, "Well I might remind you your name is Rosalie and your sister's called Lillian." "And they're both ridiculous names," she had snarled. "Just like Cecelia then," he had replied – then he had engaged Lily in conversation about the picture she was taking of the hotel through the car window.) In fact, Cecelia had a rather kindly face, mousey brown hair which was waved and pinned up in what seemed almost a homage to Rosie's own bright copper hair and though she was not much taller than Rosie, she was considerably wider. She was, all in, approachable.
She addressed him, "Mr Shelby I presume?" to which he nodded, before she introduced herself to Rosie and Lily, then invited Rosie into the room and to take a seat on a plush salmon pink velvet sofa to, "Discuss her needs."
"Speak to him," Rosie said sardonically, suddenly seeming caught in a fit of confidence, sitting on the sofa and rolling her eyes, waving her hand in his direction, "He seems to think I need a dress."
A smile drifted across Cecelia James' face as she looked between the raised eyebrowed look Rosie was giving him and his own neutral expression.
"I see," the older woman said.
Tommy had rather a feeling that she did see.
"Perhaps," Cecelia said, gently beginning to guide him and Lily back towards the door and the pink corridor, "Madam would relax a little if given privacy, Jeremy mentioned privacy was extremely important to you."
Madam indeed. He tried not to snort at the little wench being referred to as madam.
Cecelia James followed them into the corridor and shut the door behind her, looking to Tommy expectantly.
"Look, she isn't the most… frilly of women," Tommy said awkwardly, realising suddenly that he was going to have to articulate this if it was going to work, "But she doesn't believe that she's pretty."
The woman's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"I know," he replied, "But she doesn't. I think she doesn't do dresses because she doesn't think she's pretty enough for them. Just – look – I'm taking her out tomorrow, she thinks it's just dinner but it's the theatre and dinner and dancing and it's – it's important."
A slow smile was spreading on Cecelia's rounded face and she nodded.
"I need a dress for her for that – and if there's anything else more – sort of – more day to day that she likes," he gabled on, feeling heat in his own neck, realising how at odds he was in doing this, how much easier he found it to point a gun at a man and threaten him than he did to explain to a personal shopper that he'd like his – his whatever Rosie was – to look nice and to feel nice about herself, "Just bag it up. Whatever she wants. Money's no object. I put a deposit down last night with Jeremy, he said you could send the bill straight to him at the hotel and I'll settle it tonight. When will we come back? How long do you need?"
"She's going to be hard work," Cecelia said, looking over to the closed door, "But she's not the first scruffy little thing I've made into a lady and she won't be the last. Give me two hours."
"Right," Tommy nodded and took Lily's hand, "You couldn't tell us how to get to the toy department could you, while we wait?"
She opened the door, telling Rosie to make herself comfortable and have a flick through some magazines that were on the table, and then accompanied them back down the pink corridor to another door that was past the lift, giving them the route to the children's floor.
"Do you like animals?" Cecelia added to Lily.
She nodded, "We're going to the zoo on Thursday."
"We have a pet shop," Cecelia told her, then gave them the directions to that too, "Just in case it's of interest."
"Ms James," Tommy said, noticing the tell-tale flake of black mascara under the woman's eye.
She looked to him.
"You couldn't get her some make up to go with the dress, eh? Show her what to do with it?"
"Harrods doesn't sell cosmetics, so officially, no," she told him with a conspiratorial grin, "But if you can give me three hours I can get my assistant to take a trip. Unofficially."
He slid his hand into his pocket then held it out for her to shake, pressing notes into her palm as she took it, "I'm an unofficial type of man."
"Yes," she nodded, "Most of you are."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"What's an unofficial man Tommy?" Lily asked once Cecelia James had disappeared back through a door marked private and they were making their way towards the children's department.
He snorted, "One like me."
She frowned up at him and he smiled down, reassuring her, "It's nothing bad sweetheart, nothing you need to worry about."
"Tommy," she began, then trailed off.
"What is it my little love?"
"Are you very rich?"
He smiled, "What makes you ask that Lily?"
"Rosie said last night that the camera was very expensive, and you bought me the book too and the flowers and you brought us to London and you paid for the puppet show."
Her big blue eyes looked up at him and, unable to resist, he reached down and picked her up onto his hip, hugging her little body to him.
"I'm not rich enough yet Lily, but one day I'm going to be very rich and I'm going to buy a big house for you and me and your sister and Finn to go live in, one with hot running water so Rosie can have a bath every day at home."
"Do I cost you lots of money?" she asked him, looking worried.
"Not at all sweetheart, where did you get that idea from?"
She shrugged and he kissed her cheek, "I get much more back from you than you cost me Lily," he told her honestly.
"Tommy."
"Hmm?"
"Can we buy shoes for Katie? If it's not too 'spensive."
"Does Katie want shoes?" he asked, slightly perplexed.
"She's lost hers."
"How did she lose them?"
"Took them off to climb a fence and someone stole them."
"Took them off to climb a fence," he muttered, shaking his head, "Needs a damn good spanking."
"No Tommy! She didn't mean for anyone to steal them!"
He smiled at the earnestness with which Lily explained this to him.
"She shouldn't have taken them off – what would Rosie say to you if you took your shoes off and someone stole them?"
Lily frowned as she thought about it then, "Well I think she'd know I hadn't meant for anyone to steal them."
"Well why don't we ask her what she'd have to say once we go back for her later, eh?"
Lily nodded, "Ok. But can we get Katie some shoes first? Please?"
"Do you know what shoe size Katie is?"
Lily shook her head.
"No, neither do I," he replied, "So we can't get her shoes in case they don't fit."
Lily's lip trembled a little.
"What are you about to cry for you silly duck?" he asked, bouncing her, "We can take Katie for shoes when we go home so she can try them on properly."
"But she says John'll be angry," Lily told him, not settled by his promise of shoes being bought later, "And I got her in trouble for climbing and she said I could make it up to her if I gave her a pair of my shoes but I didn't have any spare shoes!"
"Right," he replied, wiping at the tears that were beginning to leak over, brought on no doubt by her belief that she had got Katie into trouble and that she wasn't going to be able to make it right, "Let's you and me get something straight Lily – you both got yourselves into trouble with your climbing, you both made your own decisions. Katie got her punishment that she deserved and you got your punishment that you deserved, that's it done with – neither of you needs to make anything up to anyone else, alright?"
She sniffed and nodded, though he knew she probably didn't feel like she agreed with him.
"Who's my best girl, Lily?" he asked, bouncing her again.
"Me," she answered, giving him the glimmer of a smile.
"That's right," he said, kissing her head, "So if it means so much to you we'll go get Katie some bloody shoes, eh? But only because you want to, not because you have anything to make up to her."
She smiled properly and kissed him, hugging her arms tightly around his neck, "Thank you Tommy!"
He figured she could probably do with some other shoes of her own, she had little winter boots and her brown sandals that were currently on her feet, but they were scuffed and looked a little stretched.
The children's shoe department was staffed by a young girl who couldn't have been much older than Rosie, who got Lily to put her feet into what appeared to him to be two wooden blocks with bits that moved so that her feet could be 'measured.'
He watched, somewhat fascinated. He hadn't ever had his feet measured as a child, he'd just got whatever boots had come his way – ones that had been too small for Arthur when they'd come his brother's way more often than not. Actually, if he was being honest, like Katie, he'd taken his own shoes off half the time anyway – to climb or swim or just to sneak up on someone. Unlike Katie he'd been clouted for it when his mother noticed, but with three brothers it had generally been easy enough to pinch someone else's ill-fitting shoes just to pass them off as his and avoid his mother's wrath. He sighed. Probably wouldn't do any harm to get the girl a pair of bloody shoes.
John needed a wife. That was the bottom line. Katie needed a mother. And it wouldn't do George or Jack or Alfie any harm to have a mother either. But Katie was the main priority. The boys had plenty of them around to show them what it as to be a Shelby man. Polly was spread thin enough working in the business and dealing with all the kids. No, he thought, as he watched the young shop assistant help Lily out of the wooden blocks, the girl needed a mother.
The shop assistant came over to enquire about what type of shoes he was looking for and he pointed at the discarded old shoes she'd had on with his freshly lit cigarette saying, "Something to replace them. And then the same pair in a bigger size for my niece, they're the same age near enough, few months between them, but Katie's taller."
The girl nodded and suggested to Lily, "Why don't you sit up there beside your daddy while I go get some shoes for you to try?" before disappearing through the back.
Some silent button must have been pressed for another young girl had appeared to stand, hands folded, in the department for any new customers who would arrive.
He had heard of Harrod's of course, but he'd never been before. Why would he? His suits came tailor made and free of charge – the joys of being an unofficial type of man, whom people feared enough to gift with things in an effort to keep on his right side. He had no need to visit department stores in London. But so far, he was impressed with it as a store for Lily and, hopefully, for Rosie too, if she liked Cecelia James in three hours' time.
Lily tried on three pairs of shoes, all of which looked the same to him – a cream pair, a brown pair and a black pair, walking up and down at the shop assistant's behest, seeming to find them all comfy.
"Just take the three of them for her then," Tommy said, waving his cigarette as Lily and the shop assistant both looked to him to make the defining choice, before adding, "And the brown ones in the bigger size for Katie."
"Very good sir," the shop assistant murmured, boxing them up then saying, "If you'd like to follow me."
"Three pairs of shoes Tommy?" Lily whispered up to him, as they followed the woman across the room, her hand in his, her blue eyes wide.
"Three pairs," he nodded, "Though if I find you taking them off to climb you'll get a sore backside, y'hear?"
She nodded, "Can I wear them while we're in London?"
"Of course, wear them now if you want – shall I get her to take the brown ones out the box for you?"
Lily shook her head, "No – show Rosie first. She'll want me to keep them good though."
He didn't believe in this keeping things good nonsense – she was growing, if she didn't wear them now they'd end up too small and she'd barely have worn them and that would be a bigger waste than them getting dirty, in his opinion. But he didn't say anything, he knew that Rosie wanted Lily to look after her things, that it was important to her.
"I brought my Christmas dress with me Tommy," Lily was still babbling on beside him, "Rosie said I could wear it for dinner one night – that maybe-"
She broke off from whatever Rosie had been going to say she could maybe do and Tommy glanced down, following her eyeline.
In the room next to the shoes, where they had been guided through for the girl to wrap their purchases up and ring them through on the till, there was a child sized mannequin wearing a light blue dress with a velvet navy collar and buttons, a matching light blue coat with navy velvet trim on the collar and cuffs and the same navy buttons, a velvet navy bow in its yellow hair and navy velvet shoes. It was not the sort of thing anyone had any cause to wear in Small Heath – but Lily was clearly enchanted.
"You like that outfit?" he asked, squeezing her hand.
She smiled guiltily up at him, as though he'd caught her doing something she shouldn't and nodded.
"Do you have that to fit her?" he asked the sales assistant, who had watched their exchange.
"I should say so, sir, would you like her to try it?"
"Yes."
They were back at the till a while later, the coat, dress, bow and shoes all being neatly packaged up, along with a yellow sundress with a white lace collar and a yellow bow to match it.
"You're very lucky to have such an indulgent father," the sales girl smiled at Lily, who giggled into his trouser leg, before the assistant moved her attention back to him, "Would you like these shipped anywhere or are you taking them now?"
"We'll take them now," Tommy replied, reaching over for the first bag, which contained the four pairs of shoes for Lily.
"Very good sir," she replied, printing something off from her till and tucking it inside the box with Katie's shoes.
"These were for your niece, yes?"
He nodded.
"I've put a spare copy of the receipt in there, if they don't fit you can post them to us, our address is on the receipt, with the copy in the box and request a change of size, we'll post them back to you at your home address."
He nodded again, taking the bag with the single pair of shoes in, wondering if Harrods had ever sent anything to Small Heath before.
"You want to carry Katie's shoes?" he asked Lily, who nodded and took the smaller bag.
The last bag came over, the one with the coat and dresses and bows.
"Is there anything else I can do for you sir?" the sales assistant asked, coming around the counter.
He pushed the bags up his arm and pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket to check how they were for time. Somehow buying shoes and clothes had eaten up an hour and a half of their three hours.
"I think it's on to the toy department, was that right Lily?"
She nodded.
"Of course sir, I'll show you the way," the girl murmured and led them onwards again until they were in another of the walkways between the departments and she was instructing them to follow it and take the second right turning off of it, that that would take them straight to the toy department.
They thanked her and set off, encumbered more than he would have thought by two bags of childrenswear, but Lily was practically dancing beside him, glancing up every so often at the bag that held the new clothes.
He didn't care if he was rich or not, to see her this happy he'd spent every penny he had on her. He wondered if Rosie's trying on of clothing was eliciting anything like the same results – presuming not. Still, there was no point in worrying about it, they just had to go back when the three hours were up and see what had happened.
As it was he didn't part with many more pennies, in the toy department Lily only wanted some coloured pencils.
"Look at the dolls, don't you want a new doll?"
"I like my dolls," was the reply.
"What about a bear?"
"I love my bears."
"I know you do sweetheart, so do you want another one?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes," she nodded up at him, clutching the tin of pencils, then she said, "Though could we get a bear for Katie? She doesn't have a bear. And something for Finn, because he didn't come with us. I don't think he'd want a bear though."
He set the bags down and held his arms out to her, pulling her to him tightly and kissing her head. As far as her becoming entitled went, Rosie was certainly worrying about nothing.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Carrying another bag, this one containing a bear for Katie and a car for Finn, alongside Lily's pencils and after an ill-advised trip to the 'Pet Kingdom' where they tried to overcharge him for a horse (his response to which was "Do you think I'm a total fucking idiot?" and a roll of his eyes, which he thought was a perfectly acceptable reaction to the figure mentioned, but which the man behind the desk didn't seem to think was normal) and where Lily cried when he had to tell her they couldn't take all the animals home, they were following another of the uniformed employees back down the pink corridor to Cecelia James' suite.
Tommy was nervous, which he hadn't anticipated. He had meant this all to make things easier, and he wasn't sure he had quite managed that. He wondered if behind the elegant door there would be a rabid redhead, her chin dripping in blood and Cecelia James' lifeless body beside her, some spangled shoes still clutched in her dead hands. It seemed a more likely outcome than that Rosie would be quite as happy as Lily had been when her new shoes and clothes had been bagged up. He glanced down at the baby, whose eyes were still slightly red from her crying over the animals.
"Come on bab, smile for me eh?" he cajoled.
Bless her, she tried. Not entirely successfully, but she tried and he appreciated that.
Cecelia James opened the door (Tommy was vaguely surprised to see her still alive and looking fully intact, not as though anyone had swung a fist at her in the last three hours) and ushered them back into the room. It had white panelling, with gold outlining the floral details on the panels, white furniture with pink and gold flowers painted on like the table tops were wall paper and a salmon pink carpet, thick and luxurious, which he could feel himself sinking into with each step. It was the sort of room Ada would have basked in and he wasn't convinced after all that this had been the right step.
Cecelia James indicated the sofa she had put Rosie on before they had left and offered them tea, which he declined on behalf of both him and the child.
"How did it go?" he asked, flicking his eyes around and wondering where in hell Rosie was.
"She's resistant, but we've compromised," Cecelia answered with a smile, crossing over to a door hidden in amongst the panelling and knocking before she disappeared through it.
He glanced to Lily, who was still vaguely unhappy looking and reached out a hand to ruffle her hair and try to draw a smile from her when her eyes went very wide and he glanced around to see Rosie, clearly having come through the hidden door.
He stood, automatically and they stared at each other in silence.
He didn't have words that were appropriate to say. She had always been beautiful, he knew that. But now she looked so above him that he didn't know why she gave him the time of day.
She was wearing a green silk dress that ended below her knee, which was about the same length as her school dresses, but it was gathered in at the waist and was cut lower at the neck, emphasising the curves of her body in a way that the shapeless school clothes never had done. The tight sleeves ended just above the elbow and she moved her hands from her sides to start twisting her fingers slightly, which highlighted the fact her nails had been shaped and shined since he'd last seen her. He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers – which had acquired more definition since the morning too.
"Well, will this do?" she eventually asked, a note of challenge in her voice and her chin lifted, even as she kept twisting her hands.
He swallowed to bring some moisture back to his throat before confirming, "It'll do."
"See," Rosie turned to Cecelia James, "He says this will do."
"It'll do for day to day," Cecelia answered, clearly having had the argument already, "It's not suitable for dinner."
"You look like a princess," Lily said, finding her own voice.
Rosie looked to her sister, then back to Cecelia James, widening her eyes as if the six year old's opinion on the matter was her winning card against a woman who dressed London society for a living.
"Do you have something else for the dinner?" Tommy asked, sort of asking Cecelia but unable to take his eyes off of Rosie.
Her sweet little mouth had been darkened to a shade more related to her hair and it made it stand out from her pale face, made him want to kiss it even more than usual, though he'd have preferred it had been upturned.
"Yes we do," Cecelia answered.
"Take them both then. Take everything," he said, his eyes still locked on Rosie.
She sighed and looked off to the side before flashing her dark eyes back to him. He had been so stunned by her appearance at first that he had missed the discomfort in them.
"Look," he said, moving his eyes to Cecelia, "Could my – my girl and I have a moment alone please?"
"Come on pet, let's you and me go wait outside, you can tell me what you found in the toy department," Cecelia said to Lily, holding out a hand.
Lily looked between the woman's outstretched hand and him and her sister.
"Go on a minute Lily, I need to have a grown up chat with Tommy," Rosie said.
Her eyes stayed on Lily as the bab allowed herself to be led from the room and the door shut behind them and he stood awkwardly in front of the sofa, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"She's been crying," Rosie said, her eyes not leaving the door through which the child had gone.
"Yeah," he nodded, "Took her to the pet kingdom, had to break it to her that we couldn't actually take the animals home."
"Oh," said Rosie, nodding and still looking at the door – he noticed her shoulders relax a little.
He fumbled in his pocket and fished out his cigarette case and lighter, hoping having something to busy his hands with would make him seem more composed than just standing with them in his pockets, like when he was a kid and his mother had told him to get his hands in his pockets before they got him into trouble.
"So," she turned her eyes finally to him, her arms hugging around her waist, "Your girl?"
He dragged on the cigarette, "You know you're my girl. Until you don't want to be anymore. That's what I told you."
She let out a heavy breath, "Then why did I find out from my sister that you were taking that barmaid to the races?"
"Because I found out just after that happened that my sister was pregnant and it put the morning's events out of my head – but I should have told you, I should have discussed it with you."
The same conversation. Over and over.
"And when you found that out your next thought process regarding me was that I'd known and kept it from you, not sure why you'd want me as your girl when that's what you think of me."
"I wasn't thinking straight – can you just – just try and imagine if you found out something like that about Lily – just think about how it would turn your world upside down and make you take temporary leave of your senses?"
She didn't answer but wound her arms even more tightly around herself.
"I thought we were going to have a nice week and leave all that back in Birmingham?" he said eventually, flicking his cigarette into the crystal ashtray that lay beside the magazines on the table.
"Tommy – I," she broke off, bit her lip, shook her head and then went on, "I don't want this to be how things go – that something goes wrong and then you throw money at it by taking us away from everyone else and – and isolating us. If this – if we – have any chance at working, we need to figure out how to solve our problems at home, where we live."
"We're only here a week, it's hardly running away."
"And you can't just buy me bloody dresses either because you've gone and fucked up Thomas!" she spluttered suddenly, the words tumbling out.
"Is it the dresses you're really bothered about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She didn't reply and he exhaled a long stream of smoke, still motionless between the sofa and the table, before admitting, "Rosie – I don't know what you want here. I don't know how to make this right or make it up to you."
"It's not by thinking you can buy me off like you do the policemen on your payroll."
He managed not to snort at the comparison, realising that, as ridiculous as it sounded to him, it was what was in her mind. That he was buying her off, bribing her.
"You remember when I left for a few nights because I didn't know how to cope with having you in the house and not being able to – to do anything about it that I wanted to?"
She nodded.
"You remember when I came back? You told me not to apologise, you said you didn't put store by words, you said anyone could say anything but people's actions told you a lot more than their words did."
"I meant more along of the lines of actions like not kissing me and calling me your girl and asking someone else to the races without telling me, even if it is business. Not buying me off."
"Rosie, I'm not trying to buy you off. I can't take back what I did or how I handled it. And I've apologised and I'll keep apologising, even if you don't want the words – which I call horse shit on, just so you know, I don't buy it that you don't care about words, no one who likes books like you do doesn't care about words. But I know you'll only value the words if you know you can trust them – and I know my actions are what'll prove to you that you can trust my words. So this," he gestured wildly around the room, throwing his hands wide, "This is my action of showing you how I want to treat you. This is me trying to show you the life I want you to have, the life I want to offer you. Yes, I brought you to London to get us some time without all that other shit getting in the way – and I get it, that that's not always going to be possible. But this – buying you some fancy clothes and taking you out tomorrow night – Rosie it's not about throwing money at the problem, it's about treating you the way you deserve to be treated. It's about me saying I'm sorry I fucked up, but I fucked up as part of a business move and when these business moves pay off it won't be just a week in London, this will be our life. You'll be able to come to London and buy fifty dresses a week if you fancy once I achieve it all."
"Thomas I don't want fifty dresses a week!" she cried, "I just want-" she broke off and sighed, her shoulders moving with the depth of it, "I just want not to find out about your business moves from my baby sister, especially not if they're ones that involve beautiful blonde barmaids."
She thought the barmaid was beautiful. And she didn't even believe that she was pretty.
"Rosie, have you looked in the mirror?" he asked, putting the cigarette down and coming around the table, slowly closing the distance between them, "She's boring as hell to look at, you're beautiful – you're beyond that, you're breathtaking. Hell, they don't have the fucking words to describe what you are, alright?"
"That's just the dress."
"It's not the fucking dress, it's always been the case. Even when you were in that tobacco shop wearing men's clothes that didn't fit you properly."
"Well, the dress helps," she insisted, looking down and blushing a little.
He put a hand gently under her chin and tilted her head up, waiting until her eyes met his before telling her, "The dress is beautiful - you look stunning in it. But in case you haven't noticed, I haven't been playing lackey and delivering wares to our stockists since you came to stay. And it was only ever the tobacco shop I'd deal with the deliveries for. So I could go in and talk to the beautiful girl with the mad hair and men's clothes."
She smiled a little at that and ducked her eyes, "She says this is a day dress – can you imagine me wearing it to work in the tobacco shop? I'm wearing silk stockings for Christs' sake!"
He snorted and moved his hand from her chin to stroking her hair, "Maybe not to the tobacco shop, no. But if you're going to put Lily in one of those girl's schools with your horse money, I could see you wearing it when we go inspect the school to see if it's up to our standards."
"We?"
"Yes," he nodded, speaking decisively - more confidently than he actually felt -, "We."
Her eyes lingered on the bags by the sofa, "And I suppose you've been throwing money at Lily too?" she accused him then, before he could answer, she went on, "Well maybe you should get a say in her education – since you'll have financed it."
The tone was harsh on the top, the accusation and annoyance obvious – but he knew her well enough to hear the slight peace offering that was lying underneath the callous offering of the say in Lily's education.
"You've financed it, it was your idea that made the money," he told her.
She didn't answer so he pushed on, "And she's much more gracious about it than you when I buy her things, says thank you and doesn't throw a tantrum just because I want to buy her some clothes."
She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, admonishing his attempt at flippancy, "My wounds are still raw and your fucking up is still too recent to be turning this into a joke. Besides, if Lily had had half the problems I've had with this dress nonsense she'd be less gracious about it all too."
"What problems?"
"I don't suit fashionable dresses, they're all straight up and down and when I put them on I just look like a big rectangle," she sighed, pushing the hidden panelled door open more widely and looking through it to a second room with a wall of mirrors, "The things I suit are old fashioned."
"Is this old fashioned?" he asked, sweeping his eyes up and down the green dress and meeting her eyes in the mirror, over her shoulder.
"Yes," she told him, "It's in at the waist, it's "all about the drop waist now" according to Cecelia but it just makes me look terrible. I'm not cut out to be a fashionable woman."
He took a few steps to stand behind her, his hand trailing over her defined little waist, their eyes still locked in the mirror, "You know I'm a little older than you?"
She nodded.
"Well, when I fantasised about being with a beautiful woman, she was wearing things I saw beautiful women wearing in the pictures and magazines and adverts. Looked a hell of a lot more like this than like those shapeless sacks women are wearing these days."
"I think women are wearing them because they're less restrictive and they can dance in them, I don't think they care about what your opinion is," she told him, attempting to chastise him for offering his tuppence worth on women's clothing.
"I reckon I could dance you in this," he murmured in her ear, pulling her around to face him and moving her right hand onto his shoulder, taking her left in his and turning her in a slow circle, "See?"
"Just shows that you know nothing," she smiled up at him, "This isn't a dancing dress, it's a day dress."
"Who says you can't dance in the day time?" he asked, lifting his hand to spin her under.
"You're ridiculous," she smiled, allowing him to pull her back in.
"I'm Thomas Shelby."
"That's exactly what I just said."
"So, Rosalie Jackson, will you let me take you out tomorrow night, in an evening dress that I can dance you in without being ridiculed?"
"Tommy," she said, biting her lip.
"Rosie?"
"I know you are who you are," she told him and his mind panicked, wondering what on earth she was going to say now, when it finally seemed they were making real strides to move on as a 'we', "And I know you're ambitious and you're business minded. But if things weren't the way they are, if you couldn't buy me this dress and we couldn't go to a fancy dinner because I wouldn't have any clothes to wear – would you want a woman who would look more the part? One who came with her own wardrobe of dresses and jewellery and lipstick and heels?"
He glanced down then, noticing the small block heel on the shoes she was wearing. She was still tiny, even with them.
"Rosie," he told her, stopping the slow dance so he could hold her in place as he told her, "I want you. Only you. And I will always want only you – no matter what you're wearing and no matter what fashion is and even if the only date I can ever take you on is to the Italian café for ice cream because no restaurant will let us through the doors – it's about being with you. It's only ever been you and I promise it's only ever going to be you."
And then he kissed her – and not only did she let him, but she kissed him back.
As always, thank you for reading! We've now passed 300,000 words and I'm honestly overwhelmed by how many of you have stuck through this many words with me - I know I say it all the time but I had no idea when I embarked on this project that it would become as huge as it's becoming. I appreciate you all very very much, seeing emails pop up to tell me someone has reviewed/favourited/followed my story honestly makes my day.
Re the history of this chapter - I've summed it up in a tumblr post here on my account which is findinghisredrighthand dot tumblr dot com /post/631637446119047168/chapter-56-references (I know not everyone is interested but there are pictures on there of 1920s Covent Garden and Harrods which I feel are nice to have in your head when you read the chapter.)
On a similar vein, I have posted other things to my tumblr such as the Rokeby Venus mentioned in the last chapter. It can be seen with the damage done if you put in the address then /post/630619596482822144/rokeby-venus
The hotel that Tommy has taken them to in London can be seen if you change the ending of the address to /post/630617830263570432/well-we-could-go-to-london-she-considered-then (you can also see the Strand Theatre, which is right next to the hotel and which features in the next chapter. The hotel is still there and the theatre is too, though it's now the Novello Theatre not the Strand.) Obviously it's not essential viewing, but I thought I'd flag in case it is of any interest!